Sherlock Holmes had sat in silence, his eyes closed in concentration, throughout this strange narrative, and he remained so for several minutes longer.

“It is certainly a singular story that you tell,” said he at length, opening his eyes and reaching for his old clay pipe. “It interests me greatly. Although one or two small points are not yet entirely clear to me, it seems undoubtedly a bad business.”

“I am convinced that Cousin Silas knows what has become of Simon,” cried Boldero. “Otherwise, why should he lie about having seen him in January?”

“Why indeed?” said Holmes. “You have not reported the matter to the police?”

“It was in my mind to do so as I walked through Richmond this morning, but there are difficulties.”

“The chief one being that you have no real evidence to substantiate your suspicions.”

“Precisely, Mr Holmes. I cannot prove that any of my story is true, not even, now that I have removed it, that Simon’s muffler was ever at Hill House. Mr Farrow was of the opinion that the police would do nothing unless I could produce more telling evidence. He recommended that I seek your help at once.”

“I am honoured by his recommendation. What do you propose?”

“That you accompany me to Richmond, as my witness, and that we confront Silas with our suspicions. Beneath his shiftiness, he is mean-spirited and cowardly. I do not think he would dare lie so brazenly if you were there.”

Holmes did not reply at once, but sat for some time in silence, evidently considering the matter in all its aspects.

“I will certainly accompany you,” he responded at length, “and Dr Watson, too, if he will be so good. But it is necessary for us to prepare the ground a little before we confront your cousin, Mr Boldero. We must be armed with as much information as possible. I shall therefore spend the next twenty-four hours doing a little research into the matter. Be at the bookstall at Waterloo station at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, and we can travel down to Richmond together!”

*   *   *

“What a very odd affair!” I remarked when our visitor had left us.

“It is certainly somewhat recherché,” agreed Holmes. “The curious arrangement of the door in the bedroom, which leads only to a bottomless pit, is quite unique in my experience. As a way of ridding oneself of unwanted guests it may have its merits, but it is hardly a feature the builders of modern villas are likely to include in their brochures!”

“Can it all be true?” I wondered aloud. “The black void into which he so nearly tumbled, the horrible noises he heard; they sound like the stuff of a disordered and terrifying nightmare!”

“Boldero himself is sufficiently convinced of their veracity to seek our advice on the matter,” responded my companion. “We must see if we can bring a little light into the darkness tomorrow. You will accompany us?”

“I should certainly wish to,” I returned, “if my presence would be of any use to you. The matter is so grotesque and puzzling that it seems to me quite beyond conjecture. The only hope of an explanation must be down there at Richmond, at Hill House.”

“And yet,” said Holmes after a moment, “even there we may have difficulty in arriving at the truth. If, as appears to be the case, Silas Boldero has indeed murdered his cousin, Simon, and intended last night to take the brother’s life also, we come up against the question of motive. What possible reason could Silas have for murdering his cousins in this way? He is, after all, the one with all the money. It would make more sense the other way round: if it had been Simon Boldero who had tried to murder Silas, in order to bring forward his inheritance a little.”

“Perhaps that is indeed what happened,” I suggested. “David Boldero appears a pleasant and honest man, but we know nothing, really, of his brother. Perhaps Simon did try to murder Silas, and Silas killed him in self-defence. Then Silas, frightened, perhaps, that he would be accused of murder, hid the body and decided to pretend that Simon had never been to see him at all.”

“It is possible,” conceded Holmes, “but it seems unlikely. You must remember that Silas had already made plans to murder his cousin, David, last night – the highly salted meat, the jug with no water in it, the suggestion that more water could be found through the side door – before David Boldero had expressed any suspicions at all. Why could he not simply deny having seen Simon and leave it at that? He could not have known that David Boldero would find his brother’s muffler, which is the only real evidence that Simon was ever at Hill House. Indeed, the muffler would probably not have been found at all had our client’s rest not been disturbed so alarmingly. I sense, Watson, that we may be fishing in deeper waters than was at first apparent.”

PART TWO: A RAINY AFTERNOON

When I descended to breakfast the following morning, I found that Holmes had already gone out, without leaving any message. I took it that he was pursuing his research into the Boldero case, although where he might begin such an investigation, I could not imagine. Unable to make any sense of the matter, I endeavoured to dismiss it from my mind, but the story of David Boldero’s terrifying night at Hill House had gripped my imagination and returned unbidden to my thoughts throughout the morning.

Just after one o’clock, a telegram arrived for me, which had been sent from Richmond. I tore it open and read the following: “DELAYED. MEET RICHMOND STATION 3.45. S. H”. Evidently, Holmes’s enquiries had taken him down to Richmond already. Knowing my friend’s amazing resources, I could not doubt that he had made progress, and I looked forward eagerly to hearing the results.

I met David Boldero at Waterloo station as we had arranged, and we travelled down to Richmond together. It wanted ten minutes to the time Holmes had mentioned as our train pulled into the station, but there was no sign of him there, so we waited by the main entrance. It was a pleasant, sunny afternoon, with a light breeze blowing. Fresh green leaves adorned the branches of the trees, and in the air was the smell of spring.

After a few minutes, I observed a thin, disreputable-looking man approaching slowly along the road. He was dressed in a tweed suit with a bright red cravat round his neck, and he carried a rolled-up newspaper under his arm. Even from a distance I could see that he was unshaven and that his face was red and blotchy. I observed him particularly because he was, so it seemed to me, keeping his gaze fixed steadily upon us.

“That man appears to want something of us,” remarked Boldero to me as the stranger drew near. I was about to reply when the man approached us and spoke.

“You are a little early, gentlemen,” came a clear and well-known voice.

“Holmes!” I cried. “I had no idea—”

“I judged it best to adopt this little disguise for my local research,” said he. “I am sorry if I startled you, Watson. You were regarding me so keenly as I approached that I was convinced you had recognized me. Now,” he continued in a brisker tone, “let us be down to business. There is a hotel across the street where you can order a pot of tea while I bid adieu to Albert Taylor, footman out of position, and bienvenue once more to Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective!”

In ten minutes my friend had discarded his disguise and joined us in the parlour of the hotel, his appearance as neat and clean as ever.

“I have had enough indifferent tea already this afternoon,” said he with a shake of the head as I made to pass him a cup. “As Albert Taylor, I have made the acquaintance of Miss Mary Ingram, known locally as ‘Mad Mary’, who is the woman Mr Boldero spoke to on his cousin’s path yesterday afternoon. I have consumed large quantities of tea with her and, I believe, gained her confidence. She is a little unhinged, it is true, but not quite so much as is generally believed. She witnessed Simon Boldero’s arrival at Hill House one afternoon in January, but never saw him leave, although she was at the house early the following morning. She had been told by Silas to make a bed up for the visitor, but when she saw it the following day, it appeared not to have been slept in, and she assumed that Simon had simply decided against spending the night there.”