The Mad Judge (A Sherlock Holmes Uncovered Tale Book 3)

by Steven Ehrman

  “These tales all likely grew in the telling,” said Cecilia, with a smile. “I dearly love the old Colonel, but you know how these old army men love to yarn.”

  “Perhaps,” said John, looking pensive.

  At that moment the door to the study opened, and Judge Upton appeared. He walked towards us with a sheaf of papers in his hand.

  “We were wondering when you were going to rejoin us, Father,” said Cecilia. “We have been like the hounds waiting for the badger.”

  Any traces of the overheard argument with his son were not apparent on the Judge’s face as he smiled and kissed his daughter on the head.

  “This estate does not run itself, my dear,” he said. “Your fancy American education was not a charity endeavor.”

  “Ah, but that was your idea, Father,” she scolded mildly. “But, I dare say it worked out for the best.”

  She turned to look at Evanston, who rewarded her with a smile and a wink.

  “Quite, quite,” said the Judge. “Now, Stanley, I want to talk over some of the accounts. I cannot make the figures match up. We will need to give them a thorough going over tomorrow.”

  “Of course, Judge,” said Woodson. “But I fear the evening has run its course and Jane and I must retire to our cottage.”

  “Judge, the doctor and myself also must depart though, we thank you for a most pleasant evening,” said John Withers. “We have a bit of a walk ahead, and the weather looks dicey.”

  I had stood as Withers had made his statement, but I noticed that the Judge was shaking his head the entire time.

  “My friends,” he began. “I fear there has been a misunderstanding. It was my thought that all our guests were to remain with us for the entire weekend. The extra rooms have already been made ready by the staff and besides; I sent word to the stables to release the dogs an hour ago. It would be quite inadvisable to wander the grounds until daylight.”

  The room erupted in conversation from several parties. I distinctly heard Honoria Upton question her husband as to who informed him that all the guests were staying over. The Judge did not answer and merely shrugged. I wondered myself how Holmes, and the squire, would react to our absence in the morning. Stanley Woodson eventually made his voice heard above the others.

  “Judge, I believe we will retire to our cottage anyway. I have no fear of the dogs and it is a short distance, at any rate I would not impose upon your hospitality any longer.”

  “Woodson speaks for me as well, Judge,” said Withers. “The doctor and I can manage the dogs, I am sure. Besides, my old duffer is expecting us and may worry should we not return tonight.”

  “Nonsense, John,” said the Judge. “Your father has not been up an hour past supper in ten years. You can be certain he is well asleep by now. In the morning we will send word. And my understanding is that Mr. Holmes is ill, so it is not likely he awaits you either.”

  There was a flaw in the Judge’s thinking, though he was certainly not aware of it. Holmes would be waiting because he expected me to report on all that I had seen at the Hall. I could not however, mention this as it would uncover our covert scheme. I therefore remained silent and looked to John Withers for guidance. There was more talk, but eventually Honoria Upton settled the matter.

  “I do apologize for the misunderstanding,” she said. “I really must speak to Meadows and find out how the staff came to believe we were keeping you good folks until morning, but let us call this a happy accident. The Hall will be the greater for your company.”

  The lady’s graciousness and good humour mellowed the temper of those assembled. Robert Evanston attempted to rally the mood further.

  “I say if we are all to be happy castaways I propose we renew our billiards tournament. What say you, Stanley? Are you up for another round?”

  “Happily,” said Woodson. “Darling, you do not mind if I abandon you for a while, do you?”

  Jane Woodson smiled and for a moment I realized that in her way she was as beautiful as Cecilia.

  “I don’t mind at all, dear, but I fear that I grow very weary. I believe that I will retire.”

  “I will join you, Jane,” said Cecilia. “If the men are going to play games the rest of the night, I would rather curl up with a book. Goodnight all.”

  “Simon, I believe I will retire for the evening as well. Will you join me?” asked Honoria Upton.

  “I have more correspondence that needs attending, but I will be up directly. If you will excuse me.”

  The Judge, after a chaste kiss with his wife, retreated to his study and again closed the door.

  “Well, I suppose Meadows will know which rooms have been prepared,” said Mrs. Upton. She looked about for the butler when he suddenly appeared at her side.

  “The rooms have all been prepared, madam,” he intoned. “Mr. and Mrs. Woodson have the room at the far end of the hall, and I have the two rooms at the top of the stairs prepared for the doctor and Mr. Withers.”

  “You are a gem, Meadows,” said our hostess. “We will leave you gentlemen to your amusements.”

  Good nights were said all around, as the ladies ascended the stairs in the wake of Meadows. As they disappeared from view the library door opened, and Colonel North and Harold Chandler emerged.

  “So the old boy has made you a captive audience, has he?” chortled Chandler. “I believe I will have a word with him about that prospectus. We simply must move quickly if we are to take advantage of this opportunity. I believe I will run it by him one more time before the night is out.”

  Chandler excused himself and walked towards the study. The Colonel relit his dormant pipe as Woodson and Evanston talked of billiards. John Withers appeared a bit distracted and helped himself to another drink. I was wondering if the weakness of the father was being visited upon the son, when I saw the study door open. The Judge had apparently admitted his in-law. The door closed softly behind him. I thought that were Holmes here he would no doubt listen at the keyhole, but I would not attempt it myself. Holmes really had no compunction about social morays when it came to his work.

  Stanley Woodson and Robert Evanston invited the rest of the party that remained to join them in the billiards room. John and I happily assented. The Colonel stated that he was going to have one more pipe by the fire, and then he would retire for the night. We bade him a pleasant sleep and left him puffing away, sending great clouds of smoke in the air. I could picture him, as a younger man, stalking the sub continent with his men. He was the type of soldier that was sadly dying out in England. As we were walking out, I saw Reeves glide in from the shadows to clear away glasses. The man had seemed to be lurking about nearly all evening.

  The merry conversation of my companions drowned out any thoughts of a declining empire, and the slouching Reeves, as the cues were wielded in a manner varying from expert to amateur. There could be little doubt that both Woodson and Evanston were both superior players. They dominated the play for the next hour. John Withers was inept and missed many easy shots. At that point however, he was deeply in his cups, and called for refills several times. Meadows appeared at call each time with libations, but Withers mixed his own drinks declining the offer of the hovering butler.

  Evanston was at the table, and was on a long run, when Withers sidled up to me. “What do you think of that fellow?” he asked, in a slightly slurred voice. “Seems an absolute rotter to me. He will not even drink with me. I offered several times, but he says he likes to keep a clear head.”

  It occurred to me that John was allowing jealousy and drink to cloud his judgment, but I answered cautiously.

  “He’s one of the new breed for certain,” I said softly. Evanston was standing across the table, but I wanted to keep our conversation private. I decided to attempt to steer my friend to his room before anything untoward happened. “I am for some sleep. What of yourself? Will we walk up together?”

  Surprisingly, Withers was agreeable and we excused ourselves from the party. Woodson and Evanston vowed to keep playing
a bit longer and we left them happily plying their skill. The hall was now empty. I saw a light peering out from under the Judge’s study and imagined he was still at his correspondence. Neither the Colonel or Harold Chandler was about and I assumed they had both retired for the evening whilst we were in the billiards room.

  Taking an unsteady arm from my friend, I helped him up the staircase, and saw him to his room. It was directly across from mine and was near the top of the steps. I wished Withers goodnight and watched as he closed his door. With that duty attended to I entered my own room, and was about to close the door, when Meadows appeared.

  “Will you require anything else, sir?” he asked. “A nightcap, perhaps?”

  “Nothing, Meadows, thank you” I said.

  “Very well, sir. If you require anything during the night the cord next to the bed rings in the kitchen. You will find night clothes in the chest. Goodnight, sir.”

  The butler disappeared into the shadows. I wondered if much of anything escaped the notice of this most capable servant. Even after a wearying day, sleep was not in the offing. I lay on the bed fully dressed and smoked for time. It was well after midnight when I decided to finally attempt slumber. I had heard footsteps pass my door several times since I had been there. I had assumed that it was the rest of the party retiring, and gradually the house grew completely quite.

  As I searched the chest of drawers that Meadows had indicated, looking for an appropriate nightshirt and robe I saw something on the floor out of the corner of my eye. I crossed the room and picked it up. It was a piece note paper. There was a message that read.

  Doctor, please meet me in the study at one. We must talk.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I was dumbstruck as I quickly read the message a second time. It was printed in a firm hand, but was unsigned. I sat on my bed and attempted to decide how as to proceed. That I would keep the appointment was unquestioned, however, I wondered if I should not consult with someone before I did. The obvious choice was John Withers, but he had been in an extreme state of inebriation only an hour or so before. As that was the case, I doubted whether he would be in any condition to advise me.

  I searched my mind for any other person. Cyril Upton had struck me as a thoroughly decent sort. His service for the Crown was certainly to his credit. Harold Chandler also had a steadiness about him. He was an adventurer to be sure, but the empire could never have been formed without the services of such men. Many solid Englishmen had left the comfort of home and hearth to work, and make their fortunes, in the far flung colonies. Colonel North was another likely candidate, in my opinion. Another soldier, like Upton and Withers for that matter, whose service could not be questioned. He was a well-seasoned man of the world he could be counted upon for sage advice. I was turning these matters over in my mind when there was a knock at the door.

  The sound caused me to jump a bit, as I had been deep in thought at the time. I looked to the door and I suddenly realized just how quiet the house was. The lamps were still lit in my room, but the hall outside the door would be cloaked in darkness. I had an eerie feeling of just what might be waiting for me. I shook it off at once and was somewhat ashamed of myself for allowing my imagination to run riot. The most likely answer to who was at the door was that it was the person who had asked for a meeting in the study. Perhaps, they could not wait until the appointed hour and had decided to come to my room for whatever their purpose. Steadying myself, I called out to the visitor.

  “Come in,” I said firmly.

  The door opened at once, and Colonel North stepped inside. He had changed from his clothes from dinner and now wore a dark red smoking jacket. The ruddy countenance of the old military man drove away all my foolish thoughts.

  “Hello, doctor,” he said with a grin. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

  “Not at all, Colonel. As you can see I have not been able to sleep.”

  “I thought as much, my boy. I was heading down to the library for a book when I saw the light from under your door. I thought we might yarn a bit.”

  “I see that sleep eludes you as well, Colonel.”

  “Yes, I am afraid so. That dratted butler Meadows served me a cup of very strong coffee after dinner, and I fear that I will be up well into the small hours.”

  I glanced surreptitiously at my watch and saw that I had only about fifteen minutes before my appointment. I considered unburdening myself to the Colonel. I looked upon his frank demeanor and felt that I could certainly trust him to give me able advice. However, I remembered that Holmes would assuredly trust no one in an investigation before learning more about them. The Colonel sat, somewhat stiffly, and was lighting his pipe as I thought. I joined him by lighting a cigarette.

  “Why are you really here, doctor?” he suddenly asked.

  I was momentarily taken aback.

  “Why, I am here at the invitation of the Uptons, of course.”

  “Oh, I know that, but it seems strange to me that the illustrious Sherlock Holmes appears in the country, well outside his known haunt of London, and that his companion shows up tonight to visit this very estate.”

  “I can assure you, Colonel, that I recommended that Holmes come to the Withers so as to regain his health. I had not met, or heard of the Uptons, before this visit.”

  That much was true, at any rate. I felt somewhat guilty at not being completely frank with the doughty old soldier, but caution stayed my hand. I would play a lone role this night.

  “We received a gracious invitation today for us to call. Holmes unfortunately, could not make the trip, but as John Withers is an old friend of the family we decided to come without the great man. I realize I am a poor substitute for him, but here we are.”

  Again it was almost all true and the lies were ones of omission only.

  The Colonel puffed away on his pipe. “Please don’t get your back up, old boy. Its just that when one sees a fox it is only natural to look to the chickens.”

  “I think I understand. However, I should tell you that trouble does not follow in Holmes’s wake. Rather he comes at call.”

  “Indeed, doctor, I can appreciate that,” he said. “And no one has consulted him for his professional services?”

  I merely spread my arms apart and shrugged.

  “It is how I have told you.”

  That was an outright falsehood, but I did not feel I could unburden myself upon him. Honoria Upton had made it clear that her husband’s growing manias had been shared with no one else. Although it was certainly true that the Judge had seemed perfectly normal and lucid to me.

  “Forgive me, doctor. I have spent enough of my life in the jungle that I see tigers at every watering hole.”

  “So you and the Judge are old friends?” I said, in order to change the subject to a more congenial one.

  “That is so. At our age you did not easily make friends, doctor, so you hang on to the old ones as best you can.”

  “You knew the first Mrs. Upton, or did I mishear Cyril.”

  “Oh yes, Elizabeth,” he said dreamily, after a short pause. “Wonderful girl.”

  “How did she die?” I asked. “Was it an illness?”

  “What was that? Oh, no, not an illness. She died in a riding accident.”

  “How tragic. I suppose the children were quite young.”

  “Oh, indeed they were. Elizabeth had gone riding and the horse came back without her. The children were just babes really. I will never forget how she looked when we found the body. She had broken her neck. Death was instantaneous the doctors said.”

  “Then you were actually present on their estate when she died.”

  “Yes, I was visiting as I am now I suppose, though, of course, it was a different home. I almost always took my leaves with Simon and Elizabeth, and now with Simon and Honoria.”

  “Then I take it you never married, Colonel.”

  “No, I never had the time, doctor. Besides, Elizabeth was always the most beautiful girl I had ever met and she chose Simon.
C’est la guerre, doctor.”

  “C’est la vie rather, wouldn’t you say, Colonel?”

  “Ah, but all of life is a war, my boy. Take it from an old soldier. But then you’ve seen the war in Afghanistan, haven’t you?”

  I admitted that I had and we fell into the telling of old war stories. I attempted to steer the conversation back to the present.

  “How has the Judge adjusted to retirement?” I asked. “Some men have a difficult time with too much leisure.”

  “Well, I don’t know how much leisure time he has. The estate, and Honoria, keep him quite busy. The children are now back as well, so that fills the hours I imagine. No, doctor, Simon Upton is very much the same man I have known for decades.”

  He seemed almost wistful at his statement and his attention went fully to his pipe for the next few minutes. It was drawing near to the time of my rendezvous and I wondered with what method I was going to extract myself from Colonel North, without arousing his suspicions.

  I heard a noise from across the hall and I saw John Withers emerge from his room. He quietly closed the door and turned. He seemed surprised to find my door open with the light on. The Colonel was seated at a desk and did not have a view of John’s room. I waved at my friend and he returned it. He walked in, still a bit wobbly, and stood in the doorway.

  “Hello, Watson old top,” he said. He then saw Colonel North and his persona became more formal. “Oh hello, Colonel. It’s a regular party then is it?”

  “Not at all,” I returned lightly. “You merely see two insomniacs whiling away the hours and commiserating on their condition. You at least have had some sleep, if sleep you can call it.

  John Withers smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I let the grains get the best of me. I was just going down to get a bit of the hair of the dog.”

  “First the man takes a drink, then the drink takes the man,” murmured Colonel North.

  “Shelley, I believe. Or is it Browning, Colonel?” I asked.