Sherlock Holmes and the King of Clubs (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

The Badger Game

A
T THE HEAD
of the stairs, Holmes looked firstly left, then right. The narrow hallway was lit by a single, flickering gaslight. Spying room seven, he went to the door and swiftly unlocked it. With a still-baffled Watson at his heels, he entered a spacious gaslit room that was furnished with a double bed, a chest of drawers and two armchairs. A six-fold Coromandel lacquered screen stood in the far corner, presumably masking an area where one might make one’s ablutions, or use the chamber set.

Though clothed, Irene Hastings and her companion sat, embracing, on the edge of the bed. On seeing Holmes, they sprang apart, shocked by his sudden entrance. The man looked horrified to have been caught in such a compromising situation and immediately began to bluster.

Irene, astonished to see Watson at Holmes’s elbow, managed a hasty but undeniably hollow-sounding, ‘John! Thank goodness you’re here! This man—’

Holmes cut her off, saying, ‘– has just had a very narrow escape …
Mrs Channing.
’

Struggling to straighten his tie, the man frowned, confused. ‘Chan –? What the deuce do you mean…?’

‘It is quite elementary, sir,’ said Holmes bluntly. ‘You have been seduced by your companion, as have many others before you. And having allowed your vanity to get the better of you, you have left yourself open to blackmail.’

The man gaped. ‘
What
?’

‘You have been the mark in what is known as the badger game,’ said Holmes. ‘A curious expression, I grant you, but one that hails from Wisconsin, the so-called Badger State, wherein the “trick” itself originated.

‘Put simply, the idea was to lure you into a compromising position, after which a witness – the desk clerk, perhaps, or the woman’s “brother” – would have burst in and caught you
in flagrante delicto.
If you refused to pay for their silence they would have threatened to expose your infidelity unless their demands for cash were met.’

The man paled at the suggestion. ‘You can’t mean that!’

‘I’m afraid I do, sir. Of course, you could always have called their bluff, informed them that it was merely their word against yours. That might have made them back down. But in this modern age, with such impressive advances in photography …’

Without warning he suddenly struck the lacquered screen with his cane. It teetered and then toppled forward onto the carpet, revealing—

‘Robert!’ croaked Watson.

For the man standing beside a Triple Victo camera on a
wood-and
-brass tripod was the person he believed to be Irene Hastings’s – or rather Mrs Channing’s – brother.

‘… the results would have been undeniable,’ Holmes concluded.

Recovering himself, Robert dropped the magnesium-filled flashpan he was holding and clambered forward over the fallen screens, fists clenched, his expression contorted with pure hatred. For an instant Watson feared for Holmes, knowing that he was no longer a young man. But he had forgotten that Holmes was a master of the Japanese martial art
baritsu
.

Crouching, Holmes used his cane like a billiard cue, using his right hand to thrust it up through the fingers of his left, slamming it into his attacker’s solar plexus.

Winded, Robert fell back against the camera. The tripod and camera crashed to the floor. Its glass photographic plate popped out and shattered into pieces.

As Robert tried to extricate himself from the broken tripod, Holmes barked: ‘Stay where you are!’

Intimidated by Holmes’s tone, Robert grudgingly obeyed.

Watson saw it all then – a tiny peephole artfully worked into the flowers painted on the lacquered screen and done in such a way as as to be almost invisible. Behind the peephole the camera had been set up to photograph the couple on the bed, providing irrefutable proof as to the man’s infidelity. Irene’s victim would have had no idea what was about to befall him until the flashpan ignited and the damning picture was taken.

Her present victim saw as much for himself, and cried, ‘Oh dear God, I am ruined!’

‘On the contrary,’ Holmes said. ‘You have been given a second chance and one I hope you will take to its full advantage.’

The man who had signed the register as ‘Mr Haslemere’ nodded. ‘I will,’ he assured Holmes earnestly. ‘This shall serve as a … a sobering lesson.’

‘Then I suggest you leave now as a wiser man than when you arrived.’

‘But what about …’ the man gestured toward Irene, who had crossed the room to help the still-seething Robert get to his feet.

‘Never fear,’ said Holmes. ‘This woman and her companion are finished.’

The man needed no second urging. Greatly relieved, he grabbed his scarf and topper and ran from the room.

After the sound of his departing steps had faded, silence again filled the room. The woman Watson knew as Irene Hastings said, ‘John, this isn’t what it looks like.’

Watson almost laughed. ‘Then please explain it to my satisfaction. That, I think, would be
quite
a feat.’

Before she could answer, Robert, having finally extricated himself from the broken tripod, grabbed her by the arm and pushed her toward the door. ‘We’re leaving,’ he snarled at Holmes. ‘And you’d better not try and stop us!’

Instinctively, Watson moved to bar their escape. But Holmes shook his head. ‘Let them go, old friend. We have done our bit.’

Watson disagreed, but he trusted Holmes and if he said the
matter was finished, then he must have a good reason for doing so.

Irene Hastings – Watson still couldn’t think of her as anyone else – and her brother brushed past him. At the door she gave Watson one final look, and then she was gone.

CHAPTER FIVE

A Second Chance

T
HE
DISAPPOINTMENT OF
it all suddenly caught up with Watson and he sagged. ‘I have been a fool, haven’t I?’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘You have been
human
, old friend, and heir to all the failings of that species,’ Holmes replied. ‘And if you
have
been a fool, then so have a great many other men of similar station before you. But in your case …’

Watson looked up sharply. ‘What?’

‘Well, let us say there were … extenuating circumstances … where you were concerned. At the outset, Mrs Channing and her husband – the man you were led to believe was her brother – identified you as a mark for the badger game. After your wife died so unexpectedly, however, they realized there was no one to whom they could expose you.

‘But they are of agile intellect, those two, and it soon occurred to them that no man is easier to manipulate and beguile than one thoroughly preoccupied by his grief. You were lonely and the attention of “Mrs Hastings”, as she called herself, was a soothing balm, a pleasant comfort. But all the time it was just a pretence to take more and more of your money. And she did, didn’t she?’

Watson nodded, ashamed. ‘But why did you not come to me directly, and sooner?’ he asked.

‘Would you have believed me, Watson? Or more correctly, would your
heart
have allowed you to believe me? No, my friend, it
was better for you to see the truth with your own eyes. Besides, I had to make absolutely sure of my facts first.’

‘But how did you know? I mean … what first put you onto her?’

‘That, my dear fellow, was simple,’ Holmes said, idly inspecting the shattered remains of the camera. ‘As you know, I have an excellent eye for detail and a keen memory for faces. And even though I am now retired, I still continue to read the
Police Gazette
with great interest.

‘You will remember that I met Mrs Hastings when I attended your wife’s funeral. She was and indeed remains a handsome woman, but I noticed at the time that she overuses her rice make-up in two places, one at the left corner of her mouth, the other on her forehead, between her eyebrows up to her hairline. I confess I did not make much of it at the time, and of course there was no reason why I should. But I am afraid I have lost none of my mistrust of women. It was only upon reading a report in the
Police Gazette
about a certain Mrs Violet Channing that I connected the two events.’

He paused and regarded Watson keenly. ‘I need hardly explain the term
naevus flammeus
to you.’

Watson scowled. ‘A port-wine stain?’

‘Indeed. As you know, they are much less common than the so-called “salmon patches” which usually occur in newborns and fade with time. The
naevus flammeus
remains and as the years progress the mark or marks tend to become somewhat uneven. This is what Mrs Channing was attempting to disguise with the overuse of powder.’

‘There is no crime in that.’

‘None at all. Indeed, for what it is worth, the poor woman has my sympathy for the condition. But Mrs Channing was reported to have the self-same affliction, Watson. And so I took it upon myself to investigate her a little more closely.’

‘Ever the detective, eh, Holmes?’ Watson said with a hint of bitterness.

Holmes smiled wryly. ‘Let us say that, even if there was the faintest chance that your Mrs Hastings was in reality the
larcenous Mrs Channing, I could not allow you to be taken in, as had so many men before you. And I dearly wish I had been mistaken, Watson, but unfortunately I was not. The facts I was able to unearth regarding “Mrs Hastings” were suspiciously few. Indeed, as near as I could ascertain, she seemed to have appeared out of thin air, some months after Mrs Channing, on the run from the police, went to ground. From there it was a small matter to keep the woman under observance until her own actions condemned her.’

‘Then we must report her, Holmes! We cannot allow her to continue with such an abhorrent business!’

‘There is, I believe, no need for that. To bring them to book now might only cause the very embarrassment and exposure that their victims were hoping to avoid. Besides, after tonight’s little encounter, I fancy they will go to ground once more.’

‘Then they will have got away with it.’

‘Perhaps,’ Holmes replied enigmatically.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that upon reaching their lodgings in Tooting, the Channings will pack their bags and leave the city for pastures new. But as they gather their belongings, they will discover three curious things. One – the notebooks in which they recorded all the sordid details of their victims will have mysteriously disappeared. Two – so will the vile collection of photographs they used in their demands for payment. And three – all the paperwork relating to their several well-stocked bank accounts will have been destroyed, rendering them all but penniless; for to make any attempt to reclaim those accounts may well invite close scrutiny of their somewhat questionable finances – firstly from the banks themselves, and then, in due course, from the police.’

‘You have well and truly ruined them, then?’

‘Let us just say that I have lost none of my skill at breaking and entering.’

Watson snapped his fingers as something else suddenly became clear to him. ‘And those letters you posted earlier this evening …?’

‘Were all addressed to those same victims, informing them
– anonymously, of course – that they have nothing further to fear from their blackmailer, and suggesting they learn a salutary lesson from the experience.’

‘So there
is
some justice, then.’

‘There is nearly always
some
justice, old friend,’ Holmes agreed softly.

‘And there is no fool like an old fool,’ Watson grumbled. ‘And I will be perfectly honest with you, Holmes: I doubt that I have ever felt so old or so foolish.’

Unexpectedly Holmes smiled, and the light of good humour entered his grey eyes. ‘Then allow me to give you a second chance to recapture your salad days.’

‘Salad? You’ve lost me, Holmes.’

‘I must confess, as much as I enjoy my life in Sussex and my study of bees, it falls far short of the adventurous life you and I once enjoyed in Baker Street. It is, as Browning would have it, “That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!”’

‘You are, as usual, speaking in riddles and displaying a knowledge of verse that I never before suspected.’

‘Then I will say it plainly,’ Holmes replied. ‘We cannot go back, Watson. But we may go forward. I have recently been thinking of travel … but where is the pleasure in travelling alone?’

‘Where were you thinking of going?’

‘Austria,’ came the startling reply.

‘Austria!’

‘Yes. For some time now I have been corresponding with the neurologist, Dr Freud. He appears to be a most fascinating man and one I will enjoy meeting, for I am keen to discuss at greater length a diagnostic technique he calls
psychoanalysis
. What do you say, old friend?’

‘I am hardly enamoured of Freud’s theories,’ Watson said. ‘Indeed, I heartily disapprove of some.’

‘But
Vienna
, man!’

Watson could hardly deny the temptation. But still he hesitated. ‘When do you plan to leave, Holmes? I mean, I have my
duties as a locum to consider….’

‘Then first thing tomorrow morning,’ Holmes said, clapping him on the arm, ‘arrange for a replacement, and I will take care of everything else. Within forty-eight hours, my friend, we will be on our way – and who knows? Once again, if we are lucky, the game may well be afoot!’