Elementary My Dear Watson

His latest 1882 edition of Bradshaw's Guide provided all the information
he needed for his journey to Sussex. At 7am he had taken a Hansom Cab
from Scotland Yard to Victoria Station, purchased his first class
ticket with the London Brighton and South Coast Railway Company and
made his journey to Bognor Regis. At the station at 10.15am he was
met by a Sussex Constabulary Brougham Cart and transported without
incident to Walsham Hall, the family seat of the Greshams.

It was a golden August morning and forty six year old Inspector Jacob
Haddington was finding his long grey frock coat uncomfortably warm
and sweat beginning to trickle down from within the depths of his
brown velour top hat. Before dismounting from the cart he removed the
hat and mopped his brow with a large spotted handkerchief. Haddington
was a man on top of his game and didn't want to be seen as anything
other by his reception committee.

As he neared the steps to the imposing Georgian Mansion he was
approached by a rather anxious looking man dressed in a neat, but
well worn brown tweed suit. He had emerged from the portico at some
speed and was clearly intent on diverting the Inspector before
allowing him into the house.

'Good morning Inspector Haddington, I'm Sergeant Watson. I trust you had a
pleasant journey?'

'Indeed I did Sergeant, I have a great love of railway travel and this
morning's journey was invigorating . Now, pray tell me, why the
urgent request for the assistance of Scotland Yard.'

Sergeant Watson took Haddington by the elbow and gently steered him away from
the mansion. As they walked slowly around the extremities of the huge
country seat he proceeded to recount the details of what had taken
place here the day before. He told of how the body of Lord Edward
Gresham had been found in the ornamental maze with a fatal head
wound. Nobody had heard or seen anything, but the victim had been
overheard having a violent argument some hours earlier with Jepson,
one of the tenant farmers on the estate. Jepson had been given notice
to quit by Lord Gresham and he was extremely displeased. Watson
recounted how he had interviewed Jepson at length, but the man
vehemently protested his innocence and offered a fairly strong alibi.
Not having enough evidence to arrest Jepson had ignited the fury of
Edward Gresham's son Neville, who had demanded that Watson do his
duty and arrest the obvious culprit immediately. The Greshams were a
powerful family and Edward Gresham had sat in the House of Lords.
Such pressure was more than the Sussex Constabulary could withstand
without considerable loss of face, hence the request for assistance
from Scotland Yard.

Haddington listened patiently as they rounded a corner and were confronted by a
broad terrace running along the rear of the house. From it, they
looked down upon the ornamental maze and beyond that a lawn leading
to fenced off open pasture land. Haddington gazed out at the vista,
stood still for a full minute and then allowed his powerful mind free rein.

'Who found the body sergeant?'

'The gardener sir, a man called Webster. He saw Lord Gresham trembling and
staggering into the maze as if he'd had too much port after his
lunch, as apparently was often the case. It was only an hour or so
later when he went in to continue his task of clipping the hedges
that he came across the body.'

'Where is the body now?'

'Laid out on a table in the gun room, we didn't want to remove it until you
arrived.'

'Do you think that the victim was killed by Jepson, Sergeant?'

'It certainly looks like it sir, there's nobody else with any motive to
do such a thing.'

'Have you taken statements from everyone who was at the house at the time
of the death?'

'We have sir, they're waiting for you in the library. It's just that I
felt you should be brought up to speed before you are assailed by
Neville Gresham. He is a most unpleasant and pugnacious person and
has already written a letter of complaint to my Chief Constable.'

'Thank you Sergeant, you seem to have been very thorough.'

Haddington took a large meerschaum pipe from his coat pocket and stuck it into
the corner of his mouth. He made no attempt to light it, but set off
in the direction of the portico with a sense of purpose which caught
Watson off guard. The Sergeant followed in anticipation.

The library at Walsham Hall was all that it should be; impressive,
gloriously lit by its south facing aspect and reeking of knowledge. A
long table occupied the centre of the room, escorted by six very
handsome leather backed chairs. Haddington immediately honed in on
the witness statements and set to work. Sergeant Watson sat some
distance away and watched Haddington reading through the statements
at breakneck speed, occasionally going back to check something and
then resuming his quest for information.

Twenty two minutes later the task was complete and Haddington sprang to his
feet and headed for the gun room where he removed the shroud and
inspected, at some length, the corpse of Lord Edward Gresham. After
careful examination of the head wound through his magnifying glass he
then placed his face as close to the corpse's gaping mouth as
possible and breathed in deeply through his very sensitive nose.
Sergeant Watson stood transfixed and motionless.

'The box hedging which creates the maze is yew, is it not, Sergeant?'

'It is indeed sir,' replied Watson somewhat surprised.'

'What did you make of the statement from the housekeeper, Miss West, taking
the victim his morning beverage of pine tea?'

'I didn't know there was such a thing sir, but apparently it's packed
with goodness and Lord Gresham took a cup at mid morning every day,
prepared for him by Miss West from pine leaves on the estate.'

'But, yesterday the drink was delivered to him by his son was it not?'

'It as sir, apparently he was on his way to see his father and told Miss
West that he would see to it.'

Haddington said nothing, but set off again for the terrace with Watson in
pursuit. As they descended the steps down to the garden he stopped
several times and examined the stone handrail in some detail,
grunting to himself as he did so.

'Would I be correct in the assumption that Neville Gresham inherits his
father's estate, Sergeant?'

'You would sir, and word has it that not before time. Apparently, Mr
Neville has run up serious debts, not only all over Sussex, but in
Oxford during his time at university.'

Haddington smiled to himself and then stopped abruptly, staring at the corner
post by the bottom stair.

'Did you see this, sergeant?' he said, focussing his glass on what
appeared to be a fleshy deposit on the sharp stone corner. 'Skin with
a tiny amount of hair. The victim's I'll wager.'

'I don't understand sir, are you saying this has something to do with
the case?'

'I will not attempt to take over your case Sergeant, but I will set out
for you exactly what transpired here yesterday and then leave you to
gather what evidence you feel necessary to gain a conviction.'

Watson stood open mouthed as Haddington fumbled in his coat pocket for his
return train ticket. He had just enough time to enlighten the
sergeant before catching his train back to London.

A seriously in-debt Neville Gresham had delivered his father's morning
libation, but it wasn't pine tea, it was taxus baccata; yew tea. The
leaves are visually almost identical. This is a highly toxic
substance which kills within hours and which was readily available in
this garden. After lunch his father took his usual stroll around the
maze, but on his way down the steps suddenly began to tremble and
stagger, the classic symptoms of yew poisoning. He fell and hit his
head, but staggered on into the maze. This is what the gardener saw.
He then collapsed and died, with a head wound wrongly thought to be
the cause of death and nothing whatsoever to do with Jepson. Toxic
analysis of the stomach would provide the proof needed.

Haddington climbed back into the Brougham cart, stuck the meerschaum into the
corner of his mouth and fumbled in his cavernous pocket for matches.
He would enjoy the return journey even more than the outward.