The Rediscovered Annals of Sherlock Holmes by Terry Golledge

Author:Terry Golledge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Victorian England, crime, murder, pastiche, traditional, canonical, Watsonian, undershaw, deduction, Margate, blackmail, fraud, life insurance, kidnap, Wiltshire, burglary, Devizes, Thuggee, South Africa, tobacco, Colonial, Kaffir
ISBN: 9781804240793
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2022-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter II: An Ivory Box

Sherlock Holmes began to refill his pipe, his whole attitude suggesting that this was the most important task in the world. I watched him keenly, for even after more than two years of living in close proximity to him, I had learned never to anticipate the workings of his agile mind. He clamped the amber stem between his lips and struck a Vesta on the iron fender, and not until his head was wreathed in a haze of pungent smoke did he speak again.

“Tell me, Miss Winsett, why have you come to me rather than to your local police?”

“Local police?” She gave a short laugh. “In view of Harper’s unhelpful manner, I had little hope that Constable Old would prove at all encouraging, especially as he and Harper are close friends.”

“A not-unusual situation between gamekeeper and policeman,” observed Holmes. “All the same, I take your point.” He picked up the small box from where he had laid it on the table and began to examine it carefully with his magnifying glass, muttering beneath his breath as he did so.

“Ivory,” he proclaimed at last. “Beautifully made, but of a most peculiar design. A snuff-box, perhaps, but rather large for that.” He raised it to his nose and sniffed. “No, it has never held snuff or tobacco, so what can it be? Those stains are indubitably blood, but whose?” He held it out to me. “Tell me what you make of it. Then see if you can open it,”

At first sight, it appeared to be not a box but a solid piece of ivory, and it wasn’t until I inspected it under the glass that I perceived the faint lines that defined the lid. I turned it over and over, admiring the smooth symmetrical surfaces, but failing to see how it could be opened, I shook my head.

“As you remarked, a fine piece of workmanship,” I said as I gave it back to him. “I have seen similar things in India, but nothing so meticulously made as this. Can it be opened, do you think?”

“It was intended to be, Watson, therefore it can be. The thing is to find the trick.” He studied it for a few seconds then squeezed it length-wise in his hand, but to no effect. Turning it through ninety degrees he repeated the action, with the same lack of result. Next his long fingers gripped it at either end and he went through the motions of breaking a biscuit, and this time he was rewarded with the faintest of clicks.

“Eureka!” he cried triumphantly.

Our visitor and I craned forward expectantly while Holmes, his puckish sense of humour showing in the curve of his thin lips, kept us waiting for interminable seconds. Relenting at last, he probed gently with his thumb-nail until the lid was fully raised. I could not see the inside of the box, but the sharp intake of my friend’s breath was enough to tell that whatever it contained it held some significance for him.

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