The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [10]
Having heard his fellow passenger’s tale, my friend could only express his condolences over New College’s loss and regret that he knew nothing which could be of any help in the recovery of the painting. As a new arrival in Oxford he had yet to acquaint himself with the student grapevine, he explained, and, in any case, he was, himself, of a rather solitary and studious disposition.
Having arrived at Oxford the two travellers shared a cab into the city centre, where they parted company. Holmes resolved to put the New College painting from his mind but the curious elements of Spooner’s narrative no less than the disjointed mode of its delivery declined to be easily banished. Thus he found himself next morning in the chapel of the nearby college gazing at a large area of empty stone wall. A small card pinned to a stall beneath the space read: “the nativity of our lord by rembrandt van ryn, 1661. This painting has been temporarily removed for restoration.”
Holmes climbed onto the wooden seat to inspect the wall more closely. Faint dust marks could be seen where the frame had touched the stonework and, using the span of his outstretched right hand, which he knew to be nine and a quarter inches in width, he measured the dimensions of the missing painting. It was as he was stretching upwards as far as he could reach to gauge the height of the absent masterpiece that he heard an outraged voice behind him.
“Ere! What d’you think you’re a-doing of?”
Calmly Sherlock Holmes stepped down and turned to confront an aged college servant whose faded black gown proclaimed him to be some sort of sexton or verger. “Are you in charge here?” he enquired.
“That I am and right tired of the antics of you young gentlemen. This is a house of God and not a place for your pranks. Now be off with you, before I call the dean.”
“Oh, there’s no need to disturb him,” said Holmes casually. “I’m sure you can tell me all I need to know.” He produced a half sovereign from his pocket. “I’m interested in your excellent painting and was very sorry not to be able to see it. Do you know where it has gone to be restored?”
The old man’s tone changed at the sight of the gleaming coin. “Yes, sir,” he said, holding out his hand for the unexpected gratuity. “I’ve got a note of the address in my vestry. If you’d care to step this way. I take it you’re a student of art, sir.”
“That’s right,” Holmes agreed.
“Well, I don’t know as you’ll learn much from that painting. Right dark and gloomy it is. You can’t scarcely make out any of the figures in it. They say it’s very valuable, but I wouldn’t give it house room. If you wouldn’t mind waiting there a moment, sir.” He unlocked a small door and shuffled into a chamber scarcely larger than a broom cupboard. Seconds later he re-emerged bearing a card.
“Ah yes, Simkins and Streeter,” Holmes said, nodding approvingly. “I know them well. They’ll do a first class job. When did they take it?”
“It was three weeks ago.”
“Was it Mr Simkins or Mr Streeter who called to supervise the removal?”
“That I couldn’t say, sir. I wasn’t here.”
“You mean these people came from London and removed this valuable college treasure without your personal supervision?” Holmes asked with an air of concerned astonishment. “That was not very courteous of them.”
The verger visibly warmed to his visitor. “Well, that same thought did strike me, sir. Apparently it was all a rushed job. They was due to come in the afternoon but they never showed up. On the Thursday morning when I came in there was the picture gone. I was a bit worried, I don’t mind telling you and I rushed straight to the dean. He set my mind at rest straight away. ‘Not to worry, Tavistock,’ he said. ‘The restorers came for the painting quite late. It seems they’d had some trouble on the road with a lame horse