The Redacted Sherlock Holmes, Volume 3

by Orlando Pearson

  “It is good to see you, Dr Watson,” he said. “We are just gathering the workforce for the announcement and it will be of great benefit to have a doctor standing by as well as the additional outside support we have gathered to ensure that everything runs smoothly.”

  The workforce slowly gathered from the factory floor and I noticed that they had to make their way around the sealed carriages which ominously seemed to be parked in front of the entrances to the shop floor. My heart beat harder against my ribs as Mr Alleyne stood on a dais to address the crowd, with Mr Velder next to him. Was it a coincidence or was it part of the planning that the dais was right next to the archway leading to the street and therefore facilitated a swift egress?

  “I have called you away from the shop floor,” began Mr Alleyne, “to make a number of important announcements. We are committed to securing the best conditions for you, our work force, to whom the success of this business belongs. From today, this company will benefit from the services of Dr John Watson of Queen Square, who has agreed to become the Company Doctor and will ensure the highest possible healthcare standards are offered to you all.”

  I waved nervously to the crowd, who were kind enough to applaud politely as I identified myself. My heart continued pounding painfully against my ribs as I waited for the next part of the announcement.

  “We have been in negotiations,” continued Mr Alleyne, “with a number of different parties about the future of this site.” Now a murmur of disquiet spread through the ranks of burly workers and I could feel my temples throbbing as my blood coursed through the engorged veins. “Among these parties,” Mr Velder went on, “is the North London Development Board. They have been persuaded by our success to give us a generous grant to enable us to buy the machinery that is used to make the garments to which you have been so brilliantly applying the special London Softwear Company finish. This will expand our business here and you will soon be joined by another five hundred staff.”

  There was a lusty cheer from the workforce and my heartbeat suddenly returned to a normal pulse.

  “And finally,” concluded Mr Alleyne, “today marks precisely five years since the opening of this site. On behalf of the board I am happy to invite you to lay down your tools for this one afternoon and to join us in a celebration catered for by the St Giles Brewery, whose carriages you can see around us. We are indeed blessed that the weather is remarkably clement for the time of year, so that we can have this celebration outside. Drinks of all sorts will be served and I would beg you to go home after the festivities are over. It would be unfortunate indeed if Dr Watson’s first task as Company Doctor were to be to have to cut out someone out of the compressor - indeed I am not even sure he has got a bone cutter with him in his medical bag.” He paused as a nervous titter rippled through the workforce. “But in any case, it is a happy coincidence that Dr Watson is here on site in case any celebrations get a little bit out of hand.”

  Mr Alleyne concluded his speech shortly afterwards to a hearty ovation and the festive mood then got into full swing as the caterers appeared from the sealed carriages.

  Mr Lawler suddenly appeared at my elbow and beamed conspiratorially at me. “I told you that politics was the art of the possible, Dr Watson!” he said. “It was I who arranged for the company to receive a grant from the North London Development Board for the purchase of new machinery. And because this will result in a significant increase in the number of people employed and greater prosperity of the workforce, the local council has also agreed to waive all property taxes on the company for the next twenty years, on condition that production continues here. You can see some of the machinery has arrived already,” and he pointed to some large packing cases being unloaded from a carriage which had just driven into the courtyard. “This development is of benefit to us all.”

  I stayed at the London Softwear Company’s premises until all but the last few workers had departed for home. As I left, I passed the packing cases and noted they were carrying despatch notes from Manchester.

  I picked up an evening paper on the way home which carried the sensational news that the Chancellor of the Exchequer was standing down due to the publicity surrounding the special tax deals given to large companies. “When the person of the Chancellor rather than the success of the economy becomes the story,” the Chancellor was quoted as saying in his letter of resignation, “then it is time for someone else to take over. I wish Mr Lawler every success in his new role as Chancellor of the Exchequer.” A paragraph further down, speculating on future roles for the Chancellor, mooted the possibility of a consulting role for him with one of the financial advice companies and Pitt & Waterman was specifically mentioned. “A radical tax-reforming chancellor such as this one is well-placed to point advisers in the direction where maximum tax efficiency can be achieved.”

  Within a few weeks, I was reflecting that it was not just Mr Lawler who was among the financial beneficiaries of Holmes’s latest case. After a quiet start for my practice, the regular additional income from the enlarged London Softwear Company operations, allied to the income I derived from those members of the workforce who subsequently became my patients, proved the bedrock of my business. Accordingly, I was soon able to reward my wife with the shopping expedition she craved to one of the great fashion emporia in Knightsbridge.

  On our arrival, she observed immediately that the advertising line to call shoppers’ attention to where London Softwear’s products were laid out had changed. “It used to say ‘Garments imported from Amsterdam, finished in London’,” she commented thoughtfully. “Now it says, ‘Finished according to a secret Dutch process’.”

  She paused to try a couple of outfits on. “And perhaps they don’t look quite so good and they certainly don’t feel so comfortable as they did when they were imported. And they are just as expensive as they ever were. Maybe to protect your purse, John, I shall have to try on some competitor products.” And she moved into the next aisle to investigate.

  A New Line of Attack

  This story is in many ways the most multi-faceted of all the ones I have chosen to place before the public. It provides a startling insight into the workings and priorities of the British Government at the start of the 1930s and highlights a lost opportunity to use Holmes’s great intellect on a task for which it would have been uniquely suited. It also showcases my friend’s speed in acquiring a mastery of a field of activity which was completely alien to him. So great was this mastery that he was able to provide strikingly original and successful ideas to experts in that field, which were used to undermine the only living man whose expertise, albeit in a sphere outside detective work, my friend recognised as the equal of his own. Finally, I can adduce no other case which so well demonstrates the keenness of my friend’s senses. But Holmes’s capabilities were not always put to the best possible use by those who had the opportunity to do so and, as my reader will discover, nowhere is this truer than here.

  The year 1930 had already been notable for two cases which I have related as “The Red Priest’s Treasure Trove” and “The German Interpreter”. While I had been delighted to resume my collaboration with Holmes after many years of only the most sporadic contact, I assumed by the second half of August of that year that there would be no more cases for a while and that the spurt of activity of that year had been an enjoyable aberration.

  I was therefore surprised when in the early morning of Saturday, the sixteenth of August, I received a telegram from Holmes saying “MUST SEE YOU ON FINAL TEST”. My reader will be aware of the grave matter I published under the title “The Final Problem”, so I was both intrigued and concerned to find out what Holmes was referring to. Within a short space of time, I was looking into the keen eyes of my friend as he sat across the desk of my consulting room while he explained the commission with his customary clarity.

  “It’s like this, Watson,” he said. “A Mr Jardine, who my archives have shown me to
be both a businessman and an amateur sportsman of some distinction, has asked me for advice on a matter involving his sporting activities. This is not an arena where I have any knowledge at all and I was wondering if you would join me on this commission, in case there are technical matters on which I may require your assistance?”

  “But Holmes!” I exclaimed, “Mr Jardine is one of the finest cricketers in the country. He has not been playing regularly this year, but two years ago he performed with great distinction on England’s triumphant tour to Australia. I should be delighted to provide with you any assistance I can.”

  In less than an hour, Holmes and I were in the Committee Room at the Oval Cricket Ground, being introduced to the tall and spare Douglas Jardine.

  “Today is the start of the final Test match of the summer against Australia,” Jardine began. “Fitness and form permitting, I have been advised that I am likely to be asked to lead the England touring party to Australia in just over two years’ time, even though I am not in the team at the moment. This is a signal honour for me as, to date, no Wykehamist has had the England captaincy bestowed on him.”

  “Pray continue.”

  “Australia have two players who have been outstanding all this summer. I was looking for some new insights from you, Mr Holmes, on a way to blunt their effectiveness in Australia in two years’ time as, if we don’t achieve this, we are not going to win. I appreciate from the work of your friend, Dr Watson here,” and Jardine nodded towards me, “that what I am looking for is a slight departure from your normal area of expertise, but I feel that it is precisely the observations of the unencumbered mind that I am looking for.”

  “You live in a different world to me, Mr Jardine,” said Holmes, “a sweeter and healthier one. My ramifications stretch out into many sections of society, but never, I am happy to say, into sport, which is the best and soundest thing in England and about which I know nothing.”

  Jardine’s face fell at this comment. “So am I to understand,” he asked in a downcast tone, “that you know nothing about the spectacle in front of us?”

  Holmes looked out at the great green sward beneath us and the figures in white scattered across it. “Inasmuch as I have a sport at all,” he said thoughtfully, “it is boxing which has on occasions been useful to me in my work. I make it my practice not to retain knowledge of topics that are not similarly useful. Accordingly, while I have some slight recollection of playing cricket at school, all I see before me are thirteen men dressed in white of whom two bear sticks and defend a target-”

  “A wicket,” I interjected.

  “-against a ball propelled by one of the other eleven. Presumably they do that like a boxer defends his jaw, while seeking to strike the ball as a boxer strikes his opponent,” continued Holmes. “Beyond that, however, I see a sporting spectacle, but have no more understanding of what I see than of what you would understand if you looked at a piece of undecrypted cipher.”

  “Well, Mr Holmes,” said Mr Jardine, “I will try and enlighten you about the game. Let us go to our seats.”

  We sat in the second row of the top deck of the pavilion looking down on the play. The sun shone and the ground was full. Looking around me I could see several distinguished guests of Surrey County Cricket Club. The Prince of Wales, the club’s patron, was in the row in front of us watching the play, and I noted, among the large party with him, both the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Philip Snowden, and the former Home Secretary, Sir John Simon.

  “Cricket,” began Jardine, “is played between two teams of eleven players. One side, in this case England, is batting and endeavours to score points or so-called runs either by running between the two targets or striking the ball to the boundary - the piece of rope you can see at the edge of the grass - after it has been propelled by the bowler.”

  I must admit here to letting my attention wander as Jardine continued his explanation of a game I knew well. I noted to my amusement that the Prince was also trying to explain the game of cricket to a group of American ladies in his party and seemed to be having many of the same difficulties with them as Jardine was having with Holmes.

  “The other team,” I heard Jardine continue after Holmes had asked a series of questions which betrayed only a lack of understanding of the game, “propels or delivers the ball in such a way as to make it difficult for the batting side to achieve this and with the objective of making the batsman commit an infraction such as letting his wicket be struck by the ball, or having the ball caught directly from the bat. When this happens, the batsman is replaced by one of his teammates. Once all the players of the first side have batted, the other team goes in and seeks to exceed the tally of runs made by the first team. The team that scores the most runs and dismisses the batsmen of its opponents wins the game.”

  “You make yourself very plain,” said Holmes and watched for a few minutes, puffing contentedly on his pipe, before he made another remark.

  “So presumably,” he said finally as we watched a tall figure running in, “the difficulty posed by this ball propeller-”

  “Bowler,” I offered.

  “-is the velocity with which he propels the ball?”

  “Yes,” said Jardine. “That is Tim Wall, who is the fastest bowler on the Australian team.”

  We watched a little longer and the small, wizened and becapped Grimmett came on to bowl from the other end.

  “And presumably the difficulty posed by this bowler,” said Holmes, after Grimmett had bowled his first two balls, “is that he sometimes makes the ball spin clockwise and sometimes widdershins so that when it lands, it sometimes moves into the batsman like the first delivery and sometimes moves away like the second?”

  I saw Jardine start violently at this comment by my friend. “Mr Holmes!” he exclaimed. “How, in the name of all that’s wonderful, do you know that? I know from my own experience of facing Grimmett that his ability to turn the ball both ways with little discernible change of action is the principal difficulty he causes, but a few minutes ago you were displaying no understanding of cricket at all.”

  “Are you telling me, Mr Jardine,” replied Holmes, sounding somewhat taken aback, “that your eyesight is not of a level to enable you to see that the ball is sometimes rotating one way out of Grimmett’s hand and sometimes in the opposite direction? Perhaps it is as well that, as your lack of a tan indicates, your main focus this summer has been on your business interests rather than on sport. We are no more than ninety yards away from Grimmett and the difference in the direction of rotation of the ball as it spins through the air is obvious.” He turned to me, “Watson, I have done you a disservice. I have commented that you see but do not observe. I would question whether Mr Jardine even sees. Mr Jardine, is acuity of vision not generally an important requisite for players of this game?”

  The Surrey amateur was clearly not used to being addressed in this cavalier fashion and I could see him chewing on the stem of his pipe after Holmes’s last remark, but he again mastered himself to say: “Indeed, Mr Holmes, my eyesight appears not to be at your level. But if none of our players can see the direction in which the ball spins out of Grimmett’s hand - even if you can - that will not give them very much help.”

  “But surely it is entirely predictable,” said Holmes, as the Australian spin bowler ran in to bowl the next one, “that Grimmett will spin this one anti-clockwise.” We paused as Oldfield, the wicketkeeper crouching behind the wicket, moved to his right to collect the ball as it turned and spun past the outside edge of the batsman’s hesitant grope forward.

  Jardine’s face had gone from expressions of hope to scepticism and then to wonder within a few seconds. “Mr Holmes!” he exclaimed. “Can you see some change in Grimmett’s run-up between his different kind of deliveries?”

  Holmes held his counsel for several minutes as Grimmett and Wall continued bowling in tandem. Finally, he said:

/>   “My dear Mr Jardine! It must be evident to you that the man squatting behind the wicket-”

  “The Australian wicket-keeper, Oldfield,” I chimed in.

  “-has to know which way the ball is spinning so that he can gather it. If none of the England players can follow the rotation of the ball in the air, then nor can he. Is it possible that you have not spotted how Grimmett signals his intentions of which way he is going to spin the ball to Oldfield?”

  We sat and watched for a while before Holmes explained his inference with an air of barely concealed impatience. “When Grimmett is going to rotate the ball anti-clockwise, he turns anti-clockwise before he runs in to bowl. And when he intends to rotate the ball clockwise, he turns clockwise before he runs into bowl. That is how Oldfield knows in which direction he needs to move to gather the ball.”

  As the play progressed, we saw Grimmett turn anti-clockwise for eleven deliveries in a row. But on the twelfth he turned clockwise. The clockwise delivery had Oldfield move sharply but smoothly to his left to take the ball down the leg side.

  “Mr Holmes!” exclaimed Jardine. “Your deductions surpass even the expectations created by the writings of your chronicler, Dr Watson here. Grimmett is one of the people on whom I wanted to seek your advice as he has been by far the most dangerous of the Australian bowlers this summer. Armed with this knowledge, however, I think we may be able to counter him. I shall talk to the England captain as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

  Shortly before the tea break, England’s fifth wicket fell with only one hundred and ninety-seven on the board as Grimmett bowled Leyland for three to gain his second wicket of the innings and his twenty-sixth of the series. Jardine disappeared at tea time but he returned in time for the restart.