How Holmes Identified the Real Riddle in "The Pawnbroker's Tale"
Dearest Investigators,
As is always the case, your help in The Pawnbroker’s Tale was indispensable. While Mr. Dyer and his newfound friend were enchanted by the (admittedly intriguing!) mystery of The Great Seal and its sister-painting, our network of sleuths helped Holmes swiftly see past the riddle and through to Mr. and Mrs. Blythe’s true crimes.
Until the next case,
The Dear Holmes Team
——
3 November 1889
Dear Mr Dyer,
I commend you for your scrupulous eye throughout this curious affair. After analysing the information provided by your four missives and ultimately visiting your pawnshop, I can confidently declare that Mrs Blythe’s paintings have not been the reason for which you have been targeted.
Undoubtedly, the paintings you originally received from her, as well as the verse you discovered on the first of them, present an incredible, priceless puzzle for you to solve. However, it pains me to say that they have only served as a distraction, eclipsing the true crime at hand. The two clocks that were stolen from your shop on the night of October the 31st were your malefactors’ only targets.
Still, you will be elated to learn that I have identified the thieves, advised the appropriate authorities, and can confirm that your shop is no longer under threat of burglary from these old swindlers. Mrs Blythe– if that is in fact her family name– and her husband should be facing a visit from my associates at Scotland Yard by the time you have received this letter. Their age, and the relatively benign nature of their crimes, may draw the duo sympathy, but I suspect they will face a fair amount of time in prison should my colleagues discover too many more items of uncertain origin in their possession.
Your two timepieces will be returned to you as soon as possible, but in the meantime, allow me to explain how I was able to see the crime unfolding beyond the mystery of the hidden verse.
From the moment I read your first letter, I knew your case would be intriguing. For regardless of the possible crimes afoot, it was resoundingly clear that you had stumbled upon a particularly unusual work of art. I confess that, even if your case turned out to be, as Constables Price and Carter had suggested, the mere results of an uninvited overnight guest, I was eager to ascertain the significance of the strange text you had uncovered. Thankfully, your first letter provided more than enough evidence to suggest that the constables’ theory was highly unlikely from the start.
Given the hidden verse you discovered and the encounters following your receipt of the first painting, it was difficult to deny your suppositions that ‘The Great Seal’ was not only an object of value, but also perhaps a target, which you had unknowingly placed within your shop. Further, based on the fact that you had revealed this portrait, and more importantly, its hidden verse, to your friends Daniel and Erasmus, there were at least two individuals who might have been personally tempted to take the piece from you. The constables’ theory of a beggar in search of shelter was not wholly out of the question at this stage, however, to accept it one would have had to neglect a considerable amount of compelling evidence.
Your next letter thankfully arrived but several days later and bolstered my confidence in theories more complex than those of Constables Carter and Price. Besides confirming the existence of another, possibly related, work of art, your second letter called into question the original ownership of both paintings. This discovery naturally forced me to wonder about the painting’s actual owner, but nevertheless, this was surely not someone who would be attempting to rob you. As you yourself had pointed out, anybody interested in reclaiming ownership of the pictures would have simply declared themselves and ousted Mrs Blythe.
The new client of whom you also spoke in that second letter, Mr Ames Cattell, was briefly a person of interest in my investigation too, but I discarded that theory almost entirely after reading your third letter. The information you shared made me most doubtful of Mr Cattell’s, and even the strange ‘PAV’ man’s involvement in the initial burglary, and after reading about Cattell’s painting, I finally realised that what was occurring to your shop had little to do with the artwork or the verse.
When I learned of Mr Merry’s apparent reputation, as both a repairman and half of a ‘crafty pair’ , my hypothesis that Mr Merry’s partner was Mrs Blythe was fully formed. Then, considering Mrs Blythe under this new light, I began recalling details from your previous letters that I now recognise as subtle signs of her duplicitous intentions.
In your first letter, for example, you claimed that Mrs Blythe’s eyes lit up as you handed her a pound. I would posit that this was also due to the fact that you had just confirmed the presence of ‘old clocks’ in your strong room for her. Your original letter also confirms that those same timepieces were not in your strong room on the night of the initial break-in, which would explain the thieves’ need for another attempt at robbery, of which you later wrote to me. In your October 6th letter, you also noted how Mrs Blythe gladly snapped at you, insisting that she would take her paintings elsewhere— you will notice that she had this change of heart immediately after you disclosed that two valuable clocks were back in the shop.
You then wrote, in that same letter, that Mr Merry and his partner seemed to be well-regarded for a unique ability to procure any clock parts one might find themselves needing. Bearing this information in mind, I was already fairly confident that the so-called Mrs Blythe and Mr Merry had their sights set on your strong room, but your fourth and final letter delivered the last shreds of evidence I would need to substantiate my theory.
With your fourth letter in hand, I was certain that Mrs Blythe had either personally visited your strong room at some point in time, or spoken with somebody who had. This letter, dated November 1st, established that the interior of your pawnshop’s strong room is private, which is to say, it is neither accessible nor observable to everyday customers and passersby. Knowing this, I recalled an odd remark of Mrs Blythe’s which you had noted in your third letter. You wrote that she suggested that her mole painting would enjoy the ‘darkness of your strong room’, which indicates that the woman was familiar with the chamber, despite the fact that you had never brought her back into it.
Within an hour of this revelation, I had despatched a member of my Baker Street Irregulars to apprise my contacts at Scotland Yard of your situation, and of Mr Merry and company’s likely involvement. It is a shame knowing that he and his cheery wife could have avoided this situation had they realised their paintings were actually quite valuable, but I would venture to say that the old pair has a taste for adventure.
By now I should also confirm for you, Mr Dyer, that I have not forgotten your findings regarding the aforementioned paintings, nor have I given up on deciphering the hidden verse. Indeed, I have many of my own findings. By the time you had sent your third letter, I had already sent word to my dear brother, Mycroft, and requested that he assist me with your case. Although I do apologise for his dramatic exit, his visit to your store on the 25th of October helped me preliminarily verify several details concerning the paintings and your shop front, while allowing me to focus my efforts on the verse.
Speaking of which, you will relish the knowledge that you and your new acquaintance, Mr Cattell, have just about nearly arrived at its secret. You were both correct in pursuing theories of a royal nature, but the subject of this hidden verse and the message being communicated by the painting was, in truth, a touch more obvious than you had assumed.
Rather than a sea-faring royal mascot, ‘The Great Seal’ merely alludes to a great, or royal, seal, that is, the seal with which a king would mark documents with his approval. The particular seal in question, I hypothesise, is the lost royal seal of the last Stuart king, James II. I dismissed the possibility of any other allusions after learning of the second picture you received, which depicts a gleeful mole.
The mole is an animal of great significance to adherents of the Stuart or Jacobite claim to this country’s throne, for it was from his horse tripping over a molehill that William III, the man who ousted James II, broke his collar bone and died from his injuries. In other words, other than for adherents of James II, a mole has no heraldic significance; while a seal with a crown is only significant in this association if it refers to King James II’s lost seal.
King James II was reported to have thrown his great seal into the Thames, so as to frustrate the government of any successors, after he fell from the throne in the Glorious Revolution of 1688. Yet, the reports to this effect came from adherents of King William. Having seen these paintings and studied the verse, which cites an ‘inglorious fall’ and something assumed to be in a river, I began to consider that the seal might not be as lost as was previously thought.
Considering where the paintings were discovered, and their quality, it is safe to assume that they were either works of Kneller himself, or one of his apprentices, which only further validates my hypothesis, as Kneller was a prolific artist who painted portraits for both the Stuarts and the House of Orange. I doubt that Kneller himself would have possessed something such as James II’s royal seal, but I do not doubt the possibility of somebody with valuable royal knowledge commissioning a series of portraits from Mr Kneller’s workshop.
As for the specific elements of the hidden verse, you should take pride in knowing that your visits to the library proved truly fruitful, though you may have overlooked the answers. Plainly, the town ‘once called lustre’, which is beside a river, is Richmond. This town was formerly known as Sheen and is situated on the Surrey side of the Thames. Moreover, as you noted in your fourth letter, Richmond Park, which happens to host a Neolithic burial mound called King Henry’s Mound, offers an unblocked view from Richmond to the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Mr Dyer, my Irregulars have spent the morning searching the Richmond Park area under the pretense of planting bulbs. The peak of King Henry’s Mound is no more than ten yards above the surrounding terrain, and perhaps sixty yards wide and forty yards across. It is thus easily dug over by enthusiastic workers in sufficient numbers. It comes as no surprise to me that minimal digging was required before one of the lads unearthed a metal box containing a metal disk, roughly six inches across, bearing the impression of a face. Regardless of this item’s authenticity, however, we must act most carefully before declaring that the seal of the last Stuart king has been found, as it will only give succour to those who would wish ill on the present royal house. I have arranged for the box to be delivered to my brother, Mycroft, whose work for the Crown would better inform a course of action.
Likewise, I have arranged for one of my associates to return both the seal and mole paintings to your pawnshop. Seeing as they do not present any danger, you might appreciate them as mementos, if not, I am certain that your friend Mr Cattell would be delighted by another chance to acquire them. I wish you a warm winter and success in the year to come.
Sincerely,
