“You mentioned earlier that she had been upset by one of Flanagan’s recent outbursts. Do you think that may have had some bearing on the events yesterday?” I queried.

“I don’t think so. Miss Trelawney came across as a hard-working and honest young woman. She was upset by his abrupt manner, but said that she would not have wished him harm. There was, however, one small discrepancy in the statement that she gave to one of my constables.”

I raised an eyebrow on hearing this. “And what was that?”

“Well, it is such a small and inconsequential matter that I am loath to make anything of it, but know how Mr Holmes insists on scrutinising the smallest of details. Asked if she could remember anything unusual about the events that morning, she told PC Clarke that when she had first sat down at her desk she had removed a Worcester Pearmain apple from her bag and placed it in the top drawer of her desk. She had intended to eat it later that morning and put it in the drawer, out of sight, as Mr Cartwright had made it clear from her first day in the office that he did not wish to see any personal belongings left on the desk. She claimed it was a particular obsession of his and that any work she had been given was always placed in a simple wooden tray on the desk, for he would not allow her to have any other items on display.”

I could see no particular mystery in this or, indeed, any obvious discrepancy with anything I had yet heard. Lestrade could see the concern on my face and went on to explain.

“Of itself, this does not sound very odd, I grant you. But the point I am getting to, is what Miss Trelawney went on to say. She claimed that when she returned to her desk later that afternoon - after we had completed a full search of the building and found no killer - the apple had disappeared from the desk. By my reckoning, there are only two possible explanations for that. Firstly, that she had been mistaken about the apple in the drawer, or, alternatively, that someone had taken it. And if the latter were the case, it could only have been taken by Cartwright or the killer. When I questioned him, Cartwright said he knew nothing about any apple and expressed some annoyance that my investigations should focus on such a triviality.”

“Most strange,” I replied, trying to hide my own feeling that this was indeed a piece of frippery in the overall scheme of events. Nevertheless, I recorded the relevant facts in my notes to share with Holmes later that day.

For the remainder of our time together, Lestrade explained how the case had been left. Having taken statements from all of the office staff, the police officers had allowed everyone to leave Ravensmere Towers and Lestrade had taken possession of all of the keys to the building. Cartwright had apparently voiced his opposition to this, but the inspector had been insistent. He said that his officers would complete their work the following day and the keys would then be returned to the owner the day after. A constable had been left in the office of the concierge to ensure that no one entered the building without permission. In this way, Lestrade believed he had done all he could to preserve for Holmes whatever clues might still remain to be found. He ended by saying that he hoped my colleague would be able to get across to Ravensmere Towers in the late afternoon or early evening to assist with the investigation. I agreed to send a telegram to Lestrade when Holmes had returned and the inspector then departed, looking noticeably more chipper than when he had first arrived at Baker Street.

***

It was a little beyond four o’clock that afternoon when Holmes returned to Baker Street. For a man who had just been awarded a knighthood, he looked remarkably sombre and grumbled about the length of time it had taken to complete the ceremonial luncheon. It was all I could do to get him to open the small presentation box and show me the elaborate enamelled white cross he had been given by the king. With little further thought he placed it on the mantelpiece and picked up his pipe.

Having relit the churchman, Holmes sat in his favourite armchair and insisted that I run through the notes I had taken of my discussions with Lestrade. In a fog of tobacco smoke, I spent the next twenty minutes recounting all of the relevant facts while he sat cross-legged, listening intently to every word. When I had finished the recitation, Holmes was glowing in his praise for my note-taking.

“An excellent job, Watson! You have painted a very comprehensive picture of the events yesterday and given me a clear understanding of the facts as they stand. I have no doubt that we can assist Lestrade in resolving this matter later today. But there is no time to lose - I suggest you despatch your telegram immediately and inform the inspector that we will meet him at Ravensmere Towers around five-fifteen. And I would be grateful if you could ask him to request that Archibald Cartwright, Violet Trelawney, James Mount and the three Godbold brothers are also in attendance.”

It took me but a short while to walk to the nearest post office and send the required telegram to Scotland Yard. When I returned to Baker Street, Holmes was already waiting outside in a carriage he had hailed to transport us the short distance to Hyde Park. At the appointed time, we stood on the pavement looking up at the impressive façade of Ravensmere Towers.

The building had been constructed in an Italianate style, with large pediment windows and neo-classical stone corbels beneath each projecting sill. The stonework had a gleaming white sheen, and two large, dark blue entrance doors complemented the front of the structure. At the corners of the roof line stood two short decorative towers which framed the building and added to its grandeur. It was clear that Archibald Cartwright had spent a significant amount of money on both the design and construction.

Holmes pulled the cord to the right of the entrance doors to ring the doorbell. Presently, we were admitted by a young police officer who introduced himself as PC Clarke. On entering the lobby of the ground floor we were greeted by Inspector Lestrade, a uniformed concierge and what I guessed to be our assembled party of office workers. Lestrade was effusive in his welcome.

“Mr Holmes, Dr Watson. Thank you both for turning out. I trust your journey was not too onerous?”

After some initial pleasantries and introductions, Holmes asked if James Mount could accompany him on a tour of the building. The concierge was eager to oblige and Lestrade passed to my colleague the set of keys which he had earlier taken charge of. After a couple of minutes examining the ground floor washrooms, Holmes asked if Mount could operate the office lift and take him to each floor of the building. Within minutes, the two men had disappeared from our view.

For the next half an hour Lestrade and I chatted amiably to the group. The auburn-haired Violet Trelawney seemed visibly animated by the proceedings and the three Godbold brothers overcame their initial reticence to talk openly and enthusiastically about the book trade. Only Cartwright remained impassive. When the lift returned once more to the ground floor, I could see from Holmes’ expression that the tour had been productive. The glint in his eye was unmistakable.

“My dear Lestrade. That was most instructive. This lift, or elevator, is indeed a wonderful piece of machinery. I have just a few questions to ask Miss Trelawney before we progress any further.”

With that, Holmes turned towards the young secretary and asked her to describe the sequence of events when she had first arrived at work the previous day. Violet Trelawney looked surprised by the request, but seemed content to take him through what she could recollect. In short, she had arrived at work at a quarter to nine and having deposited her coat and hat in the cloakroom of the ladies washroom, had emerged to find Mr Cartwright waiting for her at the entrance to the lift. She explained that on every other day in the office, it had been the concierge who had operated the lift and accompanied her to the third floor office where she worked.