How Holmes Caged a Clever Thief
Esteemed Sleuths,
Although this case took us, and the Bellamys, on a flight full of twists and turns, The Stolen Relic has been successfully located and will soon be resting on its satin cushion again. As per usual, this was made possible by your fine detective work, and for that we thank you! Without your watchful eye, The Saint’s Finger might have disappeared forever and left Lady Bellamy’s household in a state of cursed chaos, all in one fell swoop.
Until our next adventure,
The Dear Holmes Team
——
8 July, 1887
My Dear Watson,
This has been an eventful series of days for all. By now, there is a chance the Saint’s Finger might have already been “found”, nevertheless, I am pleased to say that I have sorted this case out. Should the relic remain absent, I will of course include instructions on how best to proceed, however, first I shall provide you with a careful accounting of my method – for there was more than one mystery to be unravelled at Oakdale manor.
From the moment I read Lady Bellamy’s description of the Saint’s Finger, I knew her case would be deceptively complex. Its disappearance from a locked room suggested a supernatural agency, especially in the minds of the younger servants. However, as men of science, we permit no mystical explanations. A historic, silver reliquary “decorated with a number of diamonds” was obviously something worthy of a burglar’s time; and while the supposed family curse might have frightened Sir Bellamy, such superstitions would likely fail to deter a thief. In fact, many of the sorts of collectors who would be keen to own such an object would consider its contentious nature a valuable feature.
Lady Bellamy’s missive contained several curious details, which left me suspicious of a limited group of people. Namely, the Bellamys themselves, and their two footmen, Jarvis and Edward. Based on the information provided by Lady Bellamy, she herself had suggested displaying the relic before it went missing. After learning this, one might wonder, “Was she trying to ensure that it would be taken?” The information in the Bellamys first letters indicated to me that this was unlikely but possible. Her interest in using the Saint’s Finger to generate funds did seem sincere, and she did not hesitate before admitting that she had suggested it should be displayed, but she could have simply offered up the confession as a blind.
Moreover, Lady Bellamy could have been working in tandem with her cousin, Edward, who seemed loyal to her personally, rather than the estate. In her letter, she had neglected to mention he was her relative, only offering support for the young footman. Yet, if his associate Jarvis left him alone the evening the relic went missing, then he had the opportunity to retrieve it and conceal it. He could have done this of his own accord, or at Lady Bellamy’s behest, I thought, but in either case, his modus operandi was still unclear, for it would have been nearly impossible for him to use the window without both harming himself in the process, and being in cahoots with Jarvis, which seemed rather unlikely.
On the other hand, there was Sir Bellamy, who was acting and reacting strangely, in spite of the circumstances. The fact it was he who had demanded the relic be displayed only in the chapel – after opposing an exhibition in the first place – was curious. Perhaps he actually wanted it to be displayed there, to facilitate its “theft”; or he believed a place most holy would counteract the supposed curse. It was also suspiciously fortunate that he insisted on viewing the relic the morning after it disappeared, despite a lack of necessity. He could have orchestrated the event to feign innocence and sneakily absconded with the relic, especially if he enlisted the help of his footman, Jarvis, as Inspector Mercer accused.
This I thought was implausible, unless both of the footmen were collaborating, which again, seemed unlikely, as it would suggest a far more elaborate conspiracy than would be required for the Bellamys to “steal” their own relic. Still, there were moments unaccounted for that cast a suspicious light on Jarvis and Sir Bellamy.
Lady Bellamy left the chapel with Edward upon discovering the Saint’s Finger was absent, and he returned to the chapel before she did. On her return, she witnessed Jarvis’ confession and Sir Bellamy subsequently berating the footmen. Lady Bellamy could have missed a part of their conversation, which is to say, there was a possibility that Sir Bellamy was then conspiring with the footmen. Though suspicious of him, I admit that the information in his letter, dated 5 July, ultimately argued his innocence. Plainly speaking, had he orchestrated the theft of his relic, he would have left behind evidence suggesting a tangible culprit, and I doubt he would have wasted time lamenting nightmares and curses. Beyond this, Sir Bellamy’s letter indicated to me that another mystery was at play. The fact his sarsaparilla had been making him “sleepy of late” was unusual, and especially alarming in light of the relic’s overnight theft. So too was the man’s fixation on the inspector, Andrew Mercer. Was Bellamy anxious because Mercer presented a threat he could sense but not perceive, or was he simply upset with the man’s methods of inquiry?
Mercer’s own letter, dated 6 July, helped answer this question. To begin with, the inspector admitted he was familiar with Sir Bellamy since his childhood, and that he has “known Lady Anne for years”. He also had many saccharine words to say of her, though this itself proved nothing beyond familiarity between the two. Though I surmised a suspiciously close acquaintance between Lady Bellamy and the inspector, I did not believe Sir Bellamy was threatened by, or even aware of it. He would not have confided his fears regarding the sarsaparilla to Inspector Mercer if this was the case.
The inspector’s letter also stated that Jarvis snuck away in the middle of the night, when he ought to have been guarding the relic with Edward. Although Lady Bellamy had previously reported this, Mercer’s account of his exchange with the footmen was telling: Jarvis “turned red in the face” when his associate noted his unusually timed “meal” that evening, yet he had no problem admitting to, even defending, his affinity for liquor. In other words, he was presumably bothered by Edward’s anecdote, though not because of the fact he had been caught drinking. I predicted, accurately I should now say, that Edward’s revelation would lead us to another secret of his – something involving the other servant, Flora.
Per Mercer’s letter, the butler had spotted her sneaking back into the manor on the night the relic went missing. He said she was “drenched but oddly happy, clutching a croquet ball ... and a small rag”. Of course, Flora provided an excuse for herself, claiming Mr. Jenkins had been mistaken about the evening in question, but she provided no evidence in support of her claim, and could have easily been lying. If she had been lying, then it was worth noting that Jarvis’ trip for “bread and cheese” that evening had been neatly aligned with her rainy stroll. In either case, Mr. Jenkins, I thought, was right. Flora sneaking in with the croquet ball in hand was a “mighty unusual sight.”
Inspired by the butler’s repeated complaints of missing braces, I hypothesised: Flora could have employed a small, expedient catapult to break the chapel’s window that night, thereby aiding somebody – Jarvis? – in the theft of the relic. This theory was quickly discarded, for Flora had many easier ways of accessing and stealing the Saint’s Finger; and even if she had wished to steal it via the chapel window, why then would she have broken the window in such an elaborate way? She could have simply tossed a stone, or the croquet ball she possessed at the time, rather than steal garments from somebody and engineer a catapult. While she could have been party to the crime, it seemed unlikely that she had anything to do with Mr. Jenkin’s missing items. At this stage, I suspected she was harbouring a secret relationship with Jarvis, but barring the existence of a fairly large conspiracy, I could not yet fathom how either of the pair could have succeeded in taking the Saint’s Finger. More confusing still, Mercer’s closing statements appeared to implicate the Bellamys again.
Mercer’s note concerning the relic’s insurance gave a clear reason to believe Sir Bellamy, if not his latest wife, would have wanted the object “gone”. Sir Bellamy’s sarsaparilla, and his recently resulting sleepiness, also presented an interesting development, especially when one considers the fact that he, but not his wife, reported the recurring issue. Now, if his tonic was indeed tampered with, either his wife had to have done it, or one of the servants did, after finding out where it was stored. This knowledge – the sarsaparilla’s place of storage – could have been facilitated by either of the Bellamys, knowingly or not, which complicated the matter of identifying a culprit. Putting that aside, the timing and extent of Sir Bellamy’s symptoms were unexpected. The tonic, if it was indeed poisoned, had been making the man drowsy for some days now, with no adverse effects beyond those of evening lethargy.
It is perhaps admissible that Lady Bellamy might have drugged her husband, taken the key, crept out to the chapel, stolen the relic, and discreetly returned the key. However, to do so she would have had to work with Edward and, or, avoid alerting the mastiff. She too would have risked encountering Jarvis, who is faithful to his master. One must also ask why, if she wished to steal the item, did she not do so in the previous years, when she could have removed it from its trunk and said nothing of it? Therefore, my suspicion was that his somnolence, whether inflicted or imagined, was unrelated to the theft. I would suggest another reason for the altered tonic after reviewing your latest letter, Watson, but holding Mercer’s letter alongside those from the Bellamys, I was compelled to agree with the inspector’s last intuition. No person could have entered the chapel to take the relic.
There were no secret passages through which to gain admittance, and the walls and roof were sound. The door’s rusty hinges alone would have woken the mastiff, or Edward, if someone had tried to force the portal open, and neither was roused until Jarvis returned that evening. The door’s lock was not damaged, and the key to it never left Sir Henry’s wrist. The conceit of someone hiding behind the tapestry is a clever one (I have done so many times myself), but as you yourself deduced, it would have been nigh impossible for that person to have made their leave without risking discovery.
As an added measure of precaution, let us consider the potential culprits anyways. We know that both maids and the pageboy were present at breakfast, which the cook prepared, the morning the crime was discovered. This we know from Lady Bellamy, who witnessed them listening to her husband’s recitation of his dream. Thus, none of them could have still been hiding in the chapel at the time. The butler Jenkins was unaccounted for, but his sheer girth makes it difficult for him to remain concealed behind a tapestry. I also must dismiss the idea of the conspiracy that such a plan would necessitate. The servants have offered no serious grievances against their master, and any collusion among the servants, or between Jarvis and the master, would have required either Edward’s help or his silence. Both are so unlikely that the theory may be safely dismissed. The robbery of the Saint’s Finger, as demonstrated by the mounting evidence, was a complex issue, likely involving multiple individuals. And further complicating the case was the fact that several secretive relationships were undeniably at play within Oakvale, some with no apparent connection to the crime. It was your subsequent letter, Watson, that allowed me to discern the significance of these relationships and, in turn, their links – or lack thereof – to the crime.
From its beginning, your report of 7 July casts a different light upon several of our key individuals. Inspector Mercer, per his statements, seemed unusually invested in bringing justice forth for the sake of, specifically, Lady Bellamy. He also presented a precise theory for the case – accusing Sir Bellamy and Jarvis of a plot against Lady Bellamy – based on limited evidence. His theory was admittedly intriguing, especially in light of the Saint’s Finger’s generous insurance policy, still Inspector Mercer’s judgement appeared to be clouded by an affinity for Lady Bellamy; or as he could not help but put it, “Annie”. Then there was Sir Bellamy, who was definitively removed from my list of suspects by your diagnosis. The aged, ill and anxious man was too unwell to have orchestrated this plot.
So I turned again to the staff, and on reading the details of your conversation with the maids, this knotted mess finally loosened and began to unravel before me. Flora’s confession, I posit, was an honest account of the truth, save for one detail, for which she bears no responsibility – and therein lies the solution to this case. Flora and Jarvis’ secret is but romance, and although Flora believes it to be true, she did not shatter the window to the chapel. Teddy, the pageboy – and I should say, the “spectre” behind the stolen relic – did. He then exploited a serendipitous late-night opportunity to pass along the blame to an unwitting Flora.
Her exchange with Teddy, and the drawing you found leaving the manor, suggested that the young pageboy was at the heart of this inexplicable robbery. My theory was only strengthened when I reconsidered a number of the details in your letter, and the ones previously sent by Inspector Mercer and the Bellamys, with this thought in mind.
Teddy the pageboy, without a doubt, took the Saint’s Finger, and he did not work alone. To put it briefly, the clever chap despatched his familiar, a magpie I wager, to fly through the chapel’s broken window and retrieve the Saint’s Finger. One might wonder, “But what would possess a pageboy to commit a crime so grand and greedy?” To that, I say one should look towards Teddy’s ailing mother, meagre finances, and recently rejected request for a wage “adjustment”. The boy hoped to abscond with the relic and obtain a sum with which he could comfortably care for his family. His plan had not likely been developed past “take the treasure” until learning of the reward for the relic, which you will recall elicited a positive reaction from the boy.
As for his methods... They were most easy to understand after examining the page found outside of Oakvale. I am certain that the drawings and writing were Teddy’s imaginings for two reasons. First, although an adult might have conceivably misspelt words such as “berry”, or “whistle”, the childish drawings and penmanship suggest a more youthful, if not whimsical, author. Second, Teddy was seen several times, not only scribbling away outdoors, but also feeding the local birds. I am therefore inclined to believe that the writing on that page was a record of the pageboy and his magpie’s training regimen. And in light of Teddy’s penchant for crafting tools, such as his “detecting device”, I am further inclined to believe the boy fashioned a catapult, as I had initially speculated, out of Mr. Jenkin’s braces.
With this elementary tool, he shattered the window, allowing entry to his avian accomplice, who he then commanded to “fech” whatever object he might have used to break it, along with the Saint’s Finger itself. Shortly after this, as he prepared to make his leave, he heard Flora and Jarvis’ commotion in the clearing behind the chapel. Fearing somebody would witness him that evening, he hid and waited. When he saw Flora, he took advantage of the opportunity and slyly delivered an explanation for the broken window; one that would absolve him of guilt, and eventually, even convince Flora that she would be held responsible for the theft! Later on, Mercer spotted the boy eagerly adding a feather to his cap, which he was certainly recovering from the site of his crime.
Now, I will return to our dear pageboy, but beyond his plot to steal the Saint’s Finger, and Flora and Jarvis’ quiet dalliance, there has been another drama unfolding before our eyes, Watson. Your last letter to me concluded with the revelation that a “small percentage” of laudanum had been detected in Sir Bellamy’s bottle of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. In this case, I will say that Sir Bellamy was being sound of judgement. I am confident that Lady Bellamy has been tampering with his tonic, though only as a means of deflecting the man’s obsession with a true heir. Considering that she had access to the sarsaparilla, and successfully added laudanum to it, one must question her intent: she had the opportunity to kill her husband, had she wanted to, so it is more likely that her goal was to sedate the man, as she accomplished, and altogether disable his advances. Knowing too that his health is already failing, I would not be surprised if Lady Bellamy is less-than-patiently awaiting the man’s demise. Indeed, she may be doing so whilst she pursues a new beau in the inspector. For his part, Inspector Mercer’s willingness to investigate the sarsaparilla and openly speak of it indicated his innocence to me. In spite of his affinity for Lady Bellamy, he seems unaware of her ploy.
Know that I have sent word to my own colleagues at the Surrey Constabulary, and Chief Hastings has agreed to call on Oakvale manor tomorrow. He will question Lady Bellamy and Inspector Andrew Mercer himself, and apprise the Bellamys of what I have told you in this letter. He will also address the laudanum and ensure that there is no other cause for alarm in so far as threats to Sir Bellamy’s health. Last, as a means of addressing the pageboy’s recent crimes, he has been so gracious as to agree to a proposition I devised – for this, I will need your assistance.
If Teddy has not already “found” and offered up the Saint’s Finger in exchange for the reward, then I suggest locating the boy and informing him that the situation has turned “so dire that Sir Bellamy is offering £500,” and that you would like to enlist his help in scouring the property again. Then simply leave the boy to his devices. I assure you that he will, by pure chance, surely, happen upon the relic. Once he has done so – or alternatively, if he does not produce the relic – you must confront him with the fact that you are aware of his scheme and present him with two options:
1) You will deliver him to his mother and summon Chief Hastings, so that the constabulary (and she) may determine an appropriate course of action, or,
2) He will cease work as Sir Bellamy’s pageboy and agree to a new position in London.
Your observation was spot on, Watson. The boy would make an excellent Irregular – he would appreciate, even benefit from, having his capabilities acknowledged and encouraged, and we can find much more productive uses for his keen wit than Sir Bellamy or Jenkins will at Oakvale.
Explain to him what this might entail, and what it would require of him. I suspect he will be somewhat thrilled. Inform him too that I will guarantee a salary with which he can provide adequate care to his mother. And that Mrs. Hudson has kindly agreed to introduce them to her acquaintance, Mrs. Esmeralda Emerson. Mrs. Emerson is known to offer assistance to those less fortunate and would be willing to offer them lodgings free of charge for some months; and later for an “exceedingly affordable fee”. I expect that Teddy will be rather amenable to this plan, but please do keep me informed of his response regardless of its nature.
For now, I must finish my meal here, then imitate the magpie and quickly fly away. Another mystery glitters before me in Canterbury, and it requires my full attention.
Very sincerely yours,
