It was during a humid lull in the April of the year 1888, shortly after Holmes and I had returned from an affair in Lyon involving a forged Bernini statue and the death of an Italian consul, that we were drawn into a matter which, though trivial in appearance, was yet most singular in its unraveling. Indeed, I recall it vividly as one of those occasions on which Holmes solved the case without leaving the comfort of our sitting room at 221B Baker Street and with only the aid of a telegram and a pipe of Arcadia mixture, rendered it all the more characteristic of his peculiar genius.
I had just returned from an afternoon walk and was settling down in my armchair to read an article in the British Medical journal on “The Lumleian Lectures on Uric Acid: Its Physiology and Its Relation to Renal Calculi and Gravel”, when Mrs Hudson knocked at the sitting-room door. “A gentleman to see you, Mr Holmes. Name of Mr Darrow. Says it’s most urgent.” Holmes, who was stretched languidly upon the sofa, eyes half-closed in contemplation of the ceiling, stirred only enough to say, “Show him in.” Our visitor was a florid, agitated man of middle age with a reddish moustache, a heavy watch-chain stretched across his waistcoat, and he carried a travelling valise in one hand. “Mr Holmes,” he said breathlessly, “you must forgive my unannounced intrusion, but I have lost something of the most pressing importance.” “Please sit down,” Holmes said, gesturing with two fingers. “I observe that you are a solicitor, that you came here directly from the train, and that your troubles began on the 8am from Liverpool to Euston.” The man blinked in astonishment and sat heavily in the chair across from Holmes. “Well, yes! I am indeed a solicitor, Darrow, of Darrow, Hinkley and Pratt. But how on earth…?” Holmes waved a hand. “You have the airs and manner of a solicitor, your cuffs are ink-blotted, yet your fingers are clean. The sign of one who drafts documents but employs a clerk to copy them. As for the train, your pocket betrays you a timetable folded to page seventeen, which lists the 08:00 Liverpool Lime street departure.” As for your anxiety, that is stamped upon your every feature.” “Well,” said Mr Darrow, evidently impressed, “perhaps then you can help me. It is not an object I have lost, Mr Holmes, but a case; a legal case. It concerns a certain General Thomas Vane, late of the Indian Army, now deceased. His will, a document of considerable complexity, is due to be read this evening. It had been kept in a valise under my charge.” “Not, I assume,” said Holmes, eyes still closed, “the valise you currently hold.” “Just so! This is the confounded matter. When I boarded the train, I had my own valise, the one containing the General’s final will and testament but it is not the one I left with.” I said “I believe I read of General Vanes passing in the Times. A man of impressive reputation and considerable property.” “Indeed, land in Hampshire, investments in rubber, and a small collection of Indian antiquities. The will was to be read this evening to the assembled family. Many are already gathered at my clients home, including a niece from Ireland and a son who has travelled from Egypt. But upon reaching Euston and opening the Valise in my cab, I discovered not the will, but instead this.” He opened the valise and turned it toward Inside including various items of women’s garments, a needlework sampler wrapped in muslin, a vanity box and a dog-eared copy of ‘A romance of two worlds’ by Marie Corelli.” Holmes asked “you had a lady in your carriage. Do you recall where she departed?” Mr Darrow replied, “I was quite absorbed in the papers of another case and cannot be sure, but I believe she may have gotten off at the stop before Euston although I’m unsure what that might be.” Holmes didn’t even appear to be listening, but replied to himself “Willesden Junction.” Looking up at the Solicitor he said “A John Pound & Co Brown pigskin Valise. May I examine it?” he said, holding out his hand. Mr Darrow handed it over and leant forward anxiously. “You see, the reading of the will is set to take place this evening at 8pm in Belgravia at the Generals home. If the document is not produced, there will be accusations, suspicions perhaps even lawsuits. I must find my valise, Mr Holmes. You are my only hope.” Holmes looked up at Mr Darrow and nodded his head and said “I will do my best, pray now, let Dr Watson pour you a restorative drink whilst I finish my examination.” I poured the agitated Mr Darrow a Brandy and we both lit a cigar by the fire whilst sitting in silence awaiting Holmes to finish. Holmes was removing items from the valise and giving them a quick glance. We watched him examine the Vanity case, then flick through the book and to my great surprise, he merely looked around at Mr Darrow “I may have some resolve in this affair, come back at 6pm”