Sir Arthur's brother-in-law, the Revd Cyril Angell, who had buried the first Lady Conan Doyle and married the second one, took the service in the rose garden at Windlesham. He was assisted by the Revd C. Drayton Thomas. There was little black in the congregation; Jean wore a flowered summer dress. Sir Arthur was laid to rest near the garden hut which had served him so long as a study. Telegrams arrived from all over the world, and a special train had to be run to carry all the flowers. When laid out on the burial field, they looked, according to one witness, as if a fanciful Dutch garden had grown as high as a man's head. Jean had ordered a headboard made of British oak, inscribed with the words BLADE STRAIGHT, STEEL TRUE. A sportsman and a chivalrous knight to the end.

George felt that all had been done properly, if unconventionally; his benefactor had been honoured as he would have wished. But Friday's Daily Herald announced that the story was not yet complete. CONAN DOYLE'S EMPTY CHAIR read the four-column headline, and beneath it an explanation which jumped from type-size to type-size. CLAIRVOYANT to attend GREAT MEETING. 6,000 Spiritualists at Memorial Meeting. WIFE'S WISH. Medium Who Will be Quite Frank.

This public farewell would take place at the Albert Hall on Sunday July 13th 1930 at 7 p.m. The service was to be organized by Mr Frank Hawken, secretary of the Marylebone Spiritualist Association. Lady Conan Doyle, who would attend with other family members, said that she looked upon it as the last public demonstration she would attend with her husband. An empty chair would be placed on the stage to symbolize Sir Arthur's presence, and she would sit to the left of it – the position she had occupied tirelessly over the last two decades.

But there was more. Lady Conan Doyle had asked that there be a demonstration of clairvoyance in the course of the meeting. This would be performed by Mrs Estelle Roberts, who had always been Sir Arthur's favourite medium. Mr Hawken favoured the Herald with an interview: 'Whether Sir Arthur Conan Doyle will be able to demonstrate sufficiently yet awhile for a medium to describe him is problematical,' he stated. 'I should imagine that he would be quite capable of demonstrating already. He was quite prepared for his passing.' Further: 'If he did demonstrate it is doubtful whether the evidence would be accepted by the sceptics, but we who know Mrs Roberts as a medium would have no doubt on the matter at all. We know that if she cannot see him she will be quite frank about it.' There was no mention here, George noted, of any threat from practical jokers.

Maud watched her brother finish the story. 'You will have to go,' she said.

'You think so?'

'Definitely. He called you his friend. You must say your farewell, even if the circumstances are unusual. You had better go to the Marylebone Association for your ticket. This afternoon or tomorrow – otherwise you will be anxious.'

It was strange, but agreeable, how decisive Maud could be. Whether at his desk or not, George was in the habit of chasing one argument after another before coming to a decision. Maud refused to waste such time; she saw more clearly – or at least more quickly – and he handed over household decisions to her just as he handed over whatever money he did not require for clothing and office expenses. She looked after their living costs, placed a certain amount each month in a savings account, and gave the remainder to charity.

'You do not think Father would disapprove of… of this sort of thing?'

'Father has been dead for twelve years,' replied Maud. 'And I always like to think that those who are in God's presence find themselves somewhat changed from how they were on earth.'

It still took him by surprise that Maud could be so forthright; her statement verged on the critical. George decided not to discuss it, but to consider it later in private. He returned to the newspaper. His knowledge of spiritualism was mostly based on a few dozen pages written by Sir Arthur, and he could not say they had received his fullest concentration. The notion of six thousand people waiting for their lost leader to address them through a medium struck him as an alarming proposition.

He had an aversion to large numbers of people gathered in one spot. He thought of the crowds at Cannock and Stafford, of the rough loiterers besieging the Vicarage after his arrest. He remembered men thumping violently on the cab door and waving their sticks; he remembered the crush of men in Lewes and Portland, and how it sharpened the pleasures of solitary confinement. In certain circumstances he might attend a public lecture, or a large meeting of solicitors; but as a general rule he regarded the tendency of human beings to agglomerate in one place as the beginning of unreason. It was true that he lived in London, a most populous city, but he was able largely to control his contact with his fellow men and women. He preferred them to come into his office one by one; he felt protected by his desk and by his knowledge of the law. It was safe here at 79 Borough High Street: the office downstairs, and upstairs the rooms he shared with Maud.

It had been an excellent notion that they should live together, though he could no longer recall who proposed it. When Sir Arthur was helping vindicate him, Mother had stayed some part of the time with him at Miss Goode's lodgings in Mecklenburgh Square. But it became evident that she must return to Wyrley, and the idea of exchanging the women of the household had seemed logical. Maud, to their parents' great surprise, though much less to his, had proved immensely capable. She organized the house for him, cooked, acted as secretary when his own was away, and listened to his stories of the day's work with as much enthusiasm as if she were back in the old schoolroom. She had become more outgoing and more opinionated since moving to London; she had also learned how to tease him, which gave him rare pleasure.

'But what shall I wear?'

Her speed of reply meant that she must have foreseen the question. 'Your blue business suit. It is not a funeral, and in any case they do not believe in black. But it is important to show respect.'

'It is a vast arena by the sound of it. I doubt I shall be able to get a ticket near the stage.'

It had become part of their living together that George habitually looked for objections to plans that had already been decided. And in return, Maud indulged such prevarication. Now she disappeared, and he heard the sound of objects being dragged around the attic room above his head. A few minutes later she placed before him something that caused a sudden frisson: his binoculars in their dust-laden case. She fetched a cloth, and wiped the dust away; the leather, long unpolished, shone dully with damp.

Instantly, brother and sister are standing once more in Castle Gardens, Aberystwyth, on the last entirely happy day of his life. A passer-by points out Mount Snowdon; but all George can see is the delight on his sister's face. She turns and promises to buy him a pair of binoculars. Two weeks later his ordeal began, and afterwards, when he was free and they moved to Borough High Street, on their first Christmas together she had given him this present which had made him come close to weeping for himself.

He had been grateful, but also puzzled, since they were now far from Snowdon, and he doubted they would ever return to Aberystwyth. Maud had anticipated this response, and suggested he take up birdwatching. This had immediately struck him, like all Maud's proposals, as eminently sensible, and so for several Sunday afternoons he had gone off to the marshes and woodlands surrounding London. She thought he needed a hobby; he thought she needed him out of the house from time to time. He stuck at it dutifully for a few months, but in truth he had trouble following a bird in flight, and the ones at rest seemed to take pleasure in being camouflaged. Additionally and alternatively, many of the places from which it was deemed best to watch birds struck him as cold and damp. If you had spent three years in prison, you did not need any more cold and damp in your life until you were placed in your coffin and lowered into the coldest, dampest place of all. That had been George's considered view of birdwatching.