The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [223]
“His brother?” Holmes asked.
“Hugh Abergavenny. The name may be familiar to you.”
My friend raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. He was a lawyer, too, as I recall.”
“You are correct, although he practised at the Bar rather than as a solicitor. I have seen him more than once in court and I can assure you he had a rare gift for winning over a jury, even in cases where he was appearing on behalf of the most undeserving wretch. It was a sad loss to the legal profession when he decided to devote his time to writing rather than to his career. A mistake, if I may say so, which Dr Watson here has been wise not to make.”
“I could not claim,” I said hastily, “to possess a fraction of the imaginative powers of Hugh Abergavenny. I must have read all of his books, although I think I am right in saying he has published nothing for some years. I regarded his early novels as splendid thrillers, reminiscent in some respects of Le Fanu and Wilkie Collins.”
“As I said earlier, I cannot claim to share your enthusiasm for writing of that kind, but I would readily acknowledge that it is remarkable that he should have prospered in two such distinct fields. For John, on the other hand, success has not come so easily. Yet what he may lack in natural talent, he has always compensated for with persistence.”
Holmes nodded. “That counts for a good deal in the law.”
“Assuredly, Mr Holmes. When we first met, John confessed to me that he had long nourished a burning desire to emulate his brother as a writer of thrilling tales, but I sought to convince him that his future lay in enjoying the security that a partnership in a sound legal practice can provide. Certainly, after he joined my firm he did not mention his literary ambitions again and I thought I had been able to concentrate his mind on the creative possibilities which exist within the law of real property.”
“So until the recent sequence of events mentioned in your note, you had no reason to regret your choice of partner?”
“None whatsoever.”
“What has happened to cause you to change your mind?”
“I began to notice that John seemed constantly to be tired. His eyes looked red and sore, his manner in the morning was often sleepy. It was as if he had been up all night. Thereafter it came to my notice that he had made a number of errors in his work. There was a problem with a conveyancing transaction, a relatively simple point to which he had failed to attend. Another client complained of a mistake in a bill of costs which caused me considerable embarrassment – to say nothing of a not insignificant sum of money. More in sorrow than in anger, I took John to task about these unfortunate events. He promptly accepted that he had been at fault and assured me that there would be no recurrence.”
“Did he give any reason for the difficulties that had occurred?”
“With hindsight, I recognize that he was vague. He referred to a minor health problem which had caused him trouble in sleeping and said he had obtained more suitable medication from his doctor. I have to admit that I did not regard his answers as entirely plausible, but I was hopeful that I had made my point and that there would be no need to pursue the complaints any further.”
“Yet in the event you were disappointed?”
“Indeed, Mr Holmes, and I find the latest developments both shocking and perturbing. First, my outdoor clerk Bevington told me in confidence that he had been crossing Lincoln’s Inn Fields late one night when he saw John Abergavenny approaching. He was in the company of a woman who appeared not – shall we say? – to be a suitable companion for a respectable young solicitor.” Dowling winced. “John was talking loudly and as he passed Bevington, he hailed him with an atrociously rude remark before bursting into a fit of wild laughter. My clerk is a teetotaller and he was shocked both by John’s behaviour and the fact that he stank of drink. Naturally