The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [226]
The firm of Dowling and Company occupied the ground floor of a building close to the Embankment end of the street and after we had spent a couple of minutes warming ourselves in front of the fire in Dowling’s room, the solicitor returned accompanied by his clerk.
“Please would you repeat to the two gentlemen here the facts that you reported to me the day before last concerning your encounter with Mr Abergavenny in Lincoln’s Inn.”
“But Mr Dowling – ”
“Bevington,” the solicitor said gently. “You and I have known each other for a long time, have we not? I realize that you are unwilling to be a teller of tales and your attitude does you credit. I simply ask you to bear with me. I will leave you with these two gentlemen for a few minutes and I know that you will be as frank with them as you were with me.”
Thus entreated, Bevington gave us his account. It did not differ in any material respect from Dowling’s summation. The old clerk was stooped and short-sighted, but after listening to him for a few minutes, I was convinced that the report he had made to his principal was tainted neither by malice nor by a mistake as to the identity of the man who had been carousing with the street-walker. Bevington was, I felt sure, not blessed with an imagination vivid enough to have enabled him to embellish his tale. He was cautious and exact and he would have made a compelling witness at any trial. After he left us, I said as much to Holmes.
“I agree. Now we must – holloa!” The door was flung open and a man burst in. He was perhaps thirty years of age, middle-sized with a beaky nose, thick curly fair hair and a moustache. There were dark rings beneath his eyes and his cheeks were flushed with temper.
“Mr Sherlock Holmes?”
My friend bowed. “Allow me to introduce Dr Watson,” he said in his suavest tone. “And you, I presume, are Mr John Abergavenny?”
“I am familiar with your legendary powers of deduction,” the lawyer said tersely, “and in other circumstances I might be glad to pick your brains. What is wholly unclear to me today, however, is why you have come to these offices to listen to tittle-tattle from a member of staff who is old enough to know better. I can only assume that for reasons wholly unknown to me, your express purpose is to destroy my reputation so as to enable Mr Dowling to expel me from this practice.”
“I can assure you that I have no reason whatsoever to believe that my client’s motives are in any wise dishonourable. He simply seeks the truth.”
“So you admit that Dowling is your client! He has engaged your services behind my back to spy on me! By God, sir, this is intolerable!”
He took a step forward and for a moment I believed that he was about to strike my friend. I tensed and so did Holmes, but then Abergavenny paused and uttered a hollow laugh.
“You will have to forgive me, gentlemen. For a moment I was about to cast legal caution to the wind.” He gave Holmes a hard look. “I remembered in the nick of time my professional training – and also the fact that you once fought with McMurdo. Besides, fisticuffs will solve nothing. I would simply say this to you – a few errors at work, even an instance of professional negligence, none of these matters justifies the campaign of persecution to which I am currently being subjected. There is nothing worthy of your talents here, Mr Holmes. Good day, gentlemen.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left the room. For a little while the two of us sat there in silence, Holmes stroking his jaw reflectively.
“What do you make of that?” I demanded at last.
“I recognize the symptoms of over-work,” my friend said softly. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
The door opened again, this time to admit Matthew Dowling. His face had crumpled in dismay.
“Mr Holmes,