Our course now ran down Nine Elms until we came to Broderick and Nelson’s large timber-yard, just past the White Eagle tavern.154 Here the dog, frantic with excitement, turned down through the side gate into the enclosure, where the sawyers were already at work. On the dog raced through sawdust and shavings, down an alley, round a passage, between two wood-piles, and finally, with a triumphant yelp, sprang upon a large barrel which still stood upon the hand-trolley on which it had been brought. With lolling tongue and blinking eyes, Toby stood upon the cask, looking from one to the other of us for some sign of appreciation. The staves of the barrel and the wheels of the trolley were smeared with a dark liquid, and the whole air was heavy with the smell of creosote.
Sherlock Holmes and I looked blankly at each other and then burst simultaneously into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
“Burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.”
Charles A. Cox, The Sign of the Four (Chicago and New York: The Henneberry Company, n.d.)
129 See note 41, above, for an interesting explanation of this relationship.
130 Although many Victorian middle-class residences contained stained-glass windows, once the perquisite of only the rich, Mrs. Forrester’s suburban residence may have contained a “Patent Glacier Window,” described by Alfred Miles, editor of The Household Oracle (ca. 1898), as having “the merit of approaching real stained glass in colour and appearance more nearly than anything previously introduced, and [being] at the same time easy to affix… . Of course it is merely an imitation and therefore not comparable with the real, but it may effectively hide ugly realities which are even more objectionable than artistic imitations.”
131 Mercury wheel, stick, and marine barometers, beautiful glass-and-wood objects used to predict the weather and now prized as antiques, were often found in Victorian homes. Stair rods are usually brass rods at the foot of each riser, used to keep the carpeting in place.
132 No such street is to be found in London. Bernard Davies identifies the shop as that of John Hale, at 81 Prince’s Road.
133 By a “wiper,” Mr. Sherman means a “viper,” a snake. Sherman’s pronunciation echoes the cockney of Sam Weller in Dickens’s The Pickwick Papers. The distinctive swapping of the “v” and “w” sounds were largely extinct by the 1880s, but the music hall singer Gus Elen popularised it in his songs through the 1920s. “Hook it” is translated as “get out of the way” or “be off about your business” by John Camden Hotten in The Slang Dictionary (1865).
134 Mr. Sherman, points out Bernard Davies, is the only person other than his brother, Mycroft, to refer to Holmes by his first name. “We can picture [Mr. Sherlock] now, a thin, eager youth helping the older man with the skinning, making impressions of bird and animal tracks in plaster of Paris, bursting with questions as to the poisonous effects of ‘wipers,’ not to mention ‘swamp adders.’ ” Still, the familiarity does not extend to dropping the “Mr.,” and Mr. Sherman’s particular form of usage, and his tone, seem more servile than intimate.
135 Also called blindworm (Anguis fragilis), a legless, snakelike lizard of the family Anguidae, order Gymnophiona. It burrows in the grasses and open woodlands of Great Britain, Europe, and the Caucasus Mountains. The adult is about a foot long, but some specimens grow to almost two feet in length. The lizard eats snails and slugs and other soft animals, using pointed, fanglike teeth. Said to be blind, it has eyes that are so tiny as to be almost invisible.
136 Deborah Laubach, in her fascinating essay “A Study in Number Three,” comments: “Watson, a total stranger, walks amidst the scrutiny of every animal in Pinchin Lane without an uproar; what was that the Master once said about a dog in the nighttime?”
137 Donald Girard Jewell describes the lurcher as originally a cross between a German shepherd and a greyhound. “Though almost a quarter shorter than a greyhound, the lurcher exhibited great speed and could run any rabbit out in the open or quickly cut the creature off from its burrow in a warren. Not only was it fast, however, the lurcher was also smart. It offered the added advantage of being able to hunt by both sight and scent.” A type of dog rather than a breed, lurchers were favourites of poachers for their ability to hunt silently.
138 Stuart Palmer, in his “Notes on Certain Evidence of Caniphobia in Mr. Sherlock Holmes and His Associates,” expresses shock that the old naturalist would allow Watson to feed sugar to a dog, with the resulting dental damage.
139 Which “Palace” clock is a matter of some contention. Christopher Morley identifies it as that of Lambeth Palace, but Humfrey Michell points out, in a letter to the Baker Street Journal, that it was impossible to hear the Lambeth Palace clock from Upper Norwood. What Watson meant, Michell explains, was the Crystal Palace, which then stood nearby on Sydenham Hill. But Watson himself was in error, for there was no chiming clock at the Crystal Palace. “What he heard undoubtedly was the clock on the tower of the School for the Blind in Upper Norwood, which, for the benefit of those who could not see, struck the quarters, halves and hours in very resonant tones audible over a wide area.”
Morley’s and Michell’s suggestions are well refuted in William P. Schweikert’s “The Palace Clock,” in which he argues that Watson heard Big Ben, the Westminster Palace clock. Schweikert points out that Arthur Conan Doyle lived in South Norwood and, knowing what clocks were audible in the neighbourhood, would have pointed out an error to Watson for correction in later editions. However, Bernard Davies, in a coup-de-maître, identifies the clock as the instrument in the belltower of All Saint’s Church, Upper Norwood. The clock, manufactured by James Moore of Clerkenwell in 1840, was fitted to chime the hours. “It had apparently been doing this for forty-eight years before Watson’s cab passed that way around three in the morning… . [S]ome way down South Norwood Hill and quite close to the house, Watson would have heard the clock strike three above him and only a short distance behind. Not being well acquainted with the Crystal Palace, his assumption was not such an odd one to make” (letter to this editor, April 30, 2000).
140 A lantern, that is, incorporating a fresnel or “bull’s-eye” lense to intensify the light.
141 The magazine and early book editions of The Sign of Four all read “card” instead of “cord.” Of course, a “card” would not be useful to suspend the bull’s-eye lantern around Holmes’s neck.
142 Charles Blondin (1824–1897) was the stage name of Jean François Gravelet, the acrobat renowned for having crossed Niagara Falls on a tightrope. Orlando Park, in Sherlock Holmes, Esq., and John H. Watson, M.D.: An Encyclopaedia of Their Affairs, suggests the alternate possibility that this was the name of the constable on guard.
143 A bullet fired from a Martini-Henry rifle. Properly called the Peabody-Martini-Henry rifle, this self-cocking, hammerless gun, designed by Friedrich von Martini and Alexander Henry, was adopted in 1871 as the primary weapon of the British infantry and remained the mainstay of the forces until it and the older Snider-Enfield rifles were replaced by the Lee-Metford in the 1890s. Some Martini-Henrys remained in use with colonial forces well into the twentieth century.
Martini-Henry rifle.
144 “Holmes could not possibly have used those very words,” points out Bernard Davies. At the time of this exchange, Holmes had no way of knowing the length of the trail. Perhaps Watson reconstructed this exchange from hindsight.
145 Ian McQueen points out that this cannot be so. Small must have escaped from the Andamans even before Morstan left India. It is possible, McQueen suggests, that Morstan told Sholto of the escape, causing a more violent quarrel about the treasure than would have taken place if only the two British officers had been at liberty. McQueen concludes that the letter must have been written from India long after Small had gained his freedom and proposes that Small himself was its writer, posting it just before his departure for England. “The period from ‘early in 1882’ until ‘the end of April’ gave Small exactly the length of time he needed to reconnoitre his adversary’s heavily defended position and
plan his attack. How nearly he succeeded, and how wrong was Holmes’s deduction about that letter.”
146 George Cleve Haynes suggests that this is not the “wounded leg” referred to in Chapter I (see note 17, above, and text accompanying) but a different problem. Watson never refers to the injury to his Achilles’ tendon as a war injury. Haynes notes that such tendon injuries usually result from strain or from a tear (or cut). Dr. Watson’s damaged tendon, he concludes, was likely the result of some vigorous sporting activity (such as rugby, mentioned in “The Sussex Vampire” as a sport in which Watson formerly engaged). It was not a permanent injury, never again appearing in Watson’s records.
147 This from the man who has the nerve to admonish Watson, in describing a “high sun-baked wall mottled with lichens and topped with moss” (“The Retired Colourman”) to “cut out the poetry”?
148 Johann Paul Friedrich Richter (1763–1825), usually called Jean Paul, was a German humourist. Carlyle, with whom Holmes was well familiar, wrote two articles on Richter in Miscellanies. Madeleine B. Stern points out that the London 1867 edition of Thomas De Quincey’s Confessions of an English Opium-Eater includes Analects from John [sic] Paul Richter, including one entitled “The Grandeur of Man in His Littleness,” the evident source of Holmes’s remark.
149 Watson quoted Carlyle in A Study in Scarlet (see note 59 to that novel, above), and Holmes feigned complete ignorance of his writings, a pretence he here abandons.
150 Why only two chambers? Robert Keith Leavitt, in “Annie Oakley in Baker Street,” concludes that this “indicated confidence rather in Tonga’s than in his own accuracy. He knew he would have time for only two shots at best.” Roger Johnson, in private correspondence with this editor, makes the more practical suggestion that the other chambers may have already been loaded.
151 Kennington Oval, now officially the Foster’s Oval, is the home of Surrey County Cricket Club and was “a cricket-ground second only to Lord’s in public favour and in interest” (Baedeker).
152 Now Bond Way, according to Bernard Davies. Holmes’s route is illustrated in the map reproduced here.
Holmes’s route.
Courtesy of Bernard H. Davies
153 Knight’s Place was “a terrace of houses in Wandsworth Road, on the left as one emerges from Miles Street, the crumbling remains of which may still be seen,” notes Davies.
154 Charles O. Merriman, in “Tar Derivatives Not Wanted,” reports on his fruitless reconstruction of Holmes’s walk: “I certainly passed the Southampton Arms, the Nine Elms Brewery and other hostelries but of the White Eagle Tavern, there was no sign.”
CHAPTER
VIII
THE BAKER STREET IRREGULARS
“WHAT NOW?” I asked. “Toby has lost his character for infallibility.”
“He acted according to his lights,” said Holmes, lifting him down from the barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard. “If you consider how much creosote is carted about London in one day, it is no great wonder that our trail should have been crossed. It is much used now, especially for the seasoning of wood. Poor Toby is not to blame.”
“We must get on the main scent again, I suppose.”
“Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently what puzzled the dog at the corner of Knight’s Place was that there were two different trails running in opposite directions. We took the wrong one. It only remains to follow the other.”
There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to the place where he had committed his fault, he cast about in a wide circle and finally dashed off in a fresh direction.
“We must take care that he does not now bring us to the place where the creosote-barrel came from,” I observed.
“I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on the pavement, whereas the barrel passed down the roadway. No, we are on the true scent now.”
It tended down towards the river-side, running through Belmont Place and Prince’s Street. At the end of Broad Street155 it ran right down to the water’s edge, where there was a small wooden wharf. Toby led us to the very edge of this and there stood whining, looking out on the dark current beyond.
“We are out of luck,” said Holmes. “They have taken to a boat here.”
Several small punts and skiffs were lying about in the water and on the edge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each in turn, but, though he sniffed earnestly, he made no sign.
Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with a wooden placard slung out through the second window. “Mordecai Smith” was printed across it in large letters, and, underneath, “Boats to hire by the hour or day.” A second inscription above the door informed us that a steam launch was kept—a statement which was confirmed by a great pile of coke156 upon the jetty. Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and his face assumed an ominous expression.
Workers on the “Silent Highway.”
Street Life in London (1877)
“This looks bad,” said he. “These fellows are sharper than I expected. They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, I fear, been preconcerted management here.”
He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened, and a little curly-headed lad of six came running out, followed by a stoutish, red-faced woman with a large sponge in her hand.
“You come back and be washed, Jack,” she shouted. “Come back, you young imp; for if your father comes home and finds you like that, he’ll let us hear of it.”
“Dear little chap!” said Holmes strategically. “What a rosy-cheeked young rascal! Now, Jack, is there anything you would like?”
“A curly-headed lad rushed out, followed by a stoutish woman, with a sponge in her hand.”
Artist unknown, The Sign of the Four (New York and Boston: H. M. Caldwell Co., n.d.)
“ ‘Dear little chap!’ said Holmes strategically.”
Richard Gutschmidt, Das Zeichen der Vier (Stuttgart: Robert Lutz Verlag, 1902)
The youth pondered for a moment.
“I’d like a shillin’,” said he.
“Nothing you would like better?”
“I’d like two shillin’ better,” the prodigy answered, after some thought.
“Here you are, then! Catch!—A fine child, Mrs. Smith!”
“Lor’ bless you, sir, he is that, and forward. He gets a’most too much for me to manage, ’specially when my man is away days at a time.”
“Away, is he?” said Holmes in a disappointed voice. “I am sorry for that, for I wanted to speak to Mr. Smith.”
“He’s been away since yesterday mornin’, sir, and, truth to tell, I am beginnin’ to feel frightened about him. But if it was about a boat, sir, maybe I could serve as well.”
“I wanted to hire his steam launch.”
“Why, bless you, sir, it is in the steam launch that he has gone. That’s what puzzles me; for I know there ain’t more coals in her than would take her to about Woolwich and back. If he’d been away in the barge I’d ha’ thought nothin’; for many a time a job has taken him as far as Gravesend, and then if there was much doin’ there he might ha’ stayed over. But what good is a steam launch without coals?”
“ ‘Lor’ bless you, sir, he is that forward he gets almost too much for me to manage.’ ”
H. B. Eddy, Sunday American, April 28, 1912
“He might have bought some at a wharf down the river.”
“He might, sir, but it weren’t his way. Many a time I’ve heard him call out at the prices they charge for a few odd bags. Besides, I don’t like that wooden-legged man, wi’ his ugly face and outlandish talk. What did he want always knockin’ about here for?”
“A wooden-legged man?” said Holmes, with bland surprise.
“Yes, sir, a brown, monkey-faced chap that’s called more’n once for my old man. It was him that roused him up yesternight, and, what’s more, my man knew he was comin’, for he had steam up in the launch. I tell you straight, sir, I don’t feel easy in my mind about it.”
&n
bsp; “But, my dear Mrs. Smith,” said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders, “you are frightening yourself about nothing. How could you possibly tell that it was the wooden-legged man who came in the night? I don’t quite understand how you can be so sure.”
“His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o’ thick and foggy. He tapped at the winder—about three it would be. ‘Show a leg, matey,’ says he: ‘time to turn out guard.’ My old man woke up Jim—that’s my eldest—and away they went, without so much as a word to me. I could hear the wooden leg clackin’ on the stones.”
“And was this wooden-legged man alone?”
“Couldn’t say, I am sure, sir. I didn’t hear no one else.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and I have heard good reports of the—Let me see, what is her name?”
“The Aurora, sir.”
“Ah! She’s not that old green launch with a yellow line, very broad in the beam?”
“No, indeed. She’s as trim a little thing as any on the river. She’s been fresh painted, black with two red streaks.”
“Thanks. I hope that you will hear soon from Mr. Smith. I am going down the river, and if I should see anything of the Aurora I shall let him know that you are uneasy. A black funnel, you say?”
“No, sir. Black with a white band.”
“Ah, of course. It was the sides which were black. Good morning, Mrs. Smith. There is a boatman here with a wherry,157 Watson. We shall take it and cross the river.”
The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes Page 37