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

‘When I saw him later, he told me what was in his mind. It seems there was someone standing in his way, professionally speaking, and preventing the light shining on him as he’d like. “If he could be put out of the way for a time,” says Sir Gilbert in that slow cunning way of his, “I might find it convenient. And you might find, Thomas, that there was something in it for you, too.”

‘To make the matter brief: the party’s name was Hawkesworth, Sir Gilbert told me exactly what to do and I done it. He’d given me some money beforehand and told me to lie low for a while afterwards, then come back after a year or so and he’d find me a job. Which I did.

‘That was all ten year ago. Things have been all right since, but I’ve never had much money, and when I asked him, the other week, if he could let me have a bit more, he says I couldn’t have none. Well, I said this and he said that, and it got so we was almost at each other’s throats; and then I said I could stir up plenty of trouble for him if he didn’t do right by me. “Oh? How’s that?” said he in a cool voice; so I told him: I’d saved a note he’d sent to me in connection with the Hawkesworth job, which he’d told me to burn. I’ve always found that when someone tells you to burn something, it generally pays to hang on to it.

‘“That note won’t prove anything,” says he; “I didn’t commit myself in it.”

‘“Perhaps not,” says I, “but it’ll certainly start some rumours off.”

‘“You’ll condemn yourself if you produce that,” says he.

‘“Oh no I won’t, see, ’cause it’s not got my name on it and I’ll send it anonymously to his Honour, the Head of the Bench.”

‘I could see that this had worried him. He bit his lip and thought for a while.

‘“When I saved you from the gallows,” says he in a quiet voice, “some evidence came my way which ended up locked in my private cupboard. If you threaten me, Mason, that evidence will come back out of my cupboard again and you’ll swing for it.”

‘“I know the law,” says I. “I’ve been tried once and found not guilty. I can’t be tried again, whatever you come up with.”

‘At this he laughed. “Dear me!” says he, cackling like a hen. “Dear me, Thomas! You know the law, do you? Well, let me tell you, my man, that I’m the expert, and I tell you that with the evidence I’ve got hidden away, you could be re-charged, with slightly different words on the indictment, and you’d hang as sure as you’re standing here now! If you give me any more trouble, that evidence comes out of my cupboard!” ’

‘That was a lie,’ Brown interrupted. ‘You could not be charged again with the same crime.’

‘Mebbe it was, but it put the wind up me, anyhow. I didn’t say nothing then, but I made my mind up to break into his blessed cupboard one night when he wasn’t there and see if I couldn’t find his precious evidence. I’ve had a bit of a wait for the right time, ’cause the gentlemen have all been working late recently, but tonight looked a fair chance, so in I went. I thought I’d have plenty of time, but – curse my luck – he came back early from his supper and heard me moving about, so I had to go down and face him out. He got a surprise when I walked into his office.

‘“What the devil are you doing here, Mason!” he cried in a loud, unpleasant tone. “I thought I’d seen the last of you for today!”

‘“I have returned,” I shouted back at him, “to find that evidence you’ve got against me.”

‘“What!” says he in an angry voice. “You’ve been in my private rooms? This is the last straw, Mason! It’s time for you and me to part company altogether.”

‘“Give me some money and I’ll go as fast as you like,” says I, as hot as he was.

‘“Very well.” says he; “and then I never want to see you again as long as I live.”

‘He fetched the big cash-box and opened it up with the key on his watch-chain, but there was little enough in it.

‘“I thought there’d be more than this,” says he.

‘“Oh, did you?” says I, thinking he was trying to play a game, with me as the fool. I had my knife out and at his throat before he could move. “You find some more,” says I, “or you won’t leave this room alive.”

‘“You can’t threaten me,” says he, and made a grab at the knife. But quick as he moved, so did I and the knife went straight into his throat. I didn’t mean to do it, but he brought it on himself, and that’s the Gospel truth, if I have to swing for it.’

We all sat in silence as this remarkable and terrible tale ended with these words, and remained in silence after Stoddard had taken his prisoner away. Then Sherlock Holmes stood up, took his hat and coat, and we prepared to leave.

‘Can all this be true?’ said Brown, in a tone of stupefaction.

‘I rather fancy it is,’ said Holmes, ‘and that Sir Gilbert Cheshire learnt too late that he who conceals a serpent within his bosom will at last feel the serpent’s bite himself.’

The following morning’s newspapers had been printed too early to include news of Mason’s arrest, and it was left to the evening papers to apprise their readers of the latest developments. But by then this remarkable case had produced a further surprise, and I remember vividly the shock with which I read the heading in the St James’s Gazette: ‘TEMPLE MURDER: ESCAPE OF CHIEF SUSPECT’. It appeared from the account given beneath this heading that very soon after he had left us the night before, Mason had suddenly broken from the grasp of the policemen who held him, dashed away, and vanished into the dense, swirling fog.

For twenty-four hours he was sought in vain. But late the following night, a police-constable saw a man crossing London Bridge whom he recognised from the description as Mason and gave chase across the bridge. Summoned by the first man’s whistle, a second officer made his way on to the bridge from the Southwark side and Mason, seeing that there was no chance of escape in either direction, threw himself from the parapet of the bridge into the blackness of the river below. The River Police were at once notified and an organised search made, but no trace of the fugitive was discovered.

Three days later, Sherlock Holmes received a letter by the last post which he read and passed to me without comment. It ran as follows:

MY DEAR MR HOLMES,

This is to inform you that a body was washed up by Wapping Old Stairs early this morning, which has now been identified as that of Thomas Mason. The doctor says that his skull is fractured, which was the cause of death, and it is thought likely that he struck his head on one of the stone piers of the bridge when he jumped. I have now made a full report to my superiors of all the facts of which I am aware, and both the Cheshire case and the Hawkesworth case are now officially closed. Thanking you for your great help in the matter, I remain – Yours very sincerely,

Of all the many curious cases to which the singular skills of Mr Sherlock Holmes were applied during the time we shared chambers together, there is none I can recall in which the circumstances were of a more dramatic or surprising character than that which concerned the well-known Suffolk family of Davenoke. The sombre and striking events which followed on so rapidly from the marriage of the Davenoke heir and the death of his father were accorded considerable publicity at the time, so that there will be few among my readers who are entirely ignorant of the matter; but the contemporary accounts all suffered from a want of accuracy, and all too often it was sought to remedy a deficiency of fact with a surfeit of imagination, with the result that a cheap and sensational gloss was put on an affair whose macabre details stood in no need of such adornment. It is with the intention, then, of supplying the first full and accurate account of the matter, and of correcting certain prevalent misapprehensions, that the following narrative is set down.