Sherlock Holmes: Before Baker Street David Marcum (reading eggs books .TXT) 📖

“‘The fine treatment that Richard received in France was not reflected in England. Lloyd was outraged that his son had married without his permission or influence, and worse – that he had married a French girl to boot. Before long, things became intolerable, and Richard and Lisette departed, indicating that they were returning to France, where their union had been received with acceptance.

“‘However, when he left, Richard took with him his father Lloyd’s most prized possession, a jeweled dagger that one of the Cavenham’s had received from Charles I after helping the king escape from the Siege of Oxford in 1646. Richard left a note for his father, informing him that he had taken the dagger to pass along to his own child, now being carried by Lisette, as nothing else could be counted upon from Lloyd.

“‘Lloyd was beside himself, not with rage, but rather with the sudden realization that his narrow-minded reaction had driven his own son, and now future grandchild, from his home. He sent agents to France to look for Richard and Lisette, assuming that they would immediately return to her family’s residence. What Lloyd did not know was that Richard and Lisette had actually first come up to London for a time while they figured out what they wanted to do. In fact, they stayed right here, at No. 24 Montague Street.

“‘It was while here that Richard encountered a painter who had been commissioned, by the Duke of Bedford, to create the painting that you see down in the parlour. He struck up an acquaintance with the fellow, and then he had a second painting made – ‘ and here he pointed toward the canvas unrolled at our feet – ‘this one.’

“‘An interesting story,’ I said, ‘but how do you know of all this?’

“Cavenham removed a few folded sheets from his pocket. ‘The story has come down through the family through my great-grandfather Lloyd, who wrote down what he learned after the fact. It seems that, after Richard had the canvas painting made, he sent it, along with a cryptic message, to his father Lloyd. Then, he and Lisette left Montague Street and continued their delayed journey to France, where they did return to live with her family – although after Lloyd’s agents had initially searched for them there, thus missing them.

“‘However, Lloyd had previously convinced Lisette’s parents of his good will, and that he was truly penitent for his earlier reactions. They secretly sent word to Lloyd of the arrival of Richard and Lisette. But this was the spring of 1811, and Anglo-French relations were even worse. The British had defeated the French at the Battle of Lissa just a few months earlier, and it was difficult for Lloyd to arrange passage to France so that he could apologize in person. When he finally arrived, he found a newborn grandson, and also that his son Richard had recently passed away due to a sudden fever.

“‘Amazingly, Lloyd was able to convince Lisette to leave her family and return with her baby to England with him, where he would be raised in the house of his ancestors. That child was my father, William Cavenham, and he grew to be a very fine man indeed. His own grandfather, Lloyd, accepted them completely, and he was raised with every advantage. And yet, throughout his life, the circumstances of his own father Richard’s departure, and the question of where the jeweled dagger was, hung like a shadow over our house. It still does, to the present day. For when Lloyd found Lisette, he learned that she did not have the dagger, and it wasn’t discovered in Richard’s effects. They came to believe that perhaps the painting sent to Lloyd, along with the cryptic letter, gave some sort of clue to the dagger’s location. It has haunted my father William throughout his life, even now as he approaches his final days.’

“‘May I see the documents from your great-grandfather, as well as the message from Richard?’ I asked. He handed them to me silently, and I flipped rapidly through them. They were quite old and faded, a mixture of Lloyd’s own summary of events, as well as communications between Lloyd Cavenham and Lisette’s parents, all confirming my client’s story. I set them aside and looked at Richard’s communication with his father.

“It was a quarto-sized sheet on cheap rag paper. Both it and the faded ink were consistent with that manufactured in the early nineteenth century. The message consisted of four stanzas. This is a copy I made at the time.” He pushed the third folded sheet toward me, joining the two already on the table. I read:

Top to bottom

Side to side

Bitter old man

Family divide

Treasure loved more

Than faithful son

Now lost both

‘Til puzzle is done

For future heirs

Right under your nose

Preserved for them

From time’s flows

Not to be found

‘Til divide is combined

The paintings are key

The treasure you’ll find

I raised an eyebrow. “Treasure hunt indeed.”

“Exactly.”

“It mentioned paintings, plural. Had they never questioned that fact before discovering that there was a second painting?”

“It had apparently escaped them.”

“And how did the paintings relate?”

“That is what I attempted to find out from my visitor. ‘This painting,’ I said, pointing toward the floor, “was sent with that message.’ He nodded. ‘How did you find out about the one downstairs? I assume that you only recently learned of it, which explains why you’ve come up to London to study it.’

“He looked surprised that I had determined this, but said, ‘That is true, Mr. Holmes. For years, the poem and this painting have been in our family, as we’ve all had a go at trying to figure out Richard’s intentions. Of course, old Lloyd died long before I was born, but I still remember how my grandmother Lisette would puzzle over it. Quite