The New Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes by Martin Edwards Read Free Book Online Page B

that Noone might have had a hand in this business, Mr Holmes. Any such suggestion would find you in need of an expensive lawyer.”
    “I make no suggestions, Mr Pyemont. I simply pose questions.”
    “I have known Samuel Noone for nigh on twenty years, Mr Holmes. He is a friend, as well as my partner, Mr Holmes. The salt of the earth. But this is his door. You can judge for yourself.”
    Samuel Noone proved to be a short, hearty Yorkshireman with a florid expression and a clammy handshake. To my mind he was an improbable match for the lovely young woman who had brought us to Brighton, but as soon as Pyemont explained the reason for our visit, he assured us of his willingness to answer any questions that we might care to put.
    “It’s a bad business, gentlemen. A bad business indeed. As you have may have gathered from Arabella, William Cropper and I are, in a sense, rivals. Rivals for her hand. He has youth and good looks on his side. If I may speak bluntly, I have certain other assets. I have achieved a certain success in my career and I am willing to share the fruits of it with my heart’s desire. As you will have gathered, at one time I thought she was receptive to my overtures. Perhaps I presumed too much.” He sighed. “I hope, even now, that it is not too late for her to change her mind. Yet it is understandable that she is upset by what has happened. Deeply upset, and of course reluctant to believe that there is any truth in these wretched letters.”
    “And do you share that reluctance?”
    “Naturally.” Noone nodded with vigour. “If you have anything to say, say it to a man’s face, that’s my motto.”
    “Then why should anyone pay the letters any heed at all?” Frowning, Noone said, “Well, Mr Holmes, you will be acquainted with the old saying. No smoke without fire.”
    “If I may say so, Mr Noone, few adages are more apt to mislead.”
    Noone’s eyes narrowed. “Possibly. Yet one cannot help wondering what has prompted this campaign against a supposedly decent professional man. Is there, perhaps, more to young Mr Cropper than meets the eye? But you are the detective, Mr Holmes, I wish you good fortune in your enquiries.”
    When we rejoined Arabella Pyemont a few minutes later, it seemed to me that we had established precious little. Noone had, like his partner, destroyed the letter he had received. He told us that it had accused Cropper of consorting with women of the street. When Holmes asked whether he had ever met Cropper, he denied it. Nor did he have any idea why the anonymous correspondent should have chosen to write to him.
    “Well, Mr Holmes," the young woman demanded when we were outside the building. “What do you make of what you have learned from your visit."
    “What you told us has thus far been borne out,” my friend replied. “Neither your father nor Samuel Noone has seen any evidence to justify what is said in the letters. The attacks upon the unfortunate Mr Cropper are as wide-ranging as one could imagine. They represent a concerted effort to blacken his name, both personally and in a professional capacity. Messrs Pyemont and Noone infer that there must be a kernel of truth in the allegations. In short, they proceed upon the assumption that a man is not persecuted unless he has done someone a great wrong. And if he is capable of one great wrong, then perhaps he is capable of others.”
    Arabella Pyemont cried, “I do not believe it, Mr Holmes!”
    My friend nodded. “The premise is false. Now, will you lead the way to your fiance’s place of work?”
    Charles Follett, the accountant who employed William Cropper had an office tucked away in a side street close to the railway station. Cropper himself occupied a cramped little cubby-hole at the back of the building. Scarcely an inch of the floor was not covered by files and ledgers. The contrast with the spacious and well-appointed office of his prospective father-in-law could not have been starker.
    Cropper was an