Sherlock Holmes (52 page)

The Duke again looked pale and a
great sadness filled his voice. “Once again you are correct, Mr
Holmes. I loved my father dearly and I miss him greatly."

Holmes turned to me, asking,
“Watson, be a good fellow and ring the bell? Ask Mrs Hudson to
bring up a tray of tea for three." He smiled at the young Duke.
“Now, your grace, how can I be of service?”

The Duke looked a little anxious
as he said, “I really don’t know where to begin, Mr Holmes. I
suppose it all started with the attempted burglary at the Grange
when Grandfather’s painting of the Grange and its gardens was taken
down."

Holmes moved forward in his
chair and urged the Duke to tell his tale, saying, “Your grace, if
you would tell me all, leave nothing out, I beg you." The Duke
nodded and Holmes sat back in his chair with his hands arranged
almost as if in prayer, finger tips together, listening with his
eyes closed.

The Duke recounted how a
burglary had been foiled when the night watchman at the Grange had,
on his rounds, discovered intruders. He went on to describe how his
father, the 5th Duke, had succumbed to a seizure brought on by the
burglary and had died some days later.

Holmes nodded. “I was greatly
saddened to read his obituary in ‘The Times’. Was anything removed
from the Grange?”

The Duke shook his head.
Strangely, no. It would appear that the intruders were only
interested in the picture. In itself, it has no real value… but it
does have a bearing on my visit to you today."

Holmes sat forward, his body
stiff and inclined slightly towards the Duke like a pointer
indicating the position of the quarry. “Ah, now we have it. Please,
do go on." 

The Duke continued. “My
grandfather was a Brigadier in the Indian Army and was in India
during the Mutiny of 1857. It was a grim time with atrocities on
both sides but none more so than the slaughter of British women and
children at Cawnpore. The leader of the mutineers was Nana Sahib,
the Maharajah of Bithur, a rather small and dusty state not far
from Cawnpore. Nana Sahib was the dispossessed heir to the throne
of the Mahrattas. Because of his part in the massacre, he became
the most hated and sought after man in all the Empire.”

I nodded saying “Yes, yes! I
remember!”

The Duke continued. “When the
British re-took Cawnpore, Nana Sahib had disappeared. It was
rumoured that he had bribed his way over the border into a
neighbouring state and then on to who knows where. It is said that
to buy his passage he used a family heirloom, a large diamond named
the ‘Star of Bithur’. There were whisperings within our family that
grandfather had returned from India with a great prize. What it was
and how he came by it I do not know. He never spoke of it. I am
sure, Mr Holmes, that there was no dishonour attached to my
grandfather from its possession.”

The young Duke looked fatigued
and it was a relief to him when the story telling was interrupted
by a gentle knock at our door and the arrival of the tea served by
Mrs Hudson.

Once refreshed, the Duke
continued. “On the anniversary of grandfather’s death, in 1869, our
family solicitor passed a sealed letter to my father. Grandfather
had left instructions that it should not be opened until 50 years
after his death. You will note that this year is 50 years from that
date and, in January, my father opened the letter. I have brought
it for you to read, Mr Holmes."

The Duke reached into the inside
pocket of his Harris Tweed jacket and brought out a much yellowed
envelope with a broken, red wax seal. Holmes lent over and took the
envelope. Before opening it, he inspected all the seams minutely
with his magnifying glass.

Satisfied, Holmes exclaimed, “It
is clear that the envelope had been opened prior to your father
breaking the seal." He put down the glass and held the envelope to
his nose. Raising an eyebrow, Holmes exclaimed, “Ah! The
distinctive smell of gum-arabic, a clear sign that someone has
opened one of the seams and then used the gum to re-seal the
letter." Being content that no more could be gleaned from the
envelope, Holmes pulled out the single sheet of paper within.
“Would you mind if I read the letter aloud to share with friend
Watson?”

The Duke readily agreed. “Not at
all. I understand that you served in India yourself, Doctor
Watson." I nodded but said nothing, not wanting to delay Holmes
from reading the letter.

Holmes opened the page and read
the letter thus. “Salcombe Grange, 26th July 1867. To my heirs. You
are reading this letter as 50 years have now passed since my death.
Only now do I feel it is fit and proper to disclose to you the
terrible secret that has burdened me since my return to England
after my service in India. You will know that whilst there, I
witnessed the aftermath of the appalling massacre of our troops and
their families at Cawnpore by Sepoys lead by that foulest of all
men, Nana Sahib. Even now, that name is like dust in my mouth. As a
result of this shameful act, a great prize came into my possession.
To understand my actions, you must believe that I only want to
protect the family. I did not wish to benefit from that which I
have brought back to these shores and has so much blood attached to
it. It is my resolve, then, to put the prize in a place where it is
not easily found. I trust that those who follow me have the wit and
courage to discover its location and use the proceeds in an
honourable way.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow and
again lifted a forefinger to his lip. He paused for a few moments
before continuing, “During all my time in India, my greatest desire
was to return to the Grange. On the long voyage back to England, I
had time to reflect on matters and in my cabin I was able paint the
Grange from memory. I trust that this painting still hangs in the
Great Hall else all is lost. May God forgive me for any wrongs I
have committed and I trust that you, my heirs, will ensure that
some good comes from this terrible affair."

Holmes sat back in his chair.
His face was grim for he was aware of the Cawnpore massacre and
concluded by saying, “The letter is signed William George Burley,
4th Duke of Salcombe."

Looking towards our visitor, he
again looked ashen and stumbled as he said, “I am… I am sorry that
I have brought this to you, Mr Holmes… but it is now a matter of
honour. If my family is linked to this horror by possession of the
Star of Bithur then it must be found. The families of those who
perished at the hands of Nana Sahib and his followers must be the
ones to benefit from its discovery."

Holmes nodded, asking, “Tell me,
your grace. Is the painting to which the late Duke refers held in a
place of safety?”

The Duke nodded. “Yes, Mr
Holmes. After the attempted burglary, the picture was placed in the
family strong room to which there are but only two keys. I hold one
and Charles Stretton, our family solicitor, holds the other."

By this time, it was well past
noon. Holmes had risen from his chair and was reaching for the
Railway Gazetteer. He now seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry to
usher the Duke from the room, saying, “Well, your grace, you have
certainly given us several things to ponder. If you would be so
kind as to return to Salcombe Grange in your uncle’s carriage, we
will follow this evening."

The young Duke rose and seemed a
little flustered by the speed of events. “Err… yes, of course.
Thank you, Mr Holmes. I bid you good day, gentlemen.” Holmes made a
nodding gesture and the Duke, still looking a little bemused, went
on his way.

Holmes consulted the Gazetteer.
“Ah! It is as I thought. There is an express this evening at half
past six that stops at Salcombe station.” Reaching for his private
copy of the War Department list, provided by brother Mycroft, he
began to flick through it. Tapping his forefinger on the list,
Holmes cried out, “Now we have him! Major Michael Drew, Indian
Army, retired. Ha! An address close to King’s Cross Station.
Capital!

Holmes ran to his bedroom,
shouting, “Quickly, Watson! We must make haste. Gather some
overnight clothes into a Gladstone, there is information we need
before our visit to the Grange. There is only one man in all of
England who can give it to us and I pray to heaven that he is still
alive and at home."

I quickly did as I was asked.
Holmes gathered up his own Gladstone and donning his cape, hat and
gloves, he swept out of the door leaving me to hurry along in his
wake.

In the street below he hailed a
Hansom and shouted up to the cabbie, “Gray’s Inn Road, close to
King’s Cross station, if you please."

As we travelled in the Hansom,
Holmes was deep in thought. Turning to me, he asked, “Well, Watson.
What do you make of it?”

Although I had heard the same
story as Holmes, I knew that he had gleaned far more from it than
had I. “I fear I am at a loss, Holmes. I know something of the
Cawnpore massacre, but as to this prize…” I shook my head, asking,
“Do you really think it is the Star of Bithur?”

Holmes nodded, “I think almost
certainly, but first we must learn more of the events at Cawnpore.
We are fortunate to know the name of the 4th Duke’s adjutant, Major
Michael Drew. If he is still alive, he resides in the Gray’s Inn
Road."

I rubbed my chin, asking, “What
about the picture, Holmes? Do you think it to be so valuable that
an attempt may be made to steal it again?”

Holmes smiled grimly. “It is
invaluable, Watson! I think it to be the key to this whole affair.
In itself, it may merely be a picture of Salcombe Grange by a
competent, family artist. It is what intelligence the picture may
possibly contain that is important. We must have sight of it before
we can conclude further.”

The Hansom pulled to a stop at
the junction of Gray’s Inn Road and Kings Cross Station. Holmes
tossed the cabbie a florin and strode purposefully off to find the
address of Major Drew.

Gray’s Inn Road was a mixture of
the offices of solicitors and accountants but with private
residences and small guesthouses scattered amongst them. Holmes had
stopped outside a quite grand Georgian house. The house had been
turned into two dwellings and the door to the ground floor
displayed the number 156A. To one side was a small plaque,
engraved, ‘Major M. Drew’ and beneath this was a brass bell push.
Holmes removed his gloves and pressed the bell.

After a few moments, a smartly
dressed parlour maid answered the door. “Yes, sir?”

“Good afternoon. We would like
to speak to Major Drew."

The maid looked over her
shoulder briefly and replied, “The Major doesn’t like to be
disturbed in the afternoon sir. Perhaps you could call
tomorrow?”

Holmes removed one of his cards
from his card wallet and took out a very slim, silver pencil. On
the back of the card he wrote three words and handed the card to
the maid. “Please be so kind as to give my card to the Major.”

The maid took the card but
looked doubtful, saying, “It’ll do no good sir. He has given strict
instructions to the whole household."

Holmes smiled sweetly and said,
“Please."

The maid closed the door and
could be seen through the frosted glass disappearing into the
house. Barely twenty seconds later the door was flung open and
before us stood a florid man with iron grey hair and mutton chop
whiskers.

“What the devil do you mean by
this, sir?” he roared.

Holmes very calmly said, “Major
Drew, I come on behalf of the Duke of Salcombe."

“The Duke I knew is dead” and he
started to turn and close the door.

“No, Major. This is George
Burley, his grandson, the 6th Duke. He is grievously in need of
your assistance."

Major Drew stopped and looked
towards Holmes. He turned over Holmes’ card. I could see that on
the reverse of the card Holmes had written, ‘Star of Bithur’. “I
know of you Holmes. Is the young Duke an honourable man?”

Holmes’ face was emotionless. He
looked the Major straight in the eye and said, “He is… and he wants
to make amends. You are the
only
person who can help
him."

The Major held Holmes’ gaze for
several seconds before replying, “Very well. Come inside.”

We were led into a small drawing
room which was full of mementos of the Major’s service in India.
The floor was covered by a handmade rug and, from one of the walls,
a tiger’s head, its mouth wide open, glared down at us. Holmes
introduced me and we sat together on a comfortable, but worn,
settee. The Major sat opposite us in a high backed armchair.

His mood had softened as he
said, “I liked the old Duke well enough when I served under him. He
was fair with the men but that business after Cawnpore was the
finish of him. I have never seen a man change so much in the months
after we had re-taken the place.”

Holmes sat forward on the
settee. “It is of this that we need to talk to you, Major,
particularly the events surrounding the uprising."

The Major looked very serious.
“I can only tell you what I know of the siege from the story told
to me my one of the four survivors of the massacre. That and from
the accounts of Sepoy prisoners." Holmes nodded.

The Major rubbed his chin and
continued, “I was adjutant to the Duke when we were stationed at
Allahabad, on the Ganges, downstream from Cawnpore. In June 1857,
the garrison at Cawnpore was commanded by General Sir Hugh Wheeler
and consisted of four regiments of native infantry and a European
battery of artillery. Sir Hugh was a seasoned soldier and had
served in India most of his life. He had the upmost confidence in
the Sepoys under his command.”

“Wasn’t he alarmed by the
rumours of unrest amongst the Sepoys?” I asked.