Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Cricketers

Tony Reynolds

Description

This title, the second of 'The Lost Stories of Sherlock Holmes' is a short story set in the worlds of Victorian cricketing and bare-knuckle fighting.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 08 janvier 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781780923574
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE ADVENTURE OF THE CRICKETERS
Tony Reynolds



Publisher Information
First edition published in 2012 by MX Publishing
335 Princess Park Manor, Royal Drive, London, N11 3GX
www.mxpublishing.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed in 2012 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2012 by Tony Reynolds
The right of Tony Reynolds to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
Although every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy of the information contained in this book, as of the date of publication, nothing herein should be construed as giving advice. The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and not of MX Publishing.
Cover design by www.staunch.com



The Adventure of the Cricketers
Few of the cases in which Sherlock Holmes has been involved have been exposed to such a blaze of limelight as was given to the matter concerning two of the Gentlemen of England. One, Caspar Buchanan, had a wife who had been foully murdered; the other, Charles Thornton, was accused of the crime.
The adventure started early on a spring afternoon. Although it was almost time for lunch Holmes was still in his dressing gown and was sorting through the morning post; for my own part I was reading the paper. It was chilly enough at that season for Mrs. Hudson to have lit the fire in our sitting room. A knock came at our door and on being invited to enter, our landlady announced: “A young lady to see you Mr. Holmes. She says it’s urgent.”
“Pray show her in, Mrs. Hudson.”
We rose to greet the lady, who was elegantly dressed although not, to my admittedly inexpert eye, at the very height of fashion. If she was surprised to see my friend in deshabillé she gave no sign of it.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said, with a marked colonial accent. “My name is Mary Trevelyan and I’ve come to see you regarding a close friend who is in serious trouble with the police.”
“Pray sit down, madam, and give me all the facts of the matter.”
“Thank you. My friend is Mr. Caspar Buchanan, whose name is no doubt familiar to you.”
“It is if you refer to the noted cricketer who so often opens the batting for the Gentlemen of England,” said Sherlock Holmes.
“Exactly, Mr. Holmes. I first met him in Johannesburg last December when my father and I attended a match at the Wanderers ground between the Gentlemen and Transvaal. Unlike many women I have a deep love for the game. The Gentlemen won the toss and elected to bat first. Caspar played a magnificently elegant game, making 103 before he was bowled. The match lasted four days, ending in an easy win for the visitors. On the last evening the committee gave a formal dinner for both teams. My father, George Trevelyan, sits on the committee so I attended the dinner and to my delight was seated next to Caspar. I have to confess that I was charmed by his elegant speech and manners.
“Johannesburg is a mining town and full of the most ruffianly characters. There are miners from all over the world; impoverished Afrikaners; natives that perform the labouring work; tradesmen that cater to the most depraved needs; gangsters that prey on them and all the dregs of civilization that have flocked there lured by the lust for gold. A civilized man is rare indeed. I spoke to Caspar all evening, almost completely ignoring, I regret to say, the gentleman on my right.
“We parted on the most amicable terms and next day he visited my father and myself - I should say that my dear mother died some years ago - and took tea with us. To my chagrin it became clear during the conversation that Caspar was married, and I need not say that there are no circumstances in which I would compromise myself by associating with a married man.
“Next day we received a note of thanks from him for our hospitality and inviting us to visit him when we were next in London.