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

‘Perhaps he was simply wearing a pair of these,’ replied Holmes, indicating a wooden box which stood on the floor by the wall. Inside the box were several dozen pairs of white evening-dress gloves. He took a pair and slipped them on to his long, thin hands. ‘Observe,’ said he, ‘how, if one clenches one’s fist, one’s hands appear more bony in these than if one were not wearing gloves at all.’

‘But if, as you suggest, this villain did not deliberately set out to frighten anyone, but encountered the girl by chance, why should he have been wearing these white gloves at all?’ asked Hardy.

‘Perhaps simply to conceal his hands from anyone who did happen to see him,’ replied Holmes. ‘The human hand is a very individual thing and a man’s hand can sometimes identify him every bit as precisely as his face. Now, let us proceed: the women did not search these rooms when they found their colleague in distress. It is possible, then, that the girl’s assailant remained hidden in some dark corner here until they had gone.’

‘She says she heard his footsteps in the corridor,’ I interjected.

‘That is true, but it is possible that he ran only a few yards along the corridor, then turned in at the next doorway, the other entrance to these rooms. He would certainly not wish to encounter anyone else who might be drawn into the corridor by the girl’s screams, and these dark rooms would probably offer the best hiding place. He could lie low in here for a while, wait until the hue and cry had died down, and then make good his escape. Can you recall the whereabouts of the various members of the company yesterday evening, Mr Hardy, at the time of this incident?’

‘All members of the chorus, both male and female, were on stage at the time,’ replied Hardy. ‘We had the orchestra in and were rehearsing some of the musical ensemble pieces. I know that Miss Ballantyne had left for home by then, but I am afraid I cannot tell you offhand where anyone else was. I have been so preoccupied lately that the days have passed as if in a blur. Except for those members of the company with whom I am rehearsing at any given moment, I am generally unable to say who is present and who is not. I have all the rehearsal details in my office upstairs, however, if you would care to consult the book.’

‘In a moment. First, let us take a look round these chambers. I see that there are yet more rooms behind these. What are they used for?’

‘Nothing in particular. This theatre is full of dusty old store-rooms and cupboards, a good half of which we do not use at all. Come, I will show you!’

We passed through an open doorway at the back of the men’s costume store, into another large, low-ceilinged chamber, stacked high with wooden crates of various sizes, most of which appeared to be empty. Hardy held up his lantern and we followed the spread of its light about the room. It was a grimy chamber, with a dank, earthy smell about it. At the top of each of the damp-stained, whitewashed walls was a small grating, through which cold air brought the sound of dripping rain into the room. In the far wall were three dirty and mildewed doors.

‘As you can see,’ remarked our guide, ‘this room is little used. There are a few odd stage properties in these boxes, but most of them are empty. I doubt if this room has been used for anything much since Solomon Tanner’s day.’

Holmes took the lantern and prowled slowly about this gloomy chamber for several minutes, examining the walls and the flagstone floor very closely, until at last he paused before the rotten-looking old doors and tried the handle of each in turn.

‘These doors all appear to be locked,’ he remarked.

‘They are only dirty old cupboards,’ returned Hardy dismissively. ‘I don’t think they’ve ever been opened since we’ve had the theatre.’

‘Do you know where the keys are?’ enquired Holmes, peering closely at the lock of the middle door of the three.

‘There are two large bunches of keys somewhere in the office upstairs,’ replied Hardy. ‘The keys to these cupboards may be among them, but none of the keys is labelled, so you would have to try them all. I don’t know why you are so interested in them, Mr Holmes!’

‘Professional thoroughness,’ returned Holmes with a chuckle.

‘If you would care to accompany me to my office, then, I’ll find the keys for you – and while you are there you can look over the records of recent rehearsals.’

‘I shall follow you upstairs in a moment,’ said Holmes. ‘Do you also have in your office any information on the history of this theatre?’ he asked, as Hardy turned to leave.

‘Indeed I do. We have a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings, dating back many years, to the heyday of Solomon Tanner and even beyond. It belonged to the old doorman of the Albion, who had compiled it over many years’ service here. He is retired now, living with his daughter down Walworth way. About three years ago, however, when he heard that we had bought the theatre and were planning to reopen it, he arrived here one morning and presented the scrapbook to me, which was very kind of him. It forms a detailed historical record, of both the Albion and the Southwark Palace, next door. As a matter of fact, Miss Ballantyne was asking me about the scrapbook only the other day and I found it for her. It will be in her dressing-room still, I should think. She won’t mind your having a look at it in there. I’ll light the gas for you as I pass.’

The moment that Hardy had left us, and we heard his footsteps in the corridor, Holmes handed the lantern to me.

‘Hold it down here,’ said he, as he bent to inspect a patch of floor which lay immediately in front of the middle cupboard door.

I did as he asked, and watched as he subjected the flagstones to the most minute examination. Down on all fours, and with his nose scarcely an inch from the floor, he resembled nothing so much as a bloodhound following a trail. Then he pulled from his pocket his powerful lens and a tape-measure, with which he made several measurements.

‘I cannot see what you are measuring,’ said I.

‘Footprints,’ replied he, jotting down some figures in a note-book.

‘I cannot see them.’

‘The marks are not very clear, but they are clear enough for my purposes. I observed them earlier. You no doubt remarked that I avoided stepping on this damp patch of floor. I did not mention the matter in front of Mr Hardy, for I wished to avoid putting anything into his head which he might inadvertently let slip to someone else. The fewer people who know what we have discovered, the more likely we are to bring the matter to a successful conclusion.’

After a while, he stood up and began to examine the frame around the middle door, making further notes in his book and muttering to himself as he did so. Some mark on the door-frame, at about shoulder height, seemed particularly to interest him and he studied it for some time through his lens. Then, very carefully, he removed something from the woodwork at that spot. ‘A thread, caught on a sharp splinter of wood,’ said he, as he placed it in a small envelope he had taken from his pocket. Presently, he stood back, with an expression of satisfaction upon his features.

‘Well, well,’ said he, as he put his note-book away; ‘that is all clear enough. No doubt you observed that the hinges of this middle door have had some kind of grease smeared on to them. No? Look, then, Watson: the edges of the hinges are just visible in the gap between the door and the frame. It is evident that this door has been opened very recently.’

I held the lantern close to the edge of the door and saw it was as he said. The edge of the hinge glistened with grease.

‘Another discovery I thought I would not mention in front of Mr Hardy,’ remarked my companion. ‘Let us now re-examine the monks’ robes.’