Sherlock Holmes and the Abbey School Mystery

by John Hall

  Sherlock Holmes and the Abbey School Mystery

  John Hall

  © John Hall, 2001

  John Hall has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 2001 by Baker Street Studios Ltd.

  This edition published in 2015 by Endeavour Press.

  This book is dedicated to Abbot Roger de Jourdain, not forgetting Anne

  Table of Contents

  Prolegomena

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Prolegomena

  All things bright and beautiful,

  All creatures great and small,

  All things wise and wonderful,

  The Lord God made them all.

  As the singing died away and the atmosphere became slightly more relaxed, the headmaster, Dr Thomas Longton, stepped forward to the great oak lectern with the eagle’s head jutting out from it.

  ‘Never known Long Tom look so furious,’ muttered Watson Minor to Edmonds, who stood beside him in the ranks of the Third.

  ‘Silence!’ Dr Longton’s voice fairly roared out, filling the great assembly hall. His big hands gripped the eagle’s wings, as if for support, and his gaze travelled round the assembly, seeming to rest for a moment on each boy. Some there were who avoided that basilisk stare, perhaps for some guilty reason known only to the boy concerned, perhaps because they merely feared what was to come, felt that dread of the unknown which all of us have experienced at some time or another. But most of them met Dr Longton’s gaze fair and square, and merely wondered what on earth the head was going to tell them.

  ‘Boys, the usual announcements will be suspended this morning.’

  At the back of the hall, the prefects of the Upper Sixth exchanged discreet glances, a raised eyebrow here, a pursing of the lips there, an occasional shrug of the shoulders so slight as to be almost undetectable. Two rows in front of these demi-gods, Watson Major of the Lower Sixth muttered to Meade, at his side, ‘I knew it! Trouble ahead, mark my words.’ Those who had been at the Abbey School any length of time knew the formula by now. Any suspension of the usual announcements at morning assembly meant a serious breach of the school rules had been committed, and that usually meant expulsion. And that was the end. There were other schools, it is true, with less rigorous codes, but there was none quite like the Abbey School.

  Dr Longton took a deep breath before going on. ‘It pains me to have to tell you that a very serious crime has been committed. A sum of money has been stolen from one of the masters.’ Dr Longton paused. ‘I should be much obliged if the thief would step forward now, before this assembly, so that all may know him.’

  He stared at the great stained glass window, waiting. No-one spoke, there was no sound save an isolated clearing of a young throat here and there, and the occasional shuffle of feet which would not keep still.

  ‘I may say that the culprit, the thief, as I have more accurately called him, is known to me,’ Dr Longton added after what seemed an eternity.

  Further aeons passed, and it was a relief to most of those there when Dr Longton eventually said, ‘In that event, I should like to see Whitechurch in my study immediately after this assembly.’

  ‘Crikey!’ Watson Minor simply could not help himself, though he was sure that the word was inaudible to anyone more than a yard away.

  ‘And that boy! Watson Minor. In my study, at morning break.’ Dr Longton’s voice crashed out and echoed from the very walls.

  Watson Minor grimaced, hearing the cane swishing down towards his trouser seat already.

  ‘Bad luck, old man,’ mumbled Edmonds.

  ‘And that boy, too. Edmonds. Morning break.’ And Dr Longton turned and swept from the dais, the rest of the masters following, as old Mr Donaldson, the music master, struck up a rousing rendition of ‘For Those in Peril on the Sea’ on the piano.

  ‘It’s us that’s in peril,’ said Watson Minor more or less ungrammatically, but with great emotion none the less.

  ‘Worse things happen at sea, they say.’ Edmonds tried to look unconcerned.

  As they filed out from assembly in strict order of seniority, Watson Major, lurking by the door, stepped forward and took hold of his brother’s ear in none too gentle a fashion. ‘You young ass! What the devil d’you mean by speaking out like that?’

  ‘Ow! Nothing, Bertie – I mean, Watson Major. But, Whitechurch! I can’t believe it, can you?’

  ‘It is devilish odd,’ admitted Watson Major, releasing his brother before too much harm was done. ‘And you had the devil’s own nerve to speak up,’ he added, a note of admiration apparent in his voice. ‘Even if you will pay for it with a sore backside.’ He frowned. ‘But it is devilish odd, youngster, just as you say. I tell you something else, that’s not the only odd thing going on round here at the moment.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Edmonds curiously.

  ‘Never you mind,’ said Watson Major darkly, as if he could tell strange stories if he would.

  Edmonds exchanged a glance with Watson Minor. ‘You know,’ he said awkwardly, ‘Mr Greville was saying something of that sort the other day.’

  ‘Oh?’ Mr Greville was the Third’s form master, a youngish man who had always struck Watson Major as more approachable than many of the other masters. ‘What did old Greville say, then?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Edmonds, a vague feeling that he was being something of a sneak preventing any further disclosure.

  ‘You must know, or you wouldn’t have said it,’ Watson Major pointed out.

  ‘Well, but you won’t tell anyone I said anything?’

  ‘You little wretch!’

  ‘Sorry, Watson Major. Well, someone had cheeked him, or something. I think it was old “Pie Can” – that’s Potter, you know – and Mr Greville muttered something like, “The Abbey School’s going to the –” that word you used just now.’

  ‘The one Papa says you mustn’t use,’ added Watson Minor helpfully.

  ‘Oh, that’s nothing special,’ said Watson Major. ‘Anyone might say that sort of thing if you young devils had cheeked him.’

  ‘No,’ said Edmonds, ‘but then Mr Greville went on, “It’s getting out of hand, and something should be done”, or something of that sort.’

  ‘And he said that to you?’ asked Watson Major, impressed.

  ‘Well, he didn’t actually say it to me, of course, he sort of mumbled it to himself as he passed me, and I said, “Beg pardon, sir?” and he sort of jumped, and said, “Sorry, my boy”, like he does, “talking to myself. Touch of indigestion, I fear”, and he gave me two bob and sent me to the village shop to buy a box of little liver pills, the one and threepence size, and told me to keep the change.’

  ‘I see.’ Watson Major stared into space for a long moment. ‘Old Greville, eh? I –’ he stopped as the bell rang. ‘Anyway, it’s class, so don’t dawdle. You two are in enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘But do you think Whitechurch did it?’ Edmonds persisted.

  ‘I’m damned if I can see why he should, for his father’s about the richest man in England. But it isn’t up to me. If I were you, lads, I’d look for a new chum.’ As they started down the corridor, Watson Major frowned, and called after them, ‘Hey! Don’t talk about this with anyone else.’

  *

  ‘Please take a seat, Your Grace.’ Mr Sherlock Holmes ushered the Duke of Greyminster to a chair. ‘May I offer you a
cigar? A glass of brandy?’

  ‘A very small brandy would be welcome, Mr Holmes, for I confess my nerves are considerably shaken.’ The duke took his drink, nodded his thanks, and stared at Holmes for a long while before continuing. ‘Mr Holmes, the matter upon which I have come to consult you is a very delicate one, and I must begin by asking you to maintain the utmost discretion.’

  ‘You have my assurance, sir.’

  ‘The matter concerns my only child, Lord Whitechurch. Have you ever heard of the Abbey School, Mr Holmes?’

  Holmes frowned, shook his head, then nodded and said, ‘Ah, I believe I have heard something of it. A small but very exclusive private establishment, is it not?’

  ‘That is it exactly, Mr Holmes. I am scarcely surprised that the name is not immediately familiar even to you, for the exclusive nature of the place is its keynote. The boys who attend the school are from the finest families in the land, and indeed from overseas. I myself was a pupil there, as a matter of fact. But make no mistake, Mr Holmes, mere cash alone is insufficient to gain entry to the Abbey School. There is no place there for the nouveau riche, the outsider who thinks money answers all things. A family connection, or some personal recommendation, is essential before ever a boy can be considered as a pupil. It is not uncommon for old boys to put forward the name of their son at birth, to be certain of securing his acceptance.’

  ‘I see.’ Holmes took out an ancient pipe, thought better of it, replaced the pipe in his pocket and took out a cigar case, which he offered to the duke. ‘And your son, Lord Whitechurch, is a pupil there?’

  The duke frowned, and took time to light his cigar before he answered. ‘He was a pupil at the Abbey School, Mr Holmes. He was expelled a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘That is why I have come to consult you, Mr Holmes.’

  Holmes smiled. ‘I appreciate the gravity of the situation, Your Grace, but I am no dominie. Would you not be better consulting the College of Preceptors, or whatever the appropriate body may be?’

  ‘It was not because of any fault in his studies that he was expelled, Mr Holmes. He was accused of theft.’

  ‘Ah.’ Holmes leaned forward in his chair. He produced the pipe again, and waved it. ‘You have no objection? Thank you. That, of course, is a different matter. What was he accused of stealing, exactly?’

  ‘Twenty-five pounds in Bank of England notes.’

  ‘Dear me! From a fellow pupil?’

  ‘No, Mr Holmes, from the headmaster himself. From the headmaster’s study, in fact.’

  ‘Dear me!’ said Holmes a second time. He leaned back in his chair. ‘That is surely unusual, in my admittedly limited experience.’

  The duke gave a short and mirthless bark of laughter. ‘It is unbelievable, Mr Holmes. Particularly when you consider that in order to reach the headmaster’s study a thief would be obliged to pass through an outer room occupied by the school secretary, a young man named Carstairs.’

  ‘The theft occurred through the day, when the secretary would normally be at his duties?’

  The duke nodded. ‘So it is said.’

  ‘H’mm. Presumably your son is supposed to have entered the study during a break of some sort, when the headmaster and secretary might both be expected to be taking tea in the Common Room, or something of the sort?’

  The duke shrugged. ‘I cannot very well speculate as to that, sir. Frankly, I had not given any thought to what one might term the mechanism of the theft, since I am quite convinced that my son did not commit it.’

  ‘I quite understand. Of course, if a theft were committed, and your son is not the guilty party, then the thief must be someone else, and there is a pretty obvious suspect.’

  ‘The secretary, Carstairs, you mean?’

  Holmes nodded. ‘He surely had a better opportunity than anyone else.’

  ‘It maybe an obvious conclusion, Mr Holmes, but I assure you that it is incorrect. Why, I know the young man personally. His father is the vicar of my own parish, and I myself was instrumental in securing the secretary’s post for the young man. I would trust him with my life, as the saying is.’

  ‘Perhaps so, Your Grace. But it would not be the first time that a young man, away from the family home and the guiding hand of a father, has strayed from the path of righteousness, would it? Even if he is a vicar’s son.’

  Again the duke shook his head, more angrily this time. ‘It is not the first time he has been away from home, though. He was three years at university, and there was never the least hint of impropriety. Why, he read Theology!’

  Holmes frowned.

  ‘To suggest that Carstairs had found a taste for gambling, or got some village girl into trouble! Why, it is quite preposterous,’ the duke went on. ‘And besides, if he had done so, if he had suddenly needed money, he could have come to me, even if the matter were of such delicacy that he could not approach his father. I flatter myself that I am a man of the world, sir.’

  ‘There are matters which are hardly fit for discussion even with a man of the world,’ said Holmes, though without much conviction in his tone.

  ‘Nonsense! He could have talked to me about anything, and he knows it. And then, if he had taken this trifling sum, why should he attempt to put the blame on my son?’

  ‘No other thefts have taken place at the Abbey School?’

  ‘None, sir. Or at least none that I know of. The school’s reputation is, and always has been, of the highest. ‘

  ‘Well, let us for the sake of argument suppose for a moment that some sudden crisis had occurred in this young man’s life. In a moment of weakness he steals the money.’

  ‘Bank of England notes, the numbers of which can be traced with ease?’ the duke broke in sceptically.

  Holmes waved a hand. ‘The same objection applies to the notion that your son took the money. How old is the boy?’

  ‘Fourteen.’

  ‘So he is old enough to know that currency notes are easily identified. Let us continue. This Carstairs takes the money, and the headmaster discovers the theft. Carstairs comes to his sense, realizes that the notes could be traced to him, he wants to return them, but he cannot return them because it is too late.’

  ‘Why, then could he not simply burn them?’ asked the duke. ‘There are fires burning at this season. Easy enough to lean forward to the flames – presto! As the magicians have it.’

  ‘He may simply not have thought of that. A man who feels he is under attack, whose brain is under unusual exertion because of disturbing circumstances, does not always think clearly.’

  ‘But then why put the blame on my son, who is almost a brother to him? Why not choose to implicate some stranger?’

  ‘H’mm. I wonder if there is anything there? Was this Carstairs perhaps too much like a son to you, Your Grace? May he not have felt some jealousy towards your real son? Envy at your own wealth and position?’

  The duke shook his head impatiently. ‘No, Mr Holmes, you are quite wrong there. Carstairs is a perfectly ordinary young man, save that he has advantages which most young men do not possess.’

  ‘But you said, I think, that you had secured him the post of secretary?’

  ‘Ah, but that was merely a word to the school authorities. And my recommendation would have meant nothing without the young man’s own academic entitlements and successes. No, Mr Holmes, Carstairs regards me as a patron, and, I trust, as a friend of sorts, but he definitely does not regard me as a father, and neither does he feel any jealousy towards my son. Why, Carstairs wrote me a most moving and dignified letter after the unfortunate expulsion, saying that he could never believe my son guilty, and that the whole business must be some tragic error.’

  ‘I see.’ Holmes stared at the ceiling for a while. ‘Let us proceed to another point. How came the theft to be laid at your son’s door?’

  ‘Ah, that is another curious point. It is alleged that he was seen leaving the study, and a search of my son’s possessions revealed the cash
.’

  ‘Alleged? And by whom was he seen?’

  ‘That I cannot tell you. I very naturally asked, but Dr Longton, the headmaster, said that he could not betray a confidence.’

  ‘He did not indicate whether it was a master, or a pupil?’

  The duke shook his head.

  Holmes put another match to his pipe, leaned back and stared at the ceiling. For a long time he sat there, with only an occasional puff of blue smoke from his pipe being the only animated thing about him. Eventually he pulled himself together with a perceptible start, and looked at the duke, though still without speaking. ‘Well, Your Grace,’ he said at last, ‘ I fear that I am unable to accept your case.’

  ‘Mr Holmes, you disappoint me greatly.’

  ‘My advice to you is to find another school for Lord Whitechurch, and forget this matter, if you can.’

  The duke shook his head. ‘I fear I can scarcely be expected to do that, Mr Holmes.’

  ‘It would be best if you did.’

  There was something in Holmes’s tone that made the duke ask, ‘Do you suspect that my son is guilty after all, then, Mr Holmes?’

  ‘I did not say that.’

  ‘But yet you suspect it?’

  ‘Well, since you put the question plainly,’ said Holmes, ‘this Carstairs may not be the only young man to need cash in a hurry.’

  ‘Impossible,’ said the duke angrily. ‘My son has plenty of money. The school limits the amount of pocket money – a weekly stipend is allowed to each boy – the idea being that no one boy should indulge in an ostentatious display of wealth before the others. But my son knows that a telegram to me would secure any amount in an emergency.’

  ‘Even an emergency that he could not discuss with Your Grace?’

  ‘I can see what you are thinking, Mr Holmes, but I assure you that you are wrong in that. Why, if some emergency, as we are calling it, some crisis, had occurred, it would not go away merely because my son has been expelled. And he has not asked for any money from me since he came home.’