The Case of the Christmas Goose Club

Setting

The Anchor and Crown, a public-house in Stepney, East London

Time

Tuesday, 19 December 1893 — four days before the Goose Club share-out

Weather

Cold; a fog hanging over the river; a carol-singer at the corner

Atmosphere

Gas-lit bar, sawdust floor, the smell of beer and December coal-smoke; the savings tin sits on a shelf behind the bar where every regular can see it; a sprig of holly nailed above the door.

• 

  Mr Pyke

  The publican

  A heavy man of fifty, broad-handed and slow-spoken. He had run The Anchor and Crown for twelve years and the Goose Club for ten. The tin's only key hung on a fob at his waistcoat. His brewery had served him final notice on Saturday: payment in full by Friday morning, or the licence to draw withdrawn before Christmas.

• 

  Sam

  The potman

  A wiry man of thirty in a leather apron. Four years in Mr Pyke's employ. Saturday night he had been in a fight outside the public-house with Ruddick, the potman from The Three Compasses, over a card debt Sam had owed since November. Ruddick had given him until Christmas Eve to pay or have a quiet word with Mr Pyke about the gambling.

• 

  Polly Pyke

  The publican's daughter

  A pretty girl of eighteen who helped behind the bar in the evenings and tended her mother's house through the day. Her father spoke of her with quiet pride. Her sweetheart, Tom Frith, an able seaman lately on the Cape run, was due in to Tilbury on Friday morning aboard the Pendragon. He had agreed terms with a merchant in Cape Town for shore work, to begin in the new year, and was to sail back as a passenger on the Saturday — Polly with him as his wife.

• 

  Mr Critchley

  The Goose Club's treasurer

  A thin, scholarly customer of sixty, lately retired from a clerk's desk at the West India Docks. Two years the club's elected treasurer; counted the takings with Mr Pyke each Sunday. His married daughter in Forest Gate was lately delivered of twins, and he was tireder than usual.

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1. 

   The picked lock

   ·

   Mr Pyke's key showed no scratches; he had not removed it from his fob since September. But the tin's latch was faintly bent inward, and on close inspection tiny marks were visible on the wards. The lock had been picked by a thin implement worked from outside — a strip of wire, a folded knife-tip, any slim and steady thing. The implement itself had been carried away.

2. 

   Mr Pyke's brewery deadline

   ·

   Mr Pyke's brewery had served him final notice on Saturday: payment in full by Friday morning, or his licence to draw beer withdrawn before Christmas. He had spoken of the matter twice that morning and once in our hearing. Yesterday afternoon he had gone to the brewery's office to plead a fortnight's grace; he had been refused.

3. 

   Sam's debt to Ruddick

   ·

   Sam owed Ruddick, the potman from The Three Compasses, a sum from a card game in November. Saturday's brawl had been Ruddick collecting. The deadline was Christmas Eve; failing payment, Ruddick would tell Mr Pyke of the gambling, and Sam would lose his place.

4. 

   The Cape passage-stub

   ·

   Beneath the bar mat, a foot from the tin, lay the torn lower corner of a fresh passage-stub. The Cape Steam Navigation Company's blue-and-white border was partly visible, and the printed line beneath: "Deposit received Monday afternoon — for Mr & Mrs T. F." The ink was barely a day old.

5. 

   Mr Critchley's spotless ledgers

   ·

   Mr Critchley had kept the Goose Club's weekly accounts for two years. Holmes examined the small leather book; every Sunday's count was in his neat clerk's hand, balanced to the penny, never a shilling out of place.

• Mr Pyke Reliable

  The publican; the client

  “"I opened the tin this morning at half past nine, Mr Holmes. It was empty. On Sunday evening Mr Critchley and I counted out fourteen pounds and locked it together. On Monday midday I moved the tin to wipe the shelf beneath; I heard the coins shift, and I am certain it was full at that hour. Yesterday afternoon between two and four I was at the brewery's office; my daughter Polly minded the bar in my absence, and Sam was below in the cellar with the cooper. I locked the bar myself at eleven last night and slept above. From eleven to half past nine this morning, only my own household was in the place. The key has not left my person."”

• Mr Hardcastle Reliable

  Cooper, broaching the new ale

  “"I was at The Anchor and Crown yesterday afternoon to broach the new ale, sir. Sam was with me in the cellar from two until just gone four. He never went up the stairs. We had Tom Wright with us also, who'd come for the empties, and he'll bear it out."”