by June Thomson
‘Will you take the case, Mr Holmes?’ he ventured at last.
‘Oh, there is no question of my failing to do that! My present concern is over the immediate conduct of the investigation.’ My old friend seemed to come to a decision for he suddenly exclaimed, ‘Fetch your hat and coat, Watson! We are leaving at once for Camberwell. You, too, Mr Perrott. No, no! Pray do not object, sir. If I am to take you on as my client, you must allow me to proceed with this inquiry in my own manner and, as I see it, there is no alternative. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life running away from the law? Of course you do not! You will therefore return with us to your uncle’s house where you will place yourself in the hands of Inspector Needham. On the way there, I shall further question you about your knowledge of this evening’s events.’
Although Baker Street was almost deserted at that time of night, we had no difficulty in finding a cab and, once Perrott had given the driver the address, Laurel Lodge, Woodside Drive, Camberwell, and we had started off, Holmes opened the interview with a quite unexpected question.
‘What do you know of poisons, Mr Perrott?’
‘Poisons?’ The man seemed utterly bewildered. ‘Nothing at all! Why do you ask?’
‘Yes, why, Holmes?’ I interjected, as astonished as young Perrott by the question.
‘Is it not obvious? Then let me explain. Your uncle has been murdered, Mr Perrott, presumably at home and at some time after you had left his house, subsequent to your visit. You are suspected of his murder but, as you were engaged with friends and therefore you have an alibi to cover the latter part of the evening, I assume the method of committing the crime was by some remote means, rather than in a personal confrontation such as stabbing or strangulation. As Inspector Needham seemed to regard the piece of paper found in the pocket of your topcoat of great significance, I further assume that he must have considered that it played some part in your uncle’s death. Hence my query regarding poison, for what other means of murder could have been contained in so small a receptacle? Were you wearing the same topcoat when you visited your uncle earlier this evening?’
‘Yes, I was.’
‘And what did you do with it when you entered the house?’
‘I hung it on the coat-stand in the hall.’
‘You then proceeded to your uncle’s study where you both drank a glass of sherry. Who poured the wine?’
‘I did. But I don’t see …’
‘Pray allow me to continue, Mr Perrott. It will not be long before we arrive in Camberwell and I must acquaint myself with all the facts. I understand from your earlier remarks that you were familiar with the contents of your uncle’s will. Who else would have benefited at his death?’
‘There were some small legacies to three or four more distant relatives, several charitable bequests and sums of a few hundred pounds to each of the servants.’
‘Ah!’ said Holmes as if finding this information significant. ‘And who precisely are they?’
‘The cook, Mrs Williams, two maids, and the coachman. They were to receive three hundred pounds each. Miss Butler, my uncle’s housekeeper, was left five hundred pounds even though she has not been in the household as long as the others. It was in recognition of the care she’d taken in nursing my Aunt Vera before her death eighteen months ago. My uncle kept her on to run the house and to look after him as well. His own state of health hadn’t been too good. He suffered from aneurism and so had to take care he did not put any strain on his heart. Miss Butler was also to inherit any residue from the estate.’
‘Oh, really?’ Holmes remarked with a negligent air before passing on to his next question. ‘At what time did you leave the house, Mr Perrott?’
‘I can’t be sure but I think it must have been soon after seven. I got to the Red Bull where we were to take supper about ten past and it’s a good five minutes’ walk.’
‘Where you met your friends? Very well. Now that accounts for your movements, but what of your uncle’s? Did he have a nightly routine? Elderly gentlemen often do.’
‘He dined every evening at half-past seven on the dot.’
‘Alone?’
‘No, usually in the company of Miss Butler.’
‘How was the meal served?’
‘I don’t quite follow you,’ Mr Perrott said. He seemed bewildered by this fusillade of questions.
With admirable patience, Holmes explained.
‘I mean was the food served at the table from dishes or carried in from the kitchen on plates?’
‘Oh, I see!’ Perrott exclaimed, his brow clearing. ‘No; it’s served by Letty, the parlourmaid, who always waits in the dining-room to clear away.’
‘Does Miss Butler have a role in this routine?’
‘She pours the wine and supervises the meal generally.’
‘Tell me about Miss Butler,’ Holmes said, leaning back and folding his arms.
‘I don’t know a great deal except that she came, as I said, about two years ago, before my aunt died, to nurse her in her last illness and look after the house. Before that she worked as a housekeeper for a widowed doctor in Leamington Spa but had to leave when he remarried. She arrived with excellent references and runs my uncle’s place like billyho.’
‘I see. Now to return to your uncle’s nightly habits. At what time would he retire for the night?’
‘Usually at ten o’ clock.’
‘And was this also a routine?’
‘Oh, yes. As soon as the clock struck ten, he’d say, “Time to climb the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.” My aunt used to tease him about it,’ Perrott replied, his bottom lip beginning to tremble like a schoolboy’s at this homely recollection.
Holmes glanced out of the cab window.
‘I see,’ said he, ‘that we are now in Camberwell and that we should soon be arriving at your late uncle’s house. There are no more questions I wish to ask you, Mr Perrott. Rest assured that your case is safe in my hands and that, whatever evidence the official police may have against you, I shall do my utmost to prove your innocence.’
I, too, gazed out of the window at the familiar streets, partly to remind myself of the occasions when I had visited this same area on my first acquaintance with the young lady who was later to become my wife.* but also, I confess, to avoid looking at Perrott who was sat facing us and who, now that the time of his arrest drew near, had once more become exceedingly nervous, his youthful, rather naïve features the very picture of despair.
Soon afterwards, we drew up outside a large but ugly grey brick villa, of the style built in the outer suburbs on the Surrey side of the river for prosperous tradesmen and their families. Its name, Laurel Lodge, was apt for the house was fronted by a dense hedge of that thick-leaved shrub, the heavy mass of which cast an air of gloom over the whole edifice.
Several lighted windows, both upstairs and down, and the presence of a uniformed constable on the front door-step suggested that the police were still engaged on their investigation.
The constable seemed inclined to bar our way but, when Holmes produced his card and explained our business there, he knocked on the door whereupon a heavily built sergeant opened it, took one astonished look at Perrott and then, quickly recovering himself, invited us into the hall where he told us to wait while he fetched the inspector.
We had but a few minutes’ grace while the sergeant was upstairs for Holmes to ask one last question, less out of need, I felt, to obtain the information from Perrott than to distract his attention for he was looking wildly about him as if seeking for the means to make a bolt for it, as he himself had expressed it.
‘I assume,’ said Holmes, indicating a large hall-stand just inside the front door, ‘that this is where you hung your topcoat?’
‘Yes; that’s right,’ Perrott stammered in a faltering voice.
For at that moment, there came a heavy step on the landing and Inspector Needham came down the stairs, followed by the sergeant.
He was a tall, stoop-shouldered man with a droop
ing moustache which gave his features a lugubrious air despite his obvious delight at Perrott’s unexpected reappearance.
‘Well, well!’ said he. ‘This is a surprise, Mr Perrott. So you’ve decided to come back and face the music, have you? Very wise of you, sir, if I may say so. I take it that it was on the advice of Mr Holmes? I have heard of you, sir. You have quite a reputation among the police force even as far as Camberwell Green. I assume you have taken Mr Perrott as your client? Well, it won’t do him much good because I intend taking him into custody here and now and sending him down to the station in the company of Sergeant Bullifont although where the deuce he’ll find a cab at this time of night, I can’t imagine.’
‘You may take ours, Inspector,’ Holmes said nonchalantly. ‘As I assumed you would wish to arrest my client, I told the cabby to wait at the gate.’
I saw Inspector Needham and his sergeant exchange surprised glances at my old friend’s cool manner as, under their curious gaze, he shook hands with Perrott and added a last remark or two of reassurance.
‘Take courage, Mr Perrott,’ said he. ‘I have every confidence that this absurd charge against you will soon be dropped.’
These comforting words hardly seemed to convince the wretched Perrott for, as he was put into handcuffs and led away by Sergeant Bullifont to the waiting cab, he cast a last, despairing glance over his shoulder at Holmes.
When the front door closed behind them, Inspector Needham said in a jocular manner, ‘Absurd charge, Mr Holmes! I am afraid you are not fully aware of all the evidence against your client.’
‘No, I am not,’ agreed Holmes. ‘Perhaps you would care to inform me, Inspector, of the precise facts? I assume you have collected some data and that the case against Mr Perrott is not based entirely on supposition or circumstantial evidence.’
‘If it’s facts you want, I can supply you with plenty,’ Needham replied and began to enumerate them on his fingers, holding up each in turn. ‘Fact number one – the sherry glasses from which the accused and his uncle drank were fortunately not washed up with the other dishes after dinner. In the bottom of one of them, I discovered a whitish residue. That has still to be analysed but I have no doubt that it will prove to be poison, probably arsenic.’
‘I am inclined to agree with you,’ Holmes conceded. ‘In a case such as this which appears to concern a will and the inheriting of money, arsenic is often employed as a means of murder. Indeed, it was so widely used in France in the eighteenth century to dispose of unwanted heirs and testators that it became known as the “poudre de succession” or “inheritance powder”. The Reinsch test* will confirm it one way or the other.’
‘You seem to be knowledgeable about poisons, Mr Holmes.’
Needham’s attitude had changed from one of amused tolerance to cautious respect.
‘Oh, I have merely dabbled in the subject,’† Holmes said airily. ‘But, tell me, Inspector, how was it that the sherry glasses were so ‘fortunately’ not washed up?’
‘The housemaid couldn’t get into the study to collect them. The room was locked.’
‘Under whose instructions?’
‘Mr Rushton’s, I understand. He had left some important papers on the desk and he disliked any of the servants, even Miss Butler, the housekeeper, going into the room unless he himself was present. Now for fact number two, Mr Holmes,’ and here a second stubby finger was stabbed into the air.
‘The only other opportunity anyone else in the household had to poison Mr Rushton was during the evening meal. But no one, neither Miss Butler who dined with Mr Rushton, nor his cook and the maids who shared what was left over, suffered any ill effects whatsoever. And if you think someone other than Perrott could have slipped some poison into the decanter of wine, then you’re wrong!’ Inspector Needham sounded positively triumphant at producing this trump card. ‘Miss Butler drank a glass of wine with her meal and the cook had confessed to taking a sip or two from it herself. Moreover, the decanter shows no sign of having been tampered with.
‘And if that isn’t enough, Mr Holmes, when my sergeant searched Mr Perrott’s topcoat pocket, he found a small square of paper. It had been crumpled up but there were some grains of white powder still clinging to the folds. There is no doubt in my mind that it too, when analysed, will prove to be arsenic.’
‘Quite,’ Holmes murmured. ‘But, in giving me your catalogue of data, Inspector, you have omitted one important fact.’
‘What is that?’
‘The last and most important one of all. Mr Perrott himself has admitted he was to inherit a considerable sum on his uncle’s death.’
Needham looked considerably taken aback.
So, too, I must confess, was I. The evidence against Perrott was damning enough without Holmes adding his own contribution which would tip the scales even further against our client.
‘Well, there you are then!’ Needham exclaimed. ‘It is an open and shut case.’
‘It would certainly appear so,’ Holmes replied. ‘However, with your permission, Inspector, I should like to examine some of that evidence for myself. I am sure you would not wish to obstruct me in my attempts to clear my client.’
‘If it’s the sherry glasses you want to look at, they are already packed up …’ Needham began.
Holmes waved a negligent hand.
‘Oh, I am not at all concerned with those. I am quite sure that, when analysed, the residue will be found to contain arsenic. No; it is the victim’s bedroom I wish to examine. Has the body been removed?’
‘It was taken to the mortuary about quarter of an hour ago.’
Even this information appeared not to discompose my old friend for he replied, ‘No matter. Dr Watson and I shall be quite content with merely looking at the scene where the death took place. You surely have no objections, Inspector?’
‘Very well, Mr Holmes. If you and Dr Watson care to follow me, I shall show you the room. However I should explain,’ Needham added over his shoulder as he preceded us up the stairs, ‘that, although the symptoms pointed to poisoning, the victim died of a heart attack, brought on by a particularly severe attack of nausea. But that doesn’t alter the fact that it was murder, Mr Holmes.’
‘Of course,’ Holmes murmured in agreement.
We had reached an upper landing. Here Needham turned to the left towards the front of the house where, throwing open a door, he announced, ‘Mr Rushton’s bedroom, gentlemen.’
It was a large chamber, furnished with the type of heavy, expensive mahogany pieces which were fashionable thirty or forty years before, including a wash-hand stand, its basin missing, and, just inside the door, a large, high bed which was mercifully stripped of its bedding so that the room presented no evidence that, not long before, Rushton had suffered there from the agonising symptoms of arsenical poisoning with all its attendant and unpleasant effects upon the bowels and stomach.
Holmes and I had remained in the doorway while Needham crossed the room to turn up two gas jets which had been left burning low over the mantelpiece. While he was thus occupied, Holmes, whose glance had been darting keenly about the room, took the opportunity to murmur to me under his breath, ‘Try to distract Needham’s attention for a few moments.’
There was no time for him to offer any further explanation. The inspector had turned away from his task and, with the room now brightly lit, we, too, advanced into the chamber, Holmes wandering off towards the night-table which stood beside the bed in order to examine a book which was lying on top of it together with a gold pocket-watch and chain and a small oil reading-lamp.
Picking up the volume to read its title, he gave me a small nod which I took to be my cue.
‘As a medical practitioner,’ said I, addressing Needham, ‘I am interested in the effects of arsenical poisoning. I understand the symptoms generally begin within an hour of the toxin being introduced into the system. If Mr Rushton had taken the poison in the sherry wine, served between six and seven o’ clock, he should have shown signs of it d
uring dinner. I take it the ingestion of a heavy meal slowed down the onset of the symptoms?’
‘I believe that is so,’ Needham replied. ‘According to Dr Livesey, Mr Rushton’s own physician who was called in by Miss Butler, it is what must have occurred in this case. Mr Rushton had eaten a three-course dinner and, the stomach being full, the poison took much longer to have its effect.’
He broke off to inquire of Holmes, who had by now moved away from the night-table and was examining with apparent absorption a large and particularly ugly wardrobe against the further wall, ‘Well, Mr Holmes, have you seen enough?’
‘Thank you, yes, Inspector. I should now like to speak to Miss Butler. If that can be arranged to take place in the dining-room, I should be infinitely obliged to you.’
Needham shrugged but he seemed to treat the request with amused resignation rather than annoyance.
‘If you think any good will come of it,’ he replied, leading the way downstairs. ‘Miss Butler has already given me a full account of what happened here this evening and I am perfectly satisfied with her statement. I must, however, insist on being present when you question her.’
‘I have no objections, apart from one proviso,’ Holmes replied. ‘That is, I must be allowed to conduct the interview in my own manner.’
‘As you wish, Mr Holmes,’ Needham agreed, throwing open a door at the rear of the hall and standing aside to allow us to enter.
Like the bedroom, the dining-room was furnished in a heavy, old-fashioned style, on this occasion in dark oak, including a table, large enough to seat ten persons comfortably, and an elaborately carved sideboard.
‘Yes, Holmes, what good will it do?’ I asked when, the inspector having lit the gas jets and departed to fetch Miss Butler, we were left alone in the room. ‘All the evidence so far only confirms Perrott’s guilt. As Needham himself said, it is an open and shut case. Surely you are wasting your time in pursuing it?’
‘The only shut part about it is the inspector’s mind,’ my old friend rejoined. ‘Yours, too, Watson. And that surprises me, my dear fellow. We have already obtained some highly pertinent evidence.’
