The Adventure of the Copper Beeches: Part Two

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Welcome to Sherlock Holmes Short Stories.

I'm Hugh Bonneville and from the Noiser Podcast Network.

This is The Adventure of the Copper Beaches, Part 2.

Last time, Holmes and Watson were visited by a young governess named Violet Hunter.

Violet had recently received a job offer that seemed too good to be true.

Triple her usual salary to watch one child in an old manor home deep in the countryside.

But her new employer, one Jeffro Rewcastle, had some unusual requests.

The first was that she cut her beautiful hair short.

The second that she wear a specific electric blue dress.

And finally, that she sit in a specific position in the drawing room at certain times of the day.

Holmes was immediately suspicious and warned Violet not to take the job.

But, desperate to make ends meet, the young woman ended up accepting the position out of financial necessity.

Two weeks passed without word from Miss Hunter.

Then, late one night, Holmes received an urgent telegram from the young woman, requesting his presence at the Black Swan Hotel in Winchester.

The next day, Holmes and Watson met Violet there, and she began telling them her story.

Upon arriving at Copper Beaches, Violet met Mrs.

Rootcastle, who she described as a pale, nervous woman who was much younger than her husband.

Though seemingly devoted to her family, Mrs.

Roocastle was given to fits of sorrow that often left her in tears.

The couple's young son, Edward, proved to be a strange, cruel child who took pleasure in harming small animals.

Most disturbing were the strange performances Mr.

Rewcastle required Violet to engage in,

having her sit at the drawing-room window in the blue dress while he told stories that she was required to laugh at.

Using a concealed mirror, Violet was able to spy a mysterious bearded man watching her from the road during these sessions.

When Mrs.

Roocastle spotted Violet's mirror and realized she had seen the man, she immediately alerted her husband to the stranger's presence.

Now, Mr.

Roocastle has turned to Violet and is about to question her on the matter.

No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?

he asked.

No, I know no one in these parts.

Dear me, how very impertinent

Kindly turn round and motion to him to go away.

Surely it would be better to take no notice.

No, no, we should have him loitering here always.

Kindly turn round and wave him away like that.

I did as I was told, and at the same instant, Mrs.

Rewcastle drew down the blind.

That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road.

Pray continue, said Holmes.

Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one.

You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak.

On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beaches, Mr.

Rewcastle took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door.

As we approached it, I heard the sharp rattling of a chain and the sound as of a large animal moving about.

Look in here, said Mr.

Rewcastle, showing me a slit between two planks.

Is he not a beauty?

I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes and of a vague figure huddled up in the darkness.

Don't be frightened, said my employer, laughing at the start which I had given.

It is only Carlo, my mastiff.

I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him.

We feed him once a day, and not too much, then, so that he is always as keen as mustard.

Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon.

For goodness sake, don't you ever, on any pretext, set your foot over the threshold at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.

The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning.

It was a beautiful moonlit night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and almost as bright as day.

I was standing, wrapped in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches.

As it it emerged into the moonshine, I saw what it was.

It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny-tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones.

It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side.

That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart, which I do not think that any burglar could have done.

And now I have a very strange experience to tell you.

I had, as you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at the bottom of my trunk.

One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room, and by rearranging my own little things.

There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked.

I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away, I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer.

It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it.

The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open.

There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was.

It was my coil of hair.

I took it up and examined it.

It was of the same peculiar tint and the same thickness, but then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me.

How could my hair have been locked in the drawer?

With trembling hands, I undid my trunk, turned out the contents and drew from the bottom my own hair.

I laid the two tresses together and I assure you that they were identical.

Was it not extraordinary?

Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant.

I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to the Rue Castles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had locked.

I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr.

Holmes, and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head.

There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all.

A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked.

One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr.

Rudcastle coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed.

His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion.

He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a look.

This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of this part of the house.

There were four of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up.

They were evidently all deserted.

As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr.

Rewcastle came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever.

Ah,

said he, you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady.

I was preoccupied with business matters.

I assured him that I was not offended.

By the way, said I, you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up.

He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark.

Photography is one of my hobbies, said he.

I have made my dark room up there.

But, dear me, what an observant young lady we have come upon.

Who would have believed it?

Who would have ever believed it?

He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me.

I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest.

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Well, Mr.

Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over them.

It was not mere curiosity, though.

I had my share of that.

It was more a feeling of duty, a feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this place.

They talk of woman's instinct.

Perhaps it was woman's instinct which gave me that feeling.

At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the forbidden door.

It was only yesterday that the chance came.

I may tell you that besides Mr.

Rewcastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the door.

Recently, he has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk.

And when I came upstairs, there was the key in the door

I have no doubt at all that he had left it there mr.

and mrs.

Rewcastle were both downstairs and the child was with them so that I had an admirable opportunity I turned the key gently in the lock opened the door and slipped through

There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted which turned at a right angle at the farther end.

Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open.

They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them.

The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord.

The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not there.

This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in darkness.

Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from above.

As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the door.

A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr.

Holmes.

My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran, ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me, clutching at the skirt of my dress.

I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr.

Rewcastle, who was waiting outside.

So

said he, smiling, it was you, then.

I thought that it must be when I saw the door open.

Oh, I am so frightened, I panted.

My dear young lady, my dear young lady.

You cannot think how caressing and soothing his manner was.

And what has frightened you, my dear young lady?

But his voice was just a little too coaxing.

He overdid it.

I was keenly on my guard against him.

I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing, I answered.

But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again.

Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there.

Only that, said he, looking at me keenly.

Why, what did you think?

I asked.

Why do you think that I lock this door?

I am sure that I do not know.

It is to keep people out who have no business there.

Do you see?

He was still smiling in the most amiable manner.

I am sure if I had known...

Well, then,

you know now.

And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again,

here,

in an instant, the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon.

I'll throw you to the mastiff.

I was so terrified that I do not know what I did.

I suppose that I must have rushed past him into my room.

I remember nothing until I found myself lying on my bed, trembling all over.

Then I thought of you, Mr.

Holmes.

I could not live there longer without some advice.

I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the servants, even of the child.

They were all horrible to me.

If I could only bring you down, all would be well.

Of course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears.

My mind was soon made up.

I would send you a wire.

I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, feeling very much easier.

A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would venture to set him free.

I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you.

I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o'clock, for Mr.

and Mrs.

Rewcastle are going on a visit and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child.

Now I have told you all my adventures, mister Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and above all, what I should do.

Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story.

My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face.

Is Toller still drunk?

he asked.

Yes.

I heard his wife tell Mrs.

Ruecastle that she could do nothing with him.

That is well.

And the Ruecastles go out tonight?

Yes.

Is there a cellar with a strong lock?

Yes, the wine cellar.

You seem to me to have acted all through this manner like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter.

Do you think that you could perform one more feat?

I should not ask it of you if I did not think you were quite exceptional, woman.

I will try.

What is it?

We shall be at the Copper Beaches by seven o'clock, my friend and I.

The Rue Castles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable.

There only remains Mrs.

Toller who might give the alarm.

If you could send her into the cellar on some errand and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely.

I will do it.

Excellent.

We shall then look thoroughly into the affair.

Of course, there is only one feasible explanation.

You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber.

That is obvious.

As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rewcastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America.

You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair.

Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she had passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also.

By a curious chance, you came upon her tresses.

The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers, possibly her fiancée, and no doubt as you wore the girl's dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Ruecastle was perfectly happy and that she no longer desired his attentions.

The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavoring to communicate with her.

So much is fairly clear.

The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child.

What on earth has that to do with it?

I exclaimed.

My dear Watson, Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents.

Don't you see that the converse is equally valid?

I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their children.

This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for for the poor girl who is in their power.

I am sure that you are right, Mr.

Holmes, cried our client.

A thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it.

Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature.

We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man.

We can do nothing until seven o'clock.

At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery.

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We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper Beaches, having put up our trap at a wayside public house.

The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house, even had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the doorstep.

Have you managed it?

asked Holmes.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs.

That is Mrs.

Toller in the cellar, said she.

Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug.

Here are his keys, which are the duplicate of Mr.

Rewcastle's.

You have done well indeed, cried Holmes with enthusiasm.

Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business.

We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described.

Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar.

Then he tried the various keys and the lock, but without success.

No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes's face clouded over.

I trust that we are not too late, said he.

I think, Miss Hunter, that we had better go in without you.

Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in.

It was an old, rickety door and gave at once before our united strength.

Together we rushed into the room.

It was empty.

There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table and a basket full of linen.

The skylight above was open and the prisoner gone.

There has been some villainy here, said Holmes.

This beauty has guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off.

But how?

Through the skylight.

We shall soon soon see how he managed it.

He swung himself up onto the roof.

Ah, yes, he cried.

Here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves.

That is how he did it.

But it is impossible, said Miss Hunter.

The ladder was not there when the Rue Castles went away.

He has come back and done it.

I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous man.

I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now upon the stair.

I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready.

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly man with a heavy stick in his hand.

Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him.

You villain, said he, where's your daughter?

The fat man cast his eyes round and then up at the open skylight.

It is for for me to ask you that, he shrieked.

You thieves, spies and thieves, I have caught you, have I?

You are in my power.

I'll serve you.

He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.

He's gone for the dog, cried Miss Hunter.

I have my revolver, said I.

Better close the front door, cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together.

We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible, worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to.

An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door.

My God, he cried, someone has loosed the dog.

It's not been fed for two days.

Quick, quick, or it'll be too late.

Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us.

There was the huge, famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rewcastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground.

Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck.

With much labor, we separated them and carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house.

We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain.

We were all assembled round him when the door opened and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.

Mrs.

Toller cried Miss Hunter.

Yes, miss.

Mr.

Rewcastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you.

Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted.

Ah, said Holmes, looking keenly at her.

It is clear that Mrs.

Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else.

Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know.

Then pray sit down and let us hear it, for there are several points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark.

Ah, I will soon make it clear to you, said she, and I'd have done so before now if I could have got out from the cellar.

If there's a police court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend, too.

She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that her father married again.

She was slighted like, and had no say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met Mr.

Fowler at a friend's house.

As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient she was, that she never said a word about them, but just left everything in Mr Rewcastle's hands.

He knew he was safe with her, but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it.

He wanted her to sign a paper so that whether she married or not, he could use her money.

When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain fever, and for six weeks was at death's door.

Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off.

But that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be.

Ah, said Holmes, I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains.

Mr.

Rewcastle, then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?

Yes, sir.

And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable persistence of Mr.

Fowler?

That was it, sir.

But Mr.

Fowler, being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house and, having met you, succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his.

Mr.

Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman, said Mrs.

Toller, serenely.

And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone out.

You have it, sir, just as it happened.

I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs.

Toller, said Holmes.

for you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us.

And here comes the country surgeon and Mrs.

Rewcastle.

So I think, Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standee now is rather a questionable one.

And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beaches in front of the door.

Mr.

Rewcastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife.

They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rewcastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them.

Mr Fowler and Miss Rewcastle were married by special licence in Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius.

As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.

Next time on Sherlock Holmes short stories, the great detective tackles one of his most baffling cases yet in The Adventure of the Norwood Builder.

When a wealthy builder is seemingly murdered in his own home, all evidence points to the young lawyer he'd just made his heir.

Scotland Yard believes it's an open and shut case with a clear motive and a mountain of damning evidence.

But for Holmes, every clue found at the murder scene seems too convenient.

from the prominently placed murder weapon to the suspicious timing of the murder and a conspicuous bloody thumbprint.

As Holmes races to clear the lawyer's name, he soon realizes he's up against a criminal mastermind who has crafted a deception so perfect that even the great detective will struggle to unravel it.

That's next time.

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