“Forged it, my dear fellow. I thought it might come in useful. I have a passable talent in that direction which has served its purpose from time to time. Now we must interview the young lady, which might be a more delicate matter and then I shall warn Smedhurst to make preparations for his departure.”
“Departure, Holmes?” I said as we walked rapidly down the busy street. “I am all at sea.”
“It is not the first time, old fellow,” said he with a wry smile. “But hopefully all will be made plain in due course.”
We walked several hundred yards and then turned at right-angles down a small alley, lined with pleasant old stone-built cottages. He stopped at the third on the right and opened a wrought-iron gate which gave on to a miniscule garden, where withered plants struggled for existence at this time of year. A motherly-looking lady in her early sixties opened the front door to his knock. She looked surprised, as well she might have.
“We wish to see Miss Eveline Reynolds on a most important matter. Please do not be alarmed, dear lady. A short interview will be greatly to her benefit.”
The cloud gathering on her face disappeared immediately.
“Please come in. My niece is in the next room sewing. Whom shall I say…?”
Holmes leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. I saw a surprising change come over her face.
“I am sure she will be pleased to see you in view of what you have just told me.”
She ushered us into a charmingly furnished oak-beamed parlour where a slim, golden-haired girl of some 28 years was sitting at a sewing frame. She got up suddenly as we entered and looked inquiringly at her aunt.
“Please don’t be alarmed, dear. These are friends of Mr Smedhurst.”
“Ah!”
The girl could not suppress the exclamation that rose to her lips. The aunt had silently withdrawn and Miss Reynolds came forward to shake hands formally, beckoning us into easy chairs near the welcoming fire.
“You have news of Aristide? I have been so worried about him…”
There was such a pleading look on her face that I saw a dramatic change in Holmes himself.
“This is an extremely difficult matter. Miss Reynolds. But I am afraid we are forgetting our manners. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Dr Watson. I have asked your aunt not to reveal our identities and I would ask you to do the same.”
He held up his hand as the girl started forward in her chair.
“Please let me continue. Mr Smedhurst is in some great difficulty and he has called upon me to help him. Am I to take it that your engagement has been broken off?”
The girl bit her lip.
“It is nothing of my doing, Mr Holmes. He has changed over the last year or so and become evasive. He no longer confides in me. He has taken to drinking rather heavily and now he had grown that ridiculous-looking beard!”
Little red spots of anger were starting out on her cheeks.
“Forgive me again, my dear young lady, but Mr Smedhurst appears to think that you have transferred your affections elsewhere.”
The girl stared at Holmes in astonishment and then burst out laughing.
“You must mean Mr Jacob Ashton. He is a young Australian who came to the village a long while back. He is a surveyor by profession. My aunt and I occasionally lunch or dine at the George and Dragon and we made his acquaintance there. He is in practice here, but we are friends, nothing more.”
“Ah, that is good news indeed, Miss Reynolds,” said Holmes, rising abruptly from his chair. “I cannot confide in you at the present moment but you may be sure that all will yet be well between you.”
“Ah, if only I could believe you, Mr Holmes!”
“You may. And I might add that he was thinking only of you in his present troubles and did not wish you involved.”
The girl shook hands with us warmly, and after Holmes had again asked her not to reveal his identity, we left the house with its occupants more cheerful than when we had arrived.
“Now for Smedhurst, Watson. I must prime him as to his role in our little drama.
Ah, there is our man himself!”
He had just noticed our client’s reflection in a shop window and, turning, we saw that he was making for the George and Dragon. We followed as quickly as possible, catching him at the entrance, where Holmes had a muffled conversation, before following him into the crowded restaurant. A waiter hurried forward as we sat down to order our meal when Smedhurst gave an exclamation and said, “Why, there is young Ashton at the table yonder.”
Holmes leaned forward and put his hand gently in our client’s shoulder.
“You have no need to worry. Miss Reynolds and Ashton are merely friends.”
With a muffled apology he rose from the table and I was astonished to see him make straight for the surveyor, who was lunching alone at a side table. He bent over, presumably to introduce himself and then beckoned me across.
“Please forgive this intrusion, Mr Ashton, but I understand you are a surveyor. Myself and my friend Mr Watson are hoping to buy a cottage down here and have found exactly what we require. Mr Smedhurst, who is lunching with us, as you have perhaps noticed, is anxious to sell and we wondered whether you would be kind enough to undertake the survey?”
Ashton, who was a pleasant-looking man of about thirty with black curly hair, seemed embarrassed, I thought.
“Certainly, Mr Robinson,” he stammered. “But this is the first I have heard of it. Miss Reynolds did not mention it.”
“It was a sudden decision,” said Holmes smoothly. “Mr Smedhurst is going to London for a few days this evening, but is leaving the key of the cottage with us. I have the address of your office. And now, I have interrupted your lunch long enough.”
Ashton got up to shake hands with the pair of us.
“Honoured, my dear sir,” he said with a smile. “My hours are from 9.30 a.m. until 6 p.m., unless I am out on survey. I look forward to seeing you soon.”
“I cannot see, Holmes…” I began as we regained our table.
“I seem to have heard you say that before, Watson,” said my companion with a disarming smile. “I think the oxtail soup and then the steak will do admirably in my case.”
And he talked of nothing but trivial matters until the meal was over.
5
“Now, you understand the procedures I have outlined to you, Mr Smedhurst,” said Holmes as we regained the street.
Our client nodded.
“I will leave Parvise Magna this afternoon, in daylight, with my luggage and make sure my departure is noted in the town, both by pony and trap and by train. I will give out that I am going to London for a week to see an aunt and make myself conspicuous on the platform. I will stay away for three nights. I will leave the cottage key behind a big boulder about thirty feet from the front door. You cannot miss it, Mr Holmes. There is a fissure at the back and I will place it there, well concealed.”
“Excellent, Mr Smedhurst. Now there is just one thing more.”
“What is that, Mr Holmes?”
My companion gave him a thin smile.
“Shave off your beard. Miss Reynolds does not like it.”
I spent most of the afternoon reading in the smoking room of the George and Dragon, while Holmes was away on some errand of his own. Presently he rejoined me and we both noted with satisfaction the departure of Smedhurst as his pony and trap clattered down the main street on its way to the station. As gas lamps began to be lit in the street outside Holmes rose from his deep leather chair, his whole being tense and animated.
“I think you might fetch your revolver, old fellow. We may need it before the night is out. I have some provisions in my greatcoat pocket so we shall not go hungry.”