"I am flattered by your presumption, Mr Macklesworth. Pray, could you tell me the date of the last letter you received from Sir Geoffrey?"
"It was undated, but I remember the post mark. It was the fifteenth day of June of this year."
"I see. And the date of Sir Geoffrey's death?"
"The thirteenth. I supposed him to have posted the letter before his death but it was not collected until afterward."
"A reasonable assumption. And you are very familiar, you say, with Sir Geoffrey's hand-writing."
"We corresponded for several years, Mr Holmes. The hand is identical. No forger, no matter how clever, could manage those idiosyncracies, those unpredictable lapses into barely readable words. But usually his hand was a fine, bold, idiosyncratic one. It was not a forgery, Mr Holmes. And neither was the note he left with his housekeeper."
"But you never met Sir Geoffrey?"
"Sadly, no. He spoke sometimes of coming out to ranch in Texas, but I believe other concerns took up his attention.
"Indeed, I knew him slightly some years ago, when we belonged to the same club. An artistic type, fond of Japanese prints and Scottish furniture. An affable, absent-minded fellow, rather retiring. Of a markedly gentle disposition. Too good for this world, as we used to say."
"When would that have been, Mr Holmes?" Our visitor leaned forward, showing considerable curiosity.
"Oh, about twenty years ago, when I was just starting in practice. I was able to provide some evidence in a case concerning a young friend of his who had got himself into trouble. He was gracious enough to believe I had been able to turn a good man back to a better path. I recall that he frequently showed genuine concern for the fate of his fellow creatures. He remained a confirmed bachelor, I understand. I was sorry to hear of the robbery. And then the poor man killed himself. I was a little surprised, but no foul play was suspected and I was involved in some rather difficult problems at the lime. A kindly sort of old-fashioned gentleman. The patron of many a destitute young artist. It was art, I gather, which largely reduced his fortune."
"He did not speak much of art to me, Mr Holmes. I fear he had changed considerably over the intervening years. The man I knew became increasingly nervous and given to what seemed somewhat irrational anxieties. It was to quell these anxieties that I agreed to carry out his request. I was, after all, the last of the Mackelsworths and obliged to accept certain responsibilities. I was honoured, Mr Holmes, by the responsibility, but disturbed by what was asked of me."
"You are clearly a man of profound common sense, Mr Mackelsworth, as well as a man of honour. I sympathize entirely with your predicament. You were right to come to us and we shall do all we can to help!"
The relief of the American's face was considerable. "Thank you, Mr Holmes. Thank you, Doctor Watson. I feel I can now act with some coherence."
"Sir Geoffrey had already mentioned his housekeeper, I take it?"
"He had sir, in nothing less than glowing terms. She had come to him about five years ago and had worked hard to try to put his affairs in order. If it were not for her, he said, he would have faced the bankruptcy court earlier. Indeed, he spoke so warmly of her that I will admit to the passing thought that well, sir, that they were…"
"I take your meaning, Mr Mackelsworth. It might also explain why your cousin never married. No doubt the class differences were insurmountable, if what we suspect were the case."
have no wish to impune the name of my relative, Mr Holmes."
"But we must look realistically at the problem, I think." Holmes gestured with his long hand. "I wonder if we might be permitted to see the statue you picked up today?"
"Certainly, sir. I fear the newspaper in which it was wrapped has come loose here and there – "
"Which is how I recognized the Fellini workmanship," said Holmes, his face becoming almost rapturous as the extraordinary figure was revealed. He reached to run his fingers over musculature which might have been living flesh in miniature, it was so perfect. The silver itself was vibrant with some inner energy and the gold chasing, the precious stones, all served to give the most wonderful impression of Perseus, a bloody sword in one hand, his shield on his arm, holding up the snake-crowned head which glared at us through sapphire eyes and threatened to turn us to stone!
"It is obvious why Sir Geoffrey, whose taste was so refined, would have wished this to remain in the family," I said. "Now I understand why he became so obsessed towards the end.Yet I would have thought he might have willed it to a museum or made a bequest – rather than go to such elaborate lengths to preserve it. It's something which the public deserves to see."
"I agree with you completely, sir. That is why I intend to have a special display room built for it in Galveston. But until that time, I was warned by both Sir Geoffrey and by Mrs Gallibasta, that news of its existence would bring immense problems – not so much from the police as from the other thieves who covet what is, perhaps, the world's finest single example of Florentine Renaissance silver. It must be worth thousands!
"I intend to insure it for a million dollars, when I get home," volunteered the Texan.
"Perhaps you would entrust the sculpture with us for the night and until tomorrow evening?" Holmes asked our visitor.
"Well, sir, as you know I am supposed to take the Arcadia back to New York. She sails tomorrow evening from Tilbury. She's one of the few steamers of her class leaving from London. If I delay, I shall have to go back via Liverpool."
"But you are prepared to do so, if necessary?"
"I cannot leave without the Silver, Mr Holmes. Therefore, while it remains in your possession, I shall have to stay," John Mackelsworth offered us a brief smile and the suggestion of a wink. "Besides, I have to say that the mystery of my cousin's death is of rather more concern than the mystery of his last wishes."
"Excellent, Mr Mackelsworth. I see we are of like mind. It will be a pleasure to put whatever talents I possess at your disposal. Sir Geoffrey resided, as I recall, in Oxfordshire."
"About ten miles from Oxford itself, he said. Near a pleasant little market town called Witney. The house is known as Cogges Old Manor and it was once the centre of a good-sized estate, including a working farm. But the land was sold and now only the house and grounds remain. They, too, of course, are up for sale by my cousin's creditors. Mrs Gallibasta said that she did not believe it would be long before someone bought the place. The nearest hamlet is High Cogges. The nearest railway station is at South Leigh, about a mile distant. I know the place as if it were my own, Mr Holmes, Sir Geoffrey's descriptions were so vivid."
"Indeed! Did you, by the by, contact him originally?"
"No, sir! Sir Geoffrey had an interest in heraldry and lineage. In attempting to trace the descendants of Sir Robert Mackelsworth, our mutual great-grandfather, he came across my name and wrote to me. Until that time I had no idea I was so closely related to the English aristocracy! For a while Sir Geoffrey spoke of my inheriting the title – but I am a convinced republican. We don't go much for titles and such in Texas – not unless they are earned!"