Solving "The Case of the Ghastly Green Face"

Dearest detectives,

We hope you’ve enjoyed solving “The Case of the Ghastly Green Face”. We’re in the process of evaluation submissions to our Featured Detective Competition and look forward to announcing a winner soon. In the mean-time, Holmes would like to let you know how he solved the case, and what truly transpired.

Sincerely yours,

The Dear Holmes Team

——

20th November, 1900

Dear Mr Maguire,

Apologies for my tardy reply to your most recent update. I cannot say I am surprised at the final developments. Indeed, the only surprise has been on my side of the Atlantic.

Last evening as the good doctor and I sat by the fire, I reviewing some case notes, and he reading some ghastly novel, we were interrupted by a visitor. Luc Avignon had returned to London and lost no moment in coming to see me.

"Mr Maguire told me of your investigation, Mr Holmes," he said. "I was glad to hear it. The truth must be revealed. Someone should know, and who better than Sherlock Holmes?"

"I have been curious about you, Mr Avignon," I replied, as Watson poured him a cup of coffee and led him to a comfortable chair. "I am delighted to meet you. As for the truth, I believe I have already pieced it together. Indeed, I suspected most of it from the time I read the first letter Mr Pym first sent to me."

"You did? How?"

I smiled at his astonishment. "I knew you were the man behind your employer's nightmares as soon as I read your name. However, I doubt anyone who knows the facts could blame you.

As to the rest of the matter, well, three things aroused my suspicions: The untimely deaths of Pym's parents following so swiftly upon his marriage; his sleeping in his uncle's bedchamber after the fire; and, most significant of all, the one question he neglected to ask me. I see you are bewildered, Mr Avignon. With your indulgence, I shall explain my theory, and you will tell me if I am correct."

Although you have already uncovered most of the plot yourself, Maguire, you may like an account of my deductions for your own records, and so I shall summarise what my conversation with Avignon here:

The matter of the green face was childishly simple. Someone wanted to frighten Pym. Obviously, it must be someone he trusted, who had close access to him. Who could that be other than Avignon? When I saw his full name, Luc Tussaud Avignon, I knew I was right. Some discreet inquiries confirmed that the devoted valet was closely related to Madame Anna Maria Tussaud, the woman who created the famous waxworks.

Further investigations confirmed that Mr Avignon was an artist, specifically, a sculptor. My London sources reported that as a young man he was considered an exceptional talent.

As Dr Ambrose Pym surmised, Avignon loved Claudine Manet. Loved her so ardently, in fact, that he abandoned his art and accepted a menial job working for a scoundrel in order to protect her. But I am falling into Dr Watson's shameful habit of telling the end of the story first. Excuse me. Let me step back a pace.

Avignon loved Claudine Manet, but her father could not be persuaded to allow his daughter to marry a man whose income may be uncertain. Then she met Pym. Mr Manet was beguiled by Pym's wealth and Harvard education, but Avignon saw there was no substance behind the façade. 

With help from Claudine's brother Michel, Avignon contrived to become Pym's valet. No doubt Pym was beguiled by the prestige of having a valet with a French name, who spoke several languages, could play the piano, and could discuss Shakespeare, all things Pym could not do himself. Avignon wanted only to stay near Claudine and protect her. He admits he went out of his way to be ingratiating with his employer for the woman's sake.

The pair married in London then they together with Avignon three sailed to America. Almost immediately, Claudine realised her husband was not the wealthy businessman he had represented himself to be. His father had money, but Pym had none in his own name. Pym senior demanded his son find employment. This was not to the younger man's taste, however. He did not want to work for anyone else, claiming he wanted to be his own master. He asked his father for a loan to set up a business, but the older man refused, pointing out that his son had no experience in industry.

Three weeks later, Mrs Pym suffered an apparent heart attack and died. She'd been perfectly healthy until her sudden death. Then, less than a month later, Cyrus Pym fell down a flight of stairs in his home and broke his neck, leaving his son wealthy and independent. Avignon and Claudine had their suspicions, as did Pym's cousin, Ambrose. However, they had no proof of wrong doing. They could only watch, and wait.

Pym set up his own business, which failed, as did the many others that followed. After several attempts and a vast sum of money, he finally succeeded with the shoe factory. However, that, too, was soon in danger of floundering. By the time of the house fire, financial matters were critical. If Pym did not find a great deal of money very quickly, he would have to declare bankruptcy. As we learned, two months before the fire he took out a large insurance policy on his home, his wife, and the female servants. Not, curiously enough, on Avignon.  

In his letter to me, Pym spoke of the runaway horse and carriage, but he expressed no outrage, which one would expect. Avignon, who helped his employer dress, said the man's ankle showed no signs of bruising or swelling. Further, he often observed Pym walking normally and then suddenly remember to limp, but do so with the wrong foot. Avignon suspected some mischief, but didn't know what. I had deduced the injury was a sham when Pym, in his first letter, mentioned accepting the uppermost bedroom in his cousin's house after the fire. Had he suffered a genuine injury, he would have insisted upon ground floor accommodation.

The biggest clue, of course, was the question he did not ask. He was completely focused on the green face and knowing who was behind it.

Pym wrote of the fictitious runaway horse and carriage incident because he feared I might contact the authorities. He knew it would look suspicious if he had not mentioned it; yet not once did he ask me who had murdered his wife and servants. Had an innocent man lost a beloved spouse, would that not be his first question? Yet Pym never does.

Initially, I had wondered if relations between Avignon and the late Mrs Pym were entirely honourable, but the former valet cried with Gallic passion that, "Claudine never broke her marriage vows. I would not ask her to. But she was glad I was there. I looked after her and kept her company. Neither of us forgot our honour." Dr Pym's statement concurs.

Despite differences in background, education, and temperament, I surmise that Claudine and Pym had no worse a marriage than any other couple. Perhaps they would have continued well enough, but then her father's health began to fail, and Claudine, understandably, wanted to see him one last time before he died.

Pym promised a trip to London. He had made promises before and frequently broken them, but Claudine, perhaps, persuaded herself that this time would be different because of what was at stake. Very likely he meant to keep his word, but by this time financial matters were critical. He cancelled the trip at the last minute. When Claudine received word a few weeks later that her father had died, I believe her love for her husband died, too.

Avignon says Claudine remained dutiful, but made no pretence of affection. That, perhaps, sealed her fate. The maids, for all their years of service, were expendable. Pym may not have intended to kill them, but he meant to profit if they died. Avignon he planned to spare. The years of devoted service on Claudine's behalf saved his life.

We can imagine Avignon's grief and rage at seeing the woman he loved so horribly murdered. What fortitude he showed as he put his plan into action! What cunning! He knew that, as in the case of Pym's parents, proving the murders would prove very difficult, and so he determined to wring a confession from the killer.

A talented sculptor, he made a likeness of his employer's face, and set it in a makeshift coffin, which he carefully placed it in the library, a room he knew Pym already disliked because of past associations. It was easy to dose Pym's bedtime brandy with a hypnotic. Avignon mimicked Pym's late father's voice while the killer was in a susceptible state, and, later, on the telephone. He led Pym to the library to confront the sculpted image that resembled his own face in death. All these things were designed to rouse Pym's conscience.

As you began to investigate, Maguire, Avignon's efforts increased and these, combined with Pym's isolation in the burnt-out building, increased the killer's instability. Avignon hoped the man would surrender himself to the police, and was appalled when he instead immolated himself in his factory. At least Pym left a full confession in his suicide note. One of the few decent things he did in his life.

I am pleased to have had the opportunity to have met young Avignon. He impresses me very much with his intelligence and his sense of chivalry. He is still young enough to establish his name as an artist, and I have no doubt he will do so. When this case first came to my attention, I took the opportunity to seek out his early work. He is extraordinarily talented. I was pleased to learn that Claudine Pym wrote to her brother Michel every week and was quite honest about her life with her husband. Avignon tells me that gentleman, who has now inherited his father's estate, was very grateful for everything Avignon had done for his sister and is eager to help him resume his artistic career.

As he rose to leave, I said, "One last question, Mr Avignon: I suspect when you were staying with Dr Pym you had an accomplice help you terrorise Pym."

Avignon hesitated before replying, "Charlotte, Dr Pym's housekeeper, suggested using the library and helped me set it up. We manufactured the 'coffin' from packing crates covered with black silk. I suspect Dr Pym knew what we were doing, but he did not interfere."

Watson puzzles as to why Pym wrote to me in the first place. I think it was his hubris. He convinced himself he could fool me into believing he was the injured party, and find out who was behind the green mask. He could not bear the thought that there was someone who did not love him. A very peculiar fellow.

Thank you again for your assistance in investigating this most interesting case. I am exceedingly obliged to you.

Very cordially yours,

Sherlock Holmes