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

‘You have certainly confirmed your theory, anyhow,’ said Inspector Jones after a moment, eyeing the box on the table warily. ‘But who the dickens could have done it?’

‘I strongly suspect that Captain Jex, who called here yesterday, was the agent of these deaths.’

‘What – the gentleman who had the fainting fit?’

‘I think we may safely dismiss the fainting fit, Jones,’ replied Holmes in a dry tone. ‘It made sense to Miss Montague only because she was convinced that the box possessed some evil power, natural or supernatural. But if that is discounted as a possibility, as I had discounted it, then Jex’s actions appear in a somewhat different light. Clearly he had been down on the floor for some purpose, and only pretended to have fainted when Miss Montague entered and found him there. What could that purpose have been, but to find the spider? No doubt he had reasoned as I had done that the likeliest hiding place for the creature was in that dark recess under the cupboard. Spiders have their own fears and anxieties, you know, Jones, and finding itself in unfamiliar surroundings, it would naturally seek the darkest corner it could find. But if Jex was looking for the spider, then he must have known it was there; and how could he know of the spider’s existence except if he himself had sent it?’

‘He must be a cool customer,’ remarked Jones, ‘to return to the scene of his crime so soon. Why should he do so?’

‘It may be,’ replied Holmes, ‘that he had intended only to frighten Furnival with the spider and when he heard that Furnival had died, saw at once that if the spider were found it would put a noose round his neck. If, however, he could remove the spider, then that danger would be averted.’

‘You may be right,’ said Jones. ‘Anyhow, we must get after the villain as quickly as possible.’

‘Dr Watson and I have already made inquiries at the place he was staying last week,’ said Holmes, and described our visit to Greenwich. ‘He evidently left there on Monday, took the direct train to Charing Cross, where he posted his parcel and then took himself off elsewhere. You may be able to trace him through his purchase of the box at a curio shop, or through Captain McNeill, the man whose name he mentioned at Greenwich; but I rather fancy that Captain Jex is a resourceful character and not likely to sit about, waiting to be apprehended.’

‘We shall see about that,’ said Jones in a determined tone. ‘If we haven’t collared him by this time next week, then you may call me an idiot!’

This extravagant offer was politely overlooked, however, the next time Jones called in to see us at Baker Street. Three weeks had passed without any news and I had concluded that Captain Jex had slipped through the net. But Jones began by stating that he had some new information about the fugitive.

‘That is good news,’ said Holmes.

‘It’s not so good as you suppose, Mr Holmes,’ responded Jones in a gloomy tone. ‘We have managed to trace him, but he is dead.’

‘Ah! I see. When did it happen?’

‘Twelve years ago.’

‘What!’ cried Holmes and I in astonishment.

Jones nodded his head. ‘We are certain we have the right man. Captain Abel Jex was murdered in 1874, on the island of St Anthony, in the West Indies, by a man called David McNeill.’

‘What became of McNeill?’ asked Holmes.

‘There were evidently mitigating circumstances in the case, for he escaped the gallows; but he did ten years in a penal colony and died shortly after his release.’

For some time we sat in silence, too dumbfounded by this information to speak.

‘What on earth is the meaning of it all?’ I asked at length.

‘That is the question, Dr Watson,’ said Athelney Jones in a tone of puzzlement. ‘As to the answer, your guess is as good as mine.’

No further progress was made with the case and it at length passed entirely from our thoughts, as new work took the place of old. In my own mind, I had long since consigned it to that list of cases which were unlikely ever to be cleared up satisfactorily, when, one morning, two years later, Holmes received a communication from Grindley and Leggatt, solicitors, of Gray’s Inn. This consisted of a sealed foolscap document, with an accompanying letter explaining that the document had been deposited with them two years previously by a Mr David McNeill, with the instruction that in the event of his death, it was to be forwarded to Sherlock Holmes. McNeill’s death, they informed us, had been reported within the past week. The enclosed document ran as follows:

MY DEAR MR SHERLOCK HOLMES,

I know of your reputation and am aware that you have taken an interest in the deaths of Victor Furnival and his sister, Mrs Eardley. I therefore venture to give you the following account, confident that you will recognise it for the truth that it is:

When first I met Victor Furnival, he was the manager of a large sugar-cane plantation on the island of St Anthony in the West Indies, and had a reputation as a brutal and merciless overseer. I was master of a small tramp vessel at the time, sailing about the Caribbean and happy enough with my lot. Sometimes, when we put in at Trianna Bay, which was the largest town on St Anthony, I would meet up with Furnival, and other Englishmen that were there, and we would drink and play cards, as men tend to do when they are far from home. It was a rough place, full of rough people and with no pretensions to gentility; but even there, among such people, Furnival was known for his vicious tongue and his bullying, blustering manner.

Among those with whom we sometimes played cards and passed the time was Captain Abel Jex, who owned a small boat and traded among the nearby islands. Occasionally, he picked up pearls from the local fishermen, which he sold to a dealer in Trianna Bay; but there was a persistent rumour that those he sold were the poorer ones and that he was building up a secret cache of really fine pearls to pay for a life of ease when he finally gave up the sea. I had always doubted this rumour, but it was confirmed to me one day by the man himself. I was in Trianna Bay and ran across Captain Jex down by the harbour. He told me that he had come to town to have his pearls valued by an expert from Jamaica who was staying there for a few days and that the appraisal had been very favourable. Evidently pleased with himself, he showed me the pearls, as we sat in a bar by the harbour. From a small velvet pouch, he tipped on to his hand a dozen of the most perfect and lustrous pearls I had ever seen. What they might be worth, I could not say, but I would guess that they might set a man up for life. I motioned to him to put them away, for I saw that we were being observed by other men in the bar, men of the vilest antecedents, who would think nothing of slitting Jex’s throat to get hold of his treasure.

Later that day, I was obliged to see Furnival on business, so I walked out to his house, which lay in an isolated spot, ten minutes from the town. As I approached the front door, I heard raised voices from within the house, which I recognised as those of Furnival and his sister, Mrs Eardley. She had come out from England to live with her brother the previous year, after her husband had died and, to speak plainly, was generally disliked. She was a mean, grasping, shrewish woman, whose presence seemed to have made Furnival even more ill-tempered and disagreeable than before.

‘You fool!’ I heard her cry in a harsh tone. ‘You must seize your chances! Or do you want to rot forever in this stinking place?’

I did not know what they were discussing, nor had any wish to know. I knocked on the door, was admitted by the servant and heard no more. That evening, I attended Furnival’s house again, for dinner. I had thought, from what he told me earlier, that there would be half a dozen of us there, but in the event the only other visitor was Captain Jex. The four of us played cards for a while after dinner; but I found Mrs Eardley’s company so intolerable that I presently made some excuse and left, returning to my ship in the harbour.