Sherlock Holmes and the Circus of Fear by Val Andrews

Author:Val Andrews [Andrews, Val]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2015-07-26T22:00:00+00:00

IV

The Secrets of the Vardo

I would like to be able to tell the reader that the day of Lord George Sanger’s funeral dawned bright with autumnal sunshine and crisp November brightness. But, alas, I can say no such thing. The day was one of pouring rain and gusty wind which did little to improve Holmes’s temper; for he was suffering from an autumn malady, a severe chill which threatened to extend to bronchitis. It had been with him for a day or two and his coughing was awful to hear, and as a medical man I was forced to advise him to cease the use of strong tobacco for a few days but of course he would not co-operate. Indeed he would not even allow me to minister to him, saying frequently, ‘Do not fuss, Watson. You sound like an old woman!’

But when he seemed determined to follow the cortège to Margate, where Lord George was to be interred, I felt forced to put my foot down. ‘Holmes, if you go out in this weather I will not answer for the consequences; you could get pneumonia. I will represent us both and you can spend a quiet day here, recovering. I feel sure that the Austins would also be grateful for your presence here too, for most of the servants will be going to Margate and there will be no other responsible person on the spot.

Much to my surprise, Holmes needed little encouragement to take my advice and stay in almost sole charge of Park Farm. But he insisted in coming out in the hallway, draped in a shawl to stand, head bowed as Sanger’s handsome sarcophagus was carried to the hearse. An incredible number of local people had gathered to see the cortège off from the farmhouse, on its journey to the main-line station that Sanger might be conveyed to Margate. The coffin was completely obscured by wreaths and flowers, which spilled over into a second horse-drawn carriage. They were from the Fossetts, the Pinders, the Yeldings, the Ginnets, the Bakers, and a dozen other circus families and their many branches. Larger tributes came from the Showman’s Guild and other societies.

The Riderless Horse is of course an old tradition among equestrian family funerals. At Sanger’s there were two milk-white steeds, part of the Sanger stud, which looked very dramatic and gained gasps from the very large crowd of onlookers. The cavalcade proceeded to the railway, seeming for all the world like one of Sanger’s own circus parades, with its many horse-drawn equipages. The route was lined with bare-headed rustics showing their respect. But these scenes of respectful interest could hardly prepare me for the display of public concern which awaited us at Margate. After all, Lord George owned there several theatres, shops, the zoo and a huge amusement park. He was, in fact, almost Lord Margate, being a very important representative upon various local committees of local governors and tradesfolk. As the cortège and its followers made the slow

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