“Come with me” I said to her in what I hoped was a commanding tone of voice. While maintaining my control over her I briskly walked Miss Taggart through the busy market, trying not to attract unwanted attention. I was looking for a secluded part of the market where whatever information that might be exchanged would not be overheard. When I located a deserted brick lined alcove (in a move that surprised me as much as the young lady) I placed both hands firmly on her young shoulders moved her until her back was to the wall and demanded “Where have you taken Miss Jeffery?”
Chapter 43
For the next few days while Sherlock and I were searching for Winifred her day consisted of being escorted in the morning by two non communicative male companions from a run down rooming house. It was a short trip as it was located a few short blocks away from WH Matthews & Co Residential Conveyancing office. Upon her arrival she was shown to a room that had become quite familiar.
Each day although the form and direction of questioning might change (depending on the person asking) the focus of the interrogation remained the same. Then one day the line of examination surprisingly changed and suddenly there was an apparent interest in her books.
Winifred was shrewd enough to know that the people who were her “hosts” had no real interest in the literary work of a female mystery writer from Gravesend. Obviously they had grown tired of Winifred’s obstinate “what document do you mean” answer and hoped to lower her guard by changing the subject and getting her to talk about her work.
Winfred picks up the story...
I left the rooming house that had become my residence for an unknown period of time. I don’t know if it had been chosen for its close proximity to where my daily interviews were to occur or if it had been chosen to demoralize my spirit because of its run down state.
I was not going to let my captors know how frightened I was in my less than acceptable accommodations, nor was I was going to let them know who had the Survivors list.
As before I was lead through the deserted office to what I began to think of as my interrogation room. I sat down in the same chair as last time watched my silent escort leave and awaited one of my three now familiar interrogators to enter the room. There was a longer than usual wait punctuated by what I thought was a short conversation in the office outside between two people. Then the door opened and I was facing a man I had never seen before.
The first thing that struck me about him was his attire. He looked less like the others who in any other circumstance might be professional men or bankers. This man looked more like a clerk in the men’s clothing department of a reputable shop. As he entered he smiled extended his right hand in greeting and as the distance between us decreased he welcomed me with “Miss Jeffery what a pleasure to meet you.”
Being momentarily caught off guard and not knowing how to respond I automatically rose from where I had been seated and shook his hand. Sitting back down and regaining my composure I wanted to know more about this apparent change in tactics. Feeling as if I had regained myself I fixed my visitor a look and calmly asked “Mr.?” then waited. Curiously it was almost as if he was searching though some card index at the library locating a fictitious name to use there was a noticeable pause then “Hewitt.”
Deftly deflecting the interest from himself back to me he started “But I didn’t come to talk about myself. When I heard you were here to clear up the matter of a misplaced document I asked if I could talk to you only about your books.” Looking at Mr. “Hewitt” now sitting comfortably across the table from me he didn’t strike as the sort of person who would be interested in reading mysteries written by a woman much less knowing anything about a female writer from Gravesend. But I welcomed the change (no matter as to the motive) from what was becoming a hostile and threatening line of questioning.
I could tell that either Mr. “Hewitt” or the people who were employing him had done their research on me. His literary line of questioning focused on two of my favourite mysteries The Pathway of Lost Souls and The Unicorn and the Wasp.”
Trying to maintain my guard and keep my enthusiasm for my work in check I gave an outline and a synopsis of both stories. Then I went on to describe the character of Emily Porter who was the amateur and somewhat reluctant detective in both stories. As I was talking I could tell that Mr. “Hewitt” was skilled at his craft and why he had been chosen. He did from time to time direct the conversation back to where had he been instructed.
But like seeing a bright warning flare going up into the night sky I kept bringing the conversation back to either the setting of the first story which had been set in Gravesend or to the setting of the second story which was a country house in Sussex, or to my heroine Emily.
I could sense that as the conversation continued the facade of literary interest that Mr. “Hewitt” was trying to maintain was starting to erode. Also, that there was a growing frustration in his questioning because he was not getting the results he had been sent to retrieve.
Almost as if to end the interview there was a knock at the door...Mr. “Hewitt” got up went and opened it slightly. There was another somewhat muffled conversation then he turned in my direction. “Miss Jeffery I have to leave now” he looked at me for a moment as if he wanted to say something. I could sense from the change in his expression that his words could be over heard “I would suggest that you co operate with these people and give them what they want. Patience is a virtue and they have little left.”
Chapter 44
The East India docks are located on the Thames between Blackwall Reach and Bugsby’s Reach. East India men traded between Blackwall and Calcutta or other Indian ports, laden with the merchandise of two civilizations. The docks were initially designed to handle large East India men (ships) of up to 1000 tons. The basin, import and export docks could berth up to 250 sailing ships at a time. However, as the 19th century progressed, steamships also began to use the docks. Although they could not accommodate the larger vessels that used the Royal Docks or Tilbury, the East India Docks were frequented by the smaller steamers of the Union Castle and other shipping lines throughout the late 19th century and well into the 20th century.
Many businesses saw the advantages of the new enclosed docks. The East India Dock Company (formed in 1803) was given permission to build another dock at Blackwall to serve the vast shipping needs of the East India Company. As with the London Docks, the area around the East India Docks attracted other business. Pepper warehouses and spice-grinding operations sprang up in the area. Pubs, and supply shops opened to cater for the dock workers and ships deckhands employed there.
There was one particular unassuming pub close to the docks that was favoured by the heavy toiling labourers, the Mermaid Inn. It was a small, dimly lit and an unadorned sort of tavern (with a history dating back to the buccaneers) where a man could go to sit and down a pint of ale, eat a hearty meal in peace and forget about the monotony and drudgery of his employment for a time.
Although there were not always names attached to faces of the regular patrons everybody frequenting the Mermaid knew and trusted the ones they were drinking and eating with.
While I was dealing with Miss Taggart in the market a stranger in somewhat unfamiliar garb was seen entering the pub. Most of the activity stopped as he made his way towards the counter presumably to order food and drink. On hearing the stranger’s unfamiliar accent those who had chosen to ignore him up till now suddenly took an interest in this new and unfamiliar patron.
Very few in England had any knowledge about the United States of America much less how its citizens looked and sounded until now “My name is Jack Johnson from Chicago” realizing this meant little to the inn keeper the stranger in his east coast accent continued on a more familiar tact ”I’m looking for a man called Thomas Malone” not getting any response the stranger pressed on “He’s known as the badger.”
Suspiciously the inn keeper
eyed the stranger and replied “The badger has been around, if he should come by later why you would want to see him?” The American smiled and answered “Back home he has quite a reputation as what you English would call a pugilist. While I was in London I wanted to meet him and discuss his style of fighting.”
“I’ll let him know you stopped by, is there any way the badger can reach you?” The American thought for a minute then said “It might be easier if I stop by later. “I’m very interested in meeting him I think he might know some things I would find most illuminating.”
Chapter 45
Winifred goes on to describe the events after her last interrogation or interview had taken place.
Shortly after Mr. “Hewitt” departed the two non talking male companions entered to escort me back to the somewhat run down rooming house.
Silently escorted though the front door I was led up the facing set of stairs. At the top we turned right and walked down a short hallway which was covered in a threadbare carpet then one of the companions produced a skeleton key from his pocket opened the door in front of me and waited until I entered the single room.
As soon as I crossed the threshold I heard the door solidly close behind me and the key being turned in the lock to indicate that until tomorrow morning this small space was now my entire world. I had come to know that the monotony I was facing would be interrupted by my daily visit and interrogation and three uninspired and plainly cooked meals. The colour of the sunlight shining through the painted over widows blocked my view of the street thus denying me any land marks. I could however sense by the light creeping in when my next meal was due to be served.
The sun had started to stream through my heavily curtained windows when I heard a sharp rap on the door to my room accompanied by the abrupt announcement “breakfast.” Finishing getting dressed I hurried to the door as I heard the key in the lock then watched as it was being opened. As with each meal the same unhappy looking women stood in the hall bearing a meal tray. Each time the almost reluctant serving of food routine never varied. The tray was passed to me with the announcement “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to retrieve it finished or not.”
When the door was again closed and locked I very quickly made my way to the single table and chair which along with the single bed made up the entire furnishings of my room to eat a somewhat hurried meal. The first few meals eaten in this prison like room had proven that thirty minutes did not give me enough time to wonder about the source and nature of the meal in front of me. Further what was not consumed in such a short span of time was returned uneaten on the serving tray to the same unhappy looking woman.
Thinking like yesterday I would shortly after breakfast be escorted to my interrogation room for an increasingly hostile and threatening questioning I was surprised and a little worried to see that the sunlight coming into my room was a little brighter (indicating to me a passage of time) and I had not yet been called upon.
Chapter 46
When I located a deserted brick lined alcove in a move that surprised me as much as the young lady, I placed both hands firmly on her young shoulders moved her until her back was to the wall and demanded “Where have you taken Miss Jeffery?”
Only the briefest look of guilt passed her young face while I waited for the answer I was convinced she had. Then like clouds being dispersed by a breeze to reveal a sunny day her demeanour changed to that of an innocent and she very coyly replied “I don’t know who you are talking about.”
John had taught me that the ones who profess the most innocence are usually the guiltiest. Knowing that Winfred’s safety was contingent on getting the information I needed I pushed the young lady just a little harder to the wall hardened the tone of my voice a little and continued.
“Are you not the young lady who removed certain articles from Miss Jefferies handbag while you and the young man you were with and were attending the Gravesend spring fete?
Not waiting for an immediate reply I continued “are you also the young lady who distracted me on the high street in Gravesend long enough to separate me from Miss Jeffrey allowing her to be abducted by an accomplice?” Not satisfied that I had convinced her I continued “are you not the young lady who was spotted at the train station in the company of an older man and Miss Jeffery leaving the Gravesend train?”
Miss Taggart stared defiantly at me and started to push herself away from the wall. “If you so much as take another step I shall loudly call for a constable to come and have you arrested’ I cautioned her. “If how ever you chose to cooperate and give me the information I require I shall let you walk away. I could see Miss Taggart considering my offer.
I was certain that sooner or later she realized that she would find herself in a similar circumstance and with her lifestyle it would only be a matter of time before she would find herself in gaol. After considering for a brief moment Miss Taggart shared everything she knew about Winifred’s whereabouts and I couldn’t wait to share this information with Sherlock and hurried away
Chapter 47
By 8 p.m. the Mermaid was bereft of patrons who had gone home to tenement flats or back to the docks to finish loading and unloading cargo ships. Others had gone to find other ways to ease the burdens of their labours.
It was at this time the American Jack Johnson from Chicago entered and saw Thomas “the badger” Prescott standing at the counter placing an order for a drink. Not wanting him to slip away he quickly closed the distance. With a boisterous voice he announced “Mr. Malone what a pleasure to meet you.” Thomas, momentarily caught off guard looked surprised the American continued with the introduction “Jack Johnson from Chicago.”
Thomas quickly seeing through the disguise realized who was standing in front of him sarcastically returned “a pleasure to meet you Mr. Johnson or should I say Mr. Holmes.” The inn keeper realizing the true identity of the now supposed American replied “well I would have never guessed.” Thomas now feeling more secure about the situation continued “I assume Mr. Holmes you have not come to discuss pugilistic or boxing styles with me as the inn keeper had informed me. Perhaps you are interested in that meddling woman writer.” Sherlock always the gentleman, corrected Thomas’s disrespect for Winfred with “Yes, Miss Jeffery.”
“Of what possible interest could she be to you?” The badger asked not sure of the connection between a consulting detective and a mystery writer. Sherlock returned “She is the close friend of Mrs. Mary Watson. Miss Jefferies mystery writer’s curiosity got the better of her when she took the Survivors list from the church. I’m sure that if she had known how events would have turned out she could have chosen not to remove it or replaced it shortly after examining it.
Obviously it had more importance to the people who drew it up in the first place than to Miss Jeffery. As to my first involvement it was Miss Jeffery who contacted Mrs. Watson upon seeing my brother’s name on the list assuming he had been eliminated.” With a trip to the London hospital I found out that he had only suffered a relatively minor wound to his arm.”
Stopping for a second to collect his thoughts Sherlock continued “It was the bungled break and entry of Miss Jefferies home and the three murders...two which occurred in Gravesend and one in London that my interest continued to grow. It appeared someone was going to extraordinary lengths to retrieve it.”
Thomas had to admit to a certain level of admiration for the man standing in front of him. “I’m impressed with your knowledge but you have no idea of the significance of the Survivors list holds. Before we proceed, is it possible that you Mr. Holmes might like to share your knowledge of the document?”
Sherlock flashed the briefest of smiles...”Mr. Prescott I do not have all the information at this time. I am however interested in the current location of Miss Jeffrey’s....I am but one of two dead ends you have arrived at.”
Hoping to discover where Winfred was being kept...Sherlock pr
essed on “Since she can be of no real value to you and to the people who employ you it would be in the best interests of all if she was released.” The badger looked at Sherlock with an evil gleam in his eyes “not true Mr. Holmes, if she genuinely doesn’t have real knowledge of the Survivors list she still has some value in terms of...how should I say this...leverage.”
Sherlock flashing back three years to Paris and remembering the unfortunate death of another woman that he could not save addressed Thomas almost as if he would carry out the act himself “if I find out that Miss Jeffery has been harmed in any way the person responsible will be held accountable.”
Thomas self assuredly replied “I am sure I will pity the person who attempts this Mr. Holmes. The badger critically assessed Sherlock head to toe for a moment then calmly stated “But I have matters to attend to”...and as something of a parting compliment...”one of your better if not totally convincing disguises Mr. Holmes...although personally I always thought your Dutch bricklayer disguise was far more convincing.”
With that Thomas the badger Prescott made his exit from the Mermaid...as the door closed behind him Sherlock was almost convinced he heard a mans low voice (who thought he might be out of earshot) say almost sarcastically “I will give your regards to Miss Jeffery when I see her next.”
That barely audible phrase set off a reaction in Sherlock’s mind and he was out the door and in pursuit of a person he thought might have uttered it and apparently held little value for human life. Catching up and matching his pace to the badger Sherlock briskly tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. The badger stopped and turned in Holmes direction...looking some what irritated at this unexpected interruption of his journey Thomas asked “Is there something you have forgotten Mr. Holmes?”
Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery Writer Page 11