‘Your recollection of subsequent events is most accurate,’ I said, whilst putting my now redundant notes to one side and gathering up the day’s papers. As I began to read from the first of these I glanced up at Holmes’s expectant face, his left forefinger laid across his lips, his eyes wide and alert. ‘I am well aware of your desire for brevity and I will précis these accounts as well,’ I assured him.
This was a task that I was well able to do, for the various articles that I read through contained little new information that was relevant to our case. Holmes growled impatiently as I skipped over article after article and by the time that I had reached the Financial Times we knew as much as we could want to about Montague Phillimore’s family background and his achievements, but nothing that would enlighten us as to the whereabouts of his missing brother.
Only speculation as to the reasons for Phillimore’s suicide attracted Holmes’s attention and this took the form of numerous allusions to a financial scandal in the Phillimores’ company. We were on the verge of consigning the Financial Times to the same fate as its fellow journals when it occurred to us that the answer might yet have lain on its inner pages.
Sure enough, a small column on page twenty-three made a passing reference to Montague Phillimore’s tragic and untimely demise, but devoted rather more space to the story concerning the misappropriation of company funds of which he had been accused. This had first been brought to the attention of company shareholders at the annual general meeting that Montague had been forced to attend alone.
‘Holmes, it says here that Montague took his own life the night before an extraordinary general meeting, which had been called for with the express intention of having Montague driven from the board of his own company!’ I told him excitedly. ‘No mystery, then, as to the reason for his suicide. He surely wished to avoid the ignominy of scandal and ruination and, in the absence of his brother, could not face this alone.’
‘Is it not most suggestive that his brother conveniently disappeared on the very morning of the meeting at which this scandal was first made public?’ Holmes asked rhetorically through the dense fog of his old shag.
‘Normally I would agree with you,’ I replied while continuing to glean further information from the paper, ‘but it says here that the company accountant first discovered the missing funds a full two weeks before the date of the annual general meeting and that he was required to keep this information confidential until all the shareholders were called together. Surely that would have been the appropriate time for James Phillimore to have staged his disappearance, would it not?’ I speculated.
‘Perhaps …’ Holmes stood there in an enrapt silence, thoughtfully rubbing his chin while smoke billowed out from his pipe. He then added enigmatically: ‘Perhaps I made enquiries at the wrong type of agencies.’
‘You have formulated a different theory then, I take it.’
‘Only a germ of one, Watson, only a germ. I will leave you with a puzzle to chew over in my absence. Would it not have made more sense if James Phillimore had attempted to convince his brother of his absence rather than his presence under the circumstances?’ Holmes asked whilst donning his coat.
‘I do not understand; besides, where shall you go now? Back to Phillimore’s house?’ I asked in some confusion. Holmes merely smiled mischievously, then he was gone.
So convinced was I of Holmes’s ultimate success in bringing the Phillimore affair to a conclusion, that I spent my two hours alone in our rooms in shaping my notes of the case into a form of literary order. However, even in this new form, they shed no further light on the reason for Holmes’s sudden departure, nor on his intended destination.
Observing Holmes’s dour countenance upon his return, I feared that my optimism had been sadly misplaced. There was no sign of the triumphant smile on his face, nor of the customary jauntiness in his step. Instead he dragged himself wearily into the room and sank dejectedly into his chair.
‘I am sorry your enquiries produced so little success,’ I offered by way of consolation. ‘I presume that the intervening months have further obscured Phillimore’s trail and that his disappearance is as much a mystery as it was before.’
Holmes’s languid eyes glanced towards me with a puzzled regard. ‘Oh no, on the contrary. I met with immeasurably more success than I could have possibly anticipated.’
‘Then I do not understand. Surely the closure of so unsolvable a mystery should produce a somewhat lighter mood?’ I observed.
‘Watson,’ Holmes began, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. ‘There can be no sadder occurrence than that of brother turning against brother. Far worse, of course, when a single act of selfish greed should cause one to be blamed for the crimes of the other and subsequently lead to his untimely and tragic demise. The fact that through my own deductive inadequacies I should have failed to foresee and prevent this tragedy is, indeed, the unkindest cut!’
‘I cannot even begin to speculate as to what you can possibly mean, yet I am certain that you are being far too hard on yourself.’
‘Surely my meaning is clear. You see, for once my own eventual conclusions concur with those of Inspector Bradstreet and our colleagues at Scotland Yard, though for different reasons. There was no real need to conduct a thorough search for James Phillimore, at least not at the time of enquiry, because he was never there!’
‘He was never there?’ I repeated incredulously.
‘No, Watson, he never was there, or at least he had not been there for the intervening fortnight between the misappropriation of funds from Phillimore and Phillimore, and the morning of the annual general meeting. Too late I have realized that the singular occurrence that Montague witnessed on the morning of his brother’s supposed disappearance was not only improbable but was also impossible.
Short of a belief in magic, which I do not have, the only possible conclusion to draw would be that one of the three witnesses, to wit: the driver of the cab; Jarvis the valet, or Montague Phillimore himself, was lying.
‘Since the assertions of Jarvis were the only ones that could not be corroborated by either of the others, my suspicions incline towards him.’
‘But why? What possible reason could there be for Jarvis to lie in such a fashion?’ I asked.
‘Do you remember my last words before going out this afternoon?’
‘Of course. You said something about James convincing his brother of his absence rather than of his presence and that you had made enquiries at the wrong kind of agencies. Yet those statements make as little sense to me now as they did then.’
‘Very likely so, yet consider this. If James had been the guilty party behind the theft of the company funds, surely his departure at that time would have led to suspicion falling squarely on his shoulders alone, thereby making it very difficult for him to escape unhindered. By convincing Montague and, no doubt, others of his continued presence after the theft, he confused the issue and delayed the pointing of an accusing finger in his direction until the time of the annual general meeting. By that time, of course, he was already living in opulent exile, leaving his hapless brother to face the fury of the shareholders.’