The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [131]
The Mystery of the Addleton Curse
Barrie Roberts
It is to the very great credit of my friend Mr Sherlock Holmes that his willingness to enter into an enquiry was never motivated by financial considerations. Indeed, I saw him often reject the possibility of large fees in cases which did not arouse his interest and at least as often I witnessed his involvement for no fee in matters which stimulated his curiosity and offered him the opportunity to pit his logical processes against some complicated pattern of events.
I have remarked elsewhere that 1894 was a busy year for Holmes, my notes of cases filling three large volumes, yet even in that year he took up an enquiry from which he had no hope of profit.
We sat at breakfast one morning that autumn, reading our way slowly through the many daily papers to which Holmes subscribed.
“Did you not say”, he asked suddenly, “that your friend Stamford was treating Sir Andrew Lewis?”
“Yes”, I said, “Stamford told me that he had had to call in Sir William Greedon and even that eminent gentleman was baffled by the symptoms.”
“Really!” said Holmes. “Do you recall what they were?”
I cast my mind back to the conversation I had had with Stamford over a game of billiards a couple of weeks previously.
“Apparently Sir Andrew was the victim of a general debility with lesions of the skin, headaches, fainting spells, loss of hair, attacks of vomiting. In addition the poor fellow’s mind seems to have been affected – he believed he was the victim of a curse.”
“And what did Stamford believe it was?”
“He admitted to me that he hadn’t the least notion. Greedon believed it was some obscure tropical disease that Sir Andrew picked up during his work abroad. Apparently Lewis’s son died in his twenties of something similar, though it took him more swiftly. Greedon thought that they had both been infected abroad and that the son, having caught the disease as a child, was more vulnerable. Why do you ask?”
“Because”, Holmes replied, “the combination of Stamford and Sir William Greedon has failed to save Lewis. His obituary appears this morning,” and he passed me his newspaper.
The article recited the dead man’s academic honours and titles, described some of his more famous archaeological explorations and listed the many museums which displayed items that he had discovered. It referred to the controversy which had clouded his career and caused him to withdraw from public life in recent years.
“Good Heavens!” I exclaimed as I drew towards the end of the article, “Perhaps he was the victim of a course.”
“Why do you say so?” asked Holmes, raising one eyebrow.
“Because it is suggested here,” I said, “Listen,” and I read him the relevant passage:
The accusation concerned his conduct during the excavation of an allegedly cursed barrow at Addleton, and must have been the more painful for coming at the time of his son’s death. Sir Andrew made no defence against his attacker, save to state that he acted honourably at Addleton. Fellow archaeologists were unanimous in decrying the attack, but Sir Andrew evidently felt it very deeply, for he took no further part in any excavation, confining himself to writing a definitive series of papers and presenting occasional lectures. The shadow which he at least, perceived as clouding his career now followed by his death from a condition which has defeated the best medical brains in Britain might perhaps encourage the villagers of Addleton to believe that their barrow was truly cursed. Sir Andrew leaves one unmarried daughter.
“What do you make of that?” I asked. “What was the accusation against him?”
“That”, said Holmes, emphatically, “is journalism of a kind that one would hope not to find in an allegedly responsible paper. As to the accusation against Lewis, it was brought by his assistant on the Addleton excavation, one Edgar. He published a letter which raised what he claimed was a mysterious difference between the curious decorations on a sealed container found in the barrow and its contents which, though valuable, were in no way unusual.