Denis Smith: The Mammoth Book of the New Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘You speak of the information you have concerning Dr Zyss,’ interrupted Holmes. ‘Have you not interviewed the man himself?’

Inspector Gregson shook his head. ‘I shall come to that problem in a moment,’ said he.

‘Very well. Pray proceed!’

‘Dr Zyss was expected to arrive at about quarter to seven. However, a message was received at about half past six, informing them that Dr Zyss would not be able to fulfil the appointment after all. Learning this, Mrs Arbuthnot, who had been sitting reading in the drawing-room for some time, sent a note to her husband’s sister telling her that the dinner party was cancelled, and then went to the study to inform her husband. To her horror, she found him lying dead on the study floor, blood everywhere, and a dagger protruding from his breast.’

‘What a dreadful business!’ I cried.

‘It is, Dr Watson; and such a frail and defenceless old man, too!’

‘Who brought the note concerning Dr Zyss?’ queried Holmes.

‘A messenger of some kind. Mrs Arbuthnot saw him walking up the path holding the note in his hand as she was closing the drawing-room curtains, so she went to the front door to see what he wanted, whereupon he handed her the message. He also took her message to Lady Boothby.’

‘Was any reason given for Dr Zyss’s non-attendance?’

‘No. The note was very brief, she said, and simply stated that he couldn’t come. Mrs Arbuthnot says she assumed that he must be ill; but of course she couldn’t know one way or the other. Anyway, as I say, she went to inform her husband, found him dead, and sent the maid to find the local constable, who is usually somewhere in the vicinity at that time in the evening. It was then about quarter to seven. The maid arrived back with the constable about ten minutes later, and having made a preliminary examination of the scene of the crime, and established that Professor Arbuthnot was definitely dead and that nothing could be done for him, he locked up the room and went to inform the local station of what had happened. They at once communicated with Scotland Yard, and the information was passed to me. I set off as soon as I could, and reached Holly Grove at about half past eight.

‘My first impression when I opened the study door was that there had been a considerable struggle in there. The professor was lying on his back on a rug in the middle of the room. He had been stabbed through the heart with a sharp paper-knife, and had bled freely. All about him was chaos and disorder. A chair and a small table had been knocked over. Books and papers which appeared to have been knocked off the desk were scattered about on the floor. It was clear that, advanced in years though he was, Professor Arbuthnot had not given up his life without a fight.’

‘Such a struggle can hardly have been noiseless,’ observed Holmes, ‘and yet it would appear to have passed unheard; for no one came to see what was happening, and Mrs Arbuthnot only discovered that her husband was dead when she took him the note concerning Dr Zyss.’

‘Yes, that is surprising,’ agreed Gregson; ‘but the house is a very solidly built one, with thick walls, and the cook and the maid were in the kitchen with the door closed, preparing the meal, and no doubt making noise of their own. It is perhaps more surprising that the professor’s wife did not hear anything, but she says she did not. Anyway, after the body had been removed, I examined the whole room carefully, looking for any clue as to what had occurred there. In the course of this examination, I picked up a few pencils and suchlike that had obviously been knocked off the desk, and it was while I was doing this that I encountered something surprising.’

Gregson put his hand in his jacket pocket and produced a small object which he held out for us to see. It was a small black figure of an owl sitting on a bough, about three inches tall. Holmes took it and examined it for a moment, then passed it to me, and I was at once struck by the surprising weight of the little figure.

‘Why,’ I said, ‘it feels as heavy as cast iron!’

‘Lacquered brass, I think,’ said Holmes. ‘It is evidently a paper-weight. What is it you find so surprising about it, Gregson?’

‘Mrs Arbuthnot happened to pass the open doorway of the room just as I was picking it up from the floor,’ responded the policeman, ‘and she asked me what it was.

‘“Does it not belong to your husband?” I returned in surprise. “I assumed it had been knocked off the desk.”

‘She shook her head. “I have never seen it before in my life,” said she.

‘I later showed it to the maid and the cook, and both stated that they had never seen it before.’

‘That is strange,’ said Holmes. ‘Why should anyone bring a paper-weight to the house? I take it that it wasn’t used as a weapon – to strike the professor on the head for instance?’

‘No,’ said Gregson. ‘Apart from the savage wound in the chest, there were no other marks of violence on the body. I had examined his head very carefully, to see if he had been struck there, but he hadn’t.’

‘Did you find anything else of interest in the professor’s study?’ asked Holmes, but the policeman shook his head. ‘Very well. Pray proceed with your account. When was the last time Mrs Arbuthnot saw her husband alive?’

‘About five o’clock. She went into the study to speak to him on some trivial matter, and was there about five or ten minutes. While she was there, the maid brought him in a cup of tea, and informed Mrs Arbuthnot that she had placed a cup for her in the drawing-room. A few minutes later Mrs Arbuthnot left the study for the drawing-room, and did not see her husband again. She says that when he was at work on something, he had an intense dislike of being disturbed. So we can say for certain that the assault took place between about ten past five and half past six, when the messenger from Dr Zyss arrived.’

‘Had anyone else called at the house during that time?’ queried Holmes.

Gregson hesitated. ‘Just one person – and that a rum one, if the maid is to be believed.’

‘Pray be precise,’ said Holmes.

‘Well, the maid says that at about a quarter past six, there was a ring at the front-door bell. She was in the kitchen at the time, helping the cook, but she quickly wiped her hands and hurried to the front door. When she opened it, she says, she saw to her surprise that there was no one waiting on the doorstep; but at the other end of the path, near the gate, stood a woman dressed all in black, who seemed to be just staring at the house. The maid called to her “Yes, madam? Can I help you?” or something of the sort, but the woman did not reply. For a moment, the girl says, the woman just stared with a fixed gaze at the house, then she slowly raised her arm and pointed at it. After a few moments, she turned away and, without a sound, passed through the gate and out into Holly Grove. The maid was frightened, so she shut the door quickly, and ran back to the kitchen to tell the cook what she had seen.’

‘Did the maid recognise the woman?’

The policeman shook his head. ‘She was wearing a heavy black veil, which completely concealed her face. The girl described her as looking, she said, “like a great black bird standing on the path”, and when she raised her hand and pointed with her finger at the house, the girl said it was “like the claw of a bird”.’

‘So, leaving aside the poetic description, she has no idea who it was?’

‘When I put the point to her later in the evening, in the course of my inquiries, she surprised me by saying that she thought she did know.’

‘Oh?’

‘“Yes, sir,” said she, nodding her head vigorously, “I didn’t know then, but I do now. That woman was Death, come to call the master away.”’