How Holmes Helped Lay Rest to "The Wightham Mote Legacy"
Dearest Investigators,
We would like to extend our gratitude for the assistance you recently provided to Holmes, Mr. Algernon Atherington, and the Kent County Constabulary. Thanks to your astute observations, we were able to put an end to the supposed ‘spectre’ haunting Wightham Mote! It turns out that the ominous banging noise was in fact generated by an echo of Wightham’s past, but were you one of the few sleuths to ID this ‘ghost’ before it vanished with Wightham’s hidden treasure in tow?
Looking forward to the next case,
The Dear Holmes Team
——
23 July 1886
Dear Mr Atherington,
While you and the rest of your brave household have certainly lived through a dreadful series of weeks, thanks to your swift and decisive comportment, all has been concluded with reasonable efficiency. Watson has apprised me of the events that unfolded last evening, and it brings me great pleasure to know your family may return to Wightham Mote with peace of mind. It should come as no surprise that your letters– those sent directly to me, and the one originally sent to the Kent County Constabulary– were instrumental in providing me the information needed to guide you, Inspector Huckstep, and indeed the good Doctor, throughout this investigation.
Your very first missive concerning the strange nocturnal noises was, alone, insufficient information from which to draw any conclusions. The resonance you noted of the odd sounds made me question their source, but it was far too early to surmise anything from your descriptions. Although your letter suggested that something was causing disturbances in Wightham Mote, there seemed to be no signs of a motive or objective. At most, the information you relayed cast a small amount of suspicion upon your butler, Groves, who seemed to be conveniently present during your pursuits of the eerie sound. Yet, his presence and his reactions could be taken as nothing more than circumstantial evidence.
It was after you wrote to me yourself on 14 July that I started developing plausible theories regarding this rather unique case. According to this letter, there had been no further signs of roguery since the shattered bottle of wine and rearranged furniture that Inspector Huckstep had first mentioned. Still, based upon the details you did provide, there were several individuals, namely Groves and your gardener, Bertie, who might have allowed somebody entry to Wightham. Your neighbour, Fred Groombridge, also seemed worthy of observation, considering his timely reappearance in your life. Hoping to further narrow the scope of our search for a culprit (or culprits), I thus thought to take advantage of your manor’s existing features. Hence, my subsequent request that you raise Wightham Mote’s bridge. My suspicion was that your villain was not repeatedly intruding, but rather, living within Wightham Mote, unnoticed. How this was possible would become more apparent once your third letter arrived at my doorstep.
The third letter I received regarding your case delivered the information that would not only compel me to despatch Watson as an added precaution, but also allow me to formulate a true hypothesis. Your account of the ‘spectral figure’ primarily illuminated three key facts for me: First, that Wightham Mote might be housing treasures of dubious origin, such as the piece of gold. Second, that this villain was able to appear and disappear without use of any of your manor’s chambers or doorways, as those had been largely sealed off. And third, that every instance of the ominous ‘banging noise’ seemed to originate from the manor’s servant’s stairs.
Considering the fact that the unmarked gold and the fish knife were also found in close proximity to your servant’s stairs, I speculated that these steps– if not something in their surrounding area– were somehow integral to our culprit’s clandestine movements. Furthermore, seeing as they had yet to inflict harm upon anybody at Wightham Mote, I conjectured that the missing knives were being employed as mere tools rather than weapons. Upon reading of the ridge of dust that your junior discovered on the servant’s stairs, I became most confident in the theory above and immediately despatched Watson to verify. Entrusting him with the remarkably useful floor plans you provided in your second letter, I instructed him to inspect your property discreetly, without disturbing the back staircase. First and foremost, I did not want to alert our villain to the fact we were but footsteps from their doorway.
At that point in time, I confess that there were a number of plausible suspects. These included the gambling Prideaux Large, and I will admit, Groves and your own junior, Cholmondeley; but as you are now well aware, the figure haunting Wightham Mote was but a figure of your father’s past: Silas Caius Spenser.
Watson’s journey to Wightham, his subsequent inspection of the property, and your account of its results, then delivered unto me the final pieces of this puzzle and allowed me to understand what motivated your ‘spectre’. From the start, Watson’s discovery of the cellar’s hidden extension was most enlightening. There was no way to be sure that the gold had been taken from there, but it stood to reason that this was the origin of the foreign bottle of wine found shattered in your dining hall on the 11th of July. Furthermore, the rapidly developing stench, the presence of a relatively well-kept lamp, and the papers found nearby, indicated that somebody had been inhabiting this small cavern in recent days– this hidden cellar was at least one of your villain’s intended targets, I theorised. Of course, the obituary found in the hidden room suggested some sort of connection between your father and this villain, but their identity came to light soon thereafter, once I read of the Spenser family tree that your man discovered. As Watson had noted to you, the dated handwriting on that family tree, bearing the signature of none other than ‘S. C. Spenser’, was identical to that of the handwritten ‘poetry’ discovered in the cellar’s hidden chamber. That, coupled with the copy of your father’s obituary, served as additional evidence of Spenser’s identity, as well as a testament to the connection between the two men.
The rest of Cholmondeley’s findings allowed me to complete my assessment of the situation with surprising ease. While not directly related to the current ongoings, learning of Wightham’s Catholic background compelled me to recall the copy of your manor’s floor plans, which subtly alluded to this religious history through a small ‘agnus dei’ marked beside the words ‘Ground Floor’ – full marks for Cholmondeley, who scrupulously included this symbol in his sketch, despite not knowing its meaning. Bearing in mind this feature and the ridge of dust also noted by Cholmondeley, I realised the significance of your servant’s stairs, and indeed, the location of Spenser’s lair. In the latter half of the sixteenth century, a Jesuit Priest, by the name of Nicholas Owen, spent the last eighteen years of his life building an array of ‘priest holes’ throughout England. As is well known, being caught celebrating the Catholic mass was, at the time, punishable by death. However, many of the great families of England continued to practice the traditional faith in secret and for this to be possible, safe places were required, where a priest could be hidden at moment's notice. Without a doubt, the owners of Wightham Mote, at some point in time, commissioned a priest hole to be built at Wightham; one which survives, intact, to this day.
That same fourth letter then provided valuable information regarding a conspicuously timed train robbery in 1860, which many believed to have been perpetrated, at least, partially, by a railway insider. Cholmondeley’s research on the robbery, and the particular details you offered me concerning your father, Algernon, made the identity of these robbers all the more obvious. Based on what we knew of Spenser and his mysterious absconsion, it seemed likely that he was at least one of these figures. Then, your dear Cholmondeley was the unwittingly keen observer of the unsavoury fact that, from the police sketches he had uncovered, it seemed that one of the train robbers shared your eyes.
This brings me to the subject of your father, who was, as you now know, once party to rather dubious activities, some of which apparently involved Spenser. After taking his half of the train robbery spoils, in the very same year of 1860, he bought shares of several Sheffield-based manufacturers, as you mentioned in your last letter. Your father’s investment of ill-gotten capital eventually helped him amass enough wealth to purchase Wightham himself, in 1875, which would explain why, as you first wrote to me, the subject of your father’s career rarely came up in your childhood. However, there is no evidence of continued wrongdoing on your father’s part in the years after 1860, in fact, it seems he and Spenser parted ways nearly immediately after the robbery. While your father managed to elude authorities and thrive with his part of the treasure, Spenser chose to stash his part away and make himself vanish until there was no longer an active pursuit on their trails. Yet, he was unable to return home and reclaim his treasure in time to settle his debts, and his property was eventually repossessed.
When Spenser, many years later, discovered your father’s obituary in the Maidstone Telegraph, he was quite invigorated, for he realised he could still possibly reclaim his goods. Knowing that he possessed intimate knowledge of the manor, unmatched by most others, he decided to go forth with a final attempt at ‘finishing the job’, so to speak. Unfortunately for Spenser, his abilities in stealth and deception have declined a fair amount in his old age. Had the fellow managed along the way to clean up after himself and perhaps remain silent, then perhaps he would have gotten away with the crime he committed so many decades ago.
Nevertheless, I expect that the moment of ousting Spenser from his hole was most rewarding– at least Watson seemed rather giddy in his account of the ordeal. ‘It was rather like finding a rat huddled up in his den,’ he says. As Watson demonstrated for you, the mechanism of the stairs was simple enough– they were hinged upwards from the sixth step. Stairs six to eight could, with the assistance of a tool, be pried up to reveal an opening about twenty-two inches high by thirty wide. Inside, was Spenser’s lair, the priest hole, about eight feet square. Hopefully with some thorough scrubbing, the stench of spoiled wine and food can be removed, and the den can be put to some use. The impressive amounts of gold, however, should be delivered to Kent County Constabulary posthaste, lest you face a much more precarious situation. Inspector Huckstep agrees that, so long as the remaining gold is recovered, there would be little reason to pursue a case against you, considering your lack of personal involvement. Spenser, of course, remains in police custody.
Your father was quite clever to return to Wightham and purchase the property when he was able to, for that undoubtedly allowed him to manage what was a loose end that could have returned to haunt him. Had Spenser learned of the purchase earlier, this is where the story might have ended; I believe that your father would have happily handed over to him his share of the loot, but alas, the two parted ways for fear of being discovered.
Mr Atherington, I am pleased to have been able to assist you throughout this endeavour. You must generously commend your junior, Cholmondeley, as well, for without his constant aid and attention to detail, Spenser might have succeeded in properly vacating your manor of its forgotten treasures. It is most unfortunate that, in unearthing these hidden features, Spenser has also brought to light some unsettling facts about your father, but you should rest assured, the only ‘spectre’ haunting Wightham Mote has been that of the quite corporeal Silas Caius Spenser. Such is the bitter aftertaste of this otherwise consoling resolution.
With great esteem,
