Read Online The New Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes by Martin Edwards - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Martin Edwards
Ads: Link
logic. I fancied that I myself might acquire the detective habit. Certainly, Holmes’ reasoning here was easy to follow. No respectable wife would allow her husband to make a visit in such an unkempt state. If Mr Buckle had been married at the time of his original acquaintance with Holmes, it was logical to infer that his wife was no more.
‘May I introduce you to my colleague, Dr Watson? Since we became co-tenants, he has become intrigued by the business of detection and you may speak freely before him. Watson, let me advise you that, should you ever have cause to transfer your loyalty from Bradley’s, no-one in London stocks a wider range of fine tobacco than Mr Josiah Buckle. Indeed, sir, I very much regret that you should have found it necessary to close your shop some time ago. It cannot have been for the want of custom.’
Buckle’s bushy eyebrows rose. ‘How did you know that I had closed for business?’
‘Oh, the inference is straightforward from the evidence before our eyes. Watson, would you be so good as to explain?’
I felt myself growing hot under the collar. ‘I’m afraid….’
Holmes allowed himself the glimmer of a smile. ‘Oh, my dear fellow. I am disappointed. You have proved such a willing pupil that I quite believed you would have mastered the knack of making such an elementary deduction. When a man with a thriving retail business arrives on my doorstep on a Saturday morning in December, at a time when his shop should be crammed to overflowing with customers seeking to replenish their tobacco pouches in readiness for the festive season, there are three possible explanations. First, the reason for his call is so urgent that it cannot wait. But in that event, surely he would arrive here before eleven o’clock? Second, he has delegated responsibility for running the shop to an assistant. But few trades are as dependent upon expert personal service as that of the tobacconist and, because of the specialist nature of his products, Mr Buckle has always taken a proper pride in attending to customers personally and at all hours. Third, the shop has closed.’
‘But why do you suggest that it has been closed for a considerable period of time?’ I enquired.
Holmes pointed to the card on the desk. ‘No successful shopkeeper will allow his supply of cards to run out, or dispose of those remaining. Mr Buckle’s business was unquestionably successful and that dog-eared scrap is plainly the last card in his possession. I infer that he has not been trading actively for some little while, an assumption reinforced by the olfactory evidence.’
I stared at him. ‘I do not understand.’
‘By the nature of his business, a tobacconist carries with him everywhere the aroma of the products that he sells. Inevitably, the strong smell of the coarsest shag impregnates his clothing, masking the fine perfume of more delicate blends. Yet unless my nostrils deceive me, I could detect only the subtle whiff of an Arcadian Mixture accompanying Mr Buckle into this room. That happens to be, as I recall, the brand he smokes himself. Ergo , he has not been trading for some time.’
The tobacconist shook his head in astonishment. ‘Mr Holmes, you have not lost your touch!’
‘There is one other consideration. You explained to the good Mrs Hudson that you were extremely anxious to see me. Yet, as I have mentioned, you have hardly turned up on our doorstep at the crack of dawn. From that I presume that you have spent the first part of the morning in quite a wretched state, wondering whether the problem troubling you is too embarrassingly trivial to justify calling upon me, a conclusion supported by the state of your fingernails. I recall that when we last encountered each other, they were tidily manicured. Now they are bitten almost to the quick. Yet your concern is such that, having wrestled with the dilemma, you have now resolved to seek my advice, come what may.’
‘Sir, you have it precisely!’
‘Very
‘May I introduce you to my colleague, Dr Watson? Since we became co-tenants, he has become intrigued by the business of detection and you may speak freely before him. Watson, let me advise you that, should you ever have cause to transfer your loyalty from Bradley’s, no-one in London stocks a wider range of fine tobacco than Mr Josiah Buckle. Indeed, sir, I very much regret that you should have found it necessary to close your shop some time ago. It cannot have been for the want of custom.’
Buckle’s bushy eyebrows rose. ‘How did you know that I had closed for business?’
‘Oh, the inference is straightforward from the evidence before our eyes. Watson, would you be so good as to explain?’
I felt myself growing hot under the collar. ‘I’m afraid….’
Holmes allowed himself the glimmer of a smile. ‘Oh, my dear fellow. I am disappointed. You have proved such a willing pupil that I quite believed you would have mastered the knack of making such an elementary deduction. When a man with a thriving retail business arrives on my doorstep on a Saturday morning in December, at a time when his shop should be crammed to overflowing with customers seeking to replenish their tobacco pouches in readiness for the festive season, there are three possible explanations. First, the reason for his call is so urgent that it cannot wait. But in that event, surely he would arrive here before eleven o’clock? Second, he has delegated responsibility for running the shop to an assistant. But few trades are as dependent upon expert personal service as that of the tobacconist and, because of the specialist nature of his products, Mr Buckle has always taken a proper pride in attending to customers personally and at all hours. Third, the shop has closed.’
‘But why do you suggest that it has been closed for a considerable period of time?’ I enquired.
Holmes pointed to the card on the desk. ‘No successful shopkeeper will allow his supply of cards to run out, or dispose of those remaining. Mr Buckle’s business was unquestionably successful and that dog-eared scrap is plainly the last card in his possession. I infer that he has not been trading actively for some little while, an assumption reinforced by the olfactory evidence.’
I stared at him. ‘I do not understand.’
‘By the nature of his business, a tobacconist carries with him everywhere the aroma of the products that he sells. Inevitably, the strong smell of the coarsest shag impregnates his clothing, masking the fine perfume of more delicate blends. Yet unless my nostrils deceive me, I could detect only the subtle whiff of an Arcadian Mixture accompanying Mr Buckle into this room. That happens to be, as I recall, the brand he smokes himself. Ergo , he has not been trading for some time.’
The tobacconist shook his head in astonishment. ‘Mr Holmes, you have not lost your touch!’
‘There is one other consideration. You explained to the good Mrs Hudson that you were extremely anxious to see me. Yet, as I have mentioned, you have hardly turned up on our doorstep at the crack of dawn. From that I presume that you have spent the first part of the morning in quite a wretched state, wondering whether the problem troubling you is too embarrassingly trivial to justify calling upon me, a conclusion supported by the state of your fingernails. I recall that when we last encountered each other, they were tidily manicured. Now they are bitten almost to the quick. Yet your concern is such that, having wrestled with the dilemma, you have now resolved to seek my advice, come what may.’
‘Sir, you have it precisely!’
‘Very
Similar Books
