by David Marcum
In the event, we had not long to wait. Prendergast entered the room, little changed from the time when I first knew him, save for a touch of grey about the temples, but appearing flushed and in a state of high excitement.
“My dear Watson!” he exclaimed. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise. I am more than happy to see you again after all these years. And Mr. Holmes, sir. Delighted to make your acquaintance. I look to you as my saviour.”
“I hope that I may be of assistance to you in your troubles,” Holmes said to him. “The problem would seem to be a relatively simple one.”
“Alas, I fear that the issue has compounded itself since I first requested your help.” Holmes did not reply, but raised his eyebrows in response. “I assume,” Prendergast went on, indicating the newspaper from which I had been reading prior to the arrival of our previous visitor, “that you are acquainted with the facts of the case, as far as they have been made public.” Holmes inclined his head. “There has been a shocking development. Lord Gravesby was found dead at the Tankerville Club yesterday. The newspapers have yet to be informed of this development.”
“Dear me,” Holmes tutted. “And the cause of death?”
“I can only repeat what I have overheard, which may or may not be accurate. I heard that he was found with a pistol ball through his brain - a pistol of an antique type, used for duelling, that is - with the weapon lying nearby.”
“An antique pistol?”
“Indeed so. One of a pair owned by His Royal Highness.”
“The case certainly would appear to have its points of interest,” Holmes remarked. May I enquire what part you play in all of this?”
“The other pistol of the pair, as the police will shortly discover, if they have not done so already, is to be found in my room at the Tankerville, together with powder and ball.”
“How did it come to be there?”
“Following the accusations of cheating at cards made to his late Lordship, you will be aware that a challenge was issued. His Royal Highness, had he accepted this challenge in person, rather than by proxy as he did, would have had the choice of weapons, and he felt that this privilege would be extended to me. He therefore made me the loan of these duelling pistols, which apparently are a family heirloom. Both pistols were in my room when I left it this morning.”
“And now?”
“As soon as I heard the shocking news of his Lordship’s death, I hastened back to my room at the Club where I am staying while I am in Town. I had been performing an errand of a somewhat confidential nature for His Royal Highness and was only informed of Gravesby’s decease on my return. There I discovered the pistols’ case opened, and one pistol missing, along with the powder-horn. There also appeared to be fewer balls than I remembered. My first instinct was to take the remaining pistol and its accoutrements and fling it into the Thames, but I considered that the Club servants might have remembered seeing it, and its disappearance would raise more questions than it would solve problems.”
“Very well considered,” remarked Holmes. “To my mind, you have done the right thing if, as I conjecture, you wish me to clear your name. Tell me, do you know if the police are on your trail?”
“I do not know, but I strongly suspect that they are,” replied my unhappy friend. “How can they not be?”
“Before I proceed further in this matter,” Holmes told him, “I would like to inform you of a singular event that occurred shortly before your arrival here.” He proceeded to inform Prendergast of our visitor, and the warning that we had received. Prendergast heard Holmes with the greatest attention and sighed heavily at the end of the recital.
“Your visitor, I may inform you,” he told us, “rejoices in the name of Sir Quentin Austin. He is a long-time intimate of His Royal Highness, and enjoys his full confidence.”
“As do you?” Holmes suggested.
Prendergast shook his head. “You do me too much credit, sir. I was not brought up alongside the Prince, as was Sir Quentin, nor do I share some of their mutual tastes. No,” he held up a warning hand. “I am not about to inform you of the nature of these tastes. Though they may appear shameful to some, they are within the letter of the law - in the majority of cases, at any event. In any event, loyalty to my Sovereign and her family, if not to my employer, would prevent me from providing you with further details.”
I was intrigued, as I believe was Holmes, but we both refrained from making any further comment. At that moment, Mrs. Hudson entered, and announced that Inspector Lestrade was downstairs and wished to visit.
“By all means show him up, Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes said affably. “I fancy we can guess the errand that has brought him here.”
Lestrade gave a visible start when he entered and beheld Prendergast. “I was not expecting to find you here, sir,” he exclaimed. “Though on second thought, perhaps it is a natural progression of events. I am sorry to have to do this, Mr. Holmes, to one of your guests, but-”
“Stop!” Holmes commanded him. “There is no urgency about this, I am sure, and I will stand surety that Major Prendergast here will be available if you need him in the future to assist you with your enquiries.”
“As will I,” I told Lestrade. “Major Prendergast is an old comrade-in-arms. Our friendship goes back many years, and I can assure you that he is a man of his word.”
“Very well,” said Lestrade. “I will refrain for now from making the arrest. But you are incorrect on one point, Mr. Holmes.
“Oh, and what may that be?”
“There is a great deal of urgency attached to this. Orders have come to us from the very highest levels that this case be solved and dealt with at the earliest possible opportunity.”
“Then it is lucky that you have me on your side, is it not, Lestrade?” said Holmes, smiling. “I believe that, between the two of us, we will be able to satisfy the demands of the Palace in very short order, do you not agree? Pray take a seat and join our conversation? Watson, refreshment for our guests?”
I busied myself with the decanter and soda-syphon, and the conversation resumed.
“I must warn you, Major Prendergast,” Lestrade began, “that anything you say now in this room may be used as evidence in court, in proceedings against you or others.”
“I understand that.”
A silence ensued, broken by Holmes enquiring of Lestrade, “You have discovered both pistols, of course?”
“Naturally. This, after all, is the reason for our suspecting Major Prendergast here.”
“And there is no doubt in your mind that Lord Gravesby was killed by the pistol found nearby of which Major Prendergast has informed us?”
“None whatsoever in my mind.”
“And that it is not a case of suicide, rather than murder?”
“With a bullet through the brain and the pistol on the other side of the room, some feet away, suicide would seem to be an unlikely possibility, Mr. Holmes,” Lestrade smiled thinly.
“I see. And the place where he was found?”
“It is the Club room where he had been playing cards with His Royal Highness and Major Prendergast here on a previous evening.”
“The game?” Holmes asked Lestrade.
“I beg your pardon.”
“What game was being played?”
“I never thought to ascertain that,” Lestrade confessed. “Is it of any relevance?”
“It was bridge whist,” Prendergast informed us.
“Then it is indeed of relevance,” said Holmes. “There are four players required for the game, one of whom at any one given time will be dummy. Since the dummy was obviously not Lord Gravesby who was being accused of foul play, rightly or wrongly I cannot say at this juncture, the accusation was made by His Royal Highness, who felt compelled to drag Major Prendergast, who presumably held a hand on this deal, into all
this, there is a fourth person involved, who was presumably acting as dummy on this hand, and may well have been the one who first raised the alarm. Furthermore, I would assume that this person had the interests of His Royal Highness, rather than Lord Gravesby, at heart.”
Major Prendergast started. “You are absolutely correct, Mr. Holmes. The fourth was Sir Quentin Austin.” His voice appeared to me to quaver a little as he informed us of this.
“Indeed?” Lestrade asked in apparent surprise. “He was the source of the information about the pistol in your room, Major Prendergast. He was in the Club when I called to investigate, and he gave the information to me voluntarily.”
“The snake!” exclaimed Prendergast in a voice of fury. “It was he who brought the pistols from His Royal Highness to my room at the Club. Naturally he would know where they were. But for him to inform the police of this - why, it is hardly the act of a gentleman. And together with his visit here earlier today-”
“What is this?” Lestrade enquired. Holmes informed him of the events prior to Prendergast’s arrival.
“Before today, what was your relationship with this man?” Holmes asked my friend. “You have told us a little of his relationship with His Royal Highness. Can you tell us a little of his character?”
“I frankly confess that I have never liked the man,” Prendergast told us. “He would not have lasted long in the Mess, Watson, I can tell you that. There has always been something about him that gave me the cold creeps. Nothing, I hasten to add, that can be precisely defined in public, but there is that in his nature which I find to be repellent. And indeed it was he who called attention to the alleged irregularities in play. You are perfectly right in your recital of the facts, Mr. Holmes.”
“And you are unable to tell us whether those allegations made by His Royal Highness have any basis in fact?” Holmes enquired.
Prendergast moved uncomfortably in his chair. “I would prefer not to answer that question,” he answered at length.
I noticed Holmes and Lestrade exchange glances. “You may be compelled to do so under oath when this case comes to court - either as the defendant in a criminal trial, or as a witness,” Lestrade told Prendergast.
“Nonetheless I would prefer not to answer the question at this time.”
“Very well, then. I think we may be able to infer something from Major Prendergast’s answer, eh, Mr. Holmes?”
Holmes said nothing, but merely nodded his head.
“I fear I have said too much,” Prendergast complained. “I pray you both that any conclusions you may have chosen to draw will go no further.”
“I fear we are moving in deep waters, do you not agree, Mr. Holmes?” the police agent said with a touch of anxiety evident in his voice.
‘Deep waters indeed. Perhaps we may view the scene together, Lestrade? Has the body been moved from there?”
“It was moved by the Club servants before we were called in,” Lestrade told him ruefully. “If I have learned one thing only from you, Mr. Holmes, it is that evidence should be left undisturbed as far as possible until the investigation is complete. Other than the body, we have left the room as we first entered it, and gave strict instructions to the Club that no one was to enter, let alone move any object inside it.”
“I am pleased to see that some of my seeds have fallen on good soil,” Holmes smiled. “However, even without the body, it is possible that some useful data may be obtained. Major Prendergast, I do not think that your presence will be required at this stage, but undoubtedly I may wish to ask you further questions, without Inspector Lestrade here being present, as has been my practice in several past cases.”
“I cannot say that I am happy with this arrangement, Mr. Holmes, but I am content to let you do so. You have always played fair with us at the Yard, and I do not believe this will prove to be an exception,” Lestrade answered.
“Thank you. Watson, Lestrade, your hats and sticks, and then we shall be off to the Club together.”
At the Tankerville, we were greeted by the Club Secretary, Brigadier Hetherington, who conducted us to the place where the body had been found.
“Who discovered Lord Gravesby?” Holmes asked him.
“Kenning, one of the waiters here. If he is here now, would you like to speak with him?”
“If it is possible, certainly I would.” Hetherington called a Club servant to fetch the man. Holmes cast his eye about the room, where three chairs still stood around a card table. The fourth was overturned. “I take it that this is the chair that was occupied by Lord Gravesby?”
“We have every reason to believe so. The body was found on the floor beside it.”
Holmes dropped to his knees and used his lens to scrutinise the carpet. “Do you happen to know if Lord Gravesby smoked cigars?” he asked Hetherington.
“Indeed he did.”
“While he was playing cards?”
“Usually that would be the case, but I have every reason to believe that on the night which concerns us - that is to say, the night of the unfortunate incident in which His Royal Highness and Major Prendergast were involved - he did not.”
“Oh?”
“His Royal Highness was suffering from a cough, and made it clear that he did not wish others to smoke in his presence.”
“And on the evening when the body was discovered?”
“I cannot say. It may be that Kenning will be able to provide further information on that score.”
“I see. And one final question on the subject. Do you happen to know if Lord Gravesby smoked Trichinopoly cigars?”
“Good heavens, no. He smoked Cuban Coronas. The Club used to keep a stock for his exclusive use. Ah, Kenning,” he added as the waiter entered. “This gentleman here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, would like a few words with you.”
The waiter appeared to be ill at ease as he stood facing Holmes, his hands visibly trembling. “I didn’t do it, sir,” he stammered. “All that happened was, I came in here, and found him on the floor just there,” pointing to a spot near the overturned chair.
“No one is accusing you of killing his Lordship,” Holmes assured him. “I simply wish to know how you discovered him, and what you did then?”
“Well, sir, I had just finished tidying the smoking-room, putting the newspapers back on their racks and so on. Then I thought it was time to do this room, the second card-room, so I came in here and saw what I’ve just been telling you.”
“You have two card-rooms?” Holmes asked Hetherington.
“We have three, as it happens. His Royal Highness always used this one, and we are careful that it should not be booked for use by any other members when he is in Town. He often comes here with no advance notice.”
“I see,” answered Holmes. “Kenning, what did you do after you discovered the body?”
“Well, sir, I thought he might have dropped off to sleep and slipped off his chair, like, or else, begging your pardon, that he’d had a bit too much to drink, which has happened in the past, sir, if you’ll excuse me saying so, but there was no glasses or decanter on the table.”
“No ashtray or signs of a cigar or matches?”
“No, sir. The table was bare. Nothing on it. I’d take my oath on that.” Here the man paused, clearly relishing the importance that his recital was bestowing upon him. “Well, I bent over him and had a closer look, and he was stone dead, sir. His face was set all rigid, like, and when I turned him over, there was a hole in the back of his head, just there.” He pointed to a spot on his own head. “I could see that at a glance, sir.”
“Ha! You are familiar with dead bodies, then?”
“Indeed, sir. I served my time with the Gloucestershires before coming here, and I’ve seen my share of dead men. Good friends, too, some of them.”
“Yes, yes.” Holmes’s tone was a little impatie
nt. “And then?”
“I called for help. Nichols came, and I told him to go and fetch Brigadier Hetherington.”
Hetherington nodded in confirmation. “Nichols brought me here, and I could see at a glance that his Lordship was dead. I told Kenning and Nichols to carry him discreetly to one of the bed-rooms, and I sent another of the servants to call the police.”
“How long was it before the police arrived?” Holmes enquired.
“There was a constable outside the door who arranged for Inspector Lestrade to come here.”
“I arrived as soon as I could, with Sergeant McIver - you remember him, Holmes, in the affair of the emerald earrings? - I would estimate I was no more than fifteen minutes from the time that I received the message,” Lestrade told us.
Hetherington coughed discreetly. “Inspector Lestrade was here within twenty-five minutes of the alarm being raised, Mr. Holmes.”
“And during that time, no one entered this room?”
A flush stole over the Club secretary’s face. “I am afraid I am unable to answer that question, Mr. Holmes. My attention, and that of the Club servants, was taken up by Lord Gravesby, and the necessity of concealing the fact of his demise from the other persons in the Club at that time.”
“There were many members, then?”
“Indeed there were many people there that night. The Worshipful Company of Confectioners were holding their annual dinner, and the usual number of members were present.”
Holmes turned his attention back to Kenning. “The pistol here,” gesturing to a flintlock pistol that appeared to date from the last century lying on a table at the other side of the room. “Was it there when you entered the room and discovered Lord Gravesby?”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t swear to that either way, sir. You see, I was more concerned for His Lordship than anything else.”