Sherlock Holmes & The Master Engraver (Sherlock Holmes Revival) (36 page)

“But if, as I suspect, he is a valued colleague – perhaps a quiet word or two would suffice? In view of the calamitous consequences he occasioned, I doubt he will repeat the error.” Petch smiled ruefully to himself.

“I believe perhaps we may take your advice Mr Holmes; after this dreadful business, I too doubt that such an indiscretion would occur again” and he offered his curiously evolved right hand.

Holmes and I shook it warmly and thus it was that Mr Henry Petch, aesthete, lover of rare orchids, and the master engraver of Perkins, Bacon & Petch left 221B Baker Street, perfectly content and clutching his beloved plates tightly to his chest. With the parlour silent once more I resolved to quiz Holmes on those several matters still opaque to me. He was more than pleased to comply, for he knew that in me he had his most appreciative audience.

“Let us relax with a pipe by the fire Watson and I shall briefly relate, if you wish, the entire sequence of events for you. And, infinitely more challenging to the critical faculties of observation and deduction, those small facts that the common man overlooks, but which damn a villain just as well as his confession.”

And so, with that meticulous concision of narration I enjoyed so well, he proceeded to complete the puzzle for me...

“A losing night at the card table, strong drink and black melancholy can play the very devil with some men’s discretion...” he began surprisingly. “But for that night’s random sequence of events, the theft – and a tragic and needless murder – almost certainly would not have occurred.

“Consider, Watson: a man is brought low by a night’s heavy gambling losses; he is drowning his sorrows in a bottle when quite by chance he encounters a stranger. They fall into conversation, he feels diminished and seeks to restore his rank; through sheer hubris he attempts to prove his
station in life by displaying his valuable keys, and the vast responsibility and authority with which they endow him. The stranger – Bormanstein as he claims to be – plies him with ever more refreshment and he becomes ever more indiscreet.

“Like a willing lamb to the slaughter he unwittingly delivers every data necessary to commit the crime: the firm’s name and those of the other partners, their domiciles and pastimes, their holiday closure dates, the search for a roofing contractor, Petch’s hunt for a suitable maid and much more, no doubt.

“In short, as Lestrade might say, Bormanstein has been gifted the means, the motive and the opportunity. “Now he must work swiftly; he conjures together a team of criminals and wins the contract at Perkins, Bacon & Petch simply by guaranteeing to beat the lowest price – it is immaterial to him whether he makes a profit or a loss – the prize is unfettered access to the premises for several days. But now he must also gain access to a set of keys; from his encounter at The Bagatelle Club he knows two of the partners are abroad in France and Ireland respectively, so he enters and searches their houses in Harrow but to no avail – Perkins and Bacon have their keys with them; hence the account we observed in the news-sheet concerning two burglaries in Harrow, but with no theft occasioned. He now has only one recourse – Henry Petch’s keys; for that he requires an accomplice within Mr Petch’s residence; also he needs Petch to be absent for a day; hence the magical arrival upon the scene of Dulcie Hobbs’ with her perfect but quite absurd letter of recommendation from the non-existent Baroness Amanti, resident in the untraceable French village of Obânes St-Amarin; shortly after, the orchid house is vandalised – it was a near-certainty that such a disaster in deepest winter would send Mr Petch scurrying in panic for a glazier.

“The utterly improbable appearance next morning of a competent glazier, Mr Nathan Madgwick and his ‘assistant’ Mr Asa Bormanstein, coincidentally equipped with all necessaries – including putty of course – miles from his yard in the Clerkenwell Road defied all belief and set me at the very highest alert. Then when I examined Petch’s keys and detected traces of putty, both by scent and by microscopic examination, it merely confirmed to me that impressions of the keys had been taken in Petch’s absence. Again, the price charged for the glazing work done was improbably low but immaterial – Bormanstein’s reward was five minutes alone with Petch’s keys and a large slab of firm putty – thanks to the treacherous services of the late Dulcie Hobbs.

“The date is now the 19th of December, and Bormanstein has his impressions.

“It was not until some days after – the evening of the 24th – when Henry Petch called upon us, that I made my own impressions with the modelling clay which I habitually use to secure equipment at my bench. Bormanstein has already made his keys and the robbery is long accomplished. The crime, you see, occurred three days prior on Saturday the 21st.”

I calculated there was a lapse of some five days between Bormanstein gaining his impressions on the 19th and Petch reporting the robbery on the 24th.

“How can you be certain the crime was committed precisely on the 21st, Holmes?”

“Come Watson, there are three compelling facts which make the 21st of December the likely date. The first is the time needed to make the keys – you recall it required the highly skilled criminal-locksmith, Isaiah Pollitt, more than a full working day to complete the task over at the bench there; it could not have been achieved earlier. And second, on the Saturday, the criminals could be reasonably assured that there would be no-one on site except the watchman and themselves.”

I pondered the irrefutable logic of this. “And the third fact?”

“The organ-grinder, Watson! I doubt he earned much on a deserted Fleet Street on a bitter December 21st, for such it was as Gunton complained to us. And yet it seems this kind-hearted street musician played his machine for some considerable time, apparently for Gunton’s sole entertainment. Does that not strike you as odd?”

“Perhaps he was finishing his work for the day and chose, in true festive spirit, to raise the spirits of a bored old soldier on his watch?”

Holmes chortled. “...and to Gunton’s delight, obligingly played
‘The British Grenadiers’
at full volume for him every time he left the watchmen’s hut to make his round of the site?” Realisation dawned; “Good Lord Holmes, then the tune was a warning to Bormanstein and his accomplices to be alert – that Gunton was out on his round?” My colleague shrugged and spread his hands expansively in acknowledgement. “A simple alarm signal, but well-chosen to fool a sentimental old ex-military man.”

“And now, Watson, events move apace. They set up their illicit press in remote Slater’s yard and start work. By that time I had Dulcie Hobbs under the closest observation; young Wiggins, who I set to watch her rooms, reported the number of the hansom that delivered Bormanstein and Belton in Chiswick on the night of her murder. The time of their arrival was confirmed by the landlady and by the time we know ashes to have been scattered upon the path; they can have been the only other people to enter her lodgings that night; their cinder-dusted footprints in her room and upon the table where they climbed to secure the hangman’s noose placed it beyond doubt. Hobbs’ shoes were free of cinders because she had arrived home before they were scattered.

“I then summoned Solomon Warburg – you will recall his impressively insightful deduction as to the villains’ likely destination that dark fateful night. Imprudently he later ventured there alone, almost at the cost of his life and unfortunately in the process, drove the gang deeper into hiding; now we knew not where they were.”

“That brings me to my next question Holmes – you appeared to be more taken up with the smell of the money, than its appearance? How did that bear upon matters, for it seemed to me, I cannot fathom how, that it somehow determined the circle of precisely three miles radius which you inscribed on the map, centred upon their hide-out in Cubitt Town. I recall you said to me something very like
‘within that circle is where I am convinced our wicked foes have gone to earth. It can, I am sure of it, be no further away.’
Then within hours you returned in the guise of a disreputable drunk, reeking of gin and decay, having spent the morning observing the villains on this
SS Betania
moored at Jacobs Island – precisely within your circle!”

In that so-familiar pose, thin white fingers steepled beneath his angular chin, he responded “Do you recall, Watson, once I told you that I allow all my senses free rein; sight, sound, smell, touch, even taste; the results of their observation go into the crucible of deduction, and when the clinker of deception is cast away, there remains the lodestone of truth? You may also recall I invited your estimate of the distance a strong man in a state of agitation might walk in one hour?”

Still I could make little sense of his explanation; I shrugged, bewildered.

“Consider, Watson! We encountered Wall-eye and the dog-handler upon entering Cubitt Town shortly after one o’clock; after our lunch at the public house we walked to Slater’s yard where we discovered the blackmail demand and the second proof pinned to the wall sometime after three; Warburg swore on the Torah it was not there the night before; had it been, I’m sure even Lestrade would have noticed it. The yard was under continuous police watch from midnight; Constable Clarke assured us that he had left his station for no more than twenty minutes. The entire time elapsed was little more than two hours between our encounter with the heavies and the appearance of the ransom note. After we left them I surmised that one raced to warn Bormanstein at their new hideout, that strangers were asking strange questions; I would imagine the other – probably the dog-handler, remained to observe and follow us.

“Bormanstein now wrote his demand and over-printed a bank-note with his Swiss account number as the serial – the heavy raced back with it. Fortuitously for them PC Clarke was absent for some minutes at The Cubitt Arms public house and that was when they placed their note, in full knowledge that we would shortly appear on the scene.

“Hansoms are virtually unheard of in Cubitt Town; their horse and wagon was already gone, so I deduced that the alarm was raised by a man travelling on foot – one hour out and one hour back. A fit man can achieve, perhaps four miles in an hour-but Bormanstein had to prepare his demand – more time elapses – hence the radius of my circle – Wall-eye, or Sidney Belton as we now know him, could not have travelled further in the interval!”

I sat entranced; how did this unusual man spin such fragile strands of deduction, then weave them into a deadly web as strong as steel? Holmes continued with his gripping and illuminating lecture.

“The odour of an object may tell us as much as its appearance; consider, Watson, let us suppose you receive a letter from an unknown person; it smells of rose-water – your conclusion would be...?”

“That it was likely sent by a woman.” He nodded. “Next you encounter a man who smells faintly of fish?” I started to see where my friend was leading me, “Why, that he is probably a fishmonger, or has lately handled fish.”

“And a recently printed banknote that bears the smell of pitch?”

“That it was created, or has been in a place – Slater’s Yard – thick with the stuff?”

“And now a second, the ransom demand, which smells the same but with a faint hint of sulphurous decay, of rot? I refer of course to the note you kindly assayed blindfolded.” Now I was upon uncertain ground. “That it was printed at Slater’s Yard but has moved elsewhere and acquired this new scent?”

“Exactly Watson! And the third proof, presented at Kauffmann Brothers in payment for thirty links of silver, then brought to us by The Chief Cashier, smelled most strongly of that same rotten-egg stench of decay.

“There is only one type of establishment in the world that creates that distinctive, vile smell, Watson, and they invariably are located near water where they discharge the foul and pungent effluents of their industry; the simplest research indicated that there is only one such establishment within my deduced circle of hunting-ground – you will recall that the wall-eyed Sidney Belton, the same who foolishly stole the third bank-note to buy his sweetheart a keepsake, lodged at number 30 Jacob Street hard by Tan’s Yard in Bermondsey, at Jacob’s Island. His purchase – the Judas silver – confirmed my every suspicion because the note he used smelled powerfully of...
a tannery!

“The press the criminals employed requires to be driven by a steam engine, hence the reason why I concealed myself among the unsavoury ranks of the drunks and idlers of Jacob’s Island to watch the only source of steam power thereabouts – the newly renamed
SS Betania
, in lamentable condition – anchored motionless, adjacent to the stinking outlet gutter from the tannery, but curiously still making steam. There on her deck, I observed Bormanstein, Belton and the other heavies from time to time, and they were unquestionably set to repel all boarders! It was, as I have said Watson, a fortress defended by a fast-running moat of noxious effluents.”

I now understood why Holmes had called his own ground for the final confrontation, but how in heavens did he entice Bormanstein to Belgravia? And why von Huntziger’s lavish Belgrave Square mansion, why von Huntziger’s involvement at all? I pressed my friend further.

“Bormanstein attended, Watson, simply because he could not stay away! – I persuaded Mr Frank May to telegraph Herr Balz Balmer of The Bank Leu in Switzerland, requesting him to send a perfectly deceitful telegraph message from Switzerland, for collection by Bormanstein, stating that the ransom from The Bank of England had been deposited in his account! Herr Balmer complied to protect both the Bank Leu AG and The Bank of England. That telegraph, incidentally, was the shorter of the two messages that young Wiggins saw Bormanstein collect with such evident satisfaction.

“The longer of the two messages was an instruction drafted by me, sent to Louis Lépine and then as I requested, duly forwarded by him to the Bermondsey telegraph office, again for collection by Bormanstein; but to Bormanstein it appeared to have been sent by Professor Moriarty from Fontainebleau. Had Bormanstein replied and queried the content, the vigilant Lépine would have intercepted his message and repeated the instruction more forcefully.”