Sherlock Holmes and the Explorers' Club (The Early Casebook of Sherlock Holmes 2) by Linda Stratmann

Author:Linda Stratmann [Stratmann, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2022-01-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘You say your son had never shown any interest in Scotland?’ asked Holmes.

‘No, none,’ said Bradstreet, bewildered.

Holmes passed his magnifying glass over the pages but shook his head. ‘He has not marked the atlas either in ink or pencil, but —’ he leaned forward and his nostrils quivered — ‘I can detect a slight scent.’ On a thought, Holmes went to the little dressing room and returned with a pot of hair cream, which he opened and waved under his nose. ‘Lime cream,’ he said. ‘Your son used this?’

‘Yes,’ said Bradstreet, sadly.

‘I discerned a slight odour of it on the page, perhaps from his fingertips.’ Holmes addressed himself to the atlas once more, lifting and tilting the book, scanning every inch of the open pages with his glass. ‘There are some very faint marks, mainly on the edges of the pages as one might expect, but I can also see some tiny spots in the region of the Scottish islands, as if his fingertips have rested there.’

‘Surely he cannot have gone there!’ exclaimed Miss Ellison.

‘If he was only absent three or four days, then I think that is hardly possible,’ said Mr Bradstreet. ‘And what possible business can he have had there?’

Holmes did not disagree. ‘May I look at the papers in the desk?’

With the father’s permission, Holmes undertook a thorough examination, which produced no new information. He then went on to look at the desk itself, crouching down to stare hard at the interior of some of the compartments. Taking up a ruler, he used it to compare their depth, then he inserted his long fingers into one of the compartments and felt his way around. ‘This compartment on the left is shallower than its equivalent on the right,’ he said. There was some more careful delving and then we heard a soft click. ‘Ah, as I suspected. It is a common feature of many such desks. Well, we will see if we have found a prize.’ After a few more moments of exploration, he gave a little cry of triumph. ‘Yes, we have something which may be of interest.’ Holmes withdrew his hand, and he was now clasping a small notebook between his fingertips. He took it to the window to examine it in better light.

‘I cannot imagine what that might be,’ said Bradstreet. ‘It might not even be my son’s; perhaps it was left there by a former owner of the desk. Is there a name on it?’

‘No,’ said Holmes. He swung about to face Mr Bradstreet, holding open the pages of the book. ‘But I think this is your son’s writing.’ I could not help uttering a little gasp. The pages were covered with closely written numbers, and although I could not interpret them, they bore the same arrangement as the note which the headmaster had sent to his friend, indicating in groups of three a page, column, and word.

The unhappy father went quite white about the face when he saw the pages. He gave a groan and staggered back.

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