by Hugh Ashton
“ Is this what happened, sir ? ” asked one of the policeman of Holmes.
“ By no means,” he told them, giving an account of the events that I had witnessed, to which Orloff listened with obviously mounting indignation.
“ It is a fairy-tale ! ” exclaimed the Russian. “ A pure fiction, caused by the blow to the head that he suffered when he fell, the poor man. You cannot take his word against mine, a loyal servant of His Imperial Majesty the Tsar of All the Russias.”
“ You would make an excellent point, Count, had I indeed fallen and hit my head in the way that he described to you just now. However,” turning to the constable, “ I do not ask you to take my word against his, but rather take the word of my friend Doctor Watson, late of the Indian Army, who witnessed the whole affair.”
“ Is that the case, sir ? ” the police officer demanded of me. “ Which of these gentlemen's stories should we believe ? ”
“ The events I witnessed are those described by Mr. Sherlock Holmes here,” I declared stoutly. “ Count Orloff's story is, I am sorry, to say, a tissue of untruths. Mademoiselle Bulkhanova, the dancer, will be able and willing to corroborate the first part of my story, I am sure.”
Orloff's face grew black, and he snarled, “ In any event, I am a diplomat. The law cannot touch me.”
“ You are now speaking the truth,” Holmes admitted. “ But I would advise you not to chance your arm and to make your way back to the Embassy as soon as possible.”
“ The gentleman is right, sir,” said the constable to Orloff. “ With the greatest respect, you are better off with your own people while this investigation is going on.”
“ What investigation is this ? ” snorted the diplomat, indignantly. “ Very well. I bid you a good night, gentlemen.” He strode off, having placed a sardonic emphasis on the last word of his speech.
“ How are you, Holmes ? ” I asked anxiously when Orloff had gone.
“ I have seen better days,” he smiled ruefully, “ but I have also been in worse shape in my time. Do not concern yourself overly about me. I will sport a large bruise for the next few days, but I do not think there is any further damage. Of course, when we return to Baker-street, you are welcome to exercise your professional skills, but for now, we must to the Diogenes.”
Both policemen expressed their concern as to Holmes’ health, but he shrugged off their worries. “ Watson here is a doctor,” he assured them. “ Should anything untoward befall me, I am in the best possible hands. Come, Watson, let us collect our coats and hats, and visit Brother Mycroft.”
Mycroft Holmes received us in the Strangers’ Room of that curious establishment, the Diogenes Club, where silence is enforced, and conversation prohibited between its misanthropic members. He listened to Holmes' account of the events, and pursed his great lips.
“ It will be a pleasure to declare Orloff persona non grata and to send him out of the country,” he told us. “ Such an assault as you describe on a British citizen would be perfectly adequate grounds for this. The notice will be sent to the Embassy first thing tomorrow morning, and he will be out of the country within forty-eight hours.”
“ And the Okhrana apparatus in this country will fall to pieces,” added his brother.
“ It will indeed. The Russians will realise that we will not tolerate men such as Orloff to operate here, and they will be unable to replace him with anyone acceptable. You have successfully removed a thorn from the flesh of the British Government, Sherlock. The Prime Minister and the Foreign Office will be delighted.”
-oOo-
When we returned to Baker-street, I was able to make a more complete examination of my patient, and discovered nothing untoward. I therefore advised complete rest for a few days, but had little expectation that Holmes would obey my instructions in this matter.
As it turned out, he was somewhat more amenable than I had anticipated, and the next morning saw him sitting up, breaking his fast in bed, a state of affairs almost unknown in my experience.
As I sat by the bed, I could not forbear from asking him a few questions.
“ When did you establish that Abrahams’ captors were the Okhrana and not the anarchists ? ” I asked him.
“ Oh, that much was immediately obvious from the letter that we received,” he replied.
“ How so ? ”
“ If you remember, the word for danger was written in Yiddish, in the Hebrew alphabet,” he reminded me. “ If the letter had been read by one of his erstwhile confederates, many of whom are Hebrews, they would have understood instantly. The Okhrana, as well as setting themselves against the would-be reformers in Russia, also despise the Hebrew race, so much so that they would scorn to learn even the basics of the language used by the Russian Jews. Abrahams therefore considered himself to be safe in using the Hebrew script, and therefore I concluded that he was held by the Okhrana.”
“ But why ? ” I asked. “ If he was guilty of double-dealing with regard to his colleagues and comrades, would it not be they would seek revenge ? ”
“ It appears,” said Sherlock Holmes, shaking his head, “ that Abrahams was guilty of more than double-dealing. In fact, he was guilty of triple-dealing. Those comrades whom he betrayed to the Okhrana were, it appears, double-agents themselves, and Abrahams was single-handedly responsible for the elimination of over twenty Okhrana agents. Do not judge him too harshly, Watson. You have seen for yourself what manner of man takes charge in that organisation, and believe me, Orloff is far from being the worst.”
I in turn shook my head. “ It seems strange that a man who is now a pillar of the City and an intimate of His Royal Highness should have such a background.”
“ He is little different from the ancestors of some of our own nobility,” smiled Holmes, “ whose fortunes were often made through treachery and violence.”
I was ruefully forced to agree with this analysis. “ I suppose,” I said to Holmes, “ that on the evenings that you went out without me, you were courting Mlle. Bulkhanova ? ”
“ That is correct, in a sense. I had intended to play the part of a suitor and to deceive her into believing in my love for her. However, it rapidly transpired that she had no love for Orloff, either for the man himself, or for the wrongs he had inflicted upon her family. One brother of hers was exiled to Siberia, unjustly, she claims, and I have little reason to disbelieve her in this. Once I had explained my purpose to her, she willingly fell in with my scheme to deceive Orloff in the existence of a liaison between us. I found her to be a most pleasant and charming companion, and we did indeed spend a few enjoyable evenings together at the Café Royal.”
“ And the aim was to goad Orloff and provoke him into some rash act that would result in his expulsion from the country ? ”
“ Precisely. You played your role to perfection, Watson. You allowed yourself to witness one criminal act and then brought the force of the law to bear with exquisite timing. The brute ceased his beating of me as soon as he heard the sound of the whistle, doubtless recognising that he would soon be confronting the forces of British law and order. But without your acting as a witness, it would merely have been his word against mine. As the archetype of a solid Englishman, your words turned the scale.”
“ I am glad to have been of some service to you,” was the only answer I could make.
“ More than merely ‘some service’, Watson ! ” he cried. “ You rendered me invaluable assistance when it was most needed. I can never forget that.”
I was saved from further embarrassment by a knock on our outer door, and Mrs. Hudson announcing a visitor.
“ That will be the messenger from the Foreign Office, I expect,” said Holmes, “ bringing news of the decree against Orloff.”
/> As it turned out, it was not. To my surprise, the petite form of Mlle. Bulkhanova graced our doorway, and she hesitantly enquired, in accented French, after the health of Sherlock Holmes.
“ I am well, my dear,” replied Holmes, now clad in his dressing-gown, from the bed-room doorway, replying in the same language. “ Pray enter, and take breakfast with Watson and me. Ah, my manners. Mlle. Bulkhanova, my friend and biographer, Doctor Watson. Watson, Mlle. Bulkhanova.”
“ Enchanté,” I replied, somewhat tongue-tied.
And so it was, that for the first and only time in my life, I shared a breakfast table with a prima ballerina and the world's foremost consulting detective.
Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Hand of Glory
Of all the adventures that I shared with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, few were more grotesque, to my mind, than that which I have described here. It started with a visit from a client whose first request regarding the matter of fees, while not a common one made of my friend, was one that was certainly not unknown to him.
It was made by a young woman, fashionably dressed, though in the fashion of one or two years previously, who had previously requested an appointment by letter, and Sherlock Holmes had granted her the favour of an audience, if it may be termed thus.
“ I have to tell you, Mr. Holmes, that my sister regards my visit to you as a waste of my time,” she began her interview. “ I have left my sister in the hotel in Northumberland-avenue. We are here to see the sights and to pay a visit to friends in Town for a few days.”
“ And your sister also feels that your visit here to be a waste of your money,” he added with a smile.
“ Why, yes, that is so,” she replied, starting. “ I must confess to you that since my mother’s re-marriage, our circumstances have been a little more strained. Indeed, my first question to you was going to be regarding your fees. If the figure that you mention is not one that can be easily encompassed within my budget, then I am afraid I must leave you, and make my apologies for having wasted your time.”
Holmes leaned forward and smiled encouragingly. “ My dear Miss Devereux,” he said. “ Watson here will be the first to inform you that are some cases that I take for the love of art, rather than financial reward. If you will do me the goodness to tell me your story, I will then be able to inform you whether your case is one of that category. Somehow, I suspect that it will turn out to be of that type.” Having demanded and received permission to smoke, he lit his pipe, and settled back in his arm-chair as she related her tale to us.
“ My name, as you know, is Mary Devereux. The family of my late father, John Devereux, is one of the oldest in Warwickshire, and while he was alive, our situation might well be regarded as one of comfort, if not of luxury. My elder sister Eliza and I, his only children, were given a good education and wanted for nothing. Three years ago, I lost the best of fathers, following a hunting accident in which his horse failed to clear a fence.”
At this point, she produced a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, and Holmes and I looked away in some embarrassment. After a minute or so, she collected herself, and resumed her narrative.
“ His estate was in order, and for the next two years, our material situation was unchanged. However, my mother met a man who attached himself to her, or rather, to her fortune — I can think of no other way of describing the relationship — and she married him a little under a year ago.”
“ The gentleman’s name ? ” enquired Holmes.
She flushed a little. “ It may seem churlish, but I would hesitate to describe Mr. Lionel Soames as a gentleman. To be sure, he can behave with a certain dignity, and he is dressed as he should be, but his choice of companions is far from what I would expect from a gentleman.”
“ How does he make his living ? ”
“ That, Mr. Holmes, is one of the matters about which I wish you to make enquiries. It is something in the City, I believe. He leaves our house in Warwickshire every Monday morning, and returns some time in the week, usually on a Wednesday or a Thursday. He never talks about his work in London, but whatever it is that he does, it has taken large quantities of the money that was left to my mother and my sister and myself. We are by no means poor at present, but our fortune is considerably reduced, and if this diminution continues, poverty will be the end result in a relatively short time.”
“ Your father’s money was not placed in trust for you ? ”
She shook her head. “ No, it was left without reservation or entail to my mother. There is no obligation on her to pass it on to my sister and me. And that man has taken it for what purposes, I know not.”
“ Has he behaved badly towards you or your mother ? You mentioned that his interest in her was chiefly on account of her money.”
Again, our fair visitor shook her head. “ No, I cannot complain of his conduct towards us, or my mother, though he could never be described as a loving husband. It is his choice of associates to which I chiefly object.”
“ You mentioned them before — perhaps you can furnish me with some sort of description of them.”
“ If I have my doubts about Mr. Soames’ being a gentleman, I have no doubts at all about the status of these rough men. They speak with uneducated accents, and their clothing is not that of men who have prospered. Indeed, some of them do not even wear a collar.”
“ And he invites them to your home ? ”
“ He does. Two or three of them, never more, arrive late in the evening, almost always on a Friday, and I believe that they stay, drinking and smoking, often until the small hours of the morning, long after the household has retired. My stepfather has never introduced us to them, and nor would I desire such an introduction.”
“ You hear them leave the house ? They do not spend the night there ? ”
“ There have been many times when I have been awakened by the noise of their departure using our carriage. We live close to the market town, and I have no doubt that they stay at one of the inns there.”
“ You say that they depart using your family’s carriage, although the servants have retired for the night, though you live close to the town ? ”
“ Yes, my stepfather acts as the coachman, it would seem. On more than one occasion when I have been awakened by the noise, I have looked out of my window, and seen the carriage depart, with my stepfather on the coachman’s seat.”
“ And it is the same men on every occasion ? ”
“ As far as I can ascertain, yes. The same two men appear each Friday.”
Holmes considered the information without speaking for a few minutes, while Miss Devereux appeared to be nervously awaiting his answer. At length he broke the silence. “ Then you wish me to investigate Mr. Lionel Soames and his business, especially that relating to these mysterious nocturnal visitors ? ”
“ If that were all, Mr. Holmes, I fear I would be wasting your time.”
“ Hardly that, Miss Devereux. The case as you have described it would appear to have several points of interest. There is more, then ? ”
“ Indeed there is,” she told us, and her voice rose in pitch in what appeared to be near-hysteria. “ Grafton and Kimble are in our house at present, and neither I nor my sister wishes them there.”
I broke in. “ Grafton and Kimble ? ” I asked. “ Why, those are the names of the two housebreakers and murderers who were hanged at Pentonville not two weeks ago.”
“ Those are the men,” she confirmed. “ It is horrible ! Horrible to think that they are with us at our home.” Again she buried her face in her handkerchief and did not speak for some time, during which her bosom rose and fell, obviously under some strong emotion.
“ You must explain yourself a little, Miss Devereux,�
�� said Holmes. “ If these are the men to which Dr. Watson has just referred, I fail to comprehend how they can be staying with you.”
“ My step-father claimed their corpses from the prison authorities, there being no next of kin. He promised to provide funerals and a burial for them, and had them transported to our house, where they were placed in the icehouse, where they reside still.”
Sherlock Holmes leaned forward. “ How did you come to discover all this ? ”
“ I was awakened late one night by the sound of wheels on the gravel drive outside our house. I arose, and drew aside the curtain to discover what was amiss. I saw the carriage carrying the coffins draw up outside our house, and the coffins carried in by the coachman and Mathews, my stepfather’s valet. The next morning, I persuaded Mathews to inform me of what had occurred the previous night, and he informed me that the coffins had come from Pentonville. More than that he could not, or would not, tell me.”
“ The persuasion was of a monetary nature ? ” asked Holmes.
Miss Devereux blushed. “ Like master, like man,” she said. “ Both suffer from the sin of avarice. In any event, having obtained this information from George Mathews, my next step was to write to the Governor of the prison, asking him for further details, and he furnished me with the names of the criminals whose corpses had been sent to us, together with the details regarding my step-father’s promises.”
“ And you have not asked your step-father about this ? ”
“ I dare not,” she replied simply.
“ When did the bodies arrive ? ” asked Holmes.
“ Not one week ago,” she informed us. “ Last Friday, to be precise.”
“ And it is now Wednesday. Is your step-father presently in Town ? ”
“ To the best of my knowledge, he is. At least, he is not at home, otherwise I would not have come here today.”
“ I take it that you have not viewed the bodies since their arrival ? ”