The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [237]
“But is this single instance conclusive?”
“Corroboration is afforded by the registration stamp. The R, unlike the cancellations, which are upside down, is not inverted. The envelope faced the sender, not the postmaster, when handed over the counter and was turned round for the act of registration. You observe that the R stamp also tilts to the right. Cancellation and registration were therefore both effected by a left hander, and both by the postmaster. Voilà tout! The steps in this reasoning are so elementary as to be facile, but the induction itself may prove of the utmost importance. Why? Because this postmaster has faced the letter’s sender across his counter. He may, even now, be able to recall and identity her.”
“Holmes,” I ejaculated, after a moment, “this is yet another of those occasions when I feel an overwhelming urge to rise in embarrassment and to knock my head against our ceiling in sheer frustration!”
“Worry not, friend Watson,” replied Holmes with a smile. “Levity is not your forté! Do you gravitate to the post office and let us see what the high principles of deduction, allied to some common sense research, can produce.”
“I will do so at once,” I replied, laughing, as I turned to the door.
“Thank you. You are as a crutch to a cripple. Please, my dear fellow, indulge my infirmity by handing me my briar pipe and some shag tobacco before you go. This little problem requires thought.”
I was able to report to Holmes within three hours. One of the staff of the Baker Street Post Office, an avid admirer of Holmes and his methods, gladly and enthusiastically threw himself into the task of helping us. Despite approaching closing time he transmitted without a moment’s delay over the spans of the Atlantic Ocean and the vastness of the Americas to far away Barkerville. The eight hours time difference he explained ensured that our message would arrive at the Barkerville office as it opened its doors for the day’s work. He even promised to wait for the reply. The Canadians, despite the unusual nature of our urgently-worded enquiry, checked their records immediately; the letter to Musgrave had indeed been dispatched from their office and, they reported, duly appeared in their ledger in its proper place. The entry however, they were embarrassed to inform us, had been tampered with: the name and address of the sender had been obliterated. Their postmaster, William Topping – and yes, they confirmed, he was left-handed and he was on duty that day – denied any knowledge of the erasure or of the sender of the message. It had been done cunningly and deliberately, he said, by some mischiefmaker, taking advantage of the distractions of a busy office. There was no question of the ledger’s having been out of the station’s possession – a serious breach of regulations – but it was not unusual for it to lie open on the counter. Neither Mr Topping nor his aides could recall any particular registrants, female or otherwise, on that day. The illicit erasure, they regretted, left them with no means of identifying or locating the sender. As I returned to Baker Street I reflected that Holmes was faced with an adversary armed with more than mere cunning; that an astute mind of high calibre was challenging, perhaps even threatening, us from the Americas.
“She must have tampered with the postmark at the same time, Holmes,” said I, as I reported this unwelcome news. “She has taken as much care in falsifying it as in concealing her identity.”
“Indeed! And she still leaves us with two puzzles: why does she wish to communicate with me, and what is her message?”
“The first I can fathom,” said I. “From your account of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual it seems that these Musgraves are not an over-bright lot. It seems clear that she intends to communicate with the family by an intermediary who is familiar with the events that arose from the ritual and intelligent enough to divine