Arthur & George

The world in which a benighted young solicitor was sentenced to penal servitude in Portland … the world in which Holmes unravelled another mystery beyond the powers of Lestrade and his colleagues … or the world beyond, the world behind the closed door, through which Touie had effortlessly slipped. Some people believed in only one of these worlds, some in two, a few in all three. Why did people imagine that progress consisted of believing in less, rather than believing in more, in opening yourself to more of the universe?
    ‘… which is why, my good fellow, I shall not, without orders from the Home Office, be issuing my inspectors with cocaine syringes and my sergeants and constables with violins.’
    Doyle inclined his head, as if acknowledging a palpable hit. But that was enough play-acting and guestliness.
    ‘To the case at hand. You have read my analysis.’
    ‘I have read your … story,’ replied Anson. ‘A deplorable business, it has to be said. A series of mistakes. It could all have been nipped in the bud so much earlier.’
    Anson’s candour surprised Doyle. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that. Which mistakes did you have in mind?’
    ‘The family’s. That’s where it all went wrong. The wife’s family. What took it into their heads? Whatever took it into their heads? Doyle, really: your niece insists upon marrying a Parsee – can’t be persuaded out of it – and what do you do? You give the fellow a living …
here
. In Great Wyrley. You might as well appoint a Fenian to be Chief Constable of Staffordshire and have done with it.’
    ‘I’m inclined to agree with you,’ replied Doyle. ‘No doubt his patron sought to demonstrate the universality of the Anglican Church. The Vicar is, in my judgement, both an amiable and a devoted man, who has served the parish to the best of his ability. But the introduction of a coloured clergyman into such a rude and unrefined parish was bound to cause a regrettable situation. It is certainly an experiment that should not be repeated.’
    Anson looked across at his guest with sudden respect – even allowing for that gibe about ‘rude and unrefined’. There was more common ground here than he had expected. He ought to have known that Sir Arthur was unlikely to prove an out-and-out radical.
    ‘And then to introduce three half-caste children into the neighbourhood.’
    ‘George, Horace and Maud.’
    ‘Three half-caste children,’ repeated Anson.
    ‘George, Horace and Maud,’ repeated Doyle.
    ‘George, Horace and Maud Ee-dal-jee.’
    ‘You have read my analysis?’
    ‘I have read your … analysis’ – Anson decided to concede the word this time – ‘and I admire, Sir Arthur, both your tenacity and your passion. I promise to keep your amateur speculations to myself. To broadcast them would do your reputation no good.’
    ‘I think you must allow me to be the judge of that.’
    ‘As you wish, as you wish. Blanche was reading to me the other day. An interview you gave in the
Strand
some years ago, about your methods. I trust you were not grossly misrepresented?’
    ‘I have no memory of being so. But I am not in the habit of reading through in a spirit of verification.’
    ‘You described how, when you wrote your tales, that it was always the conclusion which first preoccupied you.’
    ‘Beginning with an ending. You cannot know which path to travel unless you first know the destination.’
    ‘Exactly. And you have described in your … analysis how when you met young Edalji for the first time – in the lobby of an hotel, I believe – you observed him for a while, and even before meeting him were convinced of his innocence?’
    ‘Indeed, For the reasons clearly stated.’
    ‘For the reasons clearly
felt
, I would prefer to say. Everything you have written proceeds from that feeling. Once you became convinced of the wretched youth’s innocence, everything fell into place.’
    ‘Whereas once you became convinced of the youth’s guilt, everything fell into place.’
    ‘My conclusion was not based upon some intuition in the lobby of an hotel, but upon the consequences of police observations and reports over a number of years.’
    ‘You made the boy a target from the beginning. You wrote threatening him with penal servitude.’
    ‘I tried to warn both the boy and his father of the consequences of persisting in the criminal path on which he had manifestly set out. I am not wrong, I think, to take the view that police work is not just