by John Hall
I paraphrase his speech slightly; he did not say ‘beggars’ but something close to it, and it pains me to record that the women in the room, so far from showing any signs of consternation, actually laughed as he spoke. If I were in Holmes’s place, I fear that Clayton would have felt the toe of my boot. The fact that Holmes did not turn a hair speaks volumes for my friend’s forbearance and powers of self-control. ‘I cannot imagine,’ said he. ‘What was it, then?’
Clayton looked slightly abashed, and stood back a little. ‘Fifty guineas,’ said he. ‘Fifty blinking guineas! Does that strike you as equitable?’
Holmes said nothing. Clayton looked at me. ‘How does it strike you, Doctor?’
‘It depends upon whether you were guilty,’ said I. ‘If you were not, sir, then frankly it seems to me to be paltry in the extreme. But then governments have never been exactly noted for their over-generosity.’
There was a scattered round of applause at this, and one of the men stood up and shook my hand. ‘Well said, Doctor,’ he told me. ‘As to Algy’s guilt or innocence, that has already been established by the appeal court. But you are right to say that fifty guineas is paltry. Typical of the arrogance of a rotten system. Why, Bertie, there — ’ and he indicated a particularly repulsive specimen lounging on a chaise longue in the manner of one of the more depraved Roman emperors, with a vacant-faced woman gazing adoringly at him from either side — ‘Bertie’s father is the proprietor of a newspaper,’ and he mentioned the name of a scandal-mongering rag, ‘and Bertie’s going to write a piece about the whole sorry business. The true story of Algy’s twenty year ordeal. And the paper will pay Algy a hundred and fifty sovs for it.’
I reflected sourly that Bertie, for all that he might well dislike ‘a rotten system,’ was not averse to using his father’s money or his father’s reputation. But, with a supreme effort of will, I followed Holmes’s splendid example and said nothing.
‘But that’s not enough, not by a long chalk,’ added Clayton. ‘I’ve worked it all out for you,’ and he produced a little notebook. ‘Twenty years, and I might have earned two hundred a year. That’s fair, isn’t it? Why, an ordinary stock-broker’s clerk would get as much. That alone comes to four thousand. And that represents no more than the money I might have earned. There will also have to be some reckoning, some recompense for the loss of my freedom, what should have been the best years of my life, the injustice and injury I have suffered!’ His colourless face became almost animated, and his voice rose until it was almost a scream, as he recited this litany. He subsided somewhat, and ended prosaically, ‘The final figure I have is ten thousand pounds.’
Holmes, as composed as ever, replied, ‘Between fifty guineas and ten thousand pounds there is a great gulf fixed. Think you honestly that the authorities will concur with your computation?’
‘It isn’t the authorities — as you call ’em — that I plan to sue,’ hissed Clayton. ‘It’s that so-and-so Lestrade!’
‘No need for blackguardly language, sir,’ I told him. ‘I might possibly find some sympathy within me for your predicament, but you will discover that it serves your cause better to keep a civil tongue in your head.’
The young man who had spoken earlier said hastily, ‘You must excuse Algy, gentlemen, for he is somewhat overwrought, and understandably so. But it is not entirely a question of money, for what, after all, is that but mere dross? No, it is rather a question of — of — ’ he floundered slightly.
‘Revenge?’ suggested Holmes.
‘Well, sir, if you will have the plain word for the plain sentiment. And why not, pray? After all, Algy has much to be bitter about.’
‘Bitter?’ said Clayton, with a mirthless laugh. ‘I should think I was! Those three somethings ruined my life, when all is said and done.’
‘I am sure that they acted in good faith,’ said Holmes.
Clayton seemed unable to speak in response to this, but the young man who appeared to be Clayton’s spokesman said, ‘Algy does not see it in that light, Mr Holmes, and nor do his friends here,’ and he waved a hand to indicate the others. ‘It seems to us that there was some strong personal animosity towards Algy, and that we cannot have. Of the three men who conducted — if that is the right word — the police inquiry, one is dead, and one is, as I understand it, not in full possession of his faculties. That leaves only this fellow Lestrade.’
‘And it is from Lestrade that you propose to seek redress?’ said Holmes.
‘Too something true!’ sneered Clayton.
‘I have already asked you, sir,’ said I, ‘to moderate your language before these ladies.’ This was greeted with a sort of snicker of amusement — or perhaps it was contempt — from those ladies of whom I spoke. I could not restrain myself from adding, ‘Although on reflection perhaps my powers of observation are as flawed as your speech!’
This was not entirely well received by the assembled harpies. Holmes cut in hastily, ‘You must realize, sir, that Inspector Lestrade is far from a rich man. It would be unrealistic to expect him to find he sum you mentioned.’
‘That’s his concern,’ said Clayton. ‘I’ll settle for whatever he has.’
‘He will be ruined,’ said Holmes. ‘Always assuming that your action is successful.’
‘Ruined?’ said Clayton. ‘And why shouldn’t he be ruined? Didn’t he ruin my life, the so-and-so?’
The young man added, ‘As to the action being successful, I hardly think that a jury will disagree with the appeal court ruling.’
‘You would not consider a lesser, a more realistic, sum in exchange for dropping this hounding of Lestrade?’ asked Holmes.
There was a roar of laughter at this, and remarks like, ‘We have them on the run now!’ from the motley throng.
Holmes stood up. ‘I see that there is nothing further to discuss,’ said he. ‘We shall accordingly take our leave of you.’
And leave we did, with our tails pretty well between our legs. They did not exactly jeer as we walked out of the room with what shreds of dignity we could muster, but I felt that it was a close run thing.
As we stood on the pavement looking for a cab, Holmes shook himself, as if to remove the dust of the place from his garments. He glanced at me, laughed in his peculiar noiseless fashion, and said, ‘I have had some painful interviews in the course of my professional career, but that was perhaps one of the least pleasurable. What say you, friend Watson?’
‘A poisonous crew, Holmes, that’s what I say! They certainly have it in for poor Lestrade.’
‘They do indeed. What of Clayton? How did he impress you?’
‘A foul-mouthed cur, Holmes. I cannot say I would have been favourably impressed by his language or appearance were I on any jury that tried him.’
‘Oh, you may be sure that his friends will coach him until he is word perfect before it comes to court. Indeed, you have probably done him a very considerable service, letting him know just what sort of behaviour does or does not please a solid British juryman.’
‘Sorry I spoke, now!’
Holmes laid a hand on my sleeve. ‘My dear fellow, I would not have it any other way. You did what you thought was right, and damn the consequences. But, apart from his language and behaviour, did you feel that he was honest?’
‘Hard to say. Making allowances for his outlook — well, I suppose his antagonism towards Lestrade was certainly honest enough, Holmes.’
‘I agree with you there. And that other fellow was right enough when he said that a judge and jury must attach a good deal of weight to the verdict of the appeal court. That was why I tried to chaffer with them, to come to some accommodation, but it was a waste of time, as you saw. They are indeed set upon their pound of flesh.’
‘I am bound to say, Holmes, that it looks bad. Ignoring Clayton’s filthy Billingsgate speech, he does seem to be convinced that he has a case. And so do those others, even if they are unprepossessing. If he has convinced them, he might well convince others. I am bound to say that
I was not altogether unmoved by his evident sincerity, although it could have been better expressed.’
‘That is quite true. And with a decent lawyer, a sympathetic judge and jury, the matter might not go entirely in Lestrade’s favour.’ As we settled down in the cab, he repeated thoughtfully, ‘Yes, you are quite right in saying that they plan to ruin Lestrade. I wonder — ’ and he lapsed into a brooding silence.
I have frequently seen Holmes at something of a loss when he is on a case, but in those instances there has always been some glimmer of hope, however faint, that he would find the trail again. With this sorry business, though, what could he do? It was all so long ago, and had been so very confused even when it was fresh and new. It was in a silence as deep as Holmes’s own, and with a very heavy heart, that I sat in that cab as we returned to Baker Street.
The page boy opened the door for us. ‘Any callers, Billy?’ asked Holmes.
‘Inspector Lestrade, sir. He’s up in your sitting room now.’
FOUR
‘I should say nothing of our interview with Clayton for the moment,’ advised Holmes as we went upstairs.
‘Very well.’ Feeling that I was at last truly being taken into Holmes’s confidence by being thus encouraged to use his own trick of revealing as little information as possible, I opened the door, and went into our sitting room. Lestrade made as if to rise as I entered, but I waved him back to his chair.
‘Any more news, Lestrade?’ I asked, as I hung up my coat and hat.
‘Not unless you count an argument — that is, a discussion, with the wife.’
‘Ah.’
‘It’s this retirement business, Doctor,’ said Lestrade, becoming talkative as Holmes and I sat down opposite him. ‘Now, the wife is usually the most pleasant and good-natured of women, but she has got it into her head that I should do what the superintendent suggested, and take my pension. “You’re not getting any younger”, she tells me. As if I didn’t know that all too well! And, “You’ve talked often enough about what you’ll do when you retire”, and “If they say you were incompetent, you might be dismissed with no pension at all.” All quite true of course,’ and he shrugged.
‘But it smacks of running away?’
Lestrade nodded. ‘It does that. And more than that, for if I take my pension and leave the force, I’m as good as admitting my guilt, saying I know that I was wrong.’
I started to speak, changed my mind, and coughed to hide my confusion.
‘Spit it out, Doctor,’ advised Lestrade. ‘It might be a gold watch.’
‘Very well, then. Look here, Lestrade, you and I have known each other a good long time now, and we can, I believe, be honest with each other. You must see how this matter looks to an dispassionate observer: a conviction obtained solely on the basis of a confession, not by the accused man, but by someone else, a third party, as it were? It is a very shaky foundation upon which to build a prosecution.’
‘Maybe it seems that way to you, Doctor,’ began Lestrade in a stubborn fashion, ‘but — ’ and he broke off as Holmes raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, Mr Holmes? You see that Doctor Watson here is insistent that I take my pension and make the best of it. How say you?’ he asked with a curious embarrassed sort of laugh.
‘It matters little what I think, or indeed what anyone else thinks. I gather that you are still not of that mind?’
‘I’m not, Mr Holmes,’ said Lestrade firmly.
Holmes was about to speak when there came a ring at the street door, followed by footsteps on our stair. I recognized the brisk step of the pageboy, but not the rather ponderous tread of the visitor who followed him. Billy tapped on our door, opened it, and announced, ‘Mr Jabez Wilson, to see Mr ’Olmes.’
‘Good Lord!’ said I.
Lestrade raised an eyebrow as Mr Wilson, the same rather portly, red-headed pawnbroker whom I had last seen perhaps five or six years previously, entered the room, and gazed at us with his sunken little eyes.
‘Well, this is an entirely unexpected pleasure, Mr Jabez Wilson,’ said Holmes, shaking our visitor’s pudgy hand. ‘But you do not tell me that you have become enmeshed in another little affair such as that of the Red-headed League, I trust?’ he added, a twinkle in his eye.
Our visitor chuckled. ‘No, Mr Holmes! One puzzle of that sort is enough for me. But I can see I’ve got you stumped, sir, which is a rare event with you.’
‘I own you have,’ said Holmes. He turned to the Scotland Yard man. ‘You will have heard about the little matter of the French gold, a few years back, Lestrade?’
‘I have, Mr Holmes. Of course, I wasn’t involved, worse luck. It made the reputation of Peter Jones, who was,’ added Lestrade, a touch of envy apparent in his voice.
‘Indeed. But we are interrupting you, Mr Wilson. You have, as you say, intrigued us all.’
‘Well, I haven’t forgotten that business, Mr Holmes, nor how you helped me out with clearing it up, and so when the lad came to my little shop and said you were asking about jewellery, I paid particular attention. And this time, sir, I think I may be the one to help you solve your problem.’
Lestrade looked puzzled by all this, and I probably did the same, for I had no notion as to what was going on. Holmes told us, ‘I sent the irregular forces out to scour the jewellers and pawnshops, with a description of the jewellery taken in the robbery at Sir Octavius’ town house.’ He asked Wilson, ‘You have seen some of the items, then?’
Wilson looked doubtful. ‘Not recently, Mr Holmes.’ He took a grimy and crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and smoothed it out. ‘This is your list, sir.’ He indicated a line with a thick finger, and read, ‘“White gold necklace, with thirty-seven diamonds, old cut”. That’s the item, Mr Holmes. Only — ’
‘Yes?’
‘It wasn’t recent, you see, sir. It was more like a year ago that I bought something similar.’
‘Ah.’ Holmes took from his pocket a picture which had clearly been clipped from the society pages of some popular journal. ‘Was this the man who pawned the necklace?’
Wilson shook his head without bothering to look at the portrait. ‘It wasn’t a man at all, sir. It was a woman, I’m sure of that.’
‘Do you have it still? Or was the pledge redeemed, and if so, by whom?’
‘Again, sir, it wasn’t left as security for a loan, it was an outright sale.’
‘I see. Is that not a little unusual?’
Wilson nodded. ‘It is, Mr Holmes. But then the lady was insistent, and the price asked was so reasonable — you understand? I’m afraid it went, sir, I sold it the week after, so I can’t show it you. It may not be what you wanted after all?’ he added anxiously.
‘It does not sound as if it were,’ said Holmes. He took a half sovereign from his pocket, adding, ‘But this is for your trouble.’
Wilson left, after thanking Holmes profusely.
‘I took the descriptions of the missing items from the newspaper reports,’ said Holmes when the door had closed after our visitor. ‘I did not expect any outcome from my enquiries, but it would have been remiss of me to neglect the obvious.’
‘We made our own enquiries, but with no result,’ said Lestrade, with some annoyance.
‘Ah, but you were asking about recent sales,’ said Holmes. ‘And besides, these fellows often find it easier to talk to me than to the official forces. No reflection on you, my dear Lestrade, but it is a fact. Had Mr Jabez Wilson not been an old acquaintance, I doubt if he would have come here today.’
‘I don’t see as it takes us very far anyway,’ said Lestrade, somewhat mollified. ‘If the piece was sold a year ago, and the murder and robbery were just recent — ’
‘Ah, but consider this if you will, as a speculative possibility only. Sir Octavius had been taking his wife’s jewellery for some time, piece by piece, pawning or selling it to pay his immediate debts, and perhaps telling his wife some tale of having it cleaned, or the like. When her suspicions reached the danger point, he resolved his pro
blem by direct means. How say you to that?’
‘By the lord Harry, yes!’ said Lestrade, a look of triumph on his face. ‘You have it, Mr Holmes, that’s the explanation, no doubt of that.’ He sank back, his face falling. ‘But how to bring it home to him? That’s the difficulty. He would never pawn the stuff himself, or sell it, he’d use some agent, as in this instance. Even if we could identify the pieces, Sir Octavius would be in the clear. He would be sure to say he knew nothing, that his wife had sold the pieces, or maybe that he had done so with her knowledge and full consent. After all, the poor woman isn’t here to contradict anything he may choose to say, is she?’
‘There would be some awkward questions, though?’ said I. ‘After all, he had told you that these things had been stolen recently.’
Lestrade shook his head. ‘He would just say that his wife had sold them without his knowledge, like I say, and that he genuinely thought they had been stolen. Or perhaps that he knew but lied to protect his poor wife’s reputation, that she drank, or was being blackmailed, and needed the cash for that. He’s capable of anything, I tell you. No, Doctor, we’re sunk. Unless we can shake his alibi, and I don’t hold out much hope there.’
‘The alibi, to be sure,’ mused Holmes. He thought a moment, then went on, ‘Perhaps not. But we have one crack in the seemingly impregnable edifice, so who can say that others may not appear in due course?’
‘You may be right,’ said Lestrade without any conviction. He consulted his watch. ‘I’ve taken up too much of your time already, sir, so I’ll be off. By the by, I did as you asked me, and enquired about old Inspector White. I have his address here.’
‘Indeed?’ Holmes stood up. ‘Have you plans for the remains of the day, at all?’
Lestrade shook his head.
‘Watson? Are you engaged this afternoon?’