Chapter VI

It was nearly nightfall when we arrived at the Muswell Police Station.

Sergeant Mossgarden was not happy to see us. He had obviously heard from the Coroner. He stared menacingly at Lestrade.

“So, you’ve come to shanghai my case after all,” he accused. “And who’s this fellow?”

Inspector Lestrade shoved Silcox forward. “This is the real murderer of Judge Mason. He’s confessed it all. Now it’s time for you to free Edgar Mason.”

Mossgarden reluctantly led us back to the cells and locked up our prisoner. When we went to free the son, we found he had visitors.

The big sergeant unlocked the door, but it was Lestrade who announced,

“You are free to go young man. We’ve caught your father’s killer.”

He had been sitting on the bed with an elderly man at his side and a young lady on the chair opposite. Upon hearing the news, they all stood immediately and Edgar spoke.

“Charlotte, Mr. Anderson. This is Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, and Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. They’re the men I told you about.”

Anderson, a portly fellow with an expensive suit and balding head, who was a partner at the law firm where Mason worked, stepped forward and immediately shook hands with Lestrade.

“Thank you, Inspector. I’m glad to see some member of the official police force who knows what he’s doing,” he said, glaring at Mossgarden as he did so. “My daughter and I are sincerely grateful for your help, all of you.”

He shook hands with each of us in turn while Mossgarden left us, mumbling about Mason picking up his things on the way out.

Charlotte Anderson was an attractive woman in a cherubic-like sense.

Her plump face beamed with a smile that could melt a man’s heart. She walked over to us and shook hands with Lestrade and me, then suddenly, overcome by emotion, she threw her arms around Holmes and began sobbing her thanks.

“You saved our wedding and our Christmas, Mr. Holmes! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Peeling himself away, Holmes replied, “You are quite welcome, Miss Anderson, I assure you.”

Edgar Mason came up and put his arm around his fiancé, who turned her full attention back to him.

“I cannot thank you gentlemen enough. Who was that fellow who killed my father?”

Holmes gave a brief summary of Silcox’s actions and motive, and we soon left the police station with Mason a free man. He invited us all back to Fortis Keep for dinner, but Holmes declined, stating that we needed to get back to the city. Anderson brought up the subject of Holmes’s fee, but my friend merely nodded toward the happy couple climbing into a cab and said, “Let this one be a Christmas present for their sake.”

The three of us returned to Baker Street, where Mrs. Hudson had a warm fire going and prepared hot toddies for all of us. As we sat by the fire and drank, I asked Holmes to explain his reasoning in the steps he took.

“It was obvious from the start, Watson that the killer had to be someone familiar with the Judge’s habits and who could access that room in some fashion. That narrowed the suspects to family or staff members. I determined that the lock had not been picked and thus, even though it was improbable, the arrow slit seemed the only method of delivering the fatal blow.

“After examining the pear tree which our perpetrator had climbed, I deduced that it was impossible to make the shot from there, except by using a high-powered rifle, which would have been heard. It also offered no cover for the shooter and no guarantee that the Judge would come to the window. Why would he, during a cold night when his desk was by the fire?

“The state of the fire was also critical to debunking Mossgarden’s theory of the crime. Remember Carson said that it had burned down to its embers.

That meant the Judge had been dead for some time, unable to maintain the fire, and not killed by his son upon that morning.

Lestrade spoke up, “That still doesn’t mean the son couldn’t have done it during the night.”

Holmes lit his pipe and blew out a puff of smoke before he answered,

“It’s true that the timing does not exonerate young Edgar, Inspector.

Remember, however, I noted the athleticism required to climb the pear tree and to later descend from the rooftop, are quite beyond the young man’s capabilities. As were the size of the footprints ‘round the tree, and later on the roof.”

“How did you determine the weapon used?” I asked.

He smirked, “Simple deduction, Doctor. The only weapon which could have silently delivered a projectile made of ice with sufficient force had to be a crossbow, which I observed the first time we walked through the armory.”

“How did you know it would be ice?” asked Lestrade.

“Our killer had decided to frame the son by leaving the knife in a compromising position, which would look like Edgar had tried to get rid of it. Thus, he needed the real instrument to be one that would disappear.

There have been theories about ice bullets, which would melt away and leave no trace. But such items are impossible due to the explosive nature required to deliver them. Firing an ice bolt with a crossbow however, would work over a short distance. When I examined the Judge’s shirt, the bloodstains were lighter in color close to the wound, this is where the melting ice diluted the blood. That confirmed my theory and I knew you would find nothing in the body, and that there would be a clean cut with no distortion caused by the inevitable twisting removal of a knife or sword.”

Lestrade, working on his second toddy, spoke up, “When did you decide that it was the gamekeeper?”

“I don’t decide these things, Lestrade. That was Mossgarden’s mistake. A man seeking an easy solution will find it, even if he has to make it up. I deduced that our suspect was a staff member and had narrowed it down to either the gamekeeper or someone who worked in the stables, since they would need privacy and the proper tools. That is why I had Carson summon the whole staff to the armory. I hoped that the sight of us with the murder weapon in hand would create a reaction, which is precisely what happened when Silcox attempted to flee.”

The inspector rose to his feet, a trifle unsteady now as he worked on his third rum toddy, and we followed suit. He raised his glass to the detective

and declared in a slightly slurred voice, “You are a brilliant man, Sherlock Holmes. Thank you for joining me on this case.”

Knowing such unbridled praise was probably a result of intoxication, Holmes and I took his remark in stride. We clinked glasses with him and the detective returned Lestrade’s compliment.

“Thank you for another little mystery to solve, Inspector. It is as fine a Christmas gift as I could ask for.”

And together we drank to a Happy Christmas for all.

1 Lieutenant William Bligh, Captain of the HMS Bounty, whose despotic rule so enraged his crew that they mutinied near Tahiti in 1789.

2 Truth and Justice for All

3 Colonel Sebastian Moran, famous big game hunter, attempted to assassinate Holmes with an air rifle in The Empty House.

4 Criminal Investigation Division

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