"Haha, I'm here on a business trip. Scotland Yard requested me to consult on the investigation of this house owner's disappearance."
"Is that so?"
I remembered him saying he used such cases to gather material.
But I hadn't expected he would travel so far for it. Shouldn't he be getting travel expenses for this?
"I was planning to visit your place once this case was over, so this is quite fortunate."
"Haha, yes. You're always welcome at any time."
Though I hadn't expected to see him so soon.
At that moment, a young man approached from behind Arthur Conan Doyle.
He wore a black fedora that covered his hair, but his flowing blonde hair was striking. He looked like an actor but wore a long grey trench coat over a blue police uniform—a typical detective's appearance.
"Sir, would you mind introducing me?"
"Oh, Hopkins. This young man has helped me a lot with my writing in London. Hanslow, this is Detective Hopkins from Scotland Yard."
"Hello. I am Jin Hanslow, participating in the auction as a representative from Ashfield."
"Ah, I see. An auction representative for an art dealer..."
He said this while looking me up and down, then hurriedly shook his head and spoke.
"Sorry, I feel like I've seen you before, but I can't remember where."
"It's alright. It happens."
Honestly, I felt a vague sense of familiarity too.
I had visited Scotland Yard a few times, so he might be someone I saw then.
Anyway, as I shrugged and accepted his apology, Hopkins spoke again politely.
"I'm James Hopkins. It's an honour to meet you."
"Likewise."
Then, Arthur Conan Doyle spoke from beside me.
"Oops, I've kept you holding your luggage for too long. Hanslow, if you don't mind, could you assist with an interview? We can catch up while we're at it."
"Of course."
"Thank you. Hopkins, we'll be back soon."
"Understood. I'll leave it to you then."
Hmm, it seemed the teacher had more influence than I thought.
Conducting interviews wasn't something a mere private detective could normally do.
As I wondered about this, Arthur Conan Doyle lowered his voice and whispered.
"It's possible because of Detective Hopkins. He's a huge fan of mine, you see. Thanks to him, I've received a lot of assistance in various investigations and other matters."
"Ah, I see."
No wonder he reminded me of that detective from Sherlock Holmes who was especially fond of Holmes.
He subtly included a lot of product placement, didn't he?
Anyway, Conan Doyle and I followed Charlie, the banker, to the room where Monty was waiting.
"I haven't been here long myself, but this mansion is truly a sight to behold. The tall, narrow windows with old stained-glass decorations, the oak window frames, the boar's head crests on the walls... each detail speaks of an extraordinary history."
"Well, it is an old place. I haven't been around here much, so I'm not exactly sure."
Even though it was a neighbouring village, there weren't many reasons to come here.
"Oh, let me explain then."
Charlie cleared his throat and began to explain.
"The ancestors of this household were ancient warrior aristocrats. They followed William the Conqueror during the Norman period and were granted this estate. While the manor itself was built in the 17th century, the original castle dates back much earlier. It was greatly expanded during the reign of Elizabeth I, after they made a fortune."
Hmm, I didn't know that. Interesting.
As expected of a banker handling the sale, Charlie provided detailed information about Stapleton Manor, much of which I hadn't known.
While his explanation was directed at Arthur Conan Doyle, I noticed him glancing at me occasionally.
Well, I was also a participant in the auction. And with significant financial backing, I was a likely bidder.
But I'm sorry, Charlie. My goal is purely the painting. Talking to me won't help.
"By the way, Charlie, didn't Baron Carlyle have no relatives? How come there are heirs now?"
"Ah, that. Though he had no relatives, he specified individual heirs in his will. These included personal acquaintances, long-serving servants, and even the treasurers of the two nearby villages."
My goodness, how many are there?
Hundreds of people were indirectly benefiting.
Apparently, Charlie was one of them too. As the main bank dealing with the late Baron Carlyle, Exeter Provincial Bank was set to receive some of the estate, under the condition of social reinvestment.
Ah, now I understand. No wonder the bank wanted the case concluded quickly.
"This is the room."
"Alright. Thank you, Charlie."
"Not at all. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."
Charlie left. Arthur Conan Doyle, seemingly intrigued, alternated his gaze between me and Charlie's retreating figure before speaking.
"You seem quite close to the banker. Is this the local sentiment?"
"Well, sort of."
It was a common misconception of city folks about the countryside. Explaining it in detail would be messy, so I kept silent.
Rural communities could be surprisingly insidious. Even the Royal Literary Society seemed pure in comparison.
"Monty, have you been waiting?"
"Hanslow, you're here? And this is..."
"Nice to meet you, young sir."
"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Respecting Monty's status, Arthur Conan Doyle greeted him politely, despite his young age.
Monty also received the greeting with proper etiquette. I nodded and spoke to Monty.
"Master, this is Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle. Sir, this is Master Lewis Montague Miller, the eldest son of Mr. Miller, whom I serve."
"Arthur Conan Doyle…! You mean, the author of Sherlock Holmes?!"
Oh, as expected of Monty. Being a book-loving child, he recognised him immediately.
I nodded, and Arthur Conan Doyle, clearly pleased, responded with a smile.
"Yes, indeed, young sir. I am…"
"Why did you kill Holmes?!"
"Cough!!"
Oh dear. Yes, if you know Sherlock, that's the inevitable question.
Feeling sorry for Arthur Conan Doyle, who was taken aback by the pure yet high-stakes question from the child, I said sympathetically.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but I can't defend you on this one. You understand, right?"
"Ugh... I understand. It's karma, as they say in the East. I accept it."
Well, that's an Indian concept. Although it did make its way to Korea through the theory of dependent origination, so it's not entirely different...
Anyway, feeling a bit sorry for him, I decided to help out a little.
I signalled to him, referencing our previous conversation about the Holmes-related contingency plan. It was the sign for the "C" (Children) strategy.
Arthur Conan Doyle recognised the sign, cleared his throat, and, after looking around for a moment, cautiously approached Monty.
He then placed a hand to his mouth as if to share a secret and whispered.
"Hmm, young sir. Since you are close to Hanslow Jin, I'll let you in on a secret. The truth is… Sherlock isn't dead."
"What do you mean by that?"
Monty swallowed hard.
Arthur Conan Doyle, smiling like a secret agent on a government mission, replied.
"Exactly what I said. If we're not careful, Moriarty and his gang might find out."
"Gasp! You mean?"
"Yes, he'll make a grand return soon. But remember, don't tell anyone."
"Of course!!"
Monty's eyes sparkled as he nodded enthusiastically.
Yes, the best reward for children that age is a 'secret.'
From behind Monty, I gave Arthur Conan Doyle a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture over Monty's shoulder.
"But Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle, what brings you here? And why are you with Hanslow?"
"Well, that's..."
"Hmm, this is perfect timing. Hanslow, could you explain to the young master while also briefing him? If you know anything about Baron Carlyle or this area, it would be helpful."
"Yes, I'll do my best, though I don't know much."
I then explained to Monty about my connection with Arthur Conan Doyle and his investigation into Baron Carlyle's disappearance.
At the same time, I shared what I knew about Baron Carlyle and Dartmoor as a neighbouring resident, but it was mostly fragmented knowledge and not particularly helpful to the case.
"In short, due to its remote and barren nature, these villages have retained the traditions of feudal lords and their domains."
"That's a fair summary."
Incidentally, Ashfield is quite similar.
The titles might be gone, but the wealth and influence of the Baymer family, succeeded by the Miller family, rival that of the Carlyle family.
"So, I hope this matter is resolved smoothly. It's a neighbouring village, and out of respect for the late Baron Carlyle."
"Hmm, I understand."
Hometown loyalty is important.
Arthur Conan Doyle nodded in agreement.
"But for that to happen, everyone's innocence must be clearly established. Don't worry, from what I can see, it's highly unlikely that outsiders like you are responsible. It's probably an insider, or, if we're lucky, just an accident."
"I hope it's the latter."
I didn't want Monty to stay in a village with a murderer on the loose.
And look at him now, a teenager whose middle school syndrome hadn't entirely passed, glowing with anticipation.
"So, what will you do next, sir?"
"Ah, I had a favour to ask of you."
"What is it?"
"When there's an auction like this, there's usually a gathering of the participants, right? I'd like you to get me in. Entering as a policeman and as a participant's acquaintance yields different quality information."
Hmm, he wasn't wrong.
And it was a simple matter of saying a word.
"Alright. It's not a difficult request."
"Thank you, Hanslow. Young master, I look forward to working with you."
"It's an honour, Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle!"
Bam! Arthur Conan Doyle joined the team.
Now then, shall we proceed to the reconnaissance disguised as a dinner?
Re-engaging in my main occupation after a long time, I brushed back my hair and my eyes sparkled.