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

muddy the water. Lord Henley’s son was involved in a rather stupid society the object of which was to plan and execute ever more audacious “japes”, as they call them. The Oriel and Merton escapades were carried out by other members of the club and it was Mountcey and his friends who defaced the walls of Magdalen by removing the sundial. It seems that Lord Henley knew of these ridiculous revels and, being an over-indulgent parent, was not disposed to regard them seriously. It was he who put his son up to the fracas that took place early in the term. When Mountcey and his friends were caught examining the chapel painting the authorities connected this with the earlier misdemeanours, a suspicion that was reinforced when the picture went missing. Of course, Mountcey could not be proved to be implicated in the theft, so he was quite safe.”
    Spooner was frowning with concentration. “But, then, whose incunabulum stole the Radcliffe?”
    “I am persuaded that it was Giddings himself who removed the book from the library. Mountcey gave me his word that he knew nothing of it. Such a reputed and infirm scholar as Dr Giddings was, of course, above suspicion, so it was the easiest thing in the world for him to leave with the precious artefact under the rug in his bath chair, having left the duplicate.”
    “Then the book and the painting are safe in Dr Giddings’s house?”
    “The book – yes. I am sure Dr Giddings would not harm it, nor intend to deprive the library of it for long. The painting, I suspect, is another matter.” Holmes opened a portmanteau he had brought with him. He extracted a parcel roughly wrapped in newspaper and proceeded to unravel it.
    Spooner leant forward to examine a blackened fragment of what had once been gilded wood and gesso and to which a fragment of charred canvas still adhered.
    “The night before last,” Holmes explained, “I paid a clandestine visit to Dr Giddings’s garden. I found this on a bonfire in a corner of the grounds. The embers were still warm. Unless I am mistaken, that is all that remains of the fake Rembrandt – and just as well, perhaps.”
    “Whatever made you think of looking there?”
    “When I called on Dr Giddings the previous day, he was obviously concerned about my interest in the Rembrandt. He tried to convince me that its theft was a student prank and he brought my visit to a sudden halt with what seemed to me rather a theatrical fit of coughing. I believe that was to prevent me looking inside the room where the painting was currently housed. I reasoned that he would want to be rid of the evidence very quickly after such a fright and there seemed to be only one easy way to do that.”
    Spooner removed his spectacles and polished them thoughtfully. “Mr Holmes,” he said, “you are a remarkable young man. I predict that you will go far. May I ask you to put what you have just told me in writing? My colleagues will, I know, want to study it most carefully.”
    “I had anticipated that request,” replied my friend, handing over a sealed envelope.
    “How wise, Mr Solomon, how wise. The college is indebted to you. You will undoubtedly be hearing more from us. For the moment all I can do is personally grace my platitude on record.” He shook Holmes warmly by the hand and escorted him to the door.
    Sherlock Holmes reflected during the next few days on the immense pleasure and satisfaction this little enquiry had occasioned him. He had, at that time, no inkling that his vocation lay in the field of criminal detection but, as he later confessed to me, the bothersome business of the Dutch Nativity , was undoubtedly the case that opened up new possibilities to him.
    All that lay in the future. One more immediate result manifested itself a few days later. Holmes received an unexpected invitation to dine with the Master of Grenville. He arrived at the lodge at the appointed time expecting to find himself one of a large party. To his surprise the only other guest