Chapter 4 – The Plot Thickens
Rain pattered down onto the roof of the carriage as it travelled quickly down the quiet country road. It was not yet eight o'clock in the morning, and Watson yawned continuously throughout the journey while Holmes stared out the window at the bleak scenery.
On the way to the manor they passed the local village, where it looked everyone was still sleeping. On the border of this, there was a small building with a bell on top and a pretty garden situated at the front.
"That will be the school, no doubt," Sherlock mumbled, more to himself that to Doctor Watson, though he heard.
"I still don't understand why he didn't travel yesterday, instead of delaying it," he said, stifling yet another yawn, "after all it is a most urgent-"
"I had some business to attend to before we left," Sherlock interrupted with a wave of his hand.
"The note for the butcher boy?"
"Yes," replied Sherlock, with a tone of finality in his voice that stopped Watson from questioning further.
"Ah, that must be Gable Manor," said Sherlock, almost in relief as the carriage turned into the grounds of a well kept and large estate. In the distance, stood Gable Manor; a magnificent looking building, that would have been very beautiful if it were not for he miserable weather, and the terrible tragedy that had been committed inside.
Sherlock stopped the carriage when they were half way through the grounds – it was a very large estate – and jumped out, with Watson following.
They strolled quickly together, while Sherlock stared at the fast approaching building, mumbling to himself as they went:
"Very modern, very modern; Windows and doors look secure, of course there's no knowing until they have been properly examined."
A group of people stood at the grand door of the building, and as they got closer, they could make out the energetic figure of Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, as he barked out orders to the other policemen.
"And make sure nothing, absolutely nothing is to be touched, is that understood?"
Sherlock walked straight up to him. "Good morning inspector," he said cheerfully.
The inspector turned in surprise.
"Mr Holmes!" he said, though his voice lacked the same cheerfulness as Sherlock's. "What are you doing here?"
"The same reason as you I trust," Sherlock replied glancing at the manor.
"The murder?"
"Quite."
"But it was only committed the day before last; news couldn't have travelled that fast to London."
"No, indeed," replied Sherlock with a smile, "Miss Allan called upon me yesterday to look into the situation. So here I am."
"Miss Allan," Lestrade said, "has been taken to bed, I'm afraid; due to a bit of bad timing. When she returned last night, we were in the midst of taking the body out, and it was accidentally uncovered. The poor girl fainted and she hasn't been seen since."
Sherlock nodded, though he was evidently disappointed.
"Well… I trust it is nothing serious," he said, "perhaps it would be a good idea for Doctor Watson to see her; would you doctor?"
"Of course."
The two men walked past the inspector, with Doctor Watson now leading the way.
"Now, wait a minute gentlemen," said Lestrade, trying desperately to regain control of the situation, "you can't just go walking in Mr Holmes – Miss Allan has already seen a doctor – Gentlemen you can't just –"
"Mr Holmes?"
By this time they were now in the manor and were walking down a corridor that led into a large hall, which led into many different rooms with closed doors.
Walking down the stairs was a middle aged woman, whom Sherlock judged as the housekeeper.
It was she who had addressed him.
"I am Mr Holmes," he said, removing his hat and gloves, "and this is my friend and colleague doctor Watson."
"My young mistress sends her apologies for not meeting you," the housekeeper said, "her nerves have been greatly tried, and she is not able to leave her room. She told me of your arrival and has instructed me to give you whatever you need."
"Excellent!" cried Sherlock, handing his garments to the maid, while the butler took their luggage. Lestrade looked severely irked.
"I trust your mistress's condition is not serious?" Sherlock asked.
"The doctor came this morning, but was unable to stay long as there appears to be a good deal of illnesses in the village at the moment."
Sherlock looked at Watson who nodded and took his medical bag.
"Perhaps I should have a look at her," he said, stepping forward.
"Thank you sir; I shall show you the way," the housekeeper replied, "Shall I have the Jane take you to your room, Mr Holmes?"
"Not yet, Thank you," Sherlock replied, "I believe I shall begin my investigation, if you would be so kind as to lead the way Lestrade."
"Of course, Mr Holmes," said Lestrade, "but I doubt you shall see anything that my men haven't already."
They all made their way up the stairs, where Doctor Watson and the housekeeper left for Miss Allan's room while , Sherlock and Lestrade went to Mr Allan's room.
Inside, everything had been left exactly as it had been the night of the murder. Sherlock went into action, and immediately began examining the room, while Lestrade watched in amusement as he crawled along the floor and scrutinised every bit of furniture. He even sniffed at the carpet, around the place where the body was.
"Well, Mr Holmes?" Lestrade enquired after a while.
Sherlock looked at him as thought just noticing he was still there.
"Ah, Lestrade; it is very interesting, very interesting indeed. Was there any marks on the body?"
"None."
"Then, how has the coroner explained the death?"
"Apoplectic fit, brought on by shock no doubt; something or someone must have entered the room and scared the wits out of him."
"Really," said Sherlock, "and how would this intruder get in?"
"Well, the window was open!"
"Of course, of course!" said Sherlock with a hint of impatience, "and do you have any suspects?"
"I have men looking into the victim's history; it would appear he had a few expensive gambling debts that he was struggling to come to terms with. I wouldn't be surprised if the murderer was one of the men to whom he owed money. Would you not agree Mr Holmes?"
"Why, Lestrade!" cried Sherlock, jumping to his feet, "I do believe you have hit the nail on the head; I must congratulate you."
The inspector puffed out his chest and grinned pompously. "Well… it is a rather simple case; I'm only sorry that you should've come so far for a trifle."
"Yes, it is rather disappointing," said Sherlock dismissively, "but never mind, I am in need of some fresh air, and where better to go than beautiful Cumbernauld."
"You intend to stay then?" Lestrade asked suspiciously.
"Well there is no reason why I shouldn't; the doctor will no doubt be needed to tend to Miss Allan and I am after all her desk; besides I have another enquiry in the area which I can look into while I'm here."
"Oh well… Good day you Mr Holmes."
"Good day Lestrade."
The inspector left Sherlock alone in the bedroom, where he stood staring at the open window as Doctor Watson came in.
"Lestrade looks very pleased with himself," he commented, making Sherlock smile.
"Yes he is; though I'm sure that would change if he was aware of the many errors in his theory."
"Did you not enlighten him? I can tell that the case is becoming clear to you."
"Yes it is, but I doubt it would make any difference to Lestrade at this point. How is Miss Allan?"
"Very nervous; her health is in a fragile state, I have no doubt she will recover in time, but I will need to be close at hand."
"Good. I hardly think this case should take any more than four days. Five at the most, then it shall all be settled."
"Five days?" Watson asked.
"Is that sufficient enough time for you to look after your patient?"
"Of course."
"Well then! " Sherlock walked past him and out the room, "if you can spare a few hours, I would very much like you to go to the coroner's office and examine the victim's body for yourself."
"And what will you be doing?" asked Watson
"Interviewing the servants, and socialising with the local villagers; shall we meet again say about lunchtime?"
"Yes. But Holmes – "
"I shall explain everything later Watson; for the moment there can be no delay. There is something amiss, Watson – I'll stake my reputation on it – a menacing plot in which everything is connected and this murder is the first stage."
"A plot?"
"Yes, and my Jove I shall get to the bottom of it, Watson; as God is my witness, I shall get to the bottom of it!"