The Adventure of the Reigate Squire: Part Two

Welcome to Sherlock Holmes' short stories. I'm Hugh Bonneville and from the Noiser Podcast Network, this is The Adventure of the Rigate Squire, part two. Last time we found homes in a state of physical and mental exhaustion, following a particularly trying case. Dr Watson took his friend to recuperate at the Sury Home of his old army friend Colonel Hater, hoping for a peaceful country retreat. Their rest was quickly interrupted, however, when the Colonel shared news of a puzzling burglary at the home of local squire actin, where the thieves took an odd assortment of items, a volume of Homer, two candlesticks, a paparate, a barometer, and a ball of twine. Despite Watson's protests, homes couldn't help showing interest in this curious case. The situation became more serious the following morning when they learned that a second break in had occurred at the neighbouring estate of the Cunninghams, this time resulting in murder. William Kerwan, the coachman, was shot dead after apparently disturbing the intruder. Inspector Forrester arrived, seeking homes as assistance and revealed a critical piece of evidence. A torn scrapper paper found clutched in the dead man's hand, apparently bearing the time of an appointment. Both old Mr. Cunningham and his son, Alec, claimed to have witnessed parts of the crime, with the elder Cunningham seeing the murderer flee over the hedge. Homes suddenly energised by the case went to investigate the crime scene. Upon his return, he insisted that all four men, homes Watson the Colonel and the Inspector, visit the Cunningham estate together. There, they encountered the dismissive Cunningham's father and son, who seemed skeptical of Holmes' abilities. But just as Holmes was about to question them, he suddenly collapsed to the ground in apparent agony. Horrified at the suddenness and severity of the attack, he carried him into the kitchen, where he lay back in a large chair and breathed heavily for some minutes. Finally, with a shame-faced apology for his weakness, he rose once more. "'What's it?' would tell you that I have only just recovered from a severe illness,' he explained. "'I am liable to these sudden nervous attacks. Shall I send you home in my trap?' asked Old Cunningham. "'Well, since I am here, there is one point on which I should like to feel sure. We can very easily verify it. What was it?' Well, it seemed to me that it is just possible that the arrival of this poor fellow-William was not before, but after the entrance of the burglar into the house. You appear to take it for granted that although the door was forced, the robber never got in. I fancy that is quite obvious,' said Mr Cunningham gravely. Why, my son Alec had not yet gone to bed, and he would certainly have heard anyone moving about. "'Where was he sitting?' I was smoking in my dressing room. Which window is that?' The last on the left next my father's. Both of your lamps were lit, of course. Untouchably. "'There are some very singular points here,' said Holmes, smiling. Is it not extraordinary that a burglar and a burglar who had had some previous experience should deliberately break into a house at a time when he could see from the lights that two of the family were still afoot?' He must have been a cool hand. "'Well, of course, if the case were not an odd one, we should not have been driven to ask you for an explanation,' said young Mr Alec. "'But as to your ideas that the man had robbed the house before William tackled him, I think it a most absurd notion. Wouldn't we have found the place disarranged and missed the things which he had taken?' "'It depends on what the things were,' said Holmes. "'You must remember that we are dealing with a burglar who is a very peculiar fellow and who appears to work on lines of his own. Look, for example, at the queer lot of things which he took from Actons. What was it? A ball of string, a letter-weight, and I don't know what are there odds and ends.' "'Well, we are quite in your hands, Mr Holmes,' said old Cunningham. "'Anything which you or the inspector may suggest will most certainly be done.' "'In the first place,' said Holmes. "'I should like you to offer a reward, coming from yourself for the officials may take a little time before they would agree upon the sum, and these things cannot be done too promptly. I have jotted down the form here if you would not mind signing it. 50 pounds was quite enough, I thought. "'I would willingly give 500,' said the JP, taking the slip of paper and the pencil which Holmes handed to him. "'This is not quite correct, however,' he added, glancing over the document. "'I wrote it rather hurriedly. You see, you begin, whereas at about a quarter to one on Tuesday morning an attempt was made,' and so on, it was at a quarter to twelve, as a matter of fact. I was pained at the mistake for I knew how keenly Holmes would feel any slip of the kind. It was his specialty to be accurate, as to fact, but his recent illness had shaken him, and this one little incident was enough to show me that he was still far from being himself. He was obviously embarrassed for an instant while the inspector raised his eyebrows, and Alec cunning him burst into a laugh. The old gentleman corrected the mistake, however, and handed the paper back to Holmes. "'Get it printed as soon as possible,' he said. "'I think your idea is an excellent one.' Holmes put the slip of paper carefully away into his pocketbook.' And now, said he, it really would be a good thing that we should all go over the house together and make certain that this rather erratic burglar did not, after all, carry anything away with him. Before entering Holmes made an examination of the door which had been forced, it was evident that a chisel or strong knife had been thrust in and the lock forced back with it. We could see the marks in the wood where it had been pushed in. "'You don't use bars, then,' he asked. "'We have never found it necessary. You don't keep a dog?' "'Yes, but he is chained on the other side of the house. When do the servants go to bed?' "'About ten.' "'I understand that William was usually in bed also at that hour.' "'Yes.' "'It is singular that on this particular night he should have been up. Now, I should be very glad if you would have the kindness to show us over the house, Mr. Cunningham.' A stone-flagged passage with the kitchens branching away from it, led by a wooden staircase directly to the first floor of the house. It came out upon the landing opposite to a second more ornamental stair which came up from the front hall. Out of this landing opened the drawing room and several bedrooms, including those of Mr. Cunningham and his son. Holmes walked slowly, taking key note of the architecture of the house. I could tell from his expression that he was on a hot scent. And yet I could not in the least imagine in what direction his inferences were leading him. "'My good, sir,' said Mr. Cunningham, with some impatience. This is surely very unnecessary. That is my room at the end of the stairs, and my son's as the one beyond it. I leave it to your judgment whether it was possible for the thief to have come up here without disturbing us. You must try round and get on a fresh scent, I fancy,' said the son, with a rather malicious smile. "'Still, I must ask you to humemey a little further. I should like, for example, to see how far the windows of the bedrooms command the front. This I understand is your son's room.' He pushed open the door. And that I presume is the dressing room in which he sat smoking when the alarm was given. Where does the window of that look out, too? He stepped across the bedroom, pushed open the door, and glanced around the other chamber. "'I hope that you are satisfied now,' said Mr. Cunningham, tartly. "'Thank you. I think I have seen all that I wished. Then, if it is really necessary, we can go into my room. If it is not too much trouble.' The JP shrugged his shoulders and led the way into his own chamber, which was a plainly furnished and commonplace room. As we moved across it in the direction of the window, Holmes fell back until he and I were the last of the group. Near the foot of the beds stood a dish of oranges and a carif of water. As we passed it, Holmes, to my unutterable astonishment, leaned over in front of me and deliberately knocked the whole thing over. The glass smashed into a thousand pieces and the fruit rolled about into every corner of the room. "'You have done it now, Watson,' said he, coolly. A pretty mess you have made of the carpet. I stooped in some confusion and began to pick up the fruit, understanding for some reason my companion desired me to take the blame upon myself. The others did the same and set the table on its legs again. "'Hello,' cried the inspector, "'where's he got to?' Holmes had disappeared. "'Right here, an instant,' said young Alec Cunningham. The fellow is off his head, in my opinion. Come with me, father, and see where he has got to.' They rushed out of the room, leaving the inspector, the Colonel and me, staring at each other. "'Pond my word, I am inclined to agree with Master Alec,' said the official. It may be the effect of this illness, but it seems to me that his words were cut short by a sudden scream of, "'Help, help, murder!' With a thrill, I recognised the voice of that of my friend. I rushed madly from the room onto the landing, the cries, which had sunk down into a horse in articulate shouting, came from the room which we had first visited. I dashed in and on into the dressing room beyond. The two Cunningham's were bending over the prostrate figure of Sherlock Holmes. The younger, clutching his throat with both hands, while the elders seemed to be twisting one of his wrists. In an instant, the three of us had torn them away from him and Holmes staggered to his feet, very pale and evidently greatly exhausted. "'Arest these men, inspector!' he gasped on what charge, that of murdering their coachman William Cohen. The inspector stared about him in bewilderment. "'Oh, come on, Master Holmes,' said he at last. "'I'm sure you don't really mean to t-t-man look at their faces!' cried Holmes, curtly. "'Never, certainly, have I seen a plain a confession of guilt upon human countenances. The old man seemed numbed and dazed, with a heavy, sullen expression upon his strongly marked face. The son, on the other hand, had dropped all that jaunty dashing style which had characterised him, and the ferocity of a dangerous wild beast gleamed in his dark eyes and distorted his handsome features. The inspector said nothing, but, stepping to the door, he blew his whistle. Two of his constables came at the call. "'I have no alternatives, Mr. Cunningham,' said he. "'I trust that this may all prove to be an absurd mistake, but you can see that, ah, would you, drop it!' He struck out with his hand and a revolver which the younger man was in the act of cocking clattered down upon the floor. "'Keep that,' said Holmes, quietly putting his foot upon it. "'You will find it useful at the trial, but this is what we really wanted. He held up a little crumpled piece of paper. The remainder of the sheet,' cried the inspector. "'Priscicely! And where was it? Where I was sure it must be. I'll make the whole matter clear to you presently. I think, Colonel, that you and Watson might return now, and I will be with you again in an hour at the furthest. The inspector and I must have a word with the prisoners, but you will certainly see me back at lunchtime.' I'm Ian Glenn, and this is Real Vikings. A monastery on a remote Scottish island overrun with pagan warriors. A dragon-shaped prowl for longboat, cutting through Canada's icy waters. A North Strader in North Africa, exchanging furs for silver under a desert sun. The Vikings terrified the medieval world, yet they beguilers today. Who were they really? Real Vikings, from the Noiser podcast network. Listen wherever you get your podcast. Sherlock Holmes was as good as his word, for about one o'clock he rejoined us in the Colonel's smoking-room. He was accompanied by a little elderly gentleman who was introduced to me as the Mr. Acton, whose house had been the scene of the original burglary. I wished Mr. Acton to be present while I demonstrated this small matter to you, said Holmes. For it is natural that he should take a keen interest in the details. I am afraid my dear Colonel, that you must regret the hour that you took in such a stormy petrol as I am. On the contrary answered the Colonel warmly. I consider it the greatest privilege to have been permitted to study your methods of working. I confess that they quite surpass my expectations, and that I am utterly unable to account for your result. I have not yet seen the vestige of a clue. I am afraid that my explanation may disillusionize you, but it has always been my habit to hide none of my methods, either from my friend Watson, or from anyone who might take an intelligent interest in them. But first, as I am, rather shaken by the knocking about which I had in the dressing-room, I think that I shall help myself to a dash of your brandy, Colonel. My strength has been rather tried of later. I trust that you had no more of those nervous attacks. Sherlock Holmes laughed heartily. We will count to that in its turn, said he. I will lay an account of the case before you in its due order, showing you the various points which guided me in my decision. May I interrupt me if there is any inference which is not perfectly clear to you? It is of the highest importance in the art of detection to be able to recognise out of a number of facts which are incidental and which vital. Otherwise your energy and attention must be dissipated instead of being concentrated. Now, in this case there was not the slightest doubt in my mind from the first that the key of the whole matter must be looked for in the scrap of paper in the Deadman's hand. Before going into this I would draw your attention to the fact that if Alec Cunningham's narrative was correct, and if the assailant after shooting William Kerwin had instantly fled, then it obviously could not be he who tore the paper from the Deadman's hand. But if it was not he, it must have been Alec Cunningham himself, for by the time that the old man had descended several servants were upon the scene. The point is a simple one, but the inspector had overlooked it because he had started with the supposition that these county magnets had had nothing to do with the matter. Now, I make a point of never having any prejudices and of following docilely wherever fact may lead me, and so in the very first stage of the investigation I found myself looking at a little scance at the part which had been played by Mr Alec Cunningham. And now I made a very careful examination of the corner of paper which the inspector had submitted to us. It was at once clear to me that it formed part of a very remarkable document. Here it is. Do you not now observe something very suggestive about it? It has a very irregular look, said the Colonel. My dear sir, right homes, there cannot be the least doubt in the world that it has been written by two persons doing alternate words. When I draw your attention to the strong teas of At and two and ask you to compare them with the weak ones of quarter and twelve, you will instantly recognize the fact. A very brief analysis of these four words would enable you to say with the utmost confidence that the learn and the maybe are written in the stronger hand and the what in the weaker. By jove it's as clear as day cried the Colonel. Why on earth should two men write a letter in such a fashion? Obviously the business was a bad one, and one of the men who just trusted the other was determined that whatever was done, each should have an equal hand in it. Now, of the two men it is clear that the one who wrote the at and two was the ringleader. How do you get at that? We might deduce it from the mere character of the one hand as compared with the other, but we have more assured reasons than that for supposing it. If you examine this scrap with attention, you will come to the conclusion that the man with the stronger hand wrote all his words first, leaving blanks for the other to fill up. These blanks were not always sufficient, and you can see that the second man had a squeeze to fit his quarter in between the at and the two, showing that the latter were already written. The man who wrote all his words first is undoubtedly the man who planned the affair. Excellent, cried Mr. Ackton, but very superficial, said Holmes. We come now, however, to a point which is of importance. You may not be aware that the deduction of a man's age from his writing is one which has been brought to considerable accuracy by experts. In normal cases, one can pace a man in his true decade with tolerable confidence. I say normal cases because ill health and physical weakness reproduce the signs of old age even when the invalid is a youth. In this case, looking at the bold, strong hand of the one and the rather broken back to appearance of the other, which still retains its legibility, although the teas have begun to lose their crossing, we can say that the one was a young man and the other, and the other was advanced in years without being positively decrepit. Excellent, cried Mr. Ackton again. There is a further point, however, which is subtler and of greater interest. There is something in common between these hands. They belong to men who are blood relatives. It may be most obvious to you in the Greek Ease, but to me there are many small points which indicate the same thing. I have no doubt at all that a family mannerism can be traced in these two spettamans of writing. I am only, of course, giving you the leading results now of my examination of the paper. There were twenty-three other deductions which would be of more interest to experts than to you. They all tend to deepen the impression upon my mind. That the cunningams, father and son had written this letter. Having got so far, my next step was, of course, to examine into the details of the crime, and to see how far they would help us. I went up to the house with the inspector and saw all that was to be seen. The wound upon the dead man was, as I was able to determine with absolute confidence, fired from a revolver at the distance of something over four yards. There was no powder blackening on the clothes. Evidently therefore, Alec Cunningham had lied when he said that the two men were struggling when the shot was fired. Again both father and son agreed as to the place where the man escaped into the road. At that point, however, as it happens, there is a broadish ditch moist at the bottom. As there were no indications of bootmarks about this ditch, I was absolutely sure not only that the Cunningham's had again lied, but that there had never been any unknown man upon the scene at all. And now I have to consider the motive of this singular crime. To get at this, I endeavoured first of all to solve the reason of the original burglary at Mr. Acton's. I understood from something which the Colonel told us that a lawsuit had been going on between new Mr. Acton and the Cunningham's. Of course, it instantly occurred to me that they had broken into your library with the intention of getting at some document which might be of importance in the case. "'Precisely so,' said Mr. Acton. There can be no possible doubt as to their intentions. I have the clearest claim upon half of their present estate and if they could have found a single paper which fortunately was in the strong box of my solicitors, they would undoubtedly have crippled our case. "'There you are,' said Holmes, smiling. It was a dangerous, reckless attempt in which I seemed to trace the influence of young Alec. Having found nothing, they tried to divert suspicion by making it appear to be an ordinary burglary, to which end they carried off whatever they could lay their hands upon. That is all clear enough, but there was much that was still obscure. What I wanted above all was to get the missing part of that note. I was certain that Alec had torn it out of the dead man's hand and almost certain that he must have thrust it into the pocket of his dressing gown. Where else could he have put it? The only question was whether it was still there. It was worth an effort to find out and for that object we all went up to the house. The Cunningham's joined us as you doubtless remember outside the kitchen door. It was of course of the very first importance that they should not be reminded of the existence of this paper, otherwise they would naturally destroy it without delay. The inspector was about to tell them the importance which we attached to it when, by the luckiest chance in the world, I tumbled down in a sort of fit and so changed the conversation. Good heavens! cried the Colonel laughing. Do you need to say all our sympathy was wasted in your fit and imposter? Speaking professionally it was admirably done, cried I, looking in amazement at this man who was forever confounding me with some new phase of his astute-ness. It is an art which is often useful, said he. When I recovered I managed by a device which had perhaps some little merit of ingenuity to get old Cunningham to write the word twelve so that I might compare it with the twelve upon the paper. Oh, what an ass I have been, I exclaimed. I could see that you were commiserating me over my weakness, said Holmes laughing. I was sorry to cause you the sympathetic pain which I know that you felt. We then went upstairs together and having entered the room and seen the dressing-gown hanging up behind the door, I contrived by upsetting a table to engage their attention for the moment and slipped back to examine the pockets. I had hardly got the paper however which was, as I had expected in one of them, when the two Cunningham's were on me and would I veryly believe, have murdered me then and there but for your prompt and friendly aid. As it is, I feel that young man's grip on my throat now and the father has twisted my wrist round in the effort to get the paper out of my hand. They saw that I must know all about it, you see, and the sudden change from absolute security to complete despair made them perfectly desperate. I had a little talk with old Cunningham afterwards as to the motive of the crime. He was tractable enough though his son was a perfect demon, ready to blow out his own or anybody else's brains if he could have got to his revolver. When Cunningham saw that the case against him was so strong he lost all heart and made a clean breast of everything. It seems that William had secretly followed his two masters on the night when they made their raid upon Mr. Acton's and having thus got them into his power, proceeded under threats of exposure to levee blackmail upon them. Mr. Alec, however, was a dangerous man to play games of that sort with. It was a stroke of positive genius on his part to see in the burglary scare which was convulsing the countryside an opportunity of plausibly getting rid of the man whom he feared. William was decoyed up and shot and had they only got the whole of the note and paid a little more attention to detail in the accessories. It is very possible that suspicion might never have been aroused. And the note I asked Sherlock Holmes placed the paper before us. If you will only come round at quarter to twelve to the East Gate you will learn what will very much surprise you and may be of the greatest service to you and also to Annie Morrison but say nothing to anyone upon the matter. It is very much the sort of thing that I expected, said he. Of course we do not yet know what the relations may have been between Alec Cunningham, William Kerwin and Annie Morrison. The results shows that the trap was skillfully baited. I am sure that you cannot fail to be delighted with the traces of heredity shown in the peas and in the tails of the G's. The absence of the eye dots in the old man's writing is most characteristic. Watson I think our quiet rest in the country has been a distinct success. And I shall certainly return much invigorated to Baker Street tomorrow. Next time on Sherlock Holmes short stories, Holmes and Watson pursue a mysterious stalker in the adventure of the solitary cyclist. When a beautiful young music teacher notices she is being followed by a bearded stranger on her lonely bicycle journeys through the Sari countryside, she turns to Holmes for help. But what begins as a seemingly minor case quickly develops into something far more sinister. Soon, Holmes and Watson find themselves in a race against time as they unravel the carefully woven web of deception the young teacher has become trapped within. But will they discover the true identity of her shadowy pursuer before it's too late? Find out next time. Can't wait a week until the next episode? Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noiser Plus. Head to www.noiser.com slash subscriptions for more information. Or click the link in the episode description.