Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In

by Lyn McConchie

  “No,” the lady broke in. “I didn’t. I was told that it was my duty and that it was necessary to save the family because my father had suffered business reverses. I was only seventeen, and I have been married to that old brute for almost twenty years. But now he’s dying. Once he’s dead, I’ll inherit, marry my cousin John, and be happy for once. You’ve no proof I spent any of Mr. Pierce’s money.”

  “Ah, but the gossip, Mrs. Edwards. The gossip,” Holmes said gently.

  “What gossip?”

  “Why, what if I come openly to town, seeking documents regarding a bequest? I shall mention that it is well known Mr. Pierce was something of a rake in his private life. I shall hint of scandal and a married mistress, mention some of my suspicions privately—and how long would such interesting talk remain confidential—and how long before your cousin hears the talk? How long before he asks you for an accounting? But then, of course, he knows how unhappy you are in your marriage, and he will forgive you a single, early indiscretion.”

  He leaned forward and she flinched. “Or is it merely a single indiscretion? If he looked, would he find that there have been others? And even if he forgave you all of them, what would he say if you are accused of stealing a large sum of money from a dead man, or of withholding vital legal documents? The man who should have received that letter could bring charges.”

  Mrs. Edwards collapsed. In short order we drew out of her the admission that yes, she had taken the money. Pierce being dead she thought no one would know. Three hundred and fifty pounds had allowed her to buy pretty things for years. She told her husband that she won the money at private card-parties. Once it was gone, she told him that she had lost too often of late and was ceasing to play. He had never queried it.

  “And the case and document?”

  “I have them hidden.” A few more questions and it was clear to us that she had retained them in case she ever found an opportunity to blackmail Western. She knew the estate and the position and knew too that he would have paid high for the restoration of that letter and his recovery of Marshford. That she had not done so already was solely that she had been afraid of being found out and could see no way to act safely.

  “We will return home with you,” Holmes said firmly. “You will give us the case and all its contents. I shall know if you remove anything further. The money you shall repay once your husband dies and all that is his is sold.”

  “And if I do, you won’t say anything? You won’t tell anyone?”

  “We shall remain silent, if you fulfill your promise.”

  We returned to the house and she entered, returning with the case and subsequently we said nothing to anyone. Holmes opened the envelope once we were well away and found the letter. Written in Pierce’s hand, it contained instructions to leave the Marshford estate to Western. He was to have clear and absolute title, but it was suggested that he go to a lawyer once he was in possession and place a caveat on the property in case a descendant should be another wastrel such as his father. A second paper in the case indicated that the money had also come from Western’s great-grandfather. It was an inheritance from Western’s mother, and had been held quietly in trust by his great-grandfather so that Western’s father could not gamble it away.

  We waited. Old Mr. Edwards died ten days after we spoke to his wife in the church, and the lady went up to London and unobtrusively sold his mother’s jewelry. She came to Baker Street with the money.

  “No one knew he had the jewelry save myself. He never would permit me to wear it, and it was not listed in his will. It was of no great value but there was an amount of it. I didn’t want it anyway, for it would only remind me of my unhappiness. I should not have done as I did, but you have promised never to speak of my part in this.”

  “And I shall keep my promise,” Holmes told her. “As shall my friend. Go and be happy again.”

  She left without speaking further. We took the train to see Western, who was currently living in a hotel near the Marshford estate. He received us, looking hopefully at the two envelopes we held.

  “You found something?”

  “We did indeed,” I assured him. He waved us to a seat once we were in the drawing room and sat rigid upon the edge of his chair, waiting.

  Holmes removed the letter from its envelope and passed it to him. Western read it in silence. Then he glanced up. “Is this authentic? I can act upon it safely?”

  “Yes,” Holmes said, before handing him the other package with its attendant letter from his ‘Grandy.’

  Western opened that and gaped at the money before reading the letter. “My mother left this to me? Grandy kept it safe all this time? You are a wonder, Mr. Holmes! But where have these things been for so long? How is it that you were able to recover them?”

  I smiled. “Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies, Mr. Western. We were given them on the condition that we remained silent on such matters.”

  He looked at Homes who nodded confirmation of my words. Western sat a moment in contemplation before he decided. “Whoever it was could have taken the money, destroyed the letters, and said nothing. It shall be as you promised. I ask no questions, and am grateful that I shall receive what was intended to be mine.”

  It took months, but then the law moves slowly. However, eventually, Sir Frederick Western became the acknowledged owner of Marshford estate. As a fence, he had prospered and had money put aside, so that money and the smaller sum left by his mother was used in bringing the estate into good heart again. As his great-grandfather had wished, the estate was placed into trust, to descend in the family until such time as three heirs could be found in agreement to break the document. In that case, as I said to Holmes on hearing that, and knowing families, I thought that the estate would remain in the family for a very long time to come.

  As for the others involved in these events, Len Rogers recovered and is back working at Scotland Yard. Lord Northgate, mindful of what he owed, delivered a fine salmon taken from his own fishing waters, and both Mandalay and his owner feasted—generously sending a share to us, and giving some to her landlady.

  Northgate has modified his hobby, saying that he is afraid of another spy taking notice of his campaigns, and that henceforth he shall be interested in something less potentially harmful. Instead he concentrates on re-fighting ancient battles, taking the losing sides and endeavoring to win with them against his friends.

  Miss Emily Jackson and Mandalay were visited by Western once he heard that hers had been the hand that began this tale—or rather that it was Mandalay’s paw that started events—and having called upon her once, he became something of a regular, though always decorous, visitor. I shall say nothing more on that subject, save that rascal though he was, he is no longer, and—Mandalay has made it plain that Western passes muster.