by Ashton, Hugh
“I had been dispatched, together with my company, to the south of the country. It was at that time, by the way, that I purchased the small charm that you remarked earlier. In that part of the world, particularly in the district to which my company had been sent, the land is wet and marshy, and the foul air emanating from the swamps brought low many of my men as well as myself. I appeared to be among those worst affected by the disease, and my malaria is still a torment to me at times. My dear Harriet nursed me on my return from the south, but I was so badly stricken by the malady that I was forced to quit the army and return to England with a small pension. I have been lucky enough to find work in the City, and I am not, whatever my other disadvantages may be, short of money. Harriet’s father has also been remarkably generous to me in my misfortune, and I am happy to say that although I could not be described as wealthy, my financial situation is comfortable. I say this,” he added hastily, “not in any spirit of pride or boasting, but to reassure you that I will be able to meet any financial demands that I may incur as a result of engaging your services.
“I arrived in England, accompanied by my wife, some two months ago, and rented a charming house in Windsor. Harriet felt, and I agreed with her, that residing in the city of London would not be beneficial to my health. On moving into the house, we immediately felt ourselves at home, and I confess that, despite my disappointment at having been forced to leave my chosen profession, it was a relief for me to feel the cool of the English climate after the sweltering heat of the tropics.
“Our needs are modest, and we employ a cook and a girl who performs the functions of a general servant. We live quietly, but have made the acquaintance of several of our neighbours, and we occasionally visit them, and they us. Imagine our surprise when, just under two weeks ago, a girl appeared on our doorstep asking about the position of kitchen maid in our household. My wife received her, informed her that there was no such position available, and sent her away. The next day, it was my turn to answer the door to another girl who was likewise enquiring after a similar position.”
“Had your wife informed you of the previous applicant for this non-existent post?” interrupted Holmes.
“No, I only learnt of this after I had informed her of my own experience. Naturally, when I first heard the girl’s explanation, I assumed that she had come to the wrong house. I asked her which household she was seeking, assuming that she had mistaken our house for that of one of our neighbours, and proposed to redirect her to the correct location. To my astonishment, she gave my name and my address. On my explaining to her that we were not seeking her services, she burst into tears, and explained to me that she had spent a good deal of money to travel from London for the express purpose of seeking employment with us. My wife was absent, visiting friends, or I would have requested her to provide some comfort to the poor girl. As it was, it was almost impossible for me to get any sense out of her in her near hysterical condition. I felt that the least I could do was to compensate her for her wasted journey, and I pressed the money into her hand before dismissing her.
“On my wife’s return, I informed her of the incident, and she in turn informed me of the similar circumstance on the previous day. Neither of us could understand how such a coincidence could have come about, but we felt that this was the end of the matter. As it turned out, this was not the case. After two days, the incident repeated itself. On this occasion, we were both at home. At about half past five in the evening, when I had just returned from the City, our maid informed my wife that a girl at the door wished to speak with her.
“‘Come with me, John,’ Harriet said to me. ‘It may well be that it is another of those girls who believe that we wish to employ a kitchen maid.’ It transpired that she was correct in this assumption. The girl informed us that she had been dispatched by an agency who had been requested to provide a kitchen maid for our household. Once again, she had our address and our name correctly. Indeed, she had it written on a piece of paper that she carried with her. I requested the name of the agency who had dispatched her, and she informed me that it was the firm of Edwards & Lowe of Upper Holland Street.”
“The name is not familiar to me,” murmured Holmes, and turning to me. “Be so good as to make a note of that name, Watson,” he instructed me. “Pray continue.”
“Once again, on hearing that there was no post available, the girl appeared to become hysterical. As on the previous occasion, I provided her with the money she claimed to have spent on her travel from London. However, I now had the name of an agency, and the possible source of this annoyance. I therefore determined to pay a visit to the offices of this agency the next day in order to rectify the situation.
“Accordingly, during my lunch hour on the following day, I made my way to Upper Holland Street in search of Edwards & Lowe. Unfortunately, I did not have sufficient time to locate the agency on that day, nor the next, since the girl had been unable to provide us with the number of the house in the street. At length, I discovered the office, which appeared to consist of a single room on the second floor of number 57, but it was closed during the lunch hour, and when I made a point of revisiting it after work, it was likewise closed. I therefore wrote a message on a page torn from my memorandum book, addressed it to whom it might concern, and slipped it into the letter-box in the office door, requesting them to make contact with me. This was one week ago, and since then I have heard nothing.”
“I take it that you have visited the office since delivering your message?”
“I have indeed, on three separate occasions, each at a different time of the day. On every visit, I have left a message, similar to the first.”
“And have any more girls presented themselves as applicants for this non-existent post?”
“Indeed they have, several times. The last such was last night. I am sorry to report on the most recent occasion that I became quite incensed and turned the applicant away from the door weeping. Also, regarding the past three girls who have appeared at our door, I have instructed them specifically to pass on my message to the agency of Edwards & Lowe, instructing them to cease this harassment, but it would appear that my appeals have had no effect.”
“So you would wish me to seek out this agency, and demand on your behalf that they desist?”
“That is precisely what I wish you to do, Mr. Holmes.”
“Have you informed the police of this?” I asked him.
He turned to me. “I have informed the local constabulary of these events, but they claim that they are unable to proceed with the matter, since no crime appears to have been committed. It was they who recommended that I seek out a private detective, and since your name appears at the head of any list of those practicing the profession, I decided to seek your services.”
“Very well. Tell me, have you experienced any other strange incidents? Any more unexpected visitors?”
“It is strange that you should ask that question of me. When we first took possession of the house, a positive stream of tramps visited the back door demanding food. I strongly disapprove of encouraging such people, and I instructed the cook and the girl to turn them away without meeting their requests. On occasion, I was in the house when they called, and I personally saw them off the premises, brandishing my revolver—unloaded, naturally, but they were not to know this.”
“When did these unwanted visits commence, and for how long did they continue?”
“They started about three days after we moved into the house, and lasted for about a week. Perhaps three or four of these tramps called every day during that period.”
“That is indeed a remarkable number,” said Holmes. “Of course, you may not be aware of the secret chalk signs that these ‘gentlemen of the road’ use to indicate that a household is generous in its offerings to them.”
“I have heard of such,” replied our visitor, “and I took the trouble to scrutinise the area around our house—the gate and such—for any markings of this kind, but was unable to see any that wo
uld provide information to our unwelcome visitors.”
“It is possible,” mused Holmes, “that the previous occupant of the house was generous in his largesse to these mendicants. You say that you are renting this property?”
“That is correct.”
“Do you know anything of the previous tenant?”
“I believe, from our neighbours, that he was a quiet man, unmarried, who kept himself to himself and was rarely seen in public. Indeed, now that I come to recall it, even his name would appear to be unknown to me.”
“That can easily be obtained. The name and address of the agents through whom you are renting the house?” Alderton told him, and I added the name to the notes I had been continuing to record. “I will pay a visit to them and make enquiries. It may well have some relevance.”
“If you can clear up this matter, it will be a great relief to my wife. She is almost at her wits’ end, I can tell you, and the matter has been preying on my mind as well, of course. What with the tramps, this succession of applicants for a position that does not exist, and the problems with the drains, she has told me that we will have to leave the house by the end of the month.”
“The drains?” asked Holmes.
“Yes, indeed. We noticed a stench of decay which appeared to emanate from the region of the drains about a week after we took possession of the house. Naturally, we informed the agents, and they dispatched workmen to examine the building and the foundations, but they could discover nothing untoward. If anything, the smell has become worse over the past few weeks, and on a hotter day, it is almost intolerable.”
“Dear me, it would seem that you have truly been unlucky in your choice of dwelling,” answered Holmes. “I will investigate on your behalf and attempt to discover if there is any information from this agency or from the letting agent that will help to shed light on your mysteries.”
“I am truly grateful to you,” Alderton said, rising to his feet. “The mere fact that I have engaged your services in this regard will help to put Harriet’s mind at rest, as it has already done mine.”
“I will inform you as soon as I learn anything of relevance,” Holmes assured him, as he showed him to the door and ushered him out of the house.
“Well, Watson, what do you make of all this?” he asked me as he returned to the room, rubbing his hands together. “It has all the makings of a nice little mystery, does it not?”
“You feel that there is some vengeful motive here? This constant dispatching of tramps and servant girls is intended to repay some kind of injury or slight, either originally committed by Alderton himself, or by his wife?”
“That would certainly seem to fit the facts as we know them at present. However, we should bear in mind that he is recently returned from abroad. Unless the injury was perpetrated before he went overseas, it is hard to know what he could have done in such a short space of time to provoke such hostility.”
“The wife?” I suggested.
“Meaning that these acts may be directed against the wife rather than the husband? Again, though, we know nothing of the past history in this case. We need data, Watson, data.”
“I was thinking rather in terms of a jealous ex-suitor.”
“Always seeking the romantic explanation, eh? That is indeed a possibility. The worm of revenge in these cases may gnaw away for many years, it is true. I think we must take ourselves to Upper Holland Street, and discover who it was who placed these demands for unwanted servant girls. Come, there is no time like the present. It is a fine afternoon, and the walk will invigorate us.” He snatched up his hat and stick, and I followed him.
At the address in Upper Holland Street that Alderton had provided, we made our way up several flights of dingy badly lit stairs to the second floor, where we came to the door with the name of Edwards & Lowe inscribed on a cardboard square rudely tacked to the door. Although it was early evening, the hour was still such that one could confidently expect an office to be occupied, but on knocking at the door, we received no answer. Turning the handle established the fact that the door was locked.
“This was to be expected,” remarked Holmes, bringing out his set of picklocks. “Pray keep watch. It would be inconvenient for us to spend the night in the cells as suspected burglars.” In the event, it was a matter of less than a minute before the door silently swung open. We entered, and closed the door behind us. The room was sparsely furnished in the manner typical of such offices—a crude desk with a typewriter on it, and a few chairs, together with a cabinet which was presumably used for storing papers. It was to that last that Sherlock Holmes strode, and pulled open the unlocked drawer to remove a few sheets of paper, which he spread out on the desk.
“This is Alderton’s address,” he said, pointing to the first sheet. “And these are receipts from newspapers for the placement of advertisements. Make a note of the newspapers and the dates, while I continue the search. These are blank sheets of paper,” rolling one into the typewriter and producing a few lines using the machine before pocketing the paper. He opened the other drawer of the cabinet, and those of the desk, but failed to discover anything else which would lead to the identity of the occupants of the room. There was a door behind the desk which presumably led to the next room, but on our attempting to open it, we discovered it was locked.
“It is obvious that the room has been used in the recent past. Alderton informed us that he had posted his messages through the letterbox in the door, did he not? There is nothing in the cage attached to the inside of the door designed to catch such messages. This argues that on at least one occasion in the last week, someone has entered and removed the messages.”
“And we may assume that this office was used to interview the girls, and then to dispatch them to Alderton,” I added.
“I am certain of that. You have a list of the newspapers and dates? Excellent. We will call on them tomorrow, since it is late now. Let us go.” He replaced the papers in the cabinet, and I was about to open the door into the corridor, when Holmes stopped me. “Wait.” His keen ears had obviously heard the sound of another door opening, for in a few seconds I could distinguish the sound of a door being closed and locked, followed by the sound of footsteps making their way towards the stairs. “Now,” he told me, and we darted out of the room. “I must re-lock the door. Keep watch again,” he ordered, and I did so.
After he had locked the door, we made our way down the stairs to the street, and as we passed through the front door of the building, our paths crossed with that of a seedy-looking man in an overcoat that had seen better days, as had the bowler hat perched on the back of his head.
Holmes took my arm and marched us away from the door before he hissed in my ear, “I would lay money that man is either Edwards or Lowe and will be going to the office we have just vacated. Return to Baker-street and wait for me there. I wish to see where this leads.”
I therefore returned to the lodgings as instructed, but in the event I was forced to wait for a relatively little time before Holmes re-joined me there. He was smiling ruefully as he threw his hat into a corner.
“Never underestimate the native cunning of your Irishman,” he told me, lighting his pipe.
“Why? What happened?”
“I slipped in after the gentleman whom we saw enter the building as we were leaving, and followed him up the stairs. As we surmised, he was indeed connected with the agency whose room we visited. He entered, and the gaslight in the room was lit. I waited, supposing myself to be unobserved, at the end of the passageway, waiting for him to emerge. The light in the room went off, but no-one emerged from the room. Eventually, I discovered that my bird had flown.”
“How do you mean?”
“Do you recall the locked door behind the desk? After waiting for about ten minutes following the extinguishing of the light, I went cautiously to the room—there might well have been a trap laid for me, after all. This time, the door from the passageway was unlocked, and I let myself in. I confess that I was half-
expecting to be attacked, but I had my weighted stick with me, and I was prepared for such an eventuality. It was plain to me, though, as soon as I struck a match, that the door behind the desk had been opened, and I followed the path that my quarry had obviously taken.
“Once in the next room, all became clear. This room had two additional doors, one leading onto the same passageway as the one from which I had just come, and the other leading to another one leading from the first at right angles, and invisible from where I had been standing. This passage led to a flight of stairs, which was obviously the route which our friend had taken.
“My vanity is hurt, I confess. I pride myself on my ability to follow another man without his being aware of it, but in this instance, I failed. Possibly I dropped some small object or made some other noise while I was moving up the stairs behind him.”
“But you mentioned that he was Irish. How did you come to that conclusion?”
“That was simplicity itself. On the desk of the empty office lay a packet which had once contained cigarettes of a brand favoured almost exclusively by Irishmen. To add to this belief, the name of Hannigan, a common Irish name, together with the number 23, had been rudely scrawled on the packet.”
“The meaning of that?”
Holmes shrugged. “Who can say? Quite possibly a house number or some such. Without the name of the street, naturally it is useless to us. We must therefore follow our original plan and visit the newspaper offices tomorrow.”