The Watch Night Bell

Anne Perry

My friend and colleague Sherlock Holmes had not a high regard for the logical nature of women. Indeed he considered their virtues to lie in an entirely different area, one with which he personally had little to do, being a man not attracted to the domestic life. He was a creature with a most brilliant intellect which was constantly in need of stimulation, or he fell into a state bordering upon melancholy. He felt that women tended to see everything on a personal and emotional level. The abstract joys of pure reason lay beyond their grasp.

Indeed if the young woman who sat in our rooms in Baker Street that chilly morning three days before Christmas was typical of her sex, then I could offer him no argument. She was everything he found most irritating: small, almost childlike in stature, fussy of dress and manner. She fiddled constantly with her fur muff, stroking it as if it were an animal, plucking at it with her fingers. Worst of all, she seemed unable to sustain a thread of thought or finish a sentence, but was constantly interrupting herself.

I could see Holmes growing close to losing his temper. He had agreed to see her because he was bored, and her letter had indicated an extreme urgency and peril.

Our visitor had so far told us of the delights of Christmas in Northumberland, the crisp snow, the roaring fires, the magnificent countryside. She had described the excellence of the larder and the cellar, and the general festivities of Christmas. She had interrupted herself to mention the stables and the conservatory, and the pleasantness of the gardens—even at this time of year.

Finally Holmes could bear it no longer.

"Miss Bayliss!" he said levelly. "Be good enough to come to the point! So far you have described an idyllic situation. What is it you fear? If all is as you say, what brings you to London? Above all, what brings you to me?"

She looked quite startled. "Oh! Oh, dear. I am so sorry, Mr. Holmes. You have been most kind, and I have been so upset I have rambled on and wasted your time, without properly explaining myself!" She gazed at him, full of apology.

"The point, Miss Bayliss," he said with barely concealed impatience.

She began to look very distressed, her hands plucking at her muff, her bosom rising and falling rapidly. I wished to offer her some refreshment—perhaps in part to distract her mind from her anxiety and help her express herself, for she was obviously labouring with a profound emotion—but I feared with any further delay Holmes would abandon her altogether.

"Are you in personal danger, Miss Bayliss?" I asked gently.

She turned to me from the large armchair where she was sitting, her face filled with gratitude.

"Oh, no, Dr. Watson, not I! It is my father."

"And what is it you fear may happen to your father?" Holmes asked.

"That he may be murdered, sir," she replied succinctly.

Holmes's interest was not quite caught. He regarded her as a hysterical and over imaginative woman whose fancies were likely to be irrational.

"What makes you fear such an attack, Miss Bayliss? Has he received some threat, or has an attempt been made already?"

"Oh, no!" She almost laughed, as if the idea were absurd, if only we could understand it. "You do not know my sister, Mr. Holmes, or you would not even ask!"

"Your sister?" His eyebrows rose in slight surprise. I knew him well enough to realize he did not believe her that there was in fact any danger. "Do you mean that your sister poses some threat to your father's life?"

"Indeed yes." She bowed her head. "It is a terrible thing to have to say, and it shames me more than you can know." Her voice was very soft, but quite distinct. "That is one of the reasons why I can hardly approach the local police. They would never believe me, for which I cannot blame them. Alyson seems on the outside to be everything sweet, obedient and dutiful. Only I know her well enough to see what she is really intending...."

The last hope of interest died from Holmes's eyes.

"I am sorry, madam, but I am not qualified to intervene in a family disagreement."

She perceived instantly that she had lost him. Her face crumpled in despair. She gazed downwards, and I thought she was hiding tears.

"If you knew what a noble man my father is, Mr. Holmes, you would not dismiss it so. He is one of the finest and bravest soldiers our country has known. He fought in the Zulu war... at Rorke's Drift. He seldom talks about it, but even I, who have never been to Africa, can be moved to tears of wonder and respect for the man who fought in those campaigns. I expect you know the history of it, Dr. Watson, and will not be surprised to hear that he carries the scars, and the pain of the Zulu spear to this day."

"Indeed not!" I said heartily. Naturally, like any other soldier in Her Majesty's forces, I was familiar with the story of the small military hospital at a mission station on a crossing point of the Buffalo River, where 104 men had withstood attack after attack from some four thousand Zulu warriors. It was one of the most heroic and disastrous events in our colonial history. No encounter has ever won so many of the highest awards for valour. Every man who was there must surely deserve not only our respect, but any assistance we could possibly offer, should he need it.

I looked at Holmes, expecting to see reflected in his lean face some of the emotions I felt, and to do him justice, I was not disappointed. He was as sceptical of Miss Bayliss as ever, but his attitude had altered significantly. He no longer brushed her aside.

"No man who survived such a battle should fall at the hands of his family, Miss Bayliss," he said more gently. "Please tell me why it is you believe your sister would wish him harm."

I too listened intently. She must surely have some desperate reason, and there must be proof of it, or how could anyone believe such a monstrous thing?

She began speaking very quietly, and for once she did not ramble, but was completely coherent.

"My sister Alyson is older than I, Mr. Holmes. We live a fairly lonely life. My father owns the largest house for some considerable distance. We have friends, of course, but the circle of our acquaintances is small, and there are not many gentlemen from among whom either Alyson or I could choose a suitable companion for our lives."

"I see," Holmes said quickly. "And has Alyson fallen prey to someone your father does not care for?"

She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "I see you understand very well. I am afraid that is precisely what has happened. Except that in a sense it is already too late. Alyson married him a year ago." Her small face fell into an expression of great anger and sadness. She seemed to be speaking as much to herself as to either of us. "He is very handsome, and his manner is charming. I could not fault him, when he is with Alyson, or my father. But he takes me for a fool, and has not bothered to hide his true self from me. He is reckless, and greedy, Mr. Holmes. He has squandered his own small means, and now looks to Alyson's inheritance to repair his fortunes. My father's name carries great weight..."

"It would do," I agreed hastily. "A man with such a history must be held in honour by all who know him. Is this man also a soldier?" I asked because I wished to form a picture of him in my mind.

"Oh, no, Dr. Watson." She shook her head fiercely. "He has never risked anything in the service of others, nor has a concept of duty. He loves the comforts of life and deplores hardship of any kind."

"With such a father, what can your sister find in him to attract her?" I asked incredulously.

"A smooth tongue," she replied. "An attentive manner. He can talk well of art and ideas. He is widely read. Alyson has learned too much of the army and foreign travels and the abilities of leadership. She would sooner have a husband who will remain at her side and keep her constantly entertained."

Holmes made no remark, but I could see his disdain quite plainly, and indeed my own feelings may have been as clear in my face.

"Your father cannot approve the match," I said earnestly. "He must regard your sister's future with some trepidation. Is that why you fear he may be in danger? Surely that is still a very desperate measure to take, actually to do him harm?"

"Of course it is," she agreed simply. "But Theodore needs the money which Alyson will inherit upon my father's death, and believe me, sir, it is a great deal. Perhaps I have not made that plain enough. I am speaking of one of the finest houses in Northumberland, and the means to maintain it, and to live in the style of a gentleman for the rest of his life. That is a very considerable prize for any man."

"Then it is Theodore whom you fear?" Holmes corrected her earlier statement.

"No, Mr. Holmes, it is Alyson who will perform the act, under his influence. They are to stay with us over the Christmas period, for at least three days, arriving on Christmas Eve. His situation is already financially precarious. He is in severe debt, but will not curb his spending. He must act soon, or his creditors will foreclose. Of course he will take care to be able to prove himself elsewhere, in case he were to fall suspect in any way. No one but you or I would suspect Alyson herself."

She looked up gravely. "That is why I need you, Mr. Holmes; a man who is not blinded by beauty or charm, and who can deduce logically from facts, no matter what they say, or how repugnant the conclusion may be. Your reputation for clarity of thought and acuity of perception is known, even as far north as the borders of Scotland. It is also known that you fear nothing, and are totally impartial, and are a match for anyone's brains." She said this with such directness of manner that it seemed a mere statement of fact, and in no way intentionally a compliment.

"Your father's name, madam, and style of address?" Holmes asked.

She did not yet dare to assume his consent.

"Colonel John Bayliss, sir, of Allenbury Park, near Alnwick," she responded. "You ... you will help me, Mr. Holmes?"

I could not bear to think of Colonel Bayliss suffering such a death, and at the hands of his own child. I took the initiative from Holmes without even thinking what I was doing.

"Of course we will, Miss Bayliss! Give us directions how we may reach you, and we shall be there. And you may rest assured, if any man on earth can save your father, it is Sherlock Holmes."

"I know it, Dr. Watson," she said fervently. "That is why I came here."

Holmes took my impetuosity in very good part. He smiled a little dryly. "There is one more thing we shall require, Miss Bayliss."

"What is it? Anything I can provide..."

"Some reasonable explanation for our arrival at your father's home on Christmas Eve when we have not his acquaintance, and barely have yours."

"Oh! Oh, yes, of course." She was thrown into confusion again, her hands flying to her muff and beginning to twist and turn.

I struggled to think of any plausible reason, and nothing came to my mind. I was still afraid Holmes might use this difficulty to avoid the case, even at this stage.

"I would be willing to call upon him briefly, simply for the honour of meeting a man who was at Rorke's Drift," I said impulsively. "We could improvise from there. He would surely at least invite us in for a glass of punch. If we then claimed a lame horse, or some other impediment to our continued journey ..." I blushed as I said it, it seemed so poor a suggestion, but Miss Bayliss seized upon it.

"That is excellent, Dr. Watson. Please, only arrive, and I shall be able to find a way, if I have to disable your carriage myself!"

So thus it was that as the vast sky darkened over the moors beyond Alnwick the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Holmes and I were sitting huddled in the bitter cold, driving a rented carriage towards the looming bulk of Allenbury Hall, and seeing its glimmering lights ahead.

We were received most civilly, in spite of having appeared from nowhere, and without the slightest introduction from anyone. Colonel Bayliss was a vigorous man in his early sixties, white-haired, his skin burned to a rich brown by many years in Africa. He walked with something of a limp—perhaps the Zulu spear wound his daughter had spoken of—but his handshake was hearty and he seemed in excellent health.

One did not need Holmes's deductive powers to see at a glance that Allenbury Hall enjoyed great prosperity. Decked in Christmas finery, coloured-paper chains, bright ribbons, lights everywhere, wreaths of holly and painted pinecones, it was a sight to lift the heart of any man.

I made the speech I had carefully prepared, expressing my admiration for Colonel Bayliss, and he received it with becoming modesty, sweeping it away before I could complete it, and making us both welcome.

"My dear fellow, it is a delight to have unexpected guests so near to Christmas. Is it not the best thing a man could ask for? I fear it might snow. It often does this time of year, if the wind drops. We shall have a white Christmas! May 1 take the liberty of having my coachman take your horses into shelter?'"

"That would be most civil of you, sir," Holmes accepted, and I knew at that moment we should certainly stay for dinner, and probably for the night as well.

And so it transpired. An excellent table was set, gleaming with crystal and fine linen, silverware, superb candelabra blazing with lights, and a most beautiful arrangement of holly, bright with berries and the white splash of mistletoe. A log fire crackled in a huge inglenook hearth, warming the whole room, and the aroma of roasted haunch of venison and steaming vegetables greeted us before we had even found our places and sat down to soup.

There were but six of us around the long table. At the head was Colonel Bayliss; at the foot his younger daughter, the diminutive Millicent, our hostess in more than one sense; on the far side Aiyson, who was, as we had been told, both beautiful and charming in manner, although I thought I detected in her a certain wilfulness, as though she were used to being the centre of attraction. Theodore Franklyn was also as Millicent had described him, handsome of face and a trifle glib of tongue. It seemed to me he strove a trifle too hard to please, in conversation being all things to all men, and too little true to himself. But possibly I was prejudiced, seeing that I believed him to be party to the proposed murder of his host, and a man for whom I had formed an instant liking, quite apart from my regard for his reputation.

Holmes and I occupied the fourth side, and I was cold enough and hungry enough after our long train journey, to enjoy the meal heartily.

The conversation turned from one subject to another. I confess I did not listen to it all, but rather watched the faces of Alyson and Theodore, which I could do quite naturally since they sat opposite me, and both spoke animatedly. She seemed to defer to him in opinion on any subject of gravity, and he to her in matters of taste. They never disagreed. Nevertheless, I formed the decided impression that her feeling towards him was warmer than his for her.

I noticed also that he had a ready appreciation for the luxuries which Allenbury Hall offered. He spoke of the shooting, the riding, the fishing, the hunting, specifically of the meet he expected on Boxing Day, and enquired what time it would be. He seemed to me to engineer himself into being offered an extremely good mount for the occasion, which was to be after the servants and tenant farmers were offered their gifts which gave the day its name.

As expected, it began to snow; Colonel Bayliss invited us to stay for the night. It was not becoming for Millicent to intervene, but I caught her eye and saw her immense relief. Almost immediately afterwards she rose and excused herself, saying that she felt a little unwell, and would prefer to retire for the evening, if we would forgive her.

"Will you not come to the Watch Night service, my dear?" the colonel asked her, then turned to Holmes and me. "We have our own small chapel here/' he explained. "It is something of a tradition. It is very simple." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "No very splendid music, I'm afraid, just a few hymns unaccompanied, and a prayer. Then, as master of Allenbury, I ring the chapel bell on the stroke of midnight. I am not very good, but it is a fine sound nonetheless, and carries for miles. A joyous thing, if I may say so, a peal of bells across the snow the moment of Christmas morning."

"It sounds marvellous," I said enthusiastically. "I should be most pleased to attend."

"I too," Holmes agreed, surprising me with his eagerness. Surely he could not imagine Alyson Bayliss would attack her father at such a time!

"Millicent?" Bayliss asked with a pucker of concern across his brow.

"Thank you, Papa, but perhaps not. I shall lie down for a while. I'll have Dora stay with me. I am sure I shall be quite well in the morning. I am probably no more than overtired."

"Your journey to London and back was too much for you," Alyson said sympathetically. "Two such long train rides in so short a time would exhaust anyone. It seemed hardly worth your going."

"It was important I see Lady Muriel," Millicent replied from the doorway. "She is my godmother, and she was seriously ill. It was the least I could do." She turned to Holmes and me. "I hope you will find everything to your liking, and sleep well. Good night and ... merry Christmas." And with a hasty smile, she was gone.

It was only eight o'clock, and the Watch Night service would not start until twenty minutes before midnight. We sat at the table another quarter of an hour, then Alyson also excused herself to speak to the cook about tomorrow's arrangements, and to the housekeeper about the guest rooms for Holmes and me. We four men were left alone. It promised to be a long evening, but I looked forward to it. I hoped Colonel Bayliss might be persuaded to tell us something of his African experiences.

And it was all I had thought; however, I was troubled by the seeming impossibility of our task. Miss Bayliss had told us that Theodore was to be a guest until December 27, and during that time Alyson would surely make her attempt upon her father's life. But how could we possibly remain at Allenbury Hall throughout the period? Surely he would merely wait until we had gone?

"Have you some plan to dissuade him?" I asked Holmes after we were shown upstairs to our rooms to refresh ourselves before joining the others for the short walk to the chapel. "Colonel Bayliss seems to be quite unaware of any danger whatsoever."

"Nevertheless, I think he does not like Theodore," Holmes replied. We were standing in the room prepared for him, a handsome chamber overlooking the lawns at the back of the house, where the snow was already dusting the ground in a film of white. A fire had been lit for his comfort, and it was extremely agreeable.

"What makes you say that?" I had noticed nothing. "He seemed the essence of courtesy toward him."

"Precisely," he said with a little shake of his head. "He had the manner of a man who takes the utmost care to make no error whatsoever, lest it be taken advantage of. He was not at ease with him, as one is with a friend."

"You are right, and I missed that," I admitted. Looking back, I perceived exactly what he meant. It was the care one gives a guest that one does not trust to overlook a flaw and before whom one's pride must remain whole. I have never been so guarded in the company of someone I naturally liked. "I should have noticed that," I said aloud.

"Never mind, Watson." Holmes smiled at me. "He quite clearly took to you, my dear chap, and to that I think we owe the likelihood of being invited to remain. If Miss Bayliss is correct, her sister will act soon, perhaps tonight or tomorrow."

"Do you have any idea yet how?" I asked urgently. I was most concerned we should foil the plot, and it grieved me to think of how Colonel Bayliss must feel when he realized who lay behind it, but it was not something we could keep from him.

Holmes's face grew thoughtful. "Well, certain things are apparent," he replied. "Since their purpose is to inherit her share of his fortune and, since she is the elder, this house, it must appear to be either an accident or natural causes. She cannot afford an investigation. The former seems most likely."

"A fall downstairs?" I suggested. "Or an accident during the hunt on Boxing Day? Perhaps that is why Theodore was so eager to know its time and place! He has specifically asked to borrow a mount for the occasion."

"Indeed," Holmes mused. "And yet if he abhors danger and discomfort, as Miss Bayliss said, perhaps he knows that he will not need to make good his words. I think, Watson, the attempt will be made before then, and when we are less likely to expect it. Be wary, my friend. Alyson Franklyn may be cleverer than even her sister suspects. Now, take a few moments to refresh yourself, then collect your coat and hat and we will join the family and servants for the Watch Night service."

At half past eleven we met in the hallway, Colonel Bayliss, Alyson, Theodore, Holmes, and I. Millicent was still indisposed and in her bedroom. The colonel led the way and we went out of the great front door and walked across the new snow towards the tiny chapel, which lay a mere fifty yards away. The clouds had cleared, driven by a bitter wind, and now the sky was dazzling with stars. Our footsteps crunched on the frozen gravel of the driveway. It was a magnificent night, and I looked forward greatly to hearing the voices raised in singing and the peal of the bells across the sleeping parkland and the fields and cottages as they rang in the Christmas morning. I was very sorry Miss Bayliss was so weighed down by fatigue, and perhaps distress, that she was not able to join us, but it did not surprise me.

We came into the chapel, a most simple stone building, like the main house. It was wretchedly cold, but our good spirits sustained us. There were already a dozen servants waiting for us, and five more arrived the moment after, presumably retainers from cottages nearby, gardeners, grooms, and so forth. They tipped their hats and bade the colonel good evening, and a merry Christmas, to which he responded warmly.

We were all met, and stood together before the altar, muffled in coats and scarves, the men bare-headed, the women with best hats on. The colonel offered a prayer of thanksgiving, then led us all in singing carols and hymns of joy.

A few moments before midnight, checking his gold watch, he moved to stand under the tower and reached for the bell rope. We all waited expectantly. It must be the stroke of midnight. The first peal of renewed hope for the world would ring out over the land, and we would wish each other happiness, perhaps shake hands, and return home through the starlight to the house, and the warmth of our beds.

The colonel looked up into the shadows above where the bell hung from the cross beam. He reached for the rope.

The butler, who also had out his watch, nodded gravely.

Holmes glanced at the floor where the colonel's feet stood braced to throw his weight on the rope, and then without warning he dived forward and flung himself on the colonel, carrying him to the ground just as the bell plummeted down with a terrible rending crack, splintering the floorboards and sending jagged shards of wood in the air.

One of the maids screamed.

Alyson Franklyn was as white as the snow outside.

Theodore stood as if frozen to the spot.

No one moved, until awkwardly Holmes climbed to his feet and held out his hand to assist the colonel.

"How did you know?" I gasped, moving forward as well. "How could you possibly ..."

"Sawdust," Holmes replied. "Sawdust on the floor. Thank God I saw it in time."

"My dear Holmes..." The colonel looked extraordinarily shaken, but with an effort he mastered his emotion. "You have saved my life by your observation, your quick thinking, and your courage. I am immeasurably in your debt." He held out his hand, and I noticed it shook very slightly.

Holmes grasped it and wrung it firmly.

"A piece of good fortune," he said modestly. "Any man would have done as much."

Bayliss hesitated, but made no further comment. With a level smile he turned to the staff and wished them a happy Christmas, then, declining assistance from the butler, he turned and walked out into the icy night.

Holmes looked at the great chunk of rafter which had broken and come down with the bell, and now lay amid coils of rope. He bent down and without attempting to move anything, peered at the whole tangled mass.

I knelt beside him.

"Sawdust?" I said very quietly so as not to be heard by the remaining servants. I peered at the sawn wood. "It does not look sawn to me, rather more like woodworm."

"Of a gigantic size, Watson," Holmes replied with a downward twist of his lips.

"Gigantic size?" I replied curiously. "Surely they do not..."

Then I observed what he meant. I followed the line of his gaze, and saw the remnants of the holes where the beam had split. They were indeed very large for a worm, especially such a tiny creature as that known as woodworm. An earthworm would have been more the size to cause such devastation. I looked up at Holmes.

"A drill, I think," he said softly. "Someone has very carefully made these holes where the pressure is greatest, so the slightest pull on the beam would bring it down."

"How long would such a thing take?" I asked.

"Perhaps two hours," he replied, counting the number of bore marks he could see. He turned towards the servants still waiting, watching him. "When was this last inspected?"

"S'afternoon, sir," one of them replied. "I always look at it Christmas Eve, jus' to make sure, like. Master always rings it, Christmas Night, New Year, an' for births, marriages, and deaths on the estate."

"At what hour did you examine it?"

"Ha' past five, sir. Up there wi' a lantern, I was. Was fair and safe then."

"Then it was done since half past five," Holmes answered, rising to his feet. He thanked the man, and together we set out back to the house.

"Theodore?" I said as soon as we were out of earshot.

"Possibly," he replied, frowning and bending his head forward. "Or Alyson. It does not require a great deal of strength to use an auger and bit, simply a supple wrist. Any competent horsewoman could manage it without difficulty."

"Then it could be either of them," I answered as we strode under the stars, the frost sharp beneath our feet.

Holmes did not reply. I imagined he was thinking, as I was, of the task ahead of us of informing Colonel Bayliss of the truth.

"Drilled?" he said in disbelief as we stood together in the library before the dying fire. "Surely you must be mistaken!" But it was barely a protest. In his eyes he knew it was the truth. Holmes would not speak such a thing unless he were certain.

"Have I your permission, sir, to search for the drill?" Holmes asked.

Bayliss hesitated. Holmes did not need to say that it must be someone in the household. No stranger could have entered the chapel, nor was it reasonable to suppose any but those closest to him would have motive for such an act, or the knowledge that it was he, and only he, who would ring the bell.

"Yes, I suppose it must be done," he conceded. "Whoever took it will not have been able to return it to the toolshed, since it is locked at night. I shall help you. Where do you propose to begin?"

"With Mr. and Mrs. Franklyn's room," Holmes answered soberly.

"Theodore was with us all evening!" Bayliss protested, then his face became so much paler I feared he may suffer some constriction of the heart. But his courage did not desert him. With a great effort he composed himself and straightened his shoulders. "I cannot think my daughter would do such a thing. The sooner we can clear her of even the faintest suspicion, the better."

Together we three went up the great sweeping stairway and along the corridor to Aiyson and Theodore's bedroom. Colonel Bayliss knocked sharply, and a moment later it was opened by Theodore, looking curious. He was still fully dressed.

"What is it?" he asked on seeing Holmes and myself as well. "Has something further happened?"

Briefly the colonel explained what had transpired, and that he must make a thorough search of all the rooms.

"Of course," Theodore agreed, but his mouth was pinched with annoyance. "I regret you consider it necessary, but perhaps it will serve to clear your mind."

Without answering, the colonel went in, and Holmes followed him, and apologized to Aiyson Franklyn, who was seated in a chair by the dressing table. Holmes and I began to search while Colonel Bayliss stood motionless in the centre of the room, his face a mask of grief.

It was Holmes who found it, wedged under the bed, into the corner so that it was suspended between the side and the foot. He brought it out, complete with the bit still in place, and held it up.

No explanation was possible. The sawdust of the beam was still in the grooves of the bit. It had not even been cleaned.

Aiyson and Theodore stared at each other in horror.

My concern was for Colonel Bayliss. He looked as if he had been struck with a mortal wound. The Zulu spear all those years ago cannot have hurt as this must have. I moved over to him.

"Come, sir," I said gently. "There is no more purpose to be served here." I offered him my arm. He did not take it, but I knew from his brief glance at me that he was sensible of my tenderness towards him.

"I shall tell Millicent what has happened," he said huskily. "She will need to know ..."

"I will do that," Holmes offered. "She is deeply concerned for you, Colonel. It was she who invited Holmes and myself here, in order to forestall any attempt upon your life. She at least is utterly loyal to you."

Bayliss attempted to smile, and found it beyond him. He nodded his acceptance, and walked away, his shoulders bowed, his feet heavy.

Holmes and I went to Millicent's door and knocked. I intended to remain only long enough to give her the news, and then see if I could offer the colonel something to help him sleep, and perhaps steady his heart.

The door was opened by the ladies' maid.

"Yes?" she enquired.

"I must speak with Miss Bayliss," Holmes replied. "It is a matter of the deepest importance, or I would not disturb her. There has been an attempt upon her father's life."

The maid stared at him in a moment's horror, then collected her wits.

"Is ... is the colonel all right, sir?"

"Yes, he is quite well, but naturally he was profoundly upset by the event. Will you please fetch your mistress."

"Yes, sir." And obediently she disappeared and Holmes and I waited impatiently in the landing.

Miss Bayliss arrived at the door in her nightgown and robe, her hair loose about her shoulders. She looked from Holmes to me and back again.

"It happened!" she said in a whisper. "Where? What did she do? Dora says Papa is all right. Are you sure?"

This last question was addressed to me.

"Indeed he is quite unhurt," I said as kindly as I could. "Except in spirit, of course. Perhaps your presence will be of comfort to him."

"Of course. I'll go to him immediately. Does he know yet that it was Alyson?"

Holmes explained very briefly what had occurred.

"I see," she said solemnly. "I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Holmes. You have saved the life of a brave man. I wish you had not had to do it at such a cost." She looked very pale, as if in spite of her own foreboding, the actuality had still shocked her.

"Are you sure you are well enough?" the maid asked uncertainly, then looked at me. "Miss Millicent has been in bed all evening, sir. I know because I never left the dressing room. Please do see to it she's cared for. It's a horrible thing, and such a shock!"

"I will," I promised, and stepped back to allow Miss Bayliss to pass. As she did so Holmes suddenly stiffened, then shot out his hand and grasped her by the wrist, almost wrenching her to a stop.

She let out a cry of pain and surprise.

"What is it?" she gasped. "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Holmes?"

"Is there a fire in your room, Miss Bayliss?" he demanded.

"Of course," she replied.

"And is it lit? Has it been lit all evening?"

I was about to protest, but something held me back, some trust in his judgement deeper than any conscious thought.

"Yes it is lit," she said, facing him boldly. "Why do you ask?"

"At what hour was it lit?" he pressed.

"I... I don't know ..."

"About half an hour ago, miss," the maid replied for her. "You said particular not to light it earlier, as you were already too warm."

"What on earth does it matter, Holmes?" I was bewildered.

Holmes, who was still holding Miss Bayliss by the wrist, with his other hand pulled back the heavy curtain of her hair and showed several dark marks on her neck, behind her ears, and on her scalp.

"Soot," he said with a bitter smile. "It is not easy to wash off. It gets into everything. I have seen small boys who climb up chimneys to clean them, with marks such as these." He turned to her.

"Only you went up not to clean but to escape your room, to drill through the beam which held up the chapel bell, and to leave the auger and bit in your sister's room, while she was out. Thus you could dispose of your father and your sister in one blow, and use us as your cat's-paw. You did not succeed, Miss Bayliss. Your father is alive and well, and your sister will have her full inheritance, whatever she may choose to do with it!"

She stared at him with her chin high, her eyes blazing.

"She will squander it on that worthless husband!" she said in contempt. "And he is worthless, Mr. Holmes, a deceiver and a cheat. I know that better than you may imagine, because he courted me first!"

Holmes did not reply. He had misjudged both her subtlety and the bitterness of character and the strength of her nerve, and he knew it. He had allowed his prejudice to sway him, and only his keen observation and his deductive power had saved him from being precisely the tool in her plan that she had intended.

It was a sobering thought, and one which caused him to display an unusual humility that strange and quiet Christmas in Allenbury Hall. It lingered even into Boxing Day.

In fact it was New Year's Eve, and we were back in Baker Street, before he gave me permission to write up the affair, with a rueful suggestion that next time a woman's silliness caused him to disregard her, I should discreetly mention the name of Miss Millicent Bayliss to him, and he might reconsider his judgement.