Sherlock Holmes and The Folk Tale Mysteries - Volume 1 by Gayle Lange Puhl

Author:Gayle Lange Puhl
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sherlock Holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes novels, sherlock holmes fiction
ISBN: 9781780928043
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2015
Published: 2015-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

The Case of Whittlestick Woods

From the depths of his seat in the first-class railway carriage, Sherlock Holmes tossed me a crumpled telegram. Its message flamed from the page. “Two murders, one assault. Suspect captured, but questions remain. Rooms arranged at the “Dragon’s Flagon” in Lakeworth, Bucks. Will meet all trains. Sarpent.”

“I’m sorry that I hustled you out of Baker Street in such a hurry, Watson, and without an explanation, but it was necessary. As you can see, there was no time to lose. At least you had some breakfast first. Inspector Wilfred Sarpent is a good man, one of the brighter lights of the Buckinghamshire Constabulary. He solved the Poison Stones case with promising ability. I have worked with him twice. If he has questions, the case must be murky indeed.”

“You know I’m always glad to be of use, Holmes.”

“Well, the crime hasn’t been reported in the papers yet, so we have no other information. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. We’ll be met at the station, so all we can do now is possess our souls in patience and admire the passing scenery.”

The scenery visible out of the windows of the train was pleasing enough for anyone who had no thoughts of murder on his mind. A clear blue summer sky curved out overhead in all directions. Green fields rimmed with stone walls draped in ivy spread out as far as the eye could see. The sight was punctuated with clumps of trees and little farm buildings built of dressed stone. Shrubs tipped with white and pink blossoms bloomed in the dooryards and the growing crops of wheat and barley waved in a gentle breeze. The train was an express and we rattled past little hamlets of quaint red brick and half-timbered houses. In the far distance a blue haze indicated a distant forest. The East Midlands never appeared to better advantage. I looked at my watch. The train from St. Pancras was on time and would arrive in Lakeworth in an hour.

Inspector Sarpent greeted us on the platform. Lakeworth was a large village consisting mainly of half-timbered houses and cobblestoned streets. Flowers waved from numerous boxes that hung from every visible window up and down the street. It looked as if Queen Elizabeth I just trotted off beyond the city limits on her palfrey. Wilfred Sarpent was about forty, a man of medium height, with a military air and a bushy mustache over a thick lower lip. Eyes of bright blue shone from his round face and the brass buttons on his uniform coat gleamed in the sunlight. He smiled and shook hands as Holmes introduced me. Then he ushered us into a waiting cab, gave a word to the driver, and plunged into the details of the case.

“Mrs. Arthur Gradmutter lived in Stone Cottage deep in Whittlestick Woods outside of Lakeworth. That’s where we are going. A local girl came in “to do” daily. Mrs. Gradmutter’s late husband was a timber merchant and owned a big piece of the forest.

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