Chapter II

“Good Lord!” I cried, “What was his evidence?”

Carson hung his head, “I’ve no knowledge, I’m afraid. He merely arrested him and took him away. We were all shocked at his actions and none of the staff believe Master Edgar was capable of this act.”

Holmes spoke up, “As long as we are here, Inspector, I believe we should examine the scene of the crime for ourselves.”

“Quite right, Holmes,” agreed Lestrade. “Carson, would you please take us to the room where this murder took place.”

The inside of the keep had been upgraded to modern lighting and plumbing, yet still retained the ancient tapestries and trappings of a medieval castle. We passed a dining hall with a large stone fireplace engraved with the motto: Veritatem et iustitiam in omnes, [2] and an armory where suits of armor and armaments still lined the walls. A glass covered case also held smaller weapons: knives, flintlock pistols, and molds for projectiles and early lead bullets. The gentleman’s gentleman led us up a long flight of circular stairs to the Tower Room, where Judge Mason had set up a study for himself.

Before entering, Holmes questioned Carson.

“Who had keys to this room?”

“Judge Mason, of course, and he habitually locked himself in so as not to be disturbed while he was writing his memoirs. There is also a set of master keys which I keep in the butler’s pantry. Only the Judge and I have... rather, had the pantry key.”

Holmes nodded, “From the newspaper accounts, I understand that you were summoned by the Judge’s son when he failed to get a response from his father?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes. Master Edgar had gone to call his father for breakfast, which was a common occurrence. The Judge often lost track of time when he was writing. When there was no answer and no sound from within, he came to me and we both returned here so I could unlock the door.”

Holmes bent to examine the lock with his lens. Satisfied, he bid Carson to go ahead and open the door. Once we could see the interior, the detective held up his hand to indicate we should not yet enter.

Turning again to the butler he asked, “What did you observe when you first opened the door?”

Carson thought back, visualizing the scene in his mind. “Judge Mason was lying on the floor over there.” He pointed toward a spot away from the desk, near the window. “He was face down, and the carpet at his feet was disheveled.”

The “window” referred to was actually an archer’s slit, only about a foot wide and four feet high. There were three of them allowing light into the room from various angles.

There was also a fireplace, a suit of armor, and a floor length tapestry of the family crest. Holmes bent to examine the carpet, which was an oval shape with a maroon and gold pattern.

“The area has been trampled by too many feet to yield any clues. What happened when you opened the door? Please be precise.”

Carson cleared his throat and pointed toward the spot he had indicated before, “The Judge was lying there, and his son immediately cried out and ran to him. He turned him over and said, ‘My God, he’s been shot! Carson, send for a doctor!’

“I ran downstairs and out to the courtyard, where I called for one of the stable boys to ride for the doctor. I then returned to the Tower Room with towels, bandages, and water. When I arrived, young Edgar was slumped on the floor against the desk. His father still lay where we found him, his chest covered with blood.”

The memory seemed to affect him deeply. He grew pale and quickly sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, lowering his head into his hands.

I knelt at his side and encouraged him to keep his head down and breathe deeply to avoid fainting. Lestrade strode over to the window and looked out while Holmes examined the spot where the body lay.

The inspector looked from the window to where Holmes knelt on the floor and made an observation.

“See here, Holmes,” he said, as he pointed outside. “There’s a tree opposite this window that would make a fine perch for a shooter.”

Holmes nodded, hesitated a moment, and then joined our comrade at the archer’s slit. There, about fifty yards away, was a good-sized tree, bare of leaves but tall and sturdy.

“Such a shot would require a considerable marksman,” observed the detective. Turning back to the butler, who had somewhat recovered, he asked, “Did anyone hear a shot?”

Carson summoned the strength to stand again and replied, “No, Mr.

Holmes, it was a quiet night. There was a light snowfall and a full moon occasionally broke through the clouds. I could observe it from my quarters where I was polishing the silver.”

Holmes digested that remark, called Carson over to the window and asked, “Is that tree visible from your quarters?”

“Not from where I was sitting, sir. I have to be standing by the window to observe that particular tree.”

Holmes nodded, then he suddenly went to the floor, lay down and asked,

“Is this approximately where the body was when you first saw it?”

Carson suggested a slight adjustment and Holmes complied, then enquired further, “Could you see the wound when his son turned him over?”

Carson answered immediately, “Sergeant Mossgarden asked me the same thing. I could not originally see it. Master Edgar was kneeling between the Judge and where I stood frozen at the door. I did not see the actual wound until I returned.”

Holmes contemplated that and stood. “Now, about the carpet, can you show us how it was disturbed?”

The butler knelt and curled the edge of the rug back toward where the body’s feet would have been.

Holmes took in the scene and closed his eyes. I strode over to where Lestrade had remained by the window and looked out at the aforementioned tree. Holmes was correct. It would have taken someone with the skill of Colonel Sebastian Moran[3] to make such a shot. As he was safely locked away in Newgate Prison, I could not imagine who else could achieve the task from that distance at the upward angle required.

Holmes put his hands on his hips and asked one more question, “What was the state of the fireplace when you opened the door?”

Carson, hesitated at the incongruousness of the question, then answered,

“It was down to just a few smoldering coals, Mr. Holmes. The room was much colder than the Judge usually kept it.”

“Yet there was plenty of wood in the rack, was there not?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes, it was half full. The stable boy refills it every day.”

Holmes strode over to the desk and observed the papers, books, and writing utensils lying there. At last he announced, “I believe I have gleaned all I can from inside this room, Lestrade. I should like to examine that tree now.”

We made our way out across the drawbridge and approached the tree that Lestrade had noted. Holmes carefully eyed the snowy ground surrounding its base. He then walked around the tree, studying its bark. Suddenly he reached up and pulled himself up into its branches. He seemed to be observing the limbs until he reached a high perch. From there he looked toward the castle tower through a fork in a branch. He examined the fork with his magnifying lens and then made his way quickly back to the ground beside us.

“What did you find, Holmes?” enquired Lestrade.

The great detective brushed the snow from himself and replied, “It is a pear tree, not a prime choice for a climber. As you can see the branches thin out quickly and one cannot ascend to great heights. However, the fork where I stopped does enjoy an excellent sightline to the window where the Judge was standing.”

Lestrade clapped his gloved hands together, “So, it could be the shooter’s perch!”

Holmes cocked his head to one side as he looked back up at the branch in question and replied, “Our perpetrator very likely climbed this tree. There are scuff marks on various limbs and several broken twigs. However, there are no marks at all on the fork, which would have been the ideal place to steady a rifle. Surely, the weight of the gun and the recoil of the shot would have left some scraping along the bark. There is also the fact that no shot was heard. I do not believe a silent air gun could have the range necessary to perform a killing shot at this distance. For now, I suggest we continue on to the police station and question Edgar Mason and Sergeant Mossgarden.

“Wait, Holmes” I stated. “Aren’t you going to question the staff? Search the grounds? Look for alternative suspects?”

“All in good time, Watson,” he replied. “At this point, I have insufficient data to contradict Sergeant Mossgarden’s actions. Once we meet with him and Mr. Edgar Mason, I shall be able to determine our next steps.”