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drawer. What was most telling was that he should be so keen to pick up Miss Trelawney’s work tray in leaving the office. He believed he was removing the last trace of their presence in the fourth floor office. But, of course, he was wrong.”
    â€œI’m not sure I follow,” said Lestrade.
    I could not resist stealing Holmes’ thunder. “Why, the curious matter of the missing Pearmain, of course.” I looked across at Cartwright. “You didn’t know anything about the apple she had hidden in the desk drawer, did you?”
    Cartwright scowled and then raised his head in defiance. “No, damn you! I did not.”
    â€œAnd I think you’ll find it’s still in the drawer,” Holmes mused. “A small detail, but a significant piece of evidence which will help to seal Mr Cartwright’s fate. As for his motives, Lestrade, you might like to look into his business dealings in recent months. I understand he is close to bankruptcy having lost a small fortune investing in a property venture in Canada which has collapsed as a result of the recent Newfoundland Bank Crash. The last thing he wanted was a tenant who refused to pay the extortionate level of rent he demanded and one who seemed determined to upset the other occupants of the white elephant that is Ravensmere Towers.”
    Holmes’ barbed comment prompted an angry snort from Cartwright, who stepped forward clenching his fists. Lestrade barred his way and stood eyeball to eyeball with the property owner until Cartwright stepped back, realising he had been outwitted. The inspector then produced a sturdy pair of handcuffs and secured his wrists.
    On our way out of the office Holmes stopped to open the drawer of what had been Violet Trelawney’s desk the previous day. As he had predicted, the apple lay where she had placed it.
    Inspector Lestrade was ecstatic when we reached the lobby of the ground floor. He pushed Cartwright towards PC Clarke, who took charge of the dejected prisoner. James Mount looked on with evident discomfort, unsure whether he should be assisting the police officer and clearly troubled to see his employer in handcuffs.
    Lestrade turned to the two of us as we trailed behind. “Mr Holmes, Dr Watson. I cannot thank you enough. I will, of course, mention your invaluable assistance when I speak again to the press.”
    Holmes responded in a hushed tone. “My dear Lestrade. I would much prefer it if you kept my name out of the papers on this occasion. The intelligence about Mr Cartwright’s business affairs is not common knowledge and I would not like to have to reveal my source. I think it would be better for all concerned if you were to take full credit for the investigation.”
    The inspector could not have been happier. He accompanied us to the entrance and opened one of the large front doors before bidding us farewell. We stepped outside into the biting chill and thick acrid smog of the London air. Holmes took the lead, striding off towards Hyde Park, his eyes and ears alert to any sound of a nearby carriage. I pulled my coat collar up around my neck and shivered as I walked briskly to keep up with him.
    ***
    We were seated in front of a roaring coal fire back at Baker Street, cheered further by a glass of hot toddy and a stacked plate of sliced beef sandwiches, when at last I turned to Holmes and put to him the question I had wanted to ask a good half an hour before.
    â€œSo, was it the Danish King who told you about Archibald Cartwright’s business affairs?”
    Holmes rolled his whisky glass between his palms and looked across at me with a sly grin. “I did not think for a moment that you would leave the matter to rest, Watson. And the straight answer to your question is ‘Yes’. The king is clearly a man who likes to keep abreast of current affairs, both at home and abroad. In a quiet moment, he asked me what cases I was working on. Without giving it much