Christmas at Baskerville Hall: A Sherlock and Lucy Short Story (The Sherlock and Lucy Mystery Series Book 15) by Anna Elliott & Charles Veley

Author:Anna Elliott & Charles Veley [Elliott, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wilton Press
Published: 2019-11-29T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 4

WATSON

THREE HOURS EARLIER

Our carriage arrived at the entrance to the mine about one half-hour before noon. The prisoners were not yet due to arrive, but Holmes had insisted on our arriving early. He had come down to breakfast carrying a rucksack and refused to say what was in it or where he had been the previous night. Jack was with us at Holmes’s request; Holmes had said that his presence might be valuable.

When the four of us got out of the carriage, we saw in the distance behind us several other carriages and an omnibus, all approaching the snow-covered hill we had just ascended.

“Mr. Holmes,” said Sir Henry, “before the others arrive, perhaps we might know what we are looking for.”

“We are looking for anything out of the ordinary. And I should direct your attention to the group of convicts in the omnibus.”

“What connection would they have with the deaths of Sir Vincent and his driver? They were in Dartmoor.”

“Yet someone may have killed Sir Vincent to prevent their arrival. So, what the convicts do when they have arrived may be worth observation.”

“What kept you away from the hall last night?”

“Merely some extremely basic detective work, more close investigation of the two obvious points presented so far by this case. Those points, however, suggested a third, and so it was well after midnight when I returned to the hall.”

Sir Henry frowned. “I have no idea what to make of that, Mr. Holmes.”

“All will be made clear at the earliest practical opportunity, Sir Henry,” Holmes said. He turned to the carriage that had stopped just behind us. The carriage door was just opening. “But here are our friends, the Throckmortons.”

Both men were dressed in heavy tweeds against the cold. Both looked at us with flat-eyed curiosity as they got out. “What’s in this for a London detective, Mr. Holmes?” said Throckmorton Senior.

“I am representing Sir Henry’s interest. Attempts have been made to besmirch the Baskerville name and reputation by the choice of weapon employed during the two killings yesterday. I wish to prevent another occurrence.”

“And we are here to protect our interests. It is our mine.”

Another coach pulled to a stop just behind the Throckmortons’ carriage.

“Here is our coach, with Mr. Merwyn. The driver is Mr. Barret, the most competent of all the company’s foremen,” said Junior.

“Perhaps he can give us a quick tour before the prisoners arrive.”

Barret proved to be a robust, competent-looking fellow. He fairly leaped from the carriage driver’s seat. Upon being told we wanted to see around the mine, he gave a nod.

“Fine. I needed to inspect it anyway. But I won’t be able to play nursemaid to Merwyn. He’s still in the carriage.”

“Migraine?” Holmes asked.

“How did you know?”

“He told us yesterday that he suffered from migraine and the mine brought out the ailment,” I said.

Holmes flung open the carriage door and peered inside, where Mr. Merwyn sat slumped in the rear seat, hunched over his briefcase, fingertips pressed against his temples, hat on the seat beside him, muffler around his throat.

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