by Ashton, Hugh
“I understand,” replied my friend. “Do you happen to know the value of the loan that he secured?”
“I understood it from a mutual friend to be in the region of five thousand guineas. The pearls are worth many times more than that, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Holmes, noting these details in his notebook. “There are several other matters on hand at the moment that exhibit a somewhat more interesting aspect – from the purely technical point of view, you understand,” he added hastily, as our visitor appeared to be taking umbrage at his words. “However, your case, regardless of the eventual size of my fee, presents many fascinating aspects from the social side. You may rest assured that I will assign your case the highest priority, and hope to have an answer for you within a few days. I take it I may send you telegrams at your London address without their being read by the servants?”
Lady Enfield nodded. “My thanks to you for your understanding,” she murmured to Holmes as she left the room. “I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
“Well, Watson,” said Holmes to me, turning away from the window from which he had watched Lady Enfield hail a cab. “And what do you make of all this?”
“The old adage ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn’d’ would seem to apply in this case.”
“I fancy you are right. But there is a good deal riding on this case, Watson, more than she told us. Possibly more than she is aware.”
“How do you reach that conclusion?”
“I watched her departure just now. Though she had told us that no-one in her household had been informed of her business with me, I noticed a suspicious figure, badly disguised as an idler, watching this house from the street opposite. His garments and attire were those of a working man, but his general posture and attitude were those of the upper classes. Always look at the man, Watson, not the clothes in which he is temporarily clad. As soon as Lady Enfield hired her cab, the rascal commandeered another which had been waiting, and set off after her.”
“There is only one person who could have an interest in preventing the pearls’ recovery,” I ventured.
“I would disagree with that analysis,” Holmes corrected me. “Whatever his other faults, I do not believe Lady Enfield’s former paramour could sink to that level where he would deceive a lady in that fashion. The substitution of the genuine pearls is almost certainly not his work, but that of others, maybe even someone in his household or immediate entourage who became aware of the business.”
“It is possible,” I suggested, “that the counterfeits were introduced by the person from whom he obtained the loan while the pearls were being held as security?”
“That strikes me as being more likely, in fact. But we must also consider the other – that the substitution was made by one of his retinue. The question now arises as to in how much personal danger we now find ourselves.”
“My dear Holmes!” I exclaimed. “Are you suggesting that there might be an attempt to silence you?”
Holmes nodded gravely. “This is a matter of some delicacy, and the interests of the counterfeiters would in no way be served by my laying the facts of the matter before the public. I fear you would also be included in these plans, Watson. You may dismiss yourself as being of no importance to these people, but you have obtained a reputation – justly deserved, I may add – as my assistant. Mark you, the attempt to prevent my recovery of the pearls and the exposure of the substitution may not take the form of an assault, at least, not initially. Given what I know of this type of person, I am confident that I will be offered some sort of financial inducement to abandon my efforts.”
“You astonish me,” I cried. “Though I had heard rumours of wild goings-on at Marlborough House and other places, I had no idea that things had sunk so low with him.”
“As I say, do not blame him, but blame those around him who hope to find some glory when the Widow of Windsor finally opens his path. Or, as you suggest, those who loaned the money may be the guilty parties. In either event, I would strongly recommend that you maintain a state of vigilance similar to that which you exercised when you served in the Hindu Kush.”
As the reader may imagine, Holmes’ words made a strong impression on me. I was forced to attend a patient residing at some distance from Baker Street, and I was beset by constant imaginings that the passers-by in the street were conspiring against me. I began to understand more completely the state of mind to which doctors of the nervous system have given the name “persecution mania”, and my fears were increased by the knowledge that, should any blow be struck against Holmes or myself, strong pressure would be placed on the police to treat the incident as an accident, and to avoid further investigation.
Holmes noticed my agitation when I returned to Baker Street, but assured me that there would be no danger that evening. I did, however, place my Army revolver within easy reach before retiring, and slept fitfully.
-oOo-
The next morning saw me awake early, but Holmes was up before me, eating his breakfast, when I emerged from my bedroom. He greeted me nonchalantly.
“It has come already,” he informed me, pointing to an envelope lying on the table.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“As I expected. I am offered two thousand guineas to inform Lady Enfield that my attempt to reacquire the pearls has been unsuccessful. A princely sum, is it not?” He laughed, though without any real humour, at his own play on words. “However, the sender is discreet enough not to mention his name. I am to indicate my acceptance of the offer through the agony column of the Times.”
“And you will not accept the offer, of course?”
“Naturally I will refuse it,” he replied. “Quite apart from any other considerations, my services are not to be bought and sold to the highest bidder. There is something particularly repulsive, Watson, about the kind of person by whom the principal in this affair is surrounded, if they stoop to these depths. By Jove, it is almost enough to make one sympathise with the Republican Radicals.”
I knew Holmes’ present words against the Monarchy to be no more than the expression of his feelings of the moment against those now seemingly ranged against us, but in some respects, I could not but agree with his sentiments.
“How will you word your refusal?”
“I will not reply for at least a few days, if at all. That will buy us a little time in which to pursue our investigations. In addition, it may help to sow a little confusion in their ranks.”
“After which time, you expect violent means to be used against you— against us, rather, I should say.”
“You are afraid, Watson?” There was no mockery in his tone, but a sincere concern. “My egoism should not lead you into this kind of position. You are, naturally, free to dissociate yourself from this business at any time.”
“I confess that I am concerned. I would hardly be human were I not. But I have confidence in your abilities, as well as my own, to ensure our well-being, and that alone, if not our friendship, would be sufficient to keep me by your side.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Capital, Watson! Forgive my doubting you in this matter. Let us to work, then. To start, let us assume that Lady Enfield’s former paramour raised the money himself, rather than deputing one of his friends to do so. I hardly consider that he would willingly allow his intimates to know that he was in possession of the jewels for such a purpose. Where, in your opinion, would he turn?”
“I think we may dismiss the possibility of his visiting a common pawnbroker’s,” I smiled. “It would be far more likely, to my mind, that he would seek the loan from one of his friends who owns some sort of bank or business than from one of his aristocratic friends, who, as you say, might be shocked by the idea of his action in borrowing the pearls. From the little I know of these levels of society, the nobility are typically more impoverished than the bankers and tradesmen in his circle. I would therefore suggest that these last are the most likely sources of his loan.”
&
nbsp; “I would concur with your conclusions. That group, I feel, should form the starting point for our enquiries. Let us examine the Society pages of the newspapers over the past few weeks, distasteful as the task may be, and make a list of those reported there as members of his circle who fall into the category we have delineated.”
Seated opposite each other at the large table, Holmes and I combed through the journals of the previous weeks, adding names to a list on a sheet of paper that lay between us. The work was soon finished, and Holmes regarded the list with satisfaction.
“You and I, Watson, must make a few calls. However, it is not advisable that the gentleman who has been watching this house since this morning should be aware of our activities. We should make use of the rear door of the building. It is doubtful whether our friends will have sealed that exit. Let us call on those we have listed in the order of the alphabet, making our first visit to Mr David Abrahams.”
-oOo-
Abrahams received us in the office of his private bank. His appearance was that of a polished and well-mannered gentleman, with little to betray his Levantine origins.
Holmes placed his query delicately, asking merely whether money had ever been advanced to the leader of the social circle.
“Indeed yes,” replied Abrahams. “His tastes are somewhat extravagant, and he is most generous to his friends, especially his ‘special friends’ of the fair sex.” He shrugged. “It must be said, though, that this generosity is often made through the good offices of other friends, myself included.”
“And on what security do you make these loans?” enquired my friend.
“I do not regard these as loans, but as investments,” replied the banker. “Speaking in the assurance that this will go no further, I typically have no confidence that many of them will ever be repaid. I know of your reputation, Mr Holmes, and I know that this will go no further.” Holmes inclined his head. “As I say, these sums of money may go under the name of ‘loans’, but I doubt that I will ever see many of them again.” He shrugged once more. “I am a wealthy man, and I can afford this. I therefore do not ask for any security regarding these transactions.”
“But why do you do it?” I burst out. Holmes smiled indulgently at me, but it was Abrahams who answered.
“First,” he said, smiling, “one does not refuse a request from one in that position. Even if no benefit were to accrue to me from these matters, I would have no option but to comply. To be fair, he typically makes such requests only of those who can bear the burdens he places on them. Hardly ever have I heard of any other cases. But for me – I am not considered to be English, though I was born here and have lived in this country for my entire life. Even so, there are those who consider me to be some kind of dirty foreigner. Our friend, to his credit, takes little or no notice of such trifles. Through his friendship, which I believe to be genuine, I have gained entry into those parts of society that would otherwise remain closed to me. I may tell you, in confidence, that one day I expect to be Sir David Abrahams. No promises have been made, but heavy hints have been dropped. And through such acceptance, I am brought into contact with those circles where I may do business of a more profitable nature. Does that answer your question, Doctor?”
“Thank you,” I replied. “That is most interesting.”
“You mentioned,” Holmes said, “that requests of this type are made to a limited circle. Perhaps you could examine this list and confirm for us that those here are indeed recipients of such demands?” He passed over the sheet on which he and I had worked earlier.
“My name is at the top, I see,” remarked Abrahams with a smile.
“If you look, you will see that these are in alphabetical order.”
“Ah, of course.” He pored over the paper. “Not him,” he said, pointing to a name on the list. “Nor him. Otherwise, I think that list is accurate. Congratulations, Mr Holmes. Your reputation appears well-deserved. Wait, though. There is one name missing. You should add Mr Oliver Blunt to your list.”
“The Blunt of Blunt’s Sauces?” asked Holmes.
“The very man. He has made a small fortune from these condiments that are to be found on almost every table in the land, and he has recently made an entry into society, and been welcomed at Marlborough House on many occasions. However, he has made somewhat of an enemy of the Press – I am not sure of the details, but I believe a libel suit was involved. For that reason, his name often fails to appear in reports of social occasions.”
“What manner of man is he?” enquired Holmes.
“If it does not sound presumptuous, coming from my lips,” replied Abrahams, “I would have to describe him as a parvenu. His manners are sometimes not of the standard expected by those around him, and he has what may be described as a forceful manner.” He smiled ruefully. “He seems to believe that money in itself is the solution to most problems, and if such an approach fails, I regret to say that he has little hesitation in using violence to achieve his ends.”
“Violence?” asked Holmes. “Can you be more specific?”
“I can give you an example. There was an occasion only last month when he and Sir Percy Bassett-Stringer disputed some relatively trivial matter – I believe it concerned some technicality to do with fox-hunting – a pastime that holds little interest for me. The argument became somewhat heated, and ended with Blunt stripping off his jacket and challenging Sir Percy to a bout of fisticuffs. This, mark you, in the middle of a supper-party given by one of London’s most fashionable hostesses. Luckily, this all took place in the smoking-room, with no ladies present, but the affair ended without bloodshed, I am happy to say. It is perhaps fair for me to add that both of the principals had imbibed rather freely, but even so, it was a most regrettable incident.”
“Most regrettable indeed,” replied Holmes. “I am indebted to you for your candour.”
“And I, for my part, am most impressed by your perspicacity in drawing up the list. Should I ever have occasion to require some sort of detective in my affairs, I will have no hesitation in retaining your services.”
“I look forward to that time,” replied Holmes courteously.
-oOo-
“And now,” said Holmes, as we left Abrahams’ offices, “we seek Mr Oliver Blunt, I fancy.”
“Where is he to be found?” I asked.
“Like every good tradesman, I expect him to be seated behind his desk at his place of business. We will make our way to the manufactory of Blunt’s Sauces, at least at first. We will require a train from Liverpool Street station. Should our quarry prove not to be in residence there, at least we can be informed as to his whereabouts.”
We were soon seated in the train that took us to the small town in Essex in which the famous Blunt’s Sauces were prepared and from which they were distributed around the country. I sniffed the air as we alighted from the train. “Somewhat familiar,” I remarked, smiling, “and infinitely preferable to the odour of over-cooked kipper.”
“I concur,” agreed Holmes. “Come, let us follow our noses.”
A few minutes’ walk soon brought us to the gates of the manufactory, where we were asked our business. For answer, Holmes presented his card, which was accepted, and we were bidden to wait while the clerk conveyed our request to see Oliver Blunt.
After a few minutes he returned. “Mr Blunt will see you now. He tells me to inform you that he can give you ten minutes of his time.”
“I expect more from him than that,” Holmes said to me in an aside as we followed the clerk. “And I am not referring only to the time he can spare us.”
We were ushered into the private office, a spacious apartment whose windows commanded a view of the works. Blunt himself was a short man, with a tendency, in my professional opinion, towards elevated blood pressure. His short ginger hair, extending into luxuriant side-whiskers, framed a round brick-red face from which small eyes peered suspiciously at us.
“Which of you is Holmes?” he snapped at us. “I have little time to waste with
persons of your rank, and I only admitted you out of curiosity.”
“Dear me,” exclaimed Holmes. “May I introduce my friend, the celebrated detective Sherlock Holmes,” indicating me, “and I am John Watson. I sometimes have the honour of recording the exploits of Mr Holmes in the press. Perhaps you have seen some of them?”
“I have, and I confess that they provide me with some entertainment. Well, Holmes,” turning to me, “what have you come to ask of me?”
I was somewhat angry with Holmes for putting me on the spot in this way, but once the cards had been dealt, there was no alternative but for me to play the hand. “Mr Blunt,” I began, “I understand you to be a member of a group frequenting Marlborough House.”
“So?” he answered. “I take it that is not to be held against me? It is, after all, the residence of the foremost gentleman of the land.”
“This particular gentleman, I understand, is occasionally financially embarrassed, and requires assistance in these matters from time to time.”
“That is so. Make your point, if you would.”
“Are you one of those who relieve that embarrassment?”
“I am, and I am not ashamed to admit it.”
I glanced at Holmes, but he appeared to be unconcerned with the conversation that was taking place, gazing about him almost abstractedly. I therefore felt I had no alternative but to proceed with the questioning. “When you carry out such transactions, is it customary for you to demand some sort of security?”
Blunt looked at me angrily. “Well, and if I do, what business is it of yours, Mr Holmes? I am not a patient man, and I will terminate this interview forthwith if you do not soon come to the point.”
“In that event, Mr Blunt, I would be obliged if you would confirm that you made a loan some two months ago against the guarantee of a rope of valuable pearls?”
“I did. What of it?”
“And you returned those pearls on the repayment of the loan?”
“Naturally. What do you take me for?”
“And those pearls never left your possession during the term of the loan?”