The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures by Mike Ashley Read Free Book Online

door closed completely, Holmes handed over an envelope. “Please see that Mr Mountcey receives this.”
    Holmes stood on the landing and began counting. He had reached thirty-two when the door was re-opened by the same guardian. “Mr Mountcey says you’d better come in,” he said.
    “I rather thought he might,” Holmes rejoined.
    The chamber he now entered was opulently furnished. A table at one end was laid for four with sparkling silver and crystal and crisp knappery. Armchairs were drawn around the fire and in one the resident of this suite was sprawled. The Honourable Hugh Mountcey was a gangling, dark-haired young man, with a florid complexion. He held Holmes’s letter by one corner between thumb and forefinger. “What’s the meaning of this nonsense?” he demanded.
    Holmes stood staring down at the aristocrat and recalled the verger of New College’s disparaging comments on certain degenerate members of the upper class. “If it were nonsense you would scarcely have invited me in,” he observed.
    “Who the devil are you,” Mountcey sneered.
    “All that matters is that I know the truth about the New College Rembrandt. Apart from anything else I have identified your role in the business.”
    Mountcey’s companion stepped across the room and grabbed Holmes by the sleeve. “Shall I teach this fellow some manners, Huffy?” he enquired. The next instant he was lying flat on his back holding a hand to his nose from which a trickle of blood was oozing.
    Holmes rubbed the knuckles of his right hand. “I assure you that I have no interest in making life difficult for you. My only concern is to clear up this tiresome business of the missing painting so that I can resume my own studies. If you will be good enough to answer a few questions I will take my leave.”
    “And what do you intend doing with your information?”
    “I shall place such items as are relevant before the authorities at New College.”
    “That might not suit my book at all. I certainly have no intention of informing on my friends.”
    “By friends I take it that you mean those responsible for the escapades at Oriel, Merton and here in Magdalen.”
    Mountcey nodded.
    “I don’t think it will be necessary for me to reveal their identity.”
    The dark-haired young man stared at Holmes for several seconds. Then a smile slowly suffused his features. He crumpled the letter he was still holding and tossed it into the fire. “No, Mr Holmes, you are a nobody and I am inclined to tell you to go to hell. Report whatever you like to the New College people. You have no proof. If it comes to a contest between you and those of us who count for rather more in this life it’s pretty obvious who will end up being sent down, isn’t it?” He waved his visitor towards the door and his friend held it open.
    Holmes stood his ground. “But it isn’t just you and your friends who are involved is it? It’s your father and his associates.”
    Mountcey was caught off guard. “You can’t possibly know …” he blurted out, leaping to his feet.
    Holmes took a pencil and paper from his pocket, wrote a few words and passed the paper across to the Honourable Hugh.
    “Damn!” Mountcey sank back onto the chair.
    “So, sir, about those questions,” said Holmes.
    Sherlock Holmes called upon Mr Spooner shortly after eleven the following morning as the latter was returning from lecturing.
    The don came up close and peered through his thick lenses. “Ah, Mr Grenville of Holmes, is it not? Come in, sir. Come in. Do sit down. I suggest you will find the seat in the window more than comfortable.”
    Holmes deposited himself upon the cushions in the window embrasure. “I have come to report the successful conclusion of my investigation,” he announced. “About the theft of the painting from the chapel,” he added as Spooner gazed vacantly into space.
    “Ah, yes, excellent.” The fellow’s pallid features broke into a smile. “So you have discovered who was