Mrs. Hudson had arrived with a tea tray, and I dispensed cups of tea. Holmes took up the discussion.
“Was it these men who persuaded the authorities to hold off on the execution, or was it others acting under their plea?”
“It was others, sir. Both have in debt to them certain members of the nobility, but these men are good friends of mine. They placed pressure upon their clients to demand a stay of execution at my request. Yet now they come under threat, they weaken. I understand that and I accept it. Tell me, gentlemen, is there any hope for Mary?”
I saw that his distress was genuine and silently I rejoiced. Holmes had suggested that Mr. Hemming’s actions had been spite against the powerful who, he believed, despised him. While that may have been a portion of his motive, he did indeed also like the girl and wished to save her.
Holmes nodded. “There is, nor has her stay been entirely at the request of those your friends pressured. A week ago I, too, went to the authorities and showed them a number of proofs that the case had gone awry. They agreed to hold off until I had inquired further, and I have done so.”
The young man bolted upright. “You have succeeded, sir? Tell me you have succeeded!”
Holmes sat silent while the young man eyed him imploringly, and at length my friend spoke. “Sit down, Mr. Hemming, and listen. This case lies in two parts. The truth is that the authorities are not as obdurate as you may think. They have no wish for the girl to be proven innocent after they have hanged her. Therefore, when I went to them and showed much of the evidence against her to be false, they agreed to hold off. I am now in a position after our latest visits today to lay out that proof. But how if I show she was innocent? There will always be those who disbelieve, and the lie will follow her, and you, and your children forever. No, I must also offer them the true culprit.”
Jack Hemming had resumed his seat as Holmes spoke. Now he leaned forward, his face flushed with passion. “If you can do that, sir, I shall owe you all my life. I know Mary is innocent, but if you can show who is not, my gratitude, together with whatever of mine I can offer, shall be yours.”
Holmes pursed his lips. “It will not be an easy task. I have a suspect in mind. No,” as the young man would have spoken. “I will not reveal that person’s name. I could yet be wrong, although I am sufficiently convinced. But it wants more proof to be a case, and it is that I seek. In the morning I plan to lay proofs of Mary’s innocence before the authorities and have a stay of execution formally acknowledged in writing. But the girl must remain in gaol—”
Here the boy broke into cries of protest.
Holmes looked stern. “Tell me, do you hunt?”
The young man was taken aback. “Why, sir, I am no gentleman that I chase foxes, but I have taken a gun after rabbits many a time. What has that to do with anything?”
“This: that it is unwise to start the prey before you are in position to shoot.”
The lad wasn’t slow to understand. “I see. You say that you know who committed the crime, but if Mary is freed it will be clear that someone else poisoned the Addletons. And they may then lay low.”
“That is my meaning.” He nodded. “In short, Mr. Hemming, releasing Mary will alert the true culprit. Better she remains in her cell for a few more days whilst I lie in ambush.”
“Then I shall complain no more,” the lad said. “I trust you, and so I shall tell Mary when next I visit her.” He sank back into his chair and it was the turn of his father, who had been listening to the conversation with interest.
“I leave all this to you, gentlemen, as my son says. But I know at whose behest you first involved yourselves. Sergeant Fellowes is a good and worthy man, hard-working and honest. Yet he is not wealthy. I daresay he offered all he has, but that is not likely to be any great sum—unless he should sell his house.” Holmes waved that suggestion away. “No, sir. Therefore I offer to cover any costs that should be outstanding. Do not say so to him, if you will. But know that I esteem my son’s future wife, that I have always believed her innocent, and that I approve their marriage. If you need money to further the case, come to me and it shall be provided. I do not boast, sir, but I’m not a poor man, and I am willing to pay.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hemming,” Holmes said, and went on, to my horror. “I wondered if you wished to have the girl declared innocent only for spite against those who would have rejected you. I am happy to see that you value her for herself. Should I need funds beyond those her father can provide, I shall apply to you. And now good-day.”
I ushered out the Hemmings, the father torn between some offence at this plain speaking and amusement at it, the son uncomplicatedly joyful at my friend’s assurances.
I returned to tax my friend. “That was blunt, Holmes!”
He paused where he mended the fire and looked at me. “I thought it well to be clear. Mr. Hemming is a man who understands the motives of others, and knows his own, too. I thought it well that he should see me as another such: a man who understands his motives, yet accepts them as reasonable, and who would still work for Miss Mary. Now he knows this, he will keep nothing from us.”
“You think he may have done so?”
“I do.” Knocking resounded through the house and I jumped. “Here,” said my friend, “comes the proof of that.”
Mr. Hemming walked into our rooms, turned to study my friend, and smiled. “I sent my lad on home while I returned here. There is something I have not told you.” I waved to a chair and he sat. “Aye, while I was making my way first in the world I had friends who were….” He hesitated. “Well, not all of them were honest, but they were good friends to me, and I do not repudiate them now I am wealthy. My lad’s visited Mary ever since she was imprisoned, and I heard all he could tell me of the events. I, too, asked questions and had others elsewhere asking for me.”
Holmes nodded. “And you discovered that she was indeed innocent, that she had been lied against, and that most of those called at her trial had spoken falsely. Had you not been sure of that you would have convinced your son to look elsewhere for a bride. Yet your knowing was of aid only to you. You needed one who would be listened to, who could speak for her. Therefore you put into the mind of the good sergeant that he should seek help from his old comrade.”
Hemming brushed this off. “Aye, that’s right. And you did as I hoped, but I haven’t stopped asking questions. I came by a piece of news that I had in mind to check up on myself, but after you spoke up plainly I decided that it were best you handled it. You’re a clever man, Mr. Holmes. You know people, and I daresay you can deal better with what I have learned than I can.”
“Not necessarily better,” Holmes said kindly. “Still, tell me what you know.”
“It may not be of great import. Yet here it is, for whatever use it may be. You know that three years gone Loughton Hall began to publish the horrid novels of a woman who called herself ‘Miss Gibson.’” We both nodded. “Well, I am told that she first sent a manuscript to Michael Bishop, and it was he who took it to Mr. Addleton and convinced him it would repay its publication—in which he was right. They have made a mint of cash on the back of the lass and her novels ever since. But did you know that no one knows who she is, unless it be Michael?”
Holmes straightened. “I had not heard that. Tell me all you have learned. It may be more important than you think.”
“Well, since it was Michael who gave her the chance, so she believes, she will have none but him act for her. He alone knows where she lives and her true identity. She swore him to secrecy, and he has been faithful to his trust. It was for that reason the younger Mr. Addleton permitted him to take time from their firm. Miss Gibson makes them the majority of their profits, and so long as she continues thus, Mr. Addleton Junior may come in time to own the business, since he has been using his share of the businesses profits to buy more shares from his father.”
“How much does he own now?” I asked.
“Around thirty-nine percent. And he fears greatly that
his cow could cease to give milk unless she is kept happy. As it is, it seems that she had been writing for some time before she offered them the first novel. Once that was shown to make money, Michael went away and returned with three more manuscripts, all of which have been golden eggs for the Loughton Hall farmers.”
He grinned. “I am told that she has said that if any from the firm attempt to contact her save Michael, she will offer her work elsewhere, since she knows him to be a man of his word, and that he will not reveal her name and direction, while she cannot be so certain of others. That is all I know. I can find nothing of her name or direction myself, nor how he came by that first manuscript. And now you know as much as I do, I shall bid you farewell.” With which he rose to his feet again and departed.
I turned to Holmes and observed that he was in one of his brown studies. His chin was supported on one hand, his eyes unfocussed, and his whole form frozen in concentration. I looked at my pocket watch, saw that it was almost time for our dinner to make its appearance and quietly cleared the table. Mrs. Hudson came in with the food, and I shared it out, placing his plate under my friend’s hand. Without in any way ceasing deliberation, he picked up his cutlery and set to, clearing the plates and falling back into the attitude of concentration that I knew betokened some burgeoning train of thought.
At last he raised his head. “Watson, you gave me a report of what Bishop’s friends said. I would like you to go over it again for me, if you please.”
I began obediently. “They said that he never talked about himself. I asked them in different ways, Holmes, indeed I did, yet no matter how I approached it they reported that they knew nothing much of him. They claimed that he seemed not to be secretive, but as if there was nothing to say. They did report that once he had said he knew Harlow. It was as they were talking of places where their own relations lived. One said that once he had had an aunt there, and Bishop said that he knew the town.”
“Knew it, or knew of it?”
“My recollection is that I was told he knew it, Holmes. Of course the man who said so could have been wrong. Bishop may have said that he knew of it, and that was mistakenly reported to me.”
“Go on.”
“The man who said that suggested we look about Harlow, saying that perhaps we should find Bishop there.”
“Which suggests that he was certain Bishop had said he knew the town himself, not that he merely knew of it,” Holmes mused. “What else, Watson?”
“Nothing that I can recall, save that I think he then said he believed Bishop to have family there.” I shook my head. “He must have been wrong because your own inquiries said that the boy was from an orphanage. If he had family in the same town where he was orphaned, would they not have taken him in?”
Holmes stared at me. “That depends, Holmes.”
I was indignant. “Upon what? Did I have an orphaned young relative I would have taken them in.”
“Suppose you lived alone in a bachelor establishment, and suppose that the orphans were two small girls. You would need a larger house, a nurse for them, and an extra maid for the work they would bring. What if you did not have the money to do so?”
“I would have found it,” I said resolutely.
“And if it could not be found?”
“I would have used what I did have to see that their circumstances were bettered.”
“Such as providing a tutor?” Holmes said. “Such as seeing that they remained in school for longer than is usual for orphans?”
I agreed stoutly, almost seeing those two poor little girls who relied upon me.
Holmes rose to his feet. “I have been a fool, Watson. I studied the copies of Bishop’s references. They said that the boy remained at school until he was fourteen. Then he worked at a shop, spending his money on a tutor and on saving to pay his own apprentice fees. I did not consider more deeply, Watson. I know what he would have earned, and I know, too, that until he was earning he could have had no money of his own.”
“I do not understand,” I said in bewilderment.
“Think, Watson. At what age does an orphanage send out the children to make their own way?”
Light burst upon me. “It was unusual for them to keep them longer than twelve, even if it is a good orphanage and well supported,” I exclaimed. “But even one like that is not likely to keep a boy until he is fourteen.”
“Unless,” Holmes said meaningfully, “he has private support.”
“But why? If he had that, why should they not give him a home? Why leave him in an orphanage?”
“For the reason we discussed earlier. That they had sufficient money to aid him if his bed and board were covered by an institution, but they could not provide him schooling as well as keep him. They chose to give him the better chance. The orphanage kept him, and they added to that. It may be that they also privately added to the tutor’s wage as well. That was not asked. Consider, a young boy working in a small shop might well not earn sufficient to pay his own way and pay a tutor as well.”
“And you think that this was so, and that whoever helped him was in some way his family?”
“I think it likely.” He sat a moment in thought. “It is most inconvenient that I am called away. The problem may take me two days, but I must leave early tomorrow, Watson. I ask that you go to Harlow and undertake inquiries.” I expressed my entire willingness to be of any assistance possible. “Good man. Talk to the head of the orphanage. Ask if they received monetary support to keep Bishop in school that extra two years. Seek out the tutor; I have her direction here.” He dug into the mass of papers on his desk and offered me a sheet of paper. “Ask her if Bishop’s additional four years of studies with her were subsidized.”
“I’ll do all that,” I said resolutely. “Should I ask anywhere else?”
“Yes. Listen. It may be that these people have been told certain things under a seal of confidence. In which case they may not speak. Before you ask these questions, find out if you can from the head of the orphanage the names and directions of others with whom Bishop was in either the orphanage or at school. It would be of great use to speak to some of the lads with whom he was friendly and in whom he may have confided.” I nodded my understanding.
“If you can get nothing from the head, go at once to the school and ask there before he has time to silence them. No, no,” at the look on my face. “I do not expect murder, but the principal of an orphanage can be in a position of power. He decides to which school to send his charges.” He considered. “In fact it may be better if you go to the school first, Watson. Say you have some idea of giving a scholarship and wish to speak to boys who attended the school. Say that you know Michael Bishop and he has spoken fondly of it, and you wish to have that confirmed by others who attended at the same time. Yes, that will do: the school first, then the tutor, then the orphanage. I need principally to know if Bishop was subsidized in his education and endeavors, and if so, by whom.”
“There may be none of the lads who were at school with him remaining in Harlow,” I offered. “It is not a great city and they may have left to find work elsewhere.”
“Then follow them if you can get nothing from anyone in Harlow,” Holmes directed me. “If you must go some distance, do so. I shall be gone tomorrow morning and likely away for two days at most. If you must be gone longer, notify me by telegram; give your direction and the time you may be gone. If possible I will join you in Harlow.” And after that and a brief discussion of the Addleton case, we retired.
Holmes was up early, but I joined him for breakfast and before he departed I satisfied my curiosity. “I do not wish to pry, but what is the urgent case and upon whom do you now attend?”
“It is interesting, and may be as urgent as the writer claims,” Holmes said. “He fears that a murderer has been plying his trade for many years, and he asks that I come and investigate the possibilities. He lists a number of people within his family that this person may have already murdered, and fears that others may be mar
ked for death since his godfather is gravely ill at the moment and like to die. There are years between each death, and he cannot be sure if the deaths are all connected. What he wishes to know is if he is right, and if I think the killer still at his work, with his godfather as the next victim. He wants the person stopped before the man dies, and he desires the killer unmasked and punished.”
“Has he any evidence?”
“None, but the coincidences are considerable, although he seems to have no idea who this person could be.”
“And you do not believe him?” I said shrewdly.
“A hit, Watson. No, I think he fears the answer may be that it is someone within the family, does not wish to consider it, and would like me to be his conscience. I have said that I can give him two days, after which I shall either tell him that he is wrong, or once I have cleared Miss Mary and the concerns of another client, I shall be able to give all my time to his worries. He agreed to that.”
We finished eating and Holmes left the room to reappear in overcoat and hat. He stepped out, hailed a cab, and was whisked away while I, the table having been cleared, laid out the timetables and looked for the swiftest way to reach Harlow. Having found that there was a train in two hours I also made ready, packed a small case and, taking up my medical kit for I rarely leave home for several days without it, I too left the house.
The train was an express direct to the town and I arrived in ample time to find a suitably pleasant and inexpensive hotel, where I registered and left my case. With that done, I went directly to the school Michael Bishop had once attended and asked to speak to the headmaster. Fortunately he was in and said he could give me a few minutes. The man unfavorably impressed me. He did not appear of great intelligence, and when I began to question him, seemed hardly to recall any boy who had ever been under his care, let alone Michael Bishop in particular.
I eyed him sternly. “Come, come, sir. I assume this is dissimulation.”
Sherlock Holmes Page 11
