text: [Themes: Historical, victorian era, crime, mystery]
  
  > Go downwards
  The cord bites painfully into your hands as you grip it tightly and test it with your weight. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you brace your feet against the wall of the house and begin to release the cord. You manage to lower yourself almost to the ground then drop the last few feet, landing on the pavement in front of the front door.
  
  Armed with the evidence, you set off for Scotland Yard.
  
  Some weeks later, the following item appears in "The Times":
  
  Today at the Old Bailey was concluded the trial which has been called (in the more "popular" press) the "Bellwater murder case". Mr George Dewhurst, a butler in the household of Lord Bellwater was charged with the unlawful killing of a house servant, Elsie Browning. The main evidence against Dewhurst was provided by a groom in Lord Bellwater's household, named Bert Smith, who presented himself at Scotland Yard, in the early hours of a day in June this year, with several documents which pointed to Dewhurst's having committed the crime.
  
  After retiring for a short time, the jury found Dewhurst guilty of manslaughter and the judge sentenced him  to be transported, for life, to the penal colony in Western Australia.
  
  The case has raised considerable public attention, not only because the crime took place in the household of a noble lord, but also because of some of the surprising allegations (not directly related to the case) that have been made by the groom, Bert Smith. In particular, Smith has claimed that he is himself the lawful beneficiary of the will of the late Lord Horace Bellwater - a claim ridiculed by the present Lord Bellwater and effectively silenced by a sworn affidavit by the Bellwaters' family solicitor, Roger Jowett Esq, who has declared the supposed will to be a forgery.
  
  We understand that one of the "popular" newspapers, the "Daily News" has championed the cause of Bert Smith, and during the course of the trial, it has been raising a public subscription, amongst its readership, for the benefit of Smith. A considerable sum has been raised, providing Smith with the capital to start his own business, running a livery stable.
  
  In an extraordinary gesture of generosity, and as a personal contribution to this new business venture, it is understood that Lord James Bellwater has presented Smith with the late Lord Bellwater's horse.
  
  > Examine will
  You read the paper:
  
  This is the last will and testament of Lord Horace Bellwater.
  
  I Horace Bellwater of Cadogan Square London hereby revoke all former wills made by me. I appoint the firm of Purdy and Jowett (solicitors) as the executors of this my will. With regards to my wastrel of a son, James Bellwater, he has received a great deal of my fortune during my lifetime and has squandered it on drinking and gambling. It is therefore my wish that he receives a legacy of exactly one penny of English money and I hope he spends it wisely. The entire residue of my property, including real estate, possessions, investments and cash, I leave to my groom Bert Smith on condition that he promises to take good care of my horse. Signed sealed and delivered in the presence of George Dewhurst and Elsie Browning. Signed: Horace Bellwater.
  
  You can hear some whispered conversation outside the study door.
  
  > examine the letter from Jowett
  You examine the paper - it is a letter. You read it:
  
  Purdy and Jowett (Solicitors)
  3 Holborn Court
  London WC
  16th June 1863
  
  We talked last night over a few brandies at your club about your father's last will and testament.
  
  As we discussed, he asked me to draw up a new (and rather surprising) will, shortly before his sad decease. As I indicated to you, the will was properly drawn up by myself, was signed by your father and was witnessed by his butler and one of his chambermaids. There were two copies, one of which was kept by your father (and therefore came into your possession, as you explained to me) and the other retained by me as an office copy. This new will revoked your father's previous will, made some years ago, in which he had left everything to yourself.
  
  You have made a strong case to me that your father was losing his mind towards the end of his final illness and that this new will was therefore invalid. I have to say that I saw no sign of your father's loss of mental powers when I was with him, but I accept that you have been a good deal closer to him than me and that you are better placed to make that judgement. I also accept that some of the wording of the will could be taken to indicate an unbalanced mind. I fully understand your reluctance to challenge the will through the legal process, which would require giving evidence in court of your father's worsening mental state. I appreciate that you do not wish to dishonour his memory by dragging these details through the courts.
  
  In view of all the above considerations I have decided to accept your account of your father's dementure and that it will be for the best for us to destroy all copies of the recent will and to abide by the terms of the earlier will. I therefore enclose the office copy of the recent will and leave it for you to dispose of it as you see fit. I have no further record of the will and will treat its existence as a matter of client confidentiality between the two of us.
  
  You also mentioned to me that you have some sort of hold over the butler which will guarantee his absolute silence and loyalty. However, I am more concerned about the an unhappy "accident", which occurred to the chambermaid, who was the other witness to the will. You indicated that her fortuitous death was not quite so accidental as you would like people to believe. I cannot help but draw the conclusion that you had some part in her death. Whilst I would find such behaviour personally unacceptable, I shall, of course, be bound by my professional confidentiality in my dealings with you as a client.
  
  On a separate matter, you kindly mentioned in our conversation that I have performed a great many services for your family over the years, often without any direct remuneration from your father and that you intended to pay me a modest sum in recompense for these services. I think you mentioned a sum in the region of 5000 pounds, which I consider to be most generous and look forward to receiving.
  
  Your solicitor and loyal friend.
  
  Although this letter makes mention of an enclosed copy of a will, there is nothing of that sort attached to the letter.
  
  You hear a shout from somewhere in the depths of the house.
  
  > read the book
  (the leather-bound diary)
  You examine the book. It seems to be a desk diary for the previous year. You flick through and notice that there are occasional entries in it, written in a distinctive, rather scholarly handwriting, and using green ink. The entries all seem to be mundane notes of when bills were paid. You pause for a moment at the entry for Tuesday 21st October 1862, which is heavily ringed in green ink, then you remember, this was old Lord Bellwater's birthday - he always gave each of the servants sixpence on this day.
  
  You hear the sound of approaching footsteps outside the door.
  
  > look at what you're carrying with you
  You are carrying:
  a cord
  Dewhurst's confession
  a flimsy sheet of paper
  Lord Bellwater's will
  a red pocketbook
  a letter from Roger Jowett the solicitor
  a shiny silver sixpence
  an Elsie's note
  a purse (open)
  a stubby pencil
  an ink bottle
  a leather-bound diary
  a slightly charred instruction leaflet
  a heavy iron key
  
  You hear the sound of approaching footsteps outside the door.
  
  As an aspiring groom in Lord Bellwater's household, recklessness has not been one of the qualities for which you, Bert Smith, would wish to be noted. However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and here you are in the early hours of the morning of Saturday 20th June 1863, undertaking the most reckless venture of your life. Instead of retiring to your bed, in your lodgings in the mews at the back of Lord Bellwater's town house, you sneaked into the house and hid in the cellar until the household had gone to bed. You sidled into the butler's pantry and took the key to the master's study and now find yourself creeping about like a common thief. You hear the clock in the hall strike one o'clock as you carefully pull the study door closed behind you.
  
  The study is a well-proportioned, rectangular room. The door, of finely polished oak, leads back onto the landing, to the west; a broad sash window in the opposite wall looks out over Cadogan Square. The heavy velvet curtains are drawn back and a pale moonlight falls into the room, illuminating a heavy mahogany desk in its centre. To the right of the window is a small table.
  
  On the north side of the room is a stone fireplace with a dull red glow still coming from the remains of the coals, burning among the ashes: a shadowy oil painting hangs above it. To the left of the fireplace is a wooden stand, supporting an ornate porcelain pot, in which a leafy plant is growing. The south wall is covered, floor to ceiling, with bookshelves, laden with hundreds, if not thousands, of leather-bound volumes, in neat rows.
  
  > look at the ink
  It is an old ink bottle. It looks almost empty, with dried ink caked around the lid. Even in this light, you can see that the ink was green in colour.
  
  There is an eerie silence outside the door.