by June Thomson
* See footnote to page 132. (Dr John F. Watson)
THE CASE OF THE ITINERANT YEGGMAN
Another case which engaged Holmes’ attention in the busy year of ’95 occurred in June, several months after the arrest of Wilson and his accomplices which brought the ‘Canary Club’ conspiracy to a successful conclusion.
I was apprised of this new investigation by the arrival at my consulting-rooms of a telegram from my old friend which read: ‘COME TWO-THIRTY THIS AFTERNOON BAKER STREET STOP INTERESTING CASE PENDING.’
I was quite used by this time to these peremptory summonses and, having arranged for a colleague to take over my professional duties that afternoon, I caught a cab to my former lodgings where I found Holmes in a state of some excitement.
‘My dear Watson,’ he said as I entered, ‘I am delighted you were able to come. A most fascinating investigation has been placed my way this very morning. You remember Lestrade referred to a series of burglaries which had taken place at country houses and in which valuable art treasures had been stolen?* Well, read this!’
He thrust a letter into my hand. It bore the previous day’s date, the address: ‘Whitestone Manor, Little Walden, Suffolk’, and read:
Dear Mr Holmes,
Two days ago my house was broken into and several rare family heirlooms were stolen. The local constabulary have undertaken an investigation but have so far discovered no clues whatsoever. Consequently, I have no faith in their competence.
Having heard of your great ability to succeed where the official police have failed, I should be most grateful if you would make inquiries on my behalf. I propose calling on you at three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon to discuss the case with you.
I am, sir, yours sincerely,
Edgar Maxwell-Browne (Bart.)
Hardly had I finished reading it than, with the curt command, ‘Now look at this!’, Holmes snatched the letter away and substituted for it one of his cuttings books in which it was his habit to paste those newspaper articles which had caught his interest.
There were five such items, dating back over the past two years and all were concerned with burglaries at country mansions. But I had very little opportunity to peruse them in detail for Holmes insisted on leaning eagerly over my shoulder to comment out loud on their contents.
‘You see, Watson, all of them follow a pattern or modus operandi. The burglaries always take place in the summer months at country houses situated not too far from London. I have looked up the places on a large-scale map and without exception they are located three miles or less from a mainline station; within walking distance, in other words. In every case, the burglary has been carried out with great skill and cunning for no one in any of the households was aware at the time of the felonies, while in two instances a dog, which was supposed to guard the property, had been put to sleep by means of a piece of drugged meat.
‘Another curious feature of all these burglaries is the discrimination of the villain or villains involved. Only certain choice items of rare historical or artistic interest have been taken while other objects of considerable value such as plate and jewellery have been left untouched. In short, Watson, I am convinced that we are dealing here with a very clever professional thief, based in London, who travels down by train to commit the burglaries, having first chosen his site with extreme care.’
‘And the police say they have no clues,’ I remarked, pointing to Sir Edgar’s letter.
‘Pshaw!’ Holmes exclaimed scornfully. ‘They are simply not looking in the right places. I have been following these cases for months, hoping that one of the victims might ask for my services. And now my chance has come! For believe me, my dear fellow, there is a very cunning and subtle mind at work here. It will afford me the greatest pleasure to pit my wits against his!’
He was positively rubbing his hands together with delight at the prospect and could hardly contain his impatience, pacing up and down the room until the bell rang to announce the arrival of his new client.
Sir Edgar Maxwell-Browne was a bluff, middle-aged, red-faced man who came straight to the point.
No sooner had he entered the room and introduced himself than he announced, ‘I do not propose wasting your time or mine, Mr Holmes. The facts of the case are these. The burglary took place either late on Friday night or in the early hours of Saturday morning. No one in the household heard anything, including myself, although that may not be altogether surprising as the servants sleep in the east wing, quite separate from the part of the house where the crime was committed, while my own room is also some distance away. It occurred in the drawing-room in the old west wing, where a circular piece of glass was cut out of one of the window-panes, the catch was released and the casement was then opened. It was from this room that the objects were stolen.’
‘I take it that all the items were extremely rare and of great artistic or historic value?’ Holmes inquired.
Sir Edgar sat up, astonished at my old friend’s deductive skills.
‘I don’t know how you came to that conclusion, Mr Holmes, but you are perfectly correct. All the objects were irreplaceable family heirlooms, including a miniature by Nicholas Hilliard of an ancestor of mine, a prayer-book with a pearl-embroidered cover which had belonged to Mary Queen of Scots and a gold chalice said to have been used in Catherine of Aragon’s private chapel. They were not only priceless; they were unique! The most baffling part about it is that there was no attempt to make off with the silver in the dining-room or other valuable pieces in the drawing-room or elsewhere in the house.’
‘I assume from your description that all the stolen objects were small and easily portable?’
‘You are correct again, Mr Holmes! They would have fitted into a carpet-bag or a small portmanteau. I ought to add that none of the heirlooms taken were displayed openly. They were all secured inside two cabinets which were fitted with strong locks. As the glass had not been smashed, I can only assume that the locks were picked.’
‘Ah!’ Holmes exclaimed, his eyes very bright under their dark, heavy brows.
‘Now to get down to business,’ Sir Edgar continued briskly. ‘If you are willing to take on the case, I am prepared to pay whatever fees you charge. I should, of course, prefer that my property were returned but, failing that, I shall be satisfied if whoever is responsible is apprehended and placed behind bars. I am a great believer in the old adage that an Englishman’s home is his castle. No householder can sleep easy in his bed while these villains are at large.’
‘These villains, Sir Edgar? You sound quite positive. Have you any evidence that more than one man is involved?’
‘Indeed I have. There are two to be precise. Did I not mention the port? No? Well, before they left, they had the infernal cheek to help themselves to a glass each of my ’67; cool as you please. The empty glasses were found in the dining-room.’
‘Have they been touched?’ Holmes asked quickly.
‘No; as soon as the burglary was discovered, I gave orders that the drawing-room and the dining-room were to be locked and that nothing should be removed or handled until the police arrived. Inspector Biffen, who is in charge of the so-called investigation, showed no interest in examining the glasses and therefore the dining-room has remained closed off. He and his men seemed more concerned with trampling over the gardens, looking for evidence. They have done irreparable damage to a bed of very fine gloxinias. It was one of the reasons I decided to write to you, Mr Holmes, and ask you to take up the case before Biffen and his subordinates ruin any more of my borders. To add insult to injury, the Inspector has admitted that he has found no clues, not even a footprint, and has no idea who is behind this outrage. Indeed, yesterday he spoke of calling in Scotland Yard which will mean more men in boots tramping about!’
Sir Edgar’s bright blue eyes positively blazed at the idea.
Holmes said soothingly, ‘I shall be delighted to take the case, Sir Edgar. I assume you have no objections to my colleague, Dr Watson, accompanying m
e? Then let me assure you that, as far as the doctor and myself are concerned, your flower gardens will be sacrosanct.’
‘That is settled then,’ Sir Edgar remarked, slapping his knees. ‘Now, I have looked up the timetable and the 10.15 from Liverpool Street station to Ipswich stops at Great Walden. If that train is convenient to you, I shall send my carriage to meet it. It is only a two mile drive from the station to my house at Little Walden. You will stay for luncheon, of course? Excellent! Then I shall inform Biffen that you will arrive tomorrow morning.’
Sir Edgar had risen to his feet as if about to depart when Holmes held up a hand to detain him.
‘Two final points before you leave, Sir Edgar. Firstly, will you make sure that no one, not even Inspector Biffen, enters the dining-room and handles the two port glasses?’ On receiving Sir Edgar’s assurance, Holmes continued, ‘My last inquiry is this – have any strangers visited the house recently?’
Sir Edgar seemed less positive about this last query.
‘Not to my knowledge,’ he said after a moment’s pause. ‘But I shall certainly make inquiries of the servants.’
After he had shaken hands and left, Holmes turned to me with a triumphant expression.
‘You see what I mean about modus operandi, Watson? This case follows a similar pattern to the others. The house is approximately two miles from a mainline station; no one heard anything; the burglary was carried out extremely skilfully and only a few choice items were taken. We can now add to our knowledge the fact that two men are involved, both of whom are exceptionally skilled. I am looking forward to this investigation with the greatest of pleasure.’
‘Why did you ask Sir Edgar about strangers visiting the house?’
‘Is that not obvious, Watson? The thieves entered by the drawing-room window, the very room where the family heirlooms were kept, and made off with only the most valuable of them. Does that not suggest to you that they knew exactly where to find them and what their value was before committing the burglary? And now, my dear fellow, before you leave, if you would be good enough to hand me down that volume marked “Country Houses”, I shall begin work on the case. I may expect you tomorrow morning, may I not, say at nine o’clock, in good time to catch the 10.15 from Liverpool Street station?’
Having been so imperatively summoned, I was a little piqued at being dismissed in a similar fashion but Holmes, quite unaware of my annoyance, had already seated himself at his desk, a large-scale map of South East England spread out in front of him, together with the volume on country houses, and was engaged in making notes.
I let myself quietly out of the room.
He was in the same ebullient mood when I returned the following morning.
A cab had been ordered and, as the hansom rattled off for Liverpool Street station, he explained to me the results of his previous day’s researches.
‘I have written over two dozen letters, Watson; five to the owners of those houses where the earlier thefts occurred and a score or more to others whose properties seemed likely targets for future burglaries. It is surprising how many country houses fulfil the necessary criteria I remarked on yesterday.’
‘You are quite sure there will be other attempts?’ I asked.
‘Oh, quite positive! These burglaries are part of a series which take place, as I pointed out to you, during the summer months. It is now June. I think we can safely count on at least one more before the season is out. I shall be better informed where exactly it will take place when I receive answers to my letters.’
We caught the train at Liverpool Street station and, after a journey of about an hour, alighted at Great Walden, a prosperous market town, where we found Sir Edgar’s coachman waiting with the carriage.
Before we set off, Holmes inquired of the man, ‘Which is the best inn in the town?’
‘The George, sir,’ the coachman replied without any hesitation.
Holmes sat back with evident satisfaction but said nothing to explain the reason for this inquiry, merely looking about him with great attention as the carriage drove away.
Whitestone Manor was a large, rambling house of several architectural styles, one wing being Tudor, another Carolean, while a fine Palladian façade had been built in front of the main Georgian structure. It was here, on the steps of the pillared portico, that Sir Edgar met us and conducted us inside the house.
‘Now, Mr Holmes,’ he said, with his usual forthrightness, ‘where do you wish to begin your investigation?’
To my surprise, Holmes replied, ‘In the dining-room, Sir Edgar. I should like to examine the two port glasses.’
The dining-room was situated in the Tudor wing and was a low, panelled room, furnished with the heavy oak pieces of the period on which was displayed a quantity of silver plate which the thieves had left behind.
The glasses in question stood on the end of a long refectory table, the dregs of dried port still evident at the botton of them. Without touching them, Holmes bent forward and scrutinised each glass carefully through the powerful magnifying glass which he took from the small leather grip he had brought with him, before turning to Sir Edgar. ‘If I might have a cardboard box and some cotton wadding, I should like, with your permission, to take these back with me to London for further examination.’
‘Of course,’ Sir Edgar replied, pulling on a bell rope to summon a servant, ‘although I fail to see what possible use they could be to the inquiry. However, I am in your hands, Mr Holmes.’
A servant having arrived and been duly sent off again to return with those articles which my old friend had requested, Holmes lifted each glass carefully by the stem and laid them side by side in the box on top of some of the wadding. More wadding was placed over them, the lid was replaced and tied on with string and finally the box was placed inside the grip.
Both Sir Edgar and I watched this operation with considerable interest, Sir Edgar baffled by it; I, who knew something of Holmes’ methods, not entirely surprised at his interest in these objects.
‘And now,’ Holmes announced, having fastened up the grip, ‘I should like to examine the room where the burglary took place.’
It was while we were walking along the passageway towards the drawing-room that Sir Edgar suddenly remarked, ‘The port glasses have reminded me, Mr Holmes. Yesterday you asked if any strangers had been to the house. At the time, I could think of nobody. But seeing the glasses again, I have just remembered that there was a visitor although it was so long ago, I doubt if he has anything to do with the burglary. I offered him a glass of port after luncheon and he remarked on the excellence of its quality.’
Holmes lifted his head, his expression alert and keen-eyed, like a gun dog scenting game.
‘How long ago was this visit, Sir Edgar?’
‘Let me see. It must have been last November. He was an American professor who wrote asking to look over the place. He said he was an expert on Tudor architecture.’
It was Holmes’ habit to become very tense and still when he had reached a significant stage in an investigation, as if all his attention were concentrated on this one point although, under the apparently calm exterior, one could feel the energy vibrating like a finely-tuned engine.
I was aware of that hidden power when in a quiet voice he inquired, ‘Do you happen to have the letter?’
‘It may still be among my papers. If you wish, I can look for it while you examine the drawing-room,’ Sir Edgar replied, throwing open a door.
While Sir Edgar departed to search for the correspondence, Holmes and I stepped inside the room. It was a large chamber, beamed and panelled like the dining-room, and with three long windows overlooking the garden. Even from the doorway, it was possible to see the circular hole which had been cut in one of the panes immediately above a window-catch, large enough to admit a man’s hand.
Holmes strode across the room to examine both the hole and the window-ledge.
‘Neatly made, Watson, with a diamond-tipped glass-cutter; the sign of an expert.
Observe also the marks on the sill where our villains climbed in and out. No footprints in the flower-bed below the window,’ he continued, opening the casement and leaning his head out, ‘apart from some heavy trampling in the surrounding area which I assume is the work of Inspector Biffen and his subordinates. But aha! What have we here? Kindly pass me the tweezers, there’s a good fellow.’
I did as he requested, eagerly stepping forward to observe the object which he had retrieved.
‘It is just a small piece of fluff,’ I remarked.
‘Fluff? Nonsense, Watson! If you examine it with the aid of the lens, you will see that it consists of fibres torn from a piece of brown felt. They were caught on a splinter of wood on the lower frame of the window. You can also observe, can you not, the earth which has been trodden into them? No wonder our villains were so silent and left no shoe-prints. They were careful to encase their feet in felt slippers. It is all so highly professional that it is a privilege to observe their methods. And now,’ he concluded, depositing the fibres in an envelope which he placed inside his pocketbook, ‘let us examine the cabinets from which the art treasures were taken.’
The cabinets stood in the chimney alcoves on either side of a large stone fireplace. Both were glass-fronted and the doors, which had been fitted with strong, brass locks, had been left ajar. Inside, gaps between the objects displayed on the shelves showed where the missing items had once stood.
It was while Holmes was kneeling on the floor, examining the key escutcheons, that Sir Edgar entered the room, a sheet of paper in his hand.
‘I have found the letter,’ he announced, handing it to Holmes who, having read it, passed it to me. It was written on paper which bore the printed heading, ‘The University of Chicago, Department of History’, and the date October 6th of the previous year.
It read:
Dear Sir Edgar,
I am engaged in writing a monograph on Tudor country houses and their interior design and should count it a great privilege if I may have your permission to visit Whitestone Manor which I understand has a superb Elizabethan wing with original panelling.
