The New Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes by Martin Edwards Page A

William Cropper?” Holmes asked. Follett pursed his lips. “Two and a half years. He trained with Melchett in Hastings before joining me. I had a vacancy for a hard-working assistant and he seemed to fit the bill.”
    “You have been satisfied with his performance of the duties assigned to him?”
    Follett steepled his fingers. “Indeed. He is a capable young man, assiduous in cultivating good relations with those clients with whom I was too busy to deal regularly. I had envisaged that the day might come when I would be able to offer to take him into partnership. Now, of course, the letters cast matters in a somewhat different light.”
    “Do you believe the allegations made against him to be true?”
    “Of course not! Had I done so, I would not have entertained his continued presence in my firm. As matters stand, I regard it as my duty to consider him, as would the law of the land, innocent until proven guilty of the charges laid at his door.”
    “Your tolerance does you credit,” Holmes said. “Ah, forgive me.
    I seem to have kept hold of the agreement you have given to the young man for signature.”
    He tossed the document on to Follett’s desk and said with a gentle smile, “You have shown rather more sympathy towards your servant than might many a master in similar circumstances.” Follett lifted his head. “It may be an old-fashioned sentiment, but I do not believe that one should kick a man when he is down.”
    “All the same, clients have expressed their concern to you?”
    “Indeed. So far, fortunately, the matter has been contained. Only a handful of letters seem to have been sent to clients for whom Cropper has acted. They are all respectable business people of the town, men I have known for a good many years. I am glad to say that they have been prepared to accept my assurance that there is no substance in what has been said about my assistant. Naturally, I have promised to take personal charge of their affairs and on that basis they have consented to allow my firm to preserve its retainer with them. I can only thank the Lord that their regard for me has been such that I have not suffered lasting damage.”
    “What if young Cropper continues to be the subject of such relentless attacks?” Holmes asked.
    “I trust that will not happen,” Follett said. A wary look had come into his eyes and I surmised that he was speculating about the possible contents of further anonymous letters.
    “But if it does?” Holmes persisted.
    Follett uttered a heavy sigh. “Then the time may come when I am forced to reconsider whether I am able to permit his continued employment. Candidly, Mr Holmes, I am not a rich man.”
    I watched my friend as he surveyed our surroundings. Their dinginess confirmed the truth of the accountant’s disclaimer.
    Suddenly Holmes drew a matchbox from his inside pocket and struck it. As the light flared, he reached out for the agreement he had dropped on to Follett’s desk. Picking it up, he touched a corner with the flame.
    “In Heaven’s name, Holmes!” I cried.
    “What on earth are you doing?” cried the accountant in anguish.
    As the document blackened and began to curl, my friend said calmly, “I think that it will be William Cropper who reconsiders his employment with you, Mr Follett. Would you not agree?” Follett gazed at Holmes and slumped back in his chair. A few moments passed before he spoke again, forcing the words out in a croak. “How did you guess?”
    “I do not guess, Mr Follett,” said Holmes, blowing out the flame and tossing the charred agreement into the empty fireplace. “I deduce. Cropper, like yourself, had become engaged to be married. He was contemplating leaving your firm for London. I gather that while you have been otherwise occupied, he had been establishing first class relations with clients of the firm. You woke up too late to the realisation that if he left you, the clients might follow him. A disastrous prospect at a time when prosperity