The Death of Cardinal Tosca (The Dispatch Box of John H Watson, MD)

by Ashton, Hugh

  “That is correct.”

  “And the papers which were consulted by the Cardinal and Mahoney were where at that time?”

  “Why, on the table, of course.” Ledbury appeared struck by this. “Is it possible that the body is now resting on those papers, since I do not see them there now?”

  “Possible, but unlikely, I feel. The same person who abstracted the letter from your safe is almost certainly he who is responsible for this act, and I am positive he would ensure that all the papers were in his possession. If I may be permitted to offer my surmise at this early stage, I would say that this room was visited first in the hope of encountering the letter, and the thief's attention was then turned to your study, after his failure to locate the letter he sought.”

  “It may well be as you say, Mr. Holmes. In any event, I feel we should move His Eminence from the table. I know that I will never be able to eat from it again. Vain superstition, I know, but...”

  “Rigor should have departed by now,” I told the other men, and confirmed this by taking hold of the dead man's left hand, which, as I had predicted, moved freely. As I did so, I noticed a peculiarity about the fingertips, but some instinct prevented me from mentioning it at the time.

  As we moved the body to rest on the floor, where Ledbury had placed a folded tablecloth to act as a pillow, and another to act as a shroud, I became aware of the hilt of the paper-knife that Mahoney had informed us had been used to commit the murder. Since the dead man was dressed in his dark Cardinal's cassock with red piping, it was difficult to be sure of the matter, but it seemed to me that the volume of the bloodstains was substantially less than one might expect from a fatal wound of this type. Furthermore, although Mahoney had informed us that the wound had been delivered to the chest, the hilt of the dagger protruded from an area substantially lower than the chest, in an area which, from the experience of bayonet and knife wounds that I had gained in Afghanistan, rarely proved fatal, and was never capable of causing death in such a rapid manner as had been described to us. The expression of shock, almost of horror, that had been described to us was still present on the face, and it was with a sense of relief that I drew the sheet over the Cardinal's head.

  After carefully laying the body to its position on the cloth and covering it, we turned our attention to the table, but as Holmes had foretold, there were no papers there, or indeed, elsewhere in the room.

  As we searched, the voice of Alvarez could be heard outside, informing Lord Ledbury that there was a telephone communication from his Whitehall office, and that his assistant desired to speak with him. His Lordship made his excuses and left us.

  “Holmes,” I said to my friend as soon as we were alone and the door was closed. “I do not believe that Cardinal Tosca died as the result of that wound to the abdomen. I am not ignorant of these things.”

  Holmes said nothing, but raised his eyebrows.

  “A wound like this, delivered to this area of the body, hardly ever results in death, unless it proceeds to a gangrenous state. I have never heard of a wound of this type being fatal in so short a time, unless it is accompanied by some other shock to the system.”

  “I lack your experience of the battlefield, but my scanty knowledge of anatomy persuades me that you are probably correct in your assumption that this is not a fatal injury.”

  “But there is more,” I added. “Examine the fingers of the left hand.”

  Holmes raised the sheet and took the corpse's hand in his. “Well done indeed, Watson. The fingers, especially the middle and index fingers, appear to have suffered some sort of burn. Caused by a spirit lamp used to heat the coffee?” He examined the coffee service and answered his own question. “No, that is not the answer. There is no such lamp such as one sometimes finds. It is interesting, though, that the Cardinal's cup is empty, and so is the coffee pot, while Mahoney's cup is still half-full.”

  “How do you know which is which?”

  “Elementary. We were told by Mahoney, if you will recall, that Cardinal Tosca took his coffee black. The cup which contained black coffee is empty, while the other, containing the beverage with milk added, is half-full. We may deduce that from the distribution of the grounds in the cup, the drinker of the black coffee was left-handed.”

  He examined the cadaver with a critical eye. “Let us see what the Cardinal has in his possession.” He searched the dead man's garments, but failed to discover any object in the few pockets provided by the cassock. “Of course, at this point, we have no way of knowing whether there were indeed no objects in the pockets, or whether they have been removed. Undoubtedly, though, Tosca occasionally smoked a pipe, it would appear.” He held out his hand, on the palm of which rested a few shreds of tobacco, which he smelt cautiously, and examined with his lens. “Were this a commonplace run-of-the-mill murder, I would hesitate to do this, but here...” He grasped the hilt of the dagger-shaped knife, and removed it from the corpse. “Well, well,” he exclaimed softly.

  I was forced to echo his amazement. The weapon which had allegedly killed Cardinal Tosca appeared to be little more than a toy. The blade was sharp enough for a paper-knife, but in my opinion too blunt to cut flesh, and the stiletto-like point likewise almost incapable of inflicting any serious wound. In addition, the blade was little more than two or three inches long. “That knife could never have served as the murder weapon,” I confirmed.

  “Nonetheless, Watson, the man is dead, and this was discovered in his body. It would seem foolish to discount the connection. Those burns that you discovered are almost certainly connected to his death, would you not say?”

  “It would seem likely, but what could have caused them? I see no candles in this room. Indeed, this room appears to be lit by electricity, though the lighting here is of a different type to that we saw demonstrated in the study.”

  “These are incandescent globes, while what we saw in the study was obviously an arc lamp, albeit one of an unfamiliar and novel type.”

  At that moment Lord Ledbury re-entered the room, with a face that told of inner anguish. “I have just been speaking on the telephone with Whitehall,” he told us. “I am persuaded that Kingsley has conducted a thorough search of my office there, and that the key I believed to be there certainly seems to have been removed. I think it would not be unreasonable to assume that this was the key used to open the safe and to remove the letter that I had placed there.”

  “Tell me,” asked my friend. “Were any other items in the safe disturbed or removed?”

  “No, they were as I left them. The letter, though, was on the top of the pile of papers at the front of the safe.”

  “Which argues, would you not agree, that the prime object of the thief was the letter, and that the appearance of the letter was familiar enough to him that he need not search through the contents of the safe to find it?”

  “Possibly,” the peer answered in an abstracted tone. “Forgive me, Mr. Holmes, but my mind is filled with anxiety. Do you realise that if this letter is made public, I will go down in history as the man who was chiefly responsible for the civil war of 1895? It is not a title I wish to hand down to posterity. If you have no objection, I would like to leave you and Dr. Watson and continue the search for the letter.”

  “If I may make a suggestion,” Holmes addressed him, “I would recommend that you make arrangements with a local trustworthy undertaker who is able to keep all aspects of the matter quiet, requesting that the body be taken to the local hospital where it may be preserved with the minimum of formalities attached to the matter, until a post-mortem examination may be performed, if it is deemed necessary at some point, or it can be removed for burial.”

  “I believe that the firm of undertakers in the market town will be suitable for this purpose. I shall instruct Alvarez to provide them with the information.”

  “With respect, sir, I feel that this would be best arranged by yourself personally, by means of a written note, detailing some of the facts that we wish to be kept from the publi
c, and making a strong request for secrecy in the matter. One of your outdoor servants could be employed to deliver the note.”

  “I take your meaning,” said the nobleman. “I will attend to the business as you suggest.” So saying, he left the room.

  Holmes pursed his thin lips. “There are aspects to this case, Watson, that do not ring true to me, particularly in the matter of the letter. First, though, let us determine how the Cardinal met his end. Would you swear to it that the knife wound would not have killed him?”

  “I would swear to no such thing, but I would say it was extremely unlikely that that was the case. There may, of course, be another wound which we have overlooked.” With some distaste, I bent to the body, and unbuttoned the cassock before examining the torso, but there was no sign of any other abdominal knife wound, or indeed of any other injury whatsoever.

  “Let us summon Alvarez, and ask him some questions regarding the disposition of the body when he discovered it. I feel that his words may be of some value here.” So saying, Sherlock Holmes moved to the electric bell, but stopped short before pressing it. “I have it!” he exclaimed, bending to the bell-push, magnifying lens in hand. “See here!” He offered the glass to me, and I peered through to examine the bell-push, but could detect nothing untoward, and I informed Holmes of this.

  “The screws, man, the screws securing the brass plate to the wall. Do you not see that they have been removed and replaced recently? Indeed, since the plate was last polished, since there is no polish remaining in the slots.”

  “What does this tell you?” I asked.

  “Let us see,” he answered me, removing a small screwdriver from his tool-kit and applying it to the screws. “Hah! Even if it were not so clearly visible, the ease with which I can remove these indicates that they were recently disturbed. Excellent,” he added, as the plate was removed. “Aha! Yes, this is it, Watson. What would happen if I were to remove this wire here,” he pointed with the screwdriver, but did not touch the wire itself, “and attach it to this screw here, which is obviously what has occurred recently?”

  “I cannot for the life of me tell you. Electricity and electrical apparatus appear as a sealed book to me.”

  “Then I will tell you. Whoever touches the plate would receive an electric shock through the part of the body touching the plate. Depending on the current and the potential, the electricity could deliver a powerful shock.”

  “I begin to see what you are driving at here. Would the shock be enough to kill?”

  “It could be so, but we should ascertain the details from Lord Ledbury. He seems to be very much au courant with the electrical system of this house, if you will pardon the feeble play on words. If the Cardinal suffered from a weak heart, even a relatively minor shock could prove fatal, however.”

  I considered what Holmes had said. “All this points in one direction, does it not?”

  “Indeed it does. There is only one man who would have the opportunity to— Ah, Alvarez,” he broke off to address the butler, who had entered the room. “I wonder if you would be good enough to answer some questions.”

  “If I can be of help, I will attempt to answer as best I can, sir.” There was a hint of a Spanish accent remaining in his speech.

  “Good man. You served the meal to the Cardinal and to Monsignor Mahoney on the night of the Cardinal’s death, I believe.”

  “I did, sir. A light consommé, followed by saddle of lamb, with a coupe as dessert. I brought in the coffee with the dessert. Water was the only drink with the meal, though I believe that Monsignor Mahoney had taken a glass of sherry-wine before dinner.”

  “Did you notice the relationship between the two men while you were in the room?”

  “I noticed nothing untoward in that respect, sir. I could not hear their words, but they were saying little, and they were speaking in low voices.” The butler’s eyes kept flickering towards the white-wrapped form on the floor beside the table. I fancied I noticed a look of surprise on his features as he looked at the bare surface of the table and back towards the floor where the ghastly bundle lay.

  “Yes?” Holmes enquired, noticing the other’s gaze.

  “It seems to me, sir, that it is hardly decent for His Eminence to be lying on the floor in that way. Would it not be best if he were moved to a more appropriate place, such as the table?”

  “That is not for you to decide, Alvarez,” Holmes told him sharply. “His Lordship is, I have every reason to believe, currently making suitable arrangements in this regard. He will no doubt issue you with your instructions when the details of this matter have been decided.”

  “Very good, sir.” There was a flash of anger detectable in the man’s eyes at this rebuke, but the tone of his voice remained civil.

  “And after the meal the bell rang to summon you?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “You came to remove the coffee service?”

  “Why, no, sir.” Holmes raised his eyebrows. “The bell rang in my pantry, and I assumed that His Eminence was now ready for his second pot of post-prandial coffee. He was particularly partial to the coffee served in this house, sir, and it was usual for him to consume several servings of the beverage as a close to his evening repasts. I was carrying this second pot to the dining-room when Monsignor Mahoney’s voice told me to wait outside, as His Eminence was unwell.”

  “And I suppose you have no way of knowing whether Monsignor Mahoney was in the dining-room at that time the bell rang?”

  “I happen to know that he was not, sir. As I left the pantry for the kitchen to order the coffee, I happened to catch sight of him on the upstairs landing.”

  “The obvious inference being that it was His Eminence himself who rang the bell. And how long did it take to prepare the coffee?”

  “A matter of five minutes or less. Cook is an intelligent woman and was anticipating His Eminence’s wishes, based on the experience of previous evenings.”

  “But there was sufficient time for Mahoney to come downstairs and re-enter the dining-room while you were in the kitchen?”

  “Oh indeed, sir. No question about that whatsoever. After all, he must have done so, if he was on the landing when I left the pantry, and in this room when I returned here.” Alvarez appeared to be puzzled by Holmes’ question.

  “Very good. Tell me, Alvarez, Lord Ledbury asked you to take a paper from the room used by His Eminence, did he not?”

  The butler licked his lips nervously. “That is not for me to say, sir.”

  “Lord Ledbury has informed me that this was the case. I merely wish to confirm a few details.”

  “In which case, sir, yes, he did.”

  “And you were able to locate the paper easily?”

  “Oh yes, sir. His Lordship had given me a precise description of the appearance of the letter.”

  “And you gave it to his Lordship at what time?”

  “On his return from London, on the evening of His Eminence’s death.”

  “Did you indeed?” mused Holmes. “And do you know the contents of the letter?”

  “I have no idea, sir. That is none of my business. I merely was informed by Lord Ledbury of the appearance of the envelope in which it was contained.”

  “Quite correct, Alvarez. Is there anything else that you would like to tell us?”

  “There is one small matter which may not be important, sir, but it seemed to me that as I heard the bell ring in my pantry, I heard a cry—perhaps more of a shriek—from the dining-room.”

  “Before or after the bell rang?”

  “I would have to say that it occurred at the same time, or at the most, a matter of a second or two after the bell.”

  “And did you attach any significance to this?”

  “I could not at the time, sir. But when I heard that His Eminence had experienced a seizure, it was then apparent to me that this must have been the cry he gave on suffering the stroke.”

  “I am sure that is the answer, Alvarez. By the way, do
you understand the electrical system in this house?”

  For the first time in the interview, the butler smiled. “No, sir. I do not consider myself to be technically adept, and the whole business appears as a dangerous mystery to me. The whole of this electricity is His Lordship’s hobbyhorse, if I may express it in those terms, sir. If you require any detailed knowledge, His Lordship will know, or I can send Bates, the handyman, to you if you would prefer.”

  “No, not at present,” said Holmes, smiling. “But you had something to say to us?”

  “His Lordship wished me to inform you that dinner will be served in the main dining-room at half-past seven this evening, and particularly wished me to impress upon you that there will be no requirement to dress for dinner.”

  Holmes thanked the butler, who left us alone in the room, closing the door behind him. “Most interesting,” Holmes remarked to me. “You noticed that his story did not precisely match that recounted to us by Ledbury as regards the delivery of the letter?”

  “I did indeed. He could be mistaken, of course.”

  “Indeed he could, but I do not consider it likely. The other point that I found to be of interest was his statement that he observed Mahoney when he left his pantry in answer to the summons by the bell.”

  “Yes, Mahoney told us the same, I recall.”

  “Methought at the time Mahoney did protest too much. It seemed to me that when he told us this, he was leaving a trail for us that we were meant to follow.”

  “Establishing to us that he was definitely not present when the Cardinal met his end?”

  “Precisely, Watson. There is another matter connected with this aspect of his story which we will discuss shortly.” He glanced at his watch. “We still have half an hour before dinner. While we are waiting, would you care to assist me in a little experiment?”

  I assented, and he knelt in front of the bell-push, having first drawn on a pair of stout leather gloves. He worked with a screwdriver and some other tools for a few minutes, from time to time passing me items to hold. At length, he stood, and regarded the bell-push, which appeared unchanged, with some satisfaction. “There, we are all set,” he told me. “Be so good as to take this screwdriver by the metal end, and press the bell-push using the wooden handle. Take care not to let your hand or any metal touch the bell-push.”