The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes (12 page)

At that moment Inspector Hopkins turned towards Mrs McCumber, and said solemnly: ‘That, madam, very much remains to be seen.’ A tearful Mrs McCumber turned away from him while Holmes continued his narrative oblivious of her discomfort.

‘I have now told you of every action I took from the moment I left Broadsea two mornings ago, up to the present. Now I will tell you of the reasons behind my actions and all I have learnt as a result of them.’

It was amazing to me, to hear my friend narrate this tale of high drama, with all the dryness and equanimity of a scientist lecturing at the Royal Academy.

He continued: ‘It seemed reasonable enough for me to assume that Mrs McCumber’s knowledge would be the key to the whole mystery. Her romantic connection to Dyson and the fact that Nellie was her daughter and occupied the room above that of Miss Hardcastle, made it obvious to me that Nellie was the object of the hooded man’s attention. The question that nagged at me was why, and I felt sure that Mrs McCumber would be able to furnish me with the answer.

‘My examination of the area of grass near the cliff’s edge revealed much. I was lucky in that the recent moist weather revealed boot prints and trails that were both clear and distinct, though for that I also have to thank Inspector Hopkins and his diligence.

‘As you may remember, Watson, my initial examination was fruitless, and yet as I drew closer to the edge of the cliff I began picking up definite prints coming from the
direction
of the shack. One large pair of boots leading the way, and over five feet behind, another, considerably smaller set of footprints. I was also able to observe that the set in front
were sunk into the mud to a greater depth than the set behind.’

‘Of course!’ I exclaimed excitedly. ‘The person taking the lead was carrying something of greater weight than the individual who followed. In other words, the leader was carrying the torso, and he who followed was holding the feet!’

‘Excellent Watson! The improvement in your deductive abilities is really most gratifying. However, my discoveries did not end there. My immediate conclusion, that Dyson’s murderer was undoubtedly the hooded man who had been so studiously observing the lodge, was borne out by a
separate
set of footprints I observed on my way back from the cliff. Watson, you may recall my turning away from you and Hopkins at the last, and disappearing down the hill, and behind the shops?’

‘I did find it curious at the time, but your departure for London was so sudden that I had little opportunity to raise the point with you.’ I replied.

Ignoring my comment, and being swept along by the momentum of his own narrative, Holmes continued.

‘In my haste, my own steps almost obliterated another set of prints that, I must confess, even I had not expected to find. This time they were coming from the shack and leading along the route you saw me take towards the harbour. My excitement, at this fresh discovery, was heightened still further when I realized the footprint was the duplicate of that of the torso bearer and, in all
probability
, Dyson’s murderer. The trail led me directly to an obscure rear entrance to the Admiral’s Mast Inn.

‘I then retraced my steps towards you with the
knowledge
that Dyson’s murderer and, consequently, the hooded
man were undoubtedly one and the same. Furthermore, because the rear door to the inn was securely locked when I attempted entry, this man was, without doubt, Linus Rawlins. His accomplice and the footbearer none other than our friend, James Willis.’

On this occasion it was Hopkins’s turn to interrupt my friend’s narrative.

‘This, of course, explains why you insisted on Willis’s immediate arrest, but why should the secure rear door of the inn confirm to you that Rawlins was the culprit?’

‘Who but the landlord, of such an establishment, would hold the key to so obscure an entrance? You see, the trail led right up to the door, and there were even traces on the step itself.’ Holmes replied, with the barest hint of
impatience
in his voice.

‘Ah, now I understand, and, of course, by having Willis arrested for the murder we have secured him for his minor role and lulled Rawlins into a false sense of security at the same time. As usual, Mr Holmes, a masterstroke!’

‘Hardly that, Hopkins,’ Holmes replied, somewhat dismissively. ‘Yet the tracks that led to the back of the inn do explain how Rawlins maintained the façade of Dyson still being alive. Obviously once he had made the return journey from shack to inn, in the guise of the hooded man, he returned to the inn by the back route to reassume his role as the landlord.

‘At this point I realized my investigations in Broadsea had run their course. I had established the identity of those who perpetrated Dyson’s murder, and all that had occurred subsequently. However the events and motives that led to these were still no clearer to me. Therefore, once having entrusted Nellie’s safety into your capable hands, Watson,
I decided to return to London and there spent the next forty-eight hours in the manner I previously described to you. Oh, Mrs Hardcastle, might I prevail upon you for a cup of tea. I am finding these endless questions and
explanations
quite exhausting.’

Mrs Hardcastle responded at once, and a few moments later, when she returned, we were all grateful to see that there was enough tea and sufficient cups for all. During the ensuing, brief lull, Holmes re-lit his cherry wood, and smoked slow and hard. He then drained his cup in an instant, and returned it to the tray before continuing.

‘By now the motives behind my calling upon Mrs McCumber at her hotel in King’s Cross will be obvious, and self evident. Those behind my journeys to Greenwich, and Somerset House, somewhat less so. Therefore, Inspector, to help clarify the situation, I would ask you to cast your most studious and retentive mind back sixteen years, and attempt to focus on the case of the notorious Folkestone Counterfeit Gang.’

‘By heavens, Mr Holmes! I shall have no difficulty in doing that. Despite the great time lapse, that is one file that remains open still. I was only a young, inexperienced Detective Sergeant at the time, working alongside the esteemed Inspector Culver, yet despite our efforts, and six long months of graft, we were never able to bring the
ringleaders
to book. Furthermore, over half their haul, the best part of sixty thousand pounds in counterfeit twenty-pound notes, was left unaccounted for. The balance of the money and three inconsequential members of the gang were all we had to show for our efforts.’ Hopkins appeared,
somewhat
deflated as he recounted his bitter memories.

‘You will be pleased to know that, unless I am very much
mistaken, the file should soon be finally laid to rest.’ Holmes was amused to note the change that came over Hopkins’s countenance as he spoke these words.

‘It would give me great pleasure to close it finally.’ Hopkins responded. ‘Yet I see no connection between the two affairs.’

‘Do not berate yourself, Hopkins. My visit to London has given me the advantage over you. When I first sat down with the files at the maritime offices in Greenwich, my sole intention was to establish whether there were any
noteworthy
features connected to the fire on board the “Sea Lizard”. Something, perhaps, that would supply me with a motive for Dyson’s murder. Save the bare-bone facts, already in my possession, the information was scant, to say the least. However, when I idly skipped forward a page or two, I found mention of the raid you made on the hideaway of the counterfeit gang in Folkestone. Normally, such an incident would not find its way into the files at Greenwich as they are restricted to maritime affairs. However, on this occasion it was included because the gang members, who had eluded you, made their escape on board a large steam trawler, of which there were very few at that time.

‘As my friend Watson will attest, I am not a man who readily accepts coincidence. I was convinced that the two incidents had to be connected. It was the only logical conclusion, and, to my immense personal gratification, this was confirmed by my visit to Somerset House.’

Sensing an imminent barrage of questions, coming from both the direction of Hopkins, and myself, Holmes
pre-empted
us, and hastened to his conclusion.

‘As you are aware, Inspector, it is a tendency, amongst the criminal element, to adopt an alias. You can imagine,
therefore, my amazed satisfaction, when, on examining the birth certificate of Nellie McCumber, I found the name of Ryson Douglas listed as being her father!’

Neither Hopkins nor Mrs McCumber could suppress their emotions for a moment longer.

‘Good heavens, Holmes!’ Hopkins exclaimed. ‘That was the name of our chief suspect in the counterfeit case!’

‘Stop, please Mr Holmes,’ Mrs McCumber pleaded through her vehement sobbing. ‘Let me explain the rest to my daughter, and why she never knew that the late Captain John Dyson was her real father.’

‘By all means, madam. You still have much to explain to us all.’ Holmes announced with a dramatic wave of his hand in her direction.

The poor woman, had, by this time, moved towards her daughter, and placed her arm comfortingly around her shoulders.

‘Before you judge me adversely,’ she began. ‘I must explain to you the nature of my relationship with both the man you thought was your father, and the man who truly was. Mr McCumber died at a tragically young age, it is true, and suffered much with illness before he passed away. Yet even before he was stricken down he had never treated me kindly. He drank far more than was good for him, and whenever the devil alcohol was in him his treatment of me worsened still. He was a loud, vile, bully of a man who quite often dealt violently with me, if the mood was upon him. As his health deteriorated, so too did his treatment of me.

‘John Dyson, by which name I knew him then, was a different breed of man. Tall, strong and handsome, he was every inch the dashing, seafaring man of romantic fiction.
I beseech you to believe that at that time I had no
knowledge
of his criminal activities. I met him several times, merely by chance, down by the harbour, each meeting lasting longer as we grew to know each other more. He was so romantic, and before long, we fell deeply in love.’

At this I heard Holmes softly grind his teeth, but out of sympathy for the distressed woman, he managed to suppress his impatience.

‘By the time of Mr McCumber’s death you had already been conceived, and for your own sake, I decided to keep the truth of your parentage to myself. Of course, after the fire and John’s out casting, this secrecy became still more important to your well being. Despite his injuries, and terrible deformities, my love for him was still alive, and I alone could not desert him.

‘Then the truth about the money came out. It had been in the hold of the “Sea Lizard” when she went down, yet sealed and secure within oilskin lined lead boxes, and lying in shallow waters. Frustratingly accessible, yes, but only to a fit, healthy, man with eyes. He only wanted the money to make a better life for me and I only wanted it so that I could make a better life for you, dear Nellie.

‘That was why he struck that, ill-fated, deal with the devil himself, Linus Rawlins. He and his “weasel” already had something of a reputation for various dubious and underhand dealings. In a village as small as ours, even a minor misdemeanour soon attracts some gossip, so out of frustration, and against my better judgement, John went to see him. In exchange for half the proceeds, Rawlins agreed to unload the boxes from the “Lizard” and to store them in his cellar. Each day when John shuffled pitifully down to the inn, ostensibly for supplies, Rawlins loaded
some money into the small cask. As far as the towns people were concerned his daily trips were to collect food and drink, whereas, in reality, I was supplying him with all his needs.

‘My part in all of this was to pass the money on to small shops, making minor purchases with large notes, thereby accumulating legitimate currency. This I was indeed loath to do, but such was my love for John Dyson that I would deny him nothing. I began by visiting shops in large local towns, such as Ashford and Canterbury. After a time, however, when there was still plenty of counterfeit money to unload, I realized that the large metropolis of London was a far safer option.

‘It was during one of these trips that Nellie, in all
innocence
whilst out on a walk noticed some money fall from the cask while John was making his way back up the hill. When Rawlins heard of this he was resolved to do away with my Nellie, in case she told of what she had seen, something she would never do. Yet to his evil, greedy mind she was a threat to his fortune and had to die. It was then that I decided to tell John that he was Nellie’s father, and begged him not to let Rawlins kill her. Once the initial shock of this discovery was past, he embraced the idea of having a daughter and warned Rawlins that he would go to the police if he even went near her.

‘If only I had not gone to London for that one last trip, John would still have been alive. Unfortunately John wanted me to go one last time. He decided to let Rawlins have the rest of the money, and I was to change as much as I could so that the three of us could afford to move from Broadsea and set up a home together in another part of the country. That was why I was away for so much longer than
on previous trips. Even the extra money John tried to bribe him with was not enough to placate that evil man. My dearest John died trying to save his daughter, and thanks to you Mr Holmes, in a way he succeeded.’

By the time she had finished, both mother and daughter were distraught with their mutual grief.

‘Watson!’ Holmes directed me to minister to them. I managed to get them to swallow some brandy, and to lie down for a few minutes in Nellie’s room.

‘Quickly, Watson,’ Holmes whispered urgently. ‘Get our things and come. Our train leaves in fifteen minutes!’

‘Should we not wait to make our farewells?’ I asked.

‘That, old friend, is precisely what I am trying to avoid. I think I have been witness to enough display of emotion for one day.’