Sherlock Holmes and the Four Corners of Hell

by Seamas Duffy

  ‘It would certainly give our investigation some direction if it were known that the Reverend Staunton should benefit in some way from the death. What were Miss Farnham’s movements on the night that she died?’

  ‘According to Staunton, she had been to the church for Sunday evening service, went to the vicarage for about half an hour, took a cup of tea, and then went home. A Miss Collins, who has a dressmaker’s shop in the town and who lives a few doors away, saw Miss Farnham arriving home about 7.30 in the evening. None of neighbours we questioned saw anyone entering or leaving her house after that time until Mrs Kenny came around this morning. Miss Farnham seems to have had supper after she returned from church, for the remains of some food – a roast lamb joint – were discovered in the kitchen. The joint had been carved and had been partly eaten. It has now been removed and sent for analysis.’

  ‘Who made the tea which Miss Farnham drank at the vicarage?’ Holmes asked.

  ‘Miss Crouch made it.’

  ‘And all the occupants of the house drank it?’

  ‘So they said.’

  ‘Tell me about this crypt which appears to have been disturbed during the night.’

  ‘Both the crypt and the coffin were very old and the inscription is withered away, therefore it is not known to whom they belonged.’

  ‘But the crypt could, of course, have been disturbed at some other time and yet not been noticed until this morning?’ said Holmes.

  ‘It is possible, but the constable’s evidence is that it was not.’

  ‘And no one knows whose remains were in it?’

  ‘I have sent a man off to check the burial records for the churchyard, but I am not hopeful. One would have thought that there would have been nothing more than a pile of old bones.’

  ‘A pile of old bones …’ repeated Holmes thoughtfully, ‘yes, of course, very likely a pile of bones.’

  ‘But after this morning’s discovery, I am not so sure what may have been lurking in there,’ the Inspector said. ‘Well, we are almost there now, Mr Holmes, and you will be able to see all for yourself.’

  We had turned by the pleasantly rural Edmonton Green, with its colourful stalls and live chickens and geese. Crossing under the railway bridge, we made our way along a bustling street with shops and cafés, and then turned off to the right just before the tram terminus. We alighted at the house in Church Avenue, one of a line of neat, comfortable-looking, semi-detached, suburban villas with tidy gardens. A uniformed constable stood on the pavement outside number 27, where a small knot of curious neighbours had begun to gather around to exchange gossip and to try to peer across the garden into the brightly-curtained windows on the lower floor. A short, dark, stocky fellow in uniform, who was introduced to us as Sergeant Channon, hailed us as we entered the house.

  ‘You may speak freely before these two gentlemen,’ said the Inspector, ‘this is Mr Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.’

  ‘I am honoured to meet you both,’ said the young man earnestly, ‘I have assiduously read the accounts of all your cases. I have most of the information you have been waiting for, Sir,’ he said briskly to Wills, waving a sheaf of papers, ‘I opened them all as you directed. Miss Farnham’s solicitor, Mr Herbert Lloyd, confirms that she is intestate. She had inherited some property from her father, which has been in the family for generations, and also some investments. The estate, therefore, is quite considerable – several thousand pounds. She had interest on the investments and with her salary as a librarian, she must have been quite comfortable. Then there is the house, which is certainly worth a few hundred pounds. Mr Lloyd is presently trying to trace any relatives which the dead woman may have. There are no brothers or sisters, though one of the neighbours said he thought she had an old aunt in Hampshire whom she used to visit occasionally.’

  ‘Surely the housekeeper would know?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘Mrs Kenny is under sedation at her daughter’s house presently, Mr Holmes,’ said the sergeant. ‘She is a tough old creature, though, and I hope she will be able to speak to us before too long. Once I have finished here, I shall go round to see her. I’m afraid, Sir, that the burial records have not been found, so we are unable to say to whom the crypt and coffin belongs or how old they are.’

  ‘Some of the older folk are very superstitious about it,’ Wills added. ‘They talk of an old legend that goes back to when Edmonton was a village. It had belonged to a family whose son had been put to death in the witchcraft trials several centuries ago.’

  ‘It is no mere legend, Sir,’ said Channon. ‘When I went round to see the sexton about the matter, he let me see a fragment of an old manuscript he had amongst the records. It is dated 1631, and entitled Funerall Monuments of Edmundton. It says: “Here lieth interred under a seemelie tomb without inscription the body of one ingenious conceited gentleman that, by his wittie devices beguiled the devill, and who did live and die in the raigne of Henry VII.” There is no record of who this refers to, but on closer inspection this morning, I ascertained that there had never been any inscription on the tomb.’

  ‘Well done, Sergeant!’ said Wills. ‘What else have you discovered?’

  ‘Constable Parkins and I have searched the house, the garden, and the outhouses and found nothing incriminating. Parkins spoke to the neighbour, Mr Crane, but he could add nothing to what we already know – he was the gentleman who informed us of the dead woman’s elderly aunt. Here is a wire from the police surgeon, too, which arrived just before you did.’

  Wills quickly ran over the contents. ‘As I suspected, Mr Holmes, no trace of poison, and no other injuries. Time of death, between ten o’clock at night and two o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘Well, I think you have done as much as you can.’ said Holmes, ‘Let us have a look at the room where the body was found.’

  Channon went off to speak to the housekeeper and Wills led the way upstairs. I deduced from Holmes’s manner rather than his words that he had found little to excite his suspicions in the room. He examined the bed, the wardrobe, and the windowsill, the state of which seemed to corroborate the Inspector’s suspicions that it had recently been used as a means of access or egress. The window opened out on the rear garden, beyond which could be seen the churchyard, the church, and the first-floor windows of the vicarage. The Inspector pointed out to us where a path led from the street, between two of the villas, and skirted the churchyard. This had been Miss Farnham’s usual route to and from the church.

  ‘Then the dead woman’s movements could easily have been anticipated by any assailant?’ Holmes asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And watched, too, from the upper windows of the houses in this row, or by anyone at the vicarage?’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ replied Wills. ‘In the main, Miss Farnham spent most of her time either at the library or at the church and vicarage. According to the neighbours, she rarely varied her routine. Church at seven o’clock, then back home to breakfast, which Mrs Kenny would have ready for her. She would come home from the library at one o’clock for lunch, then Mrs Kenny would lay out something for tea and be gone by the time Miss Farnham returned at six o’clock.’

  We returned to the lower floor and then went into the rear garden. On examining the shrubbery under the bedroom window, Holmes pointed to the soft, damp ground, ‘I suppose this vampire can fly as well, Inspector,’ he muttered acerbically. ‘There is no evidence of any footprints which would indicate someone gaining entry from here; neither is there any means of accessing the bedroom window from here – no drainpipe, for instance. I think I have seen enough; let us proceed to the vicarage.’

  The church itself seemed conventional enough, though Staunton had removed the name ‘All Souls’ from the pediment and had had it replaced with ‘Ekklesia Rhodon Porphura’. The grounds had been liberally planted with purple roses, and at the base of the steeple, on an elevated plinth supported by naked caryatids, were four figures cast in bronze: a bow, a quiver of arrows, a spear, and a fiery char
iot. As we approached the vicarage, I noticed a man wearing a long, flowing white robe with a purple stole secured about the waist by a silk cincture, whom I took to be Staunton. He was conversing in the porch with a member of his congregation, an elderly woman whose gaze he held. Once he saw us approach the house, he terminated the conversation with a bow and a gesture towards us and made his way down the path. The pastor was a tall, bespectacled, bearded fellow with a florid face, high ruddy cheekbones, and long grey locks of hair. His drooping jowls and his affectation of unctuous piety gave him a slightly comic air, though I seemed to detect a hardness about the mouth. Holmes and I had stopped to look at the notice board outside the church, which contained a bold summary of evangelical success: ‘Tracts distributed – 1728; Visits to the sick and dying – 87; Persons led to church for the first time – 56; Drunkards reclaimed – 35; Fallen females rescued from vice and debauchery – 12; Persons living in sin induced to marry – 10.’

  ‘No doubt, gentlemen, you were admiring the good work of our Order,’ said Staunton with an ingratiating manner, ‘of which, surely, no decent, upstanding Christian person could disapprove.’

  ‘No. I was pondering the proposition that virtue was intended to be its own reward, rather than to be reckoned up on a board like cricket scores,’ Holmes replied coolly. ‘Perhaps we had better go inside.’

  The vicarage was very richly furnished, lacking in no creature comfort. Staunton told us that the Order did not normally permit visitors from the outside world, but, as he emphasized none too subtly for our benefit, in this case he was more than happy to make the exception “twice in one day”. He seemed remarkably calm for someone who had just lost a prospective wife, yet there was still something in his manner which appeared to be a forced show of fortitude. He introduced the rest of his household, who were all dressed in mourning, the severe funereal appearance of the inhabitants contrasting starkly with the sumptuous surroundings. Miss Evans was a tall, dark-haired, sharp-eyed, buxom woman who, like Staunton, seemed very composed. Miss Crouch appeared like a younger version of Evans; but the youngest one, Drusilla Jane Ellis, thin, fair-haired, and highly strung, appeared distraught, with red-ringed eyes and an unnatural pallor that told me she had not slept during the night.

  ‘This must have come as a very great shock to you all,’ Holmes began once Wills had introduced us, ‘and I must apologize for intruding upon your grief.’

  Staunton nodded gravely, ‘Yes, we are all immeasurably saddened by the news, especially Sister Ellis. She and Sister Farnham were very close. Just as the rose is surrounded by thorns, so now is our very own little rose now surrounded by sorrows. We had all looked forward to the joyful times we would share here in the Aion Erospiti.’

  ‘Yes, I am sure you did,’ replied Holmes drily. ‘I hesitate to go over what might seem like old ground, but I must inquire about some of your movements.’

  ‘Last night?’

  ‘No, not last night, as it happens. On these dates,’ said Holmes, passing across the note with the dates from Miss Farnham’s diary. Staunton looked bemused.

  ‘Did you visit Miss Farnham late at night on any of those dates?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘I had already told the Inspector,’ replied Staunton, ‘that I had never been in Sister Farnham’s home at any time, and certainly not alone with her. I would not countenance such impropriety. The colours of our Order, Mr Holmes, purple and white, signify humility and purity, and for—’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Holmes interrupted the flow of the man’s insufferable homily. ‘Premises such as these – this enormous church, the house, the large gardens – must require a substantial amount of upkeep, Mr Staunton. How do you manage it?’

  ‘Brother Staunton, if you please,’ he replied to my friend. ‘We are fortunate in having within our congregation a number of persons who are more than happy to assist in defraying the necessary running costs. This household, I may say, contributes more than its fair share. We produce much of our own food, and as we do not indulge in the sin of gluttony, our wants are rather modest.’

  ‘Then you have no financial difficulties?’

  ‘We are not running a business enterprise, Mr Holmes; all that you see here is but a material means to a spiritual end, which is salvation; we have displayed the fruits of our labour for all to see and judge; hence, I was distressed to find you casting aspersions upon it.’

  ‘I was merely wondering what had happened to the idea of doing good by stealth, as opposed to trumpeting it. Where is Mr Crouch at the moment, and what position does he hold in your Order?’

  ‘Brother Crouch holds no position, because there are no positions. We have neither rank nor title, Mr Holmes, we have no need for bishops or cardinals, dames or knights; we are all brothers and sisters in, and all equal before, our Saviour. Ephraim Crouch is in America at the moment, helping to spread the gospel and gathering souls for salvation.’

  ‘Can you tell me exactly where he has gone and on what date he left?’

  ‘Yes, he is with the Goshen Congregation in Arkansas – a kindred chapter. He has been gone for two months. I have a letter from him which he posted upon his arrival, if you would care to see it.’

  ‘No, that will not be necessary. I don’t suppose Miss Farnham is the type that would have made any enemies?’

  ‘Enemies? Of course she had an enemy, Mr Holmes. Every righteous person under heaven has an implacable enemy – Satan!’

  ‘I had in mind someone of more terrestrial connections,’ Holmes replied with ill-concealed derision.

  ‘You know of the manner of this poor girl’s death?’ asked Staunton hotly.

  ‘Inspector Wills has apprised me of the relevant facts. He has, however, asked me for, as it were, a second opinion.’

  ‘What need is there for any second opinion,’ Staunton interrupted my friend, ‘when there can be no doubt as to what has happened? The untainted blood drunk from the girl’s chaste young body; the marks of the beast left upon her; the empty coffin. It is the work of Satan!’ his melancholy voice boomed as little flakes of sputum fell upon his beard, at which point the youngest girl gave a piercing shriek and burst into a flood of tears.

  ‘Yes, I have seen and heard it all, and as you see, I remain quite unconvinced,’ replied Holmes in his most tranquil manner.

  ‘The evil thing which has done this is still at large. How will you go about finding it? With your magnifying glass and your chemical analyses? I have heard of your great, and no doubt well-deserved, reputation, Mr Holmes, but you are wasting your time here … “for we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits!”’

  ‘Ephesians six, twelve,’ said Holmes coolly, as he stood up and made for the door. ‘Let me be perfectly honest with you: when a woman is murdered under any circumstances – yes, even circumstances as apparently singular as these, the first suspicion falls upon the husband, or the prospective husband. Experience teaches us that this is often the correct solution. I will now take a walk outside and inspect the gardens and outhouses. I may return with some further questions for you.’ Staunton glared icily at Holmes as we departed.

  ‘What do you expect to find?’ I asked my friend at length, as we walked outside with the Inspector.

  Holmes replied with a gesture of futility, ‘Look at the size of this place,’ he said. The vicarage gardens were quite large, and there was a small orchard and a row of greenhouses. ‘I have no intention of searching for anything. It was pure bluff in order to gauge his reaction. I must confess it had little effect; either he has nerves of steel or there is indeed nothing to find here. Had there been some guilty secret to discover, I thought I might have provoked him into some indiscretion. I should at least have expected him to watch us through the window, but he has not cast a single nervous glance in our direction. We shall leave him to stew a bit longer before we return. A bigger fraud I’ve scarcely seen, though.’

>   ‘Yes, he has drawn a storm of charges in charlatanism,’ said Wills. ‘His first, legal, wife was a wealthy, elderly friend of his mother whom he appears to have simply married for her money; she left him a quite phenomenal sum which allowed him to buy the old parish church and all that went with it. There was, and is, absolutely no suspicion that her death was anything but natural; she was, after all, eighty-nine. Within three months of his first wife’s death, he had married, so to speak, the Evans woman. Six months later he attached himself to Crouch’s sister and then finally to this Ellis girl. Ruth Farnham was to be the next.’

  ‘I can see him mesmerizing a gullible congregation with little effort. You know, Watson, I had a vague idea that his face was familiar to me, yet I cannot place it. The voice, too.’

  ‘I am afraid I cannot recall him, Holmes. I am sure I detected a hint of the colonial in the accent,’ I said.

  ‘He explained to me that he had once run a Gospel Mission in one of the Australian gold field towns on the Yarrowee River,’ said Wills.

  ‘I should wire to South Australia to check the story if I were you,’ said Holmes.

  ‘They have taken the whole thing remarkably calmly, though I could not help noticing that the younger girl seemed very upset by it,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, that was a more natural reaction than the stony-faced stoicism of the others,’ replied Holmes.

  ‘One must allow that their story was fairly solid all round, though,’ said Wills.

  ‘But corroborated only by themselves,’ I persisted.

  ‘True, Doctor, but what other alibi could they have other than that provided by the members of their own, admittedly extraordinary, household?’ answered Wills.

  ‘I remain convinced that a simple murder has been committedhere,’ said Holmes. ‘I am unable to say how it was done, or by whom at this point, but the most likely explanation for the absence of bloodstaining is that the murder was committed somewhere else, the body brought into the house and placed in the bedroom, and everything was arranged to be found by the housekeeper in the morning. This neighbour, Miss Collins, may not have seen the victim leaving her house after she arrived at 7.30, but that does not mean she did not leave.’