Sherlock Holmes (45 page)

‘The Stapletons then went down to Devonshire, whither they were soon followed by Sir Henry and you. One word now as to how I stood myself at that time. It may possibly recur to your memory that when I examined the paper upon which the printed words were fastened I made a close inspection for the watermark. In doing so I held it within a few inches of my eyes, and was conscious of a faint smell of the scent known as white jessamine. There are seventy-five perfumes, which it is very necessary that the criminal expert should be able to distinguish from each other, and cases have more than once within my own experience depended upon their prompt recognition. The scene suggested the presence of a lady, and already my thoughts began to turn towards the Stapletons. Thus I had made certain of the hound, and had guessed at the criminal before ever we went to the West Country.

‘It was my game to watch Stapleton. It was evident, however, that I could not do this if I were with you, since he would be keenly on his guard. I deceived everybody, therefore, yourself included, and I came down secretly when I was supposed to be in London. My hardships were not so great as you imagine, though such trifling details must never interfere with the investigation of a case. I stayed for the most part at Coombe Tracey, and only used the hut upon the moor when it was necessary to be near the scene of action. Cartwright had come down with me, and in his disguise as a country boy he was of great assistance to me. I was dependent upon him
for food and clean linen. When I was watching Stapleton, Cartwright was frequently watching you, so that I was able to keep my hands upon all the strings.

‘I have already told you that your reports reached me rapidly, being forwarded instantly from Baker Street to Coombe Tracey. They were of great service to me, and especially that one incidentally truthful piece of biography of Stapleton's. I was able to establish the identity of the man and the woman, and knew at last exactly how I stood. The case had been considerably complicated through the incident of the escaped convict and the relations between him and the Barrymores. This also you cleared up in a very effective way, though I had already come to the same conclusions from my own observations.

‘By the time that you discovered me upon the moor I had a complete knowledge of the whole business, but I had not a case which could go to a jury. Even Stapleton's attempt upon Sir Henry that night, which ended in the death of the unfortunate convict, did not help us much in proving murder against our man. There seemed to be no alternative but to catch him red-handed, and to do so we had to use Sir Henry, alone and apparently unprotected, as a bait. We did so, and at the cost of a severe shock to our client we succeeded in completing our case and driving Stapleton to his destruction. That Sir Henry should have been exposed to this is, I must confess, a reproach to my management of the case, but we had no means of foreseeing the terrible and paralysing spectacle which the beast presented, nor could we predict the fog which enabled him to burst upon us at short notice. We succeeded in our object at a cost which both the specialist and Dr Mortimer assure me will be a temporary one. A long journey may enable our friend to recover not only from his shattered nerves but also from his wounded feelings. His love for the lady was deep and sincere, and to him the saddest part of all this black business was that he should have been deceived by her.

‘It only remains now to indicate the part which she had played throughout. There can be no doubt that Stapleton exercised an influence over her which may have been love or may have been fear, or very possibly both, since they are by no means incompatible emotions. It was, at least, absolutely effective. At his command she consented to pass as his sister, though he found the limits of his
power over her when he endeavoured to make her the direct accessory to murder. She was ready to warn Sir Henry so far as she could without implicating her husband, and again and again she tried to do so. Stapleton himself seems to have been capable of jealousy, and when he saw the baronet paying court to the lady, even though it was part of his own plan, still he could not help interrupting with a passionate outburst which revealed the fiery soul which his self-contained manner so cleverly concealed. By encouraging the intimacy he made it certain that Sir Henry would frequently come to Merripit House, and that he would sooner or later get the opportunity which he desired. On the day of the crisis, however, his wife turned suddenly against him. She had learned something of the death of the convict, and she knew that the hound was being kept in the out-house on the evening that Sir Henry was coming to dinner. She taxed her husband with his intended crime and a furious scene followed, in which he showed her for the first time that she had a rival in his love. Her fidelity turned in an instant to bitter hatred, and he saw that she would betray him. He tied her up, therefore, that she might have no chance of warning Sir Henry, and he hoped, no doubt, that when the whole countryside put down the baronet's death to the curse of his family, as they certainly would do, he could win his wife back to accept an accomplished fact, and to keep silent upon what she knew. In this I fancy that in any case he made a miscalculation, and that, if we had not been there, his doom would none the less have been sealed. A woman of Spanish blood does not condone such an injury so lightly. And now, my dear Watson, without referring to my notes, I cannot give you a more detailed account of this curious case. I do not know that anything essential has been left unexplained.'

‘He could not hope to frighten Sir Henry to death, as he had done the old uncle, with his bogy hound.'

‘The beast was savage and half-starved. If its appearance did not frighten its victim to death, at least it would paralyse the resistance which might be offered.'

‘No doubt. There only remains one difficulty. If Stapleton came into the succession, how could he explain the fact that he, the heir, had been living unannounced under another name so close to the
property? How could he claim it without causing suspicion and inquiry?'

‘It is a formidable difficulty, and I fear that you ask too much when you expect me to solve it. The past and the present are within the field of my inquiry, but what a man may do in the future is a hard question to answer. Mrs Stapleton has heard her husband discuss the problem on several occasions. There were three possible courses. He might claim the property from South America, establish his identity before the British authorities there, and so obtain the fortune without ever coming to England at all; or he might adopt an elaborate disguise during the short time that he need be in London; or, again, he might furnish an accomplice with the proofs and papers, putting him in as heir, and retaining a claim upon some proportion of his income. We cannot doubt, from what we know of him, that he would have found some way out of the difficulty. And now, my dear Watson, we have had some weeks of severe work, and for one evening, I think, we may turn our thoughts into more pleasant channels. I have a box for
Les Huguenots
. Have you heard the De Reszkes? Might I trouble you then to be ready in half an hour, and we can stop at Marcini's for a little dinner on the
way?'

PART ONE

The Tragedy of Birlstone

1 The Warning

2 Mr Sherlock Holmes Discourses

3 The Tragedy of Birlstone

4 Darkness

5 The People of the Drama

6 A Dawning Light

7 The Solution

PART TWO

The Scowrers

1 The Man

2 The Bodymaster

3 Lodge 341, Vermissa

4 The Valley of Fear

5 The Darkest Hour

6 Danger

7 The Trapping of Birdy Edwards

Epilogue

The Tragedy of
Birlstone

‘I am inclined to think –' said I.

‘I should do so,' Sherlock Holmes remarked, impatiently.

I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals, but I admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption.

‘Really, Holmes,' said I, severely, ‘you are a little trying at times.'

He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any immediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his hand, with his untasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the slip of paper which he had just drawn from its envelope. Then he took the envelope itself, held it up to the light, and very carefully studied both the exterior and the flap.

‘It is Porlock's writing,' said he, thoughtfully. ‘I can hardly doubt that it is Porlock's writing, though I have only seen it twice before. The Greek “e” with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is from Porlock, then it must be something of the very first importance.'

He was speaking to himself rather than to me, but my vexation disappeared in the interest which the words awakened.

‘Who, then, is Porlock?' I asked.

‘Porlock, Watson, is a
nom de plume
, a mere identification mark, but behind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself the pilot-fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion – anything that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable. Not only formidable, Watson, but sinister – in the highest degree sinister. That is where
he comes within my purview. You have heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?

‘The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as –'

‘My blushes, Watson,' Holmes murmured, in a deprecating voice.

‘I was about to say “as he is unknown to the public”.'

‘A touch – a distinct touch!' cried Holmes. ‘You are developing a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I must learn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law, and there lies the glory and the wonder of it. The greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld – a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations. That's the man. But so aloof is he from general suspicion – so immune from criticism – so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. Is he not the celebrated author of
The Dynamics of an Asteroid
– a book which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in the scientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foul-mouthed doctor and slandered professor – such would be your respective rôles. That's genius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser men our day will surely come.'

‘May I be there to see!' I exclaimed, devoutly. ‘But you were speaking of this man Porlock.'

‘Ah, yes – the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little way from its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link, between ourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able to test it.'

‘But no chain is stronger than its weakest link.'

‘Exactly, my dear Watson. Hence the extreme importance of Porlock. Led on by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged by the judicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to him by devious methods, he has once or twice given me advance information which has been of value – that highest value which anticipates and prevents rather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that if we had the cipher we should find that this communication is of the nature that I indicate.'

Again Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose and, leaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, which ran as follows:

534
C
2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41
DOUGLAS
109 293 5 37
BIRLSTONE
26
BIRLSTONE
9 127 171

‘What do you make of it, Holmes?'

‘It is obviously an attempt to convey secret information.'

‘But what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?'

‘In this instance, none at all.'

‘Why do you say “in this instance”?'

‘Because there are many ciphers which I would read as easily as I do the apocrypha of the agony column. Such crude devices amuse the intelligence without fatiguing it. But this is different. It is clearly a reference to the words in a page of some book. Until I am told which page and which book I am powerless.'

‘But why “Douglas” and “Birlstone”?'

‘Clearly because those are words which were not contained in the page in question.'

‘Then why has he not indicated the book?'

‘Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is the delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from enclosing cipher and message in the same envelope. Should it miscarry you are undone. As it is, both have to go wrong before any harm comes from it. Our second post is now overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does not bring us either a further letter of explanation or, as is more probable, the very volume to which these figures refer.'

Holmes's calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes by the appearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which we were expecting.

‘The same writing,' remarked Holmes, as he opened the envelope, ‘and actually signed,' he added, in an exultant voice, as he unfolded the epistle. ‘Come, we are getting on, Watson.'

His brow clouded, however, as he glanced over the contents.

‘Dear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all our
expectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to no harm.

‘“Dear Mr Holmes,” he says, “I will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous. He suspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quite unexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope with the intention of sending you the key to the cipher. I was able to cover it up. If he had seen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his eyes. Please burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you. – Fred Porlock.”'

Holmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his fingers, and frowning, as he stared into the fire.

‘After all,' he said at last, ‘there may be nothing in it. It may be only his guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a traitor, he may have read the accusation in the other's eyes.'

‘The other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty?'

‘No less. When any of that party talk about “he”, you know whom they mean. There is one predominant “he” for all of them.'

‘But what can he do?'

‘Hum! That's a large question. When you have one of the first brains of Europe up against you and all the powers of darkness at his back, there are infinite possibilities. Anyhow, friend Porlock is evidently scared out of his senses. Kindly compare the writing in the note with that upon its envelope, which was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit. The one is clear and firm; the other hardly legible.'

‘Why did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?'

‘Because he feared I would make some inquiry after him in that case, and possibly bring trouble on him.'

‘No doubt,' said I. ‘Of course' – I had picked up the original cipher message and was bending my brows over it – ‘it's pretty maddening to think that an important secret may lie here on this slip of paper, and that it is beyond human power to penetrate it.'

Sherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and lit the unsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest meditations.

‘I wonder!' said he, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. ‘Perhaps there are points which have escaped your Machiavellian
intellect. Let us consider the problem in the light of pure reason. This man's reference is to a book. That is our point of departure.'

‘A somewhat vague one.'

‘Let us see, then, if we can narrow it down. As I focus my mind upon it, it seems rather less impenetrable. What indications have we as to this book?'

‘None.'

‘Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. So our book has already become a
large
book, which is surely something gained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?'

‘Chapter the second, no doubt.'

‘Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page 534 only finds us in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable.'

‘Column!' I cried.

‘Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is not column, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we begin to visualize a large book, printed in double columns, which are each of a considerable length, since one of the words is numbered in the document as the two hundred and ninety-third. Have we reached the limits of what reason can supply?'

‘I fear that we have.'

‘Surely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, my dear Watson. Yet another brain-wave. Had the volume been an unusual one he would have sent it to me. Instead of that he had intended, before his plans were nipped, to send me the clue in this envelope. He says so in his note. This would seem to indicate that the book is one which he thought that I would have no difficulty in finding for myself. He had it, and he imagined that I would have it too. In short, Watson, it is a very common book.'

‘What you say certainly sounds plausible.'

‘So we have contracted our field of search to a large book, printed in double columns and in common use.'

‘The Bible,' I cried, triumphantly.

‘Good, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough. Even if I accepted the compliment for myself, I could hardly name any volume which would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one of Moriarty's associates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are so numerous that he could hardly suppose that two copies would have the same pagination. This is clearly a book which is standardized. He knows for certain that his page 534 will exactly agree with my page 534.'

‘But very few books would correspond with that.'

‘Exactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down to standardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess.'

‘
Bradshaw!
'

‘There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of
Bradshaw
is nervous and terse, but limited. The selection of words would hardly lend itself to the sending of general messages. We will eliminate
Bradshaw
. The dictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What, then, is left?'

‘An almanack.'

‘Excellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not touched the spot. An almanack! Let us consider the claims of
Whitaker's Almanack
. It is in common use. It has the requisite number of pages. It is in double columns. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if I remember right, quite garrulous towards the end.' He picked up the volume from his desk. ‘Here is page 534, column two, a substantial block of print dealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British India. Jot down the words, Watson. Number thirteen is “Mahratta”. Not, I fear, a very auspicious beginning. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is “Government”, which at least makes sense, though somewhat irrelevant to ourselves and Professor Moriarty. Now let us try again. What does the Mahratta Government do? Alas! the next word is “pigs'-bristles”. We are undone, my good Watson! It is finished.'

He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy eyebrows bespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy, staring into the fire. A long silence was broken by a sudden
exclamation from Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from which he emerged with a second yellow-covered volume in his hand.

‘We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date,' he cried. ‘We are before our time, and suffer the usual penalties. Being the seventh of January, we have very properly laid in the new almanack. It is more than likely that Porlock took his message from the old one. No doubt he would have told us so had his letter of explanation been written. Now let us see what page 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is “There”, which is much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is “is” – “There is ”' – Holmes's eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his thin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the words – ‘“danger”. Ha! ha! Capital! Put that down, Watson. “There is danger – may – come – very – soon – one”. Then we have the name “Douglas” – “rich – country – now – at – Birlstone – House – Birlstone – confidence – is – pressing”. There, Watson! what do you think of pure reason and its fruits? If the greengrocer had such a thing as a laurelwreath I should send Billy round for it.'

I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as he deciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee.

‘What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!' said I.

‘On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well,' said Holmes. ‘When you search a single column for words with which to express your meaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. You are bound to leave something to the intelligence of your correspondent. The purport is perfectly clear. Some devilry is intended against one Douglas, whoever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gentleman. He is sure – “confidence” was as near as he could get to “confident” – that it is pressing. There is our result, and a very workmanlike little bit of analysis it was.'