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

‘“I don’t know nothing of any lights, madam,” said she in answer to my questions, “and I am forbidden to gossip about such things.”

‘“Forbidden?’ I queried. “Forbidden by whom?”

‘“Why, Mr Hardwick, madam.”

‘I could get nothing further from her and when I told her she could go, she bustled quickly away, with very evident relief. In truth, I think it very likely that she does, indeed, know nothing; but the butler is a different case altogether and I am convinced that there is much that he could tell me if he would. Unlike the other servants, he is a man of some intelligence and learning, and might, under other circumstances, have made Shoreswood almost bearable for me. But as matters stand, I have come to feel that I cannot trust him.

‘When I retired that night, I vowed to myself that if there were no letter from Edward the following morning, I should leave for London in the afternoon. This decision cheered me somewhat, but I still secured the door and window of my bedroom as I had done before. Perhaps these precautions strike you as absurd, gentlemen, as you sit here in the bustling heart of London; but had you spent nights alone in Shoreswood Hall I believe you would understand – yes, and feel as I felt that night. As I was by the window, a sudden slight noise from the garden set my hair on end. What the noise was, I do not know – perhaps an owl disturbing the leaves upon a tree – but my nerves were frayed and the slightest noise was enough to bring my heart to my mouth.

‘The moon was shining brightly that night, bathing the lawn outside in its grey light, and I could see quite clearly across to the woods. As I peered out, I saw something which sent my blood cold in my veins. A dark, hunched figure in a long hooded cloak was making its way slowly and deliberately across the lawn towards the house. With a thrill of loathing rising in my breast, I watched, unable to move, as the figure approached slowly in the moonlight. All at once, as on a sudden thought, it turned aside and struck out in another direction, until at length it vanished from my sight round an angle of the building. For twenty minutes I remained by the window, but saw nothing further, and heard nothing but the distant chiming of a church clock.

‘I was still awake when the church clock struck the next hour. So disturbed and agitated was I, that I could not think what to do. My dearest wish was to fly from this dreadful house that very minute and yet I feared to leave my little bedroom, not knowing what I might encounter beyond. Even as I debated the matter in my head, a slight noise at the window set me rigid with fear. It was, I suppose, but a very slight noise, as the flutter of a moth’s wing against the window-pane, but to me it was like the roar of Niagara. Then it came again, a faint creaking sound this time, and I realised with a feeling of sickness that someone – or something – was endeavouring to open my bedroom window from without.’

Lady Davenoke shuddered convulsively and stared for a long moment at her hands, which she had been clasping and unclasping violently all the while she spoke. Then she raised her head once more.

‘Other than a sensation of the blood rushing in my ears, I can remember nothing more,’ said she with a deep sigh. ‘I evidently passed out. When I awoke it was broad daylight and the birds were singing outside my window. There was no letter from my husband that morning, so I packed my bags and had Staples drive me to the railroad station.’

‘This disturbance at your bedroom window,’ interjected Holmes: ‘were you able to see the cause of it?’

‘No. The curtains were drawn.’

‘Then it could have been anything – or nothing; the wind, perhaps.’

‘But I had seen the hooded figure upon the lawn.’

‘Quite so. I do not doubt it for an instant. And you therefore quite naturally drew the conclusion that the two incidents were related.’

‘Are you suggesting otherwise?’

‘I have no opinion upon the matter, for the data are so far insufficient. There are any number of explanations which might account for what you have seen and heard, and it is much too early to favour any one against the others. It is a capital error to theorise ahead of the data. It biases the judgement. The figure you saw upon the lawn may have been that of a poacher, for example, and may have nothing whatever to do with the other incidents you have mentioned.’

‘I understand your point, Mr Holmes,’ said Lady Davenoke after a moment. She took a sip from a tumbler of water which I had passed her. ‘I am afraid, however,’ she continued after a moment, ‘that my own conclusions remain unshaken.’

‘You may of course be correct. I shall pursue the truth of the matter and then we shall see. What was the butler’s reaction when he learnt that you were leaving Shoreswood?’

‘He seemed quite disturbed about it, Mr Holmes. Indeed, he attempted rather clumsily to dissuade me from going. So I interpreted his remarks, at least, when he kept repeating that his master would no doubt be back in a day or so. It was almost as if he feared what I might discover in London. When it became evident to him that I was not to be dissuaded from going, he tried to learn my intended destination on the pretext that my husband might return in my absence and wish to know where I was staying. His manner was very agitated, his face the picture of deceit. Needless to say, I did not tell him what he wanted to know. Indeed, the fact that he clearly did not wish me to go merely hardened my resolve to leave at once, and the efforts with which he tried to learn my plans merely hardened my resolve not to satisfy his curiosity. I had been convinced ever since my return to Shoreswood that he was not telling me all he knew, so why should I tell him what was in my mind? I could not believe that he wanted the information simply to pass it on to Edward.’

‘What happened when you arrived in London?’ queried Holmes, as our visitor paused.

‘I called upon Lady Congrave, who appeared delighted to see me. She insisted that I stay with her whilst in London and would brook no argument upon the point. She had a friend staying with her – Miss Edith Strensall, a young lady of about my own age – and she, too, was most welcoming. I did not at first tell them what had brought me to London and they did not press me upon the point. The following day – that is, last Friday – I called at the Royal Suffolk Hotel. The manager, Mr Solferino, was most kind to me, but he was unable to help. Edward was not staying there and an examination of the hotel register showed that he had not been there at any time in the past six months. I asked Mr Solferino why the letter I had sent had not, then, been at once returned to me, and he explained that he had assumed that there had been some confusion over dates, and had held on to my letter for a couple of days in case my husband turned up.

‘“It has been sent back now, however,” said he. “Indeed, I am surprised that you have not already received it. No doubt it will be there by now. Please give your husband my best wishes – when you find him!” he added with a smile, not realising the feeling of utter desperation which gnawed at my soul.

‘I spent the next few days endeavouring to be pleasant to Lady Congrave, Miss Strensall and their visitors with increasing difficulty. Finally, yesterday afternoon, when the three of us were alone, Lady Congrave spoke frankly to me and begged me to tell them what it was that weighed so heavily upon my mind. I poured out my heart to them then and was glad afterwards that I had done so. They were most sympathetic and, more than that, they both made a positive suggestion. Miss Strensall declared that she would return with me to Shoreswood – she had no engagements and could leave as soon as I was ready – and Lady Congrave urged most strongly that I put the matter in your hands, Mr Holmes.’