There seemed nothing more to do, so Holmes and I once again got into a hansom to take us back to Baker Street.
My friend was silent, but I could see puzzlement writ on his face, and he scanned passers-by as we drove north-west as though in the hope he might spot the couple and their baby. He maintained his silence for the rest of the day, but charged and recharged his pipe with the strongest tobacco. I was just about to take my candle to bed when he unbent himself.
“It doesn’t make sense, Watson: that the couple took fright and disappeared before we could help them is unfortunate but not impossible; that Michael left as soon as his shift came to an end is unhelpful but not unreasonable; but where did that girl learn to speak like that? It was uplifting, but wholly inexplicable. It is almost as if some other force had taken over her body because she won’t have learnt to use words like ‘myriad’ and ‘consorted’ in any schooling that she will have had.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“I shall have to see what I can do to track the couple down. I shall not stint in my efforts to trace them. This mystery must be investigated like any other matter, especially if what we are investigating should prove to overturn the received version of events of two thousand years ago.”
For the next few days, Holmes was seldom at our quarters. He told me afterwards how he called at inns and lodging-houses, spoke to beadles in work-houses, deployed the forces of the Baker Street Irregulars, and consulted with the police about missing persons’ lists. He found no trace of any missing couple and a child. It was as if the people we had seen had disappeared off the face of the earth.
And it was not long before he had to abandon the search altogether. After that mildest of Decembers, January started with a succession of bitter frosts, with the glass showing temperatures well below freezing point for days on end. I spent almost all of the next two and a half months indoors, swathed in blankets. I had sold my medical practice and Holmes had no cases apart from the abortive one referred to above. Our fellow Londoners also preferred to stay indoors as far as they could and the normally busy thoroughfare below us was empty indeed.
The extreme cold meant that coal could not be moved, so our rooms in Baker Street became icy and cheerless as our stocks of solid fuel dwindled. Our solitary gas ring, which we kept burning all day, became our only source of heat. The Thames froze over and, on those infrequent days when newspapers could actually be printed and distributed, they carried reports of numerous deaths from exposure, hypothermia and sheer inanition. This prolonged spell of extreme cold lasted throughout January and February and well into March.
Holmes occasionally remarked querulously that the London felon was a dull fellow not to take advantage of the absence of people and the frozen conditions to settle a few scores. But I noted that he was as disinclined as I was to leave the relative warmth of our quarters for the rigours of the snowy wastes outside. His intellectual energies, by contrast, were unaffected by the cold and he channelled these energies in a most unexpected way in his search for the couple and their baby. The year 1894 had seen the small matter come to pass that I have related under the title “The Crooked Man”. To resolve the case, Holmes had shown a knowledge of the Bible which had quite taken me aback as I was not aware of any interest on his part in sacred texts. Now, as we sat on either side of our flickering gas ring, my friend engrossed himself in Bible study, minutely examining both the scripture itself and exegeses of it. It might be anticipated that over such a long period of close confinement, Holmes and I might have had conversations ranging over a wide range of subjects, but Holmes’s biblical study occupied him fully and we exchanged barely a word with each other.
It was late March - after a long thaw had chased away the last frost flowers from our windows while the first buds were visible on the trees - before my friend provided an exposition of his work. “What say you,” he asked one bright though still bracing morning, “to a ramble though Regent’s Park?”
It was not in Holmes’s nature to propose a walk for the sake of it and I ascribed his uncharacteristic suggestion to a lack of detective activity allied to a desire to escape our frowsy living room. I happily assented to the invitation.
For a couple of hours, we strolled together - though always staying on marked paths or on the Outer Circle as the grassed areas were quagmires now that the thaw had set in. We found ourselves by no means alone in our perambulation as other Londoners fled the warmth of their hearths to enjoy the fresh air. On the Outer Circle we saw pedestrians, cyclists and carriages, as well as a few intrepid motor cars, each, in accordance with the law of the time, following a man bearing a red flag who was obliged to walk at the maximum permitted speed in towns of two miles per hour. These cars regularly blocked the path of the swifter, horse-drawn two-wheelers and four-wheelers.
I asked Holmes about the case at Southwark and whether he had any plans to pursue it further.
“I fear,” he said, “that if you come to make any account of it at all, you will probably have to treat it as one of those unfinished cases which you have elsewhere referred to as being often not the least interesting of the numerous matters that are brought to my attention. You will recall that the couple and their story bore many similarities to the nativity. Having been unable to continue my missing persons search in the midst of the bleak winter, I have focused my intellectual energies on Bible prophecies and associated writings.”
“And are your conclusions from these that the baby we saw represented the Second Coming of Christ and that the end of days is upon us?”
“I think not,” said Holmes in a voice shorn of much of its normal assurance, “or I would have told you the story of the giant rat of Sumatra. The ending of days would have justified its publication whether the world was prepared for it or not.”
This was not the first time Holmes had mentioned the giant rat of Sumatra without telling me why the world was not yet prepared for the events associated with it. I hoped that he would elaborate on his statement, but instead he continued to talk about the case from December.
“The New Testament has an altogether apocalyptic vision of the Second Coming, which is said to be preceded by great famines and wars, with the sun darkened and the moon not giving light. For all the prolonged harshness of the recent winter, there are no phenomena of such magnitude identifiable at present. No, the events we saw have far more characteristics of the prophecies of the first coming of Christ. Most of the predictions of a first coming were in the writings of Isaiah, and the Gospel of St Matthew draws heavily on Isaiah to authenticate the birth in the stable as the birth of the son of God. Isaiah states that a child will be born of what is variously translated as a virgin or a young woman, although my understanding of Hebrew is that Isaiah was referring to the latter. Matthew, by contrast, states unequivocally that the mother of the person he describes as the Redeemer was a virgin.”
“As you will understand Holmes,” I said, reddening slightly at the thought, “I would not have been able to form a view on this point after the woman we saw in the stable had given birth. My limited examination could only confirm that she was about fourteen and in good health for someone who had had a recent confinement.”
Holmes paused as though to docket the information I had just given him and then continued, “Another prophet, Micah, says that the Redeemer will be born in Bethlehem while Hosea states he will come out of Egypt.”
“But, Holmes, this baby was born in London!”
The long fallow period in my friend’s caseload had not diminished his acerbity with those who he perceived as intellectually slower than himself. “The asylum, Watson, is called Bedlam as it was originally founded at the priory of St Mary of Bethlehem. Accordingly, the birth we saw agrees precisely with Micah’s prophecy.”
“Holmes!” I exclaimed, although in retrospect I may have been imprudent to raise my voice, “If what you are saying is th
at the birth in Southwark was the Coming of the Redeemer, you are overturning the teachings of the Christian church of almost two millennia. In less benign times than these, you might have been burnt as a heretic, just as your powers of deduction might have had you burnt as a witch!”
“Precisely for this reason I have been most circumspect in talking to you about the results of my enquiries. Not only did the couple in the stable satisfy many of the requirements of the original prophecies, but I can find no way to explain how the girl might have learnt to speak in the way that she did.”
“So what are your plans now?”
“The matter is certainly a most engaging one - but my efforts to locate the couple had borne no fruit even before the advent of extreme cold, and the trail now will be even harder to follow after the long hiatus in the investigation imposed by the weather. Although I will carry on some further researches for as long as my practice remains quiet, I fear the Southwark case will remain unsolved and the question of whether the birth overturns our current version of history will remain unresolved for many years to come.”
When we returned to Baker Street, the boy in buttons was waiting for us. “A gentleman called, sir! He said he will be back.”
No sooner had we gone up the stairs than our client appeared in the doorway.
In my story “The Minister and the Moguls”, I introduced the slight, inscrutable Mr Lawler who always came wearing an opera hat. At the opening of that story, he had been a junior member of the British Cabinet. The story ended not only with the result Mr Lawler had sought for his political party, but also with further profit for him in the form of a new and highly remunerative non-executive directorship at one of Britain’ s leading companies, for which he resigned his Cabinet post. Holmes and I could not be sure if either of these things were the result of our efforts and I had assumed that we would not hear from Mr Lawler again. I was therefore surprised when Mr Lawler appeared once more at our threshold. He was as elegant and cordial as he had been at the time of the original case and, after the customary formalities, he came straight to the point.
“I am a busy man, Mr Holmes,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “In addition to my assiduous work as my constituents’ proud representative in the House of Commons, and my onerous responsibilities as a non-executive director supervising the activities of some of Britain’s biggest businesses, I also represent a number of non-governmental organisations. One of these is the organisation behind that well-known annual publication, The Climate Almanac. This well-funded group watches the weather and the climate closely. We at The Climate Almanac are convinced that the climate is changing. We have had a succession of hard winters culminating in the icy horror that we have just experienced and this seems to form a pattern with the succession of poor summers over the last few years.”
Mr Lawler was about to continue the exposition of his problem, but I had seen puzzlement spread across Holmes’s face from the start of Mr Lawler’s statement. Even though it was clear that Mr Lawler had much more to say, my friend could restrain himself no longer.
“My dear Mr Lawler,” he interjected. “I have attempted in my own small way to be a benefactor of humanity, but I am at a loss to see how I can help you in this matter. I cannot, even with all the powers that my chronicler, with occasional embellishment,” and here Holmes nodded in my direction, “attributes to me, in any way influence the weather or alter the climate.”
“Just so, Mr Holmes, just so. A commission asking you to change the climate is not the motivation for my visit.” I think Mr Lawler expected Holmes to interject again, but my friend remained silent. Lawler continued. “A few years ago, some construction workers building the Metropolitan Railway came upon some enormous boulders that were blocking the path of their tunnel by Finchley Road station.”
I saw Holmes raise his eyebrows at this seemingly irrelevant piece of information.
“Mr Holmes,” said Lawler, accelerating his flow of speech, I suspect in fear that Holmes was about to terminate the interview, “the rocks were of such a size and density that they could not be dug out and were so massed in the soil that it was impossible to tunnel round them. In the end they had to be dynamited out. Scientists at the geology department of University College in London had expressed an interest in the rocks and asked if they could examine the fragments that were subsequently extracted. It is only in the last few weeks they have arrived at their findings and presented an early draft of them to us at the Almanac.”
“And?” said Holmes.
“Mr Holmes, the rocks were all that was left of a gigantic glacier.”
For the first time since Mr Lawler’s arrival, I saw a spark of interest appear in my companion’s eyes, but he let Mr Lawler continue without interruption.
“Glaciers normally end in a deposit of rubble, but this conglomeration of rocks was the tip of no ordinary glacier,” said Mr Lawler. “This glacier had extended to the north from where the station was being constructed as far as we can measure. This means that at some point in the distant past, the ice sheet which covers the North Pole and which at present ends thousands of miles to the north of us in the inhospitable wilds of northern Norway, must have extended to cover almost the entire area of this country. The recent prevalence of harsh winters has caused us at The Climate Almanac to ask ourselves two questions: first, whether such bitterly cold times are poised to return and secondly, if there is anything that mankind is doing to bring about this change. Without wishing to labour the obvious, the weather comes from the sky and the last hundred years have seen an unprecedented increase in the amount of coal and other fuels being burnt as part of the process of industrialisation. This means that far more soot, brimstone and associated gases are being released into the atmosphere than has been the case at any time in the history of mankind. Could the increased presence of these gases be blocking the light of the sun and so causing a cooling of the climate for all that such gases are invisible to the human eye?”
“Pray continue.”
“I have had the opportunity to discuss my concerns with the Prime Minister. He agrees with me that the matters I have raised are a danger not only to the fortunes of those who live in this country but to the well-being of everyone on this planet. He is reluctant to invest government money directly behind an idea which may prove to be no more than the wildest speculation. Our organisation, besides what it receives from its benefactors, receives grants from the Government. These grants are to be increased in the next financial year as the Government would like more information from us on tides and currents to assist with the optimal operational efficiency of the Royal Navy. This will free up funding to enable us to widen the scope of our activities. The Climate Almanac would like to commission you to find out what you can about meteorological history and to establish whether the recent swing we have seen towards colder winters and cooler summers has anything to do with man’s activity.”
I glanced across at my friend to gauge what he thought of this commission, which was quite unique in all the petitions for his help that I had heard. He was, however, inscrutability itself and merely told Lawler that he would have to consider how to respond to his invitation to investigate climate change and man’s role in it.
Mr Lawler expressed delight at Holmes’s words and, with a flourish, produced a cheque book and a receipts book with the name of The Climate Almanac embossed on its front to document the payment of an advance to Holmes to the sum of £100. “Naturally, Mr Holmes,” he said, “it is only fair to make an advance of the consideration you will receive for taking on this case.”
I think Holmes was slightly surprised at the receipt of such a munificent advance when he had yet definitively to accept the case. Nevertheless, he picked up the cheque given to him by Lawler and tucked it into an inner pocket. Forthwith, Mr Lawler was gone as suddenly as he had come.
I challenged Holmes once we were alone again. How, I asked, could
he accept an advance for taking on a case when he had not even formally agreed to carry out the investigation? How, I went on, did he propose to investigate changes in the climate over a period that was long enough to be scientifically meaningful, and how was he going to establish whether the great industrial revolution of the past hundred years was influencing the climate? And had he finally decided to abandon the case that had come our way just before the freeze?
Without answering, Holmes sat back in his armchair with his eyelids drawn three-quarters of the way over his eyes and the tips of his fingers pressed against each other. There was a long silence before he finally spoke. When he did so, his voice had a strangely disembodied quality:
“The newspapers have been full of stories of the poverty caused by the prolonged cold weather. For all of the industrial developments that Mr Lawler has spoken about, the economy remains largely agricultural. If the weather makes farming impossible, farm labourers cannot work, yet they must still eat and pay their rent. Equally, the long freeze has made my own flow of clients dry up, while my expenditure has remained at the same level or even higher due to my need to pay for my share of the gas to keep this room warm. I do not enjoy an army pension or the benefit of capital derived from the sale of a medical practice. And my research into the couple we saw in the stables at Bedlam has not only proved completely fruitless, it is also, even if I continue with it, not going to give me any income. However much I dislike having my priorities swayed by financial considerations, a commission from a well-funded organisation such as that behind The Climate Almanac is most welcome to me at the present time.”
“But surely any future payment from the publishers of The Climate Almanac and any further payments for a project of this nature are dependent on you confirming a link between the cooling of the climate and industrial development? Are you really willing to countenance such a meretricious modus operandi?”
I saw Holmes start at the mere suggestion that his funding might be dependent on the conclusions that he arrived at rather than on his decision to accept a commission. A lengthy silence ensued as he considered his position.
The Redacted Sherlock Holmes, Volume 3 Page 7