The Mycroft Holmes Omnibus

by David Dickinson

  Montague Smith opened the parcel in the presence of the Du Cane Road Irregulars. They crowded round to watch as he drew out two black bank ledgers with the crest of The London County and Commercial Bank on the front. Two notes were attached. The first one said, printed in crude letters, ‘I think you will find the contents of pages sixty eight and sixty nine to your liking.’ The second was a thin slip, ‘With the compliments of the London County and Commercial Bank.’ The Treasury Solicitor turned the pages. Each one had column after column of figures entered in the clear handwriting of the bank clerks. When he reached pages sixty eight and sixty nine he read two sets of entries very quickly and closed the book.

  “God bless my soul,” he exclaimed. “There is a God after all! Boys, could you find Lestrade and Tobias and Mrs Hudson and tell them there is to be a meeting in Mycroft’s rooms at twelve o’clock. And Jaikie, could you find Mr Pugh, if he is not in court this morning, and bring him here at once.” Thomas Montague Smith strode over to his window and looked out at the traffic. “Off you go boys, this will be an exciting day. The game’s afoot! The game is most definitely afoot!”

  Twenty minutes later Pugh and Montague Smith were rattling along in a cab. Their destination was the Acton Branch of the London County and Commercial Bank in Acton High Street.

  Pugh was staring out the window, his fingers playing an imaginary piano concerto on the lapels of his fashionable suit. “If I was a believer,” said Montague Smith, “I should say we are in the presence of divine providence. As I’m not sure if I am or not, we must ride our luck as best we can. Let me open the batting with this bank manager fellow. The Treasury Solicitor’s office has some traction with these high street banks.”

  *

  The manager was a middle aged portly gentleman with a small moustache, thick glasses and a friendly smile. He looked the sort of bank manager who would look kindly on applications for loans.

  “Gentlemen,” he said when his two visitors were seated in his office, “Potter is my name, Theophilus Potter. The colleagues call me Theo. Now then, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “Let me say at the beginning, Mr Potter,” Thomas Montague Smith was at his most urbane, “that we are most grateful to you for seeing us so promptly. I have to tell you that we are here on a most serious matter. The highest levels of Government are concerned. The Attorney General is most anxious that the matter be kept secret. The Chancellor of the Exchequer is of the same view but for a different reason. He fears that the Government’s credit might be adversely affected if word of the affair got out.”

  Theophilus Potter looked worried. These were great names and great positions, not regularly mentioned in his branch of the London County and Commercial bank in Acton High Street.

  “And forgive me, pray,” the Treasury Solicitor continued, “some of my questions, or those of my colleague Mr Pugh here, may seem a trifle unorthodox.”

  He paused. Pugh checked his tie was in the approved position. The bank manager was making elaborate doodles, great looping circles, on a pad in front of him. Montague Smith plunged on.

  “Did you have a break in here at your bank last night, Mr Potter?”

  “I beg your pardon, you did say break in, didn’t you? No, we did not, I checked the safe myself this morning. I always do. The money and the other valuables are still in place. The lock does not appear to have been tampered with in any way.”

  “I suspect,” said Montague Smith, who thought he was feeling his way in the dark, “that the thieves, if there were thieves, will not have been looking for money. They will have been looking for records. I believe they have taken two of your ledgers away with them. The ledgers both have the letter R on the cover.”

  “This is unbelievable!” said Theophilus Potter. “I never heard of such a thing in my life! I shall go at once and check our records room. I shall be back directly. I will ask the staff to bring you some coffee. Please wait here.”

  The bank manager returned just after the arrival of a tray with a jug of coffee and three cups. He sat down heavily and poured himself a cup with three spoonfuls of sugar. “This is all too strange for words,” he said, “I may have to go and lie down in a darkened room if events continue piling up at this speed. Yes, two of our ledgers are missing. The thieves were careful to re-arrange the rest so there was no obvious gap. Without the arrival of you two gentlemen it might not have been noticed for weeks. And there’s another thing. The thieves were most careful. It is difficult to see how they gained entrance to the bank at all. Maybe it was one of our staff who sent you the ledgers and the compliments slip. I have sent for the security experts from Head Office to see if they can find out how they got in, if they got in. But tell me this, Mr Montague Smith,” the bank manager took a great gulp of his coffee. The sugar seemed to be reviving his spirits somewhat.

  “You seem to know all about these missing ledgers. Might I ask if you know where they are?”

  “Of course you may, Mr Potter. After all, they are your ledgers, not my ledgers. I will be perfectly truthful with you. They are in my possession. To be precise, they are in the Treasury safe room, next to my office. They were delivered to my office this morning with a slip saying 'With the compliments of the London County and Commercial Bank,’ and a note recommending we look at two particular pages. I would like to ask you a very particular favour in a moment, Mr Potter. But first I would have you hear from my colleague here, Mr Pugh.”

  “Mr Potter,” Pugh began, “we are most grateful for your great help already this morning. I would ask you to keep what I am about to say in confidence.”

  “You have my word on that, rest assured. We are well used to confidences in the world of banking.”

  “At the heart of this affair. Mr Potter, is a murder trial. Tomorrow a man goes on trial for his life. If I fail him, in my presentation of the case for the defence, he will hang. The man’s friends are convinced, as I am, that the man in the dock tomorrow has been framed by his enemies. You do not need to know, at this juncture, I think, who his enemies might be but they are England’s enemies too. The man on trial is no ordinary man. He is called Mycroft Holmes and he is the Auditor of all Government Departments. He is one of the most important public servants in the land.”

  Pugh paused and helped himself to a London County and Commercial biscuit. Not as good as Mrs Hudson’s he said to himself, but they’re probably not home made.

  “Now I come to the key element in this matter, Mr Potter. Those two ledgers contain evidence which could secure the release of Mr Holmes. I have no doubt of that. I would ask a great favour of you. Would you be willing to let us keep those two ledgers for another forty eight hours? Then they will be returned. And would you be willing to come back with us to the Treasury Solicitor’s office and swear an affidavit to the effect that these two ledgers are genuine and that they come from this branch of your bank? That would be so much simpler than the whole question of sub poenas and such legal devices where we would ask for the documents to be delivered to the defence solicitors. I don’t think we need to go into the question of how we came to have the things. We’ll rely on the compliment slip and assume that somehow or other some concerned citizen, a cashier or other senior banker here, sent the ledgers down to us.”

  I’m not sure how convincing that last bit is, but it’ll have to do for now, Pugh said to himself, smiling helpfully at the bank manager.

  “I agree with everything my colleague said,” Thomas Montague Smith was trying to change the subject. “And I have one other request, Mr Potter. We are really trespassing rather too vigorously on your good will this morning. I would join with my colleague in asking you to keep the matter a secret. The bank will not be keen for people to know that thieves can break in during the night and steal personal records of the customers’ accounts. We may be able to resolve this matter today or early tomorrow morning. Then your records will be returned. So much easier if the matter is kept within a respectable and responsible circle.”

&
nbsp; Mr Potter drew an enormous circle on his jotter, stretching across the entire width of the page.

  “Very well, gentlemen, I am in your hands. I agree to your request for secrecy and I shall accompany you to the Treasury solicitor’s office now to sign an affidavit. I shall, of course, have to inform my superiors about my actions but I do not foresee any problems in that quarter. I feel you gentlemen have a lot of business on hand today. Shall we set off?”

  *

  The Treasury Solicitor’s clerk had secured them an interview with Sir Lionel Cadogan, the barrister for the prosecution, at eleven o’clock in an ante room of the Old Bailey. Sir Lionel was appearing in court that day but he was prepared to meet them in what he had been assured were quite exceptional circumstances and leave his junior to man the barricades in court for half an hour. He was pulling at the long sleeves of his silk gown as he spoke.

  “What do you have for me that I have to abandon my case?” he began, looking at Montague Smith and Pugh.

  “It is quite simple,” said Pugh. In matters of this kind barrister shall speak unto barrister. “These two ledgers have just come into our possession. They are the bank records of the investigating officer in the case of Rex versus Holmes, Inspector Ebenezer Robinson. The first entry on this page here – Pugh opened the ledger at the appropriate page – shows that the sum of five thousand pounds was paid into his account a week before the arrest was made, and a further sum, on this next page, so, of ten thousand pounds three days after the arrest. You can, I am sure, draw your own conclusions. I would only add, Sir Lionel, that we have a signed affidavit from the manager of the bank concerned that these are his ledgers and his figures. This information is true.”

  “God bless my soul! This is outrageous! If the facts are as I think they must be, the Inspector was bribed to secure the arrest of Mycroft Holmes! Tomorrow morning in the witness box he would have perjured himself to secure the hanging. The Government Auditor’s life at purchase for fifteen thousand pounds!”

  “I know this is very sudden, Sir Lionel,” said the Treasury Solicitor, “but how do you think we should proceed?”

  “I need to speak to my employer. Dammit man, I can’t very well speak to Robinson, can I? We shall have to tell the judge first thing in the morning, of course. At the very least this information is worth an adjournment while the accusation is put to Robinson.”

  “There is another police inspector waiting down below, Inspector Lestrade. He has been working with us on this affair. He proposes to take the ledgers straight to the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police after this meeting. With your approval, naturally, Sir Lionel.”

  “Good, very good. Please proceed with your plan. And keep me informed. Maybe we can sort this business out today. I can slip out of court for a few minutes later on if you need to speak to me or you can send me a note.”

  At a quarter to eleven the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police ushered Lestrade into a chair.

  “I hope this is important, Inspector. I’ve had to cancel a meeting at the Home Office about police working hours.” The Commissioner did not say that he found the subject matter so boring that often fell asleep within a quarter of an hour of the start of the event.

  Lestrade handed over the ledgers. “These are the bank accounts of Inspector Robinson, Commissioner. You can see the figures for yourself. The defence legal team argue that this shows Robinson was bribed to arrest Mycroft Holmes. Bribed for fifteen thousand pounds, sir. Maybe there is to be another instalment when the unfortunate man would have been hanged.”

  The Commissioner read the ledgers. Then he took off his glasses and laid them carefully on the table. He pulled a clean white handkerchief out of his pocket and began to polish his spectacles very slowly.

  “This is terrible,” he said at last. “And to think I brought Robinson here myself! But come, we cannot assume his guilt without hearing what the man has to say. I saw Robinson in this building not half an hour ago.”

  “I asked my Sergeant to make sure he didn’t leave,” said Lestrade. “I will go and fetch him now.”

  Like most bullies, Robinson was very deferential in the presence of his superiors. He obviously had no idea what was coming when he walked in and was shown a seat next to Lestrade.

  “Now then, Commissioner, sir, how can I help you this morning?”

  The Commissioner didn’t speak. He pushed the two ledgers over to him across the table. His eyes never left Robinson.

  The Inspector’s face turned from a cocky arrogance to bewilderment and then to fear. Neither of the other two policemen had any doubt as to his guilt.

  “How did you get this?” he whispered finally. Lestrade noted with some delight that he wasn’t saying the figures were not true.

  “Never mind how we got the ledgers, Robinson,” said the Commissioner. There is only one question now. Are they true?”

  Robinson’s face crumpled. Very quietly he began to cry. “Oh yes,” he said through his tears, “they’re true. I wish I’d never done it.”

  “Pull yourself together, man,” said the Commissioner, “you’re an Inspector of the Metropolitan Police, not some snivelling schoolgirl in a boarding school, for God’s sake.”

  Lestrade gave Robinson his handkerchief. “If you tell us right now,” the Commissioner went on, “what transpired in this affair, you may receive better treatment than if you keep silent. If you choose not to talk, you will be held in a police cell overnight to wait to be flayed alive in open court by the defence barrister in the morning. Do I make myself clear?”

  Neither of the Inspectors realised what the Commissioner certainly did, that the announcement of police corruption, that justice could be bought like a bag of sugar, would fill the newspapers for days, if not weeks. It would look as bad for the Commissioner as it would for Robinson. The jackals of the Press might demand his head on a plate. And get it.

  “This man approached me on my way out of the local pub, about a month ago.” Lestrade was taking notes. “He asked if I would like £25,000 for a little work on a murder case. There was to be another ten thousand if Holmes was found guilty. He gave me fifty pounds in notes on the spot, to help the thought process, he said. He arranged to meet me in a week’s time at the same time and place. He never gave me his name.”

  Another bout of weeping threatened to overcome Robinson once more.

  “Get on with it,” growled the Commissioner.

  “When he came back, I said Yes. I gave him my bank details. The man said it would take some time for his colleagues to sort out the details. He would drop me a line to arrange the next meeting. The day before the murder he met me again. He told me what I would find when I got to Holmes’s rooms in Pall Mall. He said the boys would have sorted everything, the dead man, Holmes drugged and asleep. He was correct in every detail. The second lot of money came shortly after the arrest.”

  “Take him to the cells, Lestrade,” said the Commissioner “get him out of my sight while I work out what to do with him. God in Heaven! What a mess! I tell you one, thing, Lestrade. This trial cannot go ahead. Can you send word to the prosecution that the police do not want to proceed. We believe Mr Holmes to be innocent of all charges. We may have to go through the formalities at the Old Bailey in the morning before he can be released, but I think Mr Holmes should be told.”

  “I shall see to it at once,” said Lestrade and set out for Pall Mall as fast as the cabbie could take him. He arrived at one minute after twelve. The Treasury Solicitor’s meeting had not begun.

  *

  There was great delight when the news was announced. Mrs Hudson embraced every man in the room, resting slightly longer with the Treasury Solicitor than she did with the Police Inspector. Tobias was instructed to get word to Mycroft that it looked virtually certain that he would be a free man in the morning. Tobias was also to send word to the head chef at the Diogenes Club to look to his lobsters and his finest saucepans for the liberation lunch the next day. Mycroft had sent word that he would ne
ed some decent food at the earliest possible opportunity so lunch was the occasion of choice. Two people would be dining. Mrs Hudson arranged for a clean suit and fresh clothes to be sent to the Scrubs for her Master through the good offices of Tobias and Jaikie who was lurking outside.

  The Treasury Solicitor sent word to Sir Lionel at the Old Bailey, conveying the news of Robinson’s confession and the Commissioner’s wish that the case be dropped. He and Pugh, the note ended, proposed to buy the knight a generous steak and a glass of the finest claret at lunchtime. A telegram arrived for Montague Smith from Sherlock Holmes, saying he had unearthed two witnesses, both prepared to come to court the following day to testify that Inspector Robinson was in the habit of beating up his suspects until they signed the confessions he had written for them. Both men, Holmes went on, had criminal records but he thought their stories were true and compelling enough to cast doubt on Robinson’s evidence. The Treasury Solicitor replied that Holmes should keep hold of his witnesses for the time being but that they would probably not be needed as Mycroft’s release was virtually certain.

  *

  Early the next morning Mycroft was given a hero’s send off from the Scrubs. Chalky The Shotgun White had put the prisoners on a three line whip to turn out and cheer. The convicts banged their mess tins or their spoons on the railings. How they wished they were going with him! The choir managed a version of For he’s a jolly good fellow. There was a final bear hug from Chalky as Mycroft stepped into the prison van that was to take him to court. There the formalities were observed. The prosecution case duly collapsed and by eleven, Mycroft, looking almost elegant in the clothes Mrs Hudson had sent him, was a free man and back in Pall Mall. He took a glass of champagne and an enormous slice of Mrs Hudson’s chocolate cake. There were speeches and congratulations all round.