Further Notes From the Dispatch Box of John H Watson MD (The Dispatch Box of John H Watson, MD)

by Hugh Ashton

  “ Dear me, I am not sure that I can remember that.” Johnstone scratched his head, seemingly as an aid to memory. “ Do you know, I cannot recall the name of the firm at all. Ah ! Now I remember. Mr. de Vries did not employ a local builder on that occasion, but used some Dutchmen who were in town at the time. Of course, it caused a small amount of bad feeling among the local tradesmen, who were of the opinion that their services should have been employed.”

  “ I take it those Dutchmen are no longer in the neighbourhood ? ”

  “ I never heard of them, save in connection with that work.”

  “ No matter. In any case, I am grateful to you for the opportunity to see the house and for all the information that you have provided. However, in the event that I decide to change my mind, do you have an address at which I might reach Mr. de Vries ? ”

  “ I am afraid that I am not at liberty to divulge such information,” answered the agent. “ My clients expect a certain amount of discretion in their business dealings with me.”

  “ As do mine,” agreed Holmes, introducing himself by name for the first time, to the surprise of the other.

  “ I see. Do you suspect Mr. de Vries of any criminal behaviour, then ? ” he asked, obviously more than a little impressed by the name of the famous detective.

  “ No, it is nothing of that nature, believe me. I am simply curious as to the identity of the builders whom he employed. Though, as I said, the interior would require some work before I could even consider taking the place, there were one or two touches which, now that I come to consider it, definitely had a Dutch air to them. It would be pleasant if they could be reproduced at my brother’s house in Kent.”

  “ In that case, sir, here is the address which I use in my communications with Mr. de Vries.” He passed a slip of paper to Holmes, who thanked him.

  “ And not a word of this to anyone, including Mr. de Vries, if you do not mind,” Holmes told the agent. “ In the event that I do not contact him about the builders, it would worry him unnecessarily, do you not agree, if he were to learn that a detective had been on his trail.” He smiled at Johnstone, tipping his hat, and we left the offices.

  “ The Dutch builders were constructing hiding places for the casino apparatus and furniture ? ” I asked.

  “ One must assume so. There would seem to be little advantage in importing builders from overseas otherwise, would there ? ”

  “ So you will watch Mr. de Vries, now that you have his address ? ”

  “ No, I will reserve that task for you. I want you to stay outside his house and follow him wherever he may go tonight. I will follow the carriage carrying the patrons of the gaming-house, and mark its destination or destinations when Lady Celia and her companions return from there. Discovering the identity of these others will be another significant step in solving the case.”

  Accordingly, that evening I placed myself in a convenient location opposite the house in Chalk Farm that we had been told was that of de Vries, where I could watch the house without myself being seen. I had a cab standing by around the corner, ready to carry me should de Vries decide to use that method of transport.

  It was a cold evening, and I found myself stamping and rubbing my gloved hands together in an attempt to maintain the circulation in my extremities. I had no idea how long I was to have to wait. Holmes had instructed me that I should call off my vigil at midnight if there was no sign of any activity before then. Added to my problems was the fact that I had no description of de Vries. Holmes had earlier dispatched Wiggins, one of the gang of urchins whom he had dubbed “ The Baker-street Irregulars”, with a message for Mr. de Vries, to be delivered personally, and instructions that the appearance of de Vries was to be reported to him and me, in order to aid me in my identification. However, in the event, Wiggins had been unable to deliver the message as requested, and had therefore been unable to furnish a description.

  My patience was rewarded at about half past eight, when a tall thin figure, heavily bearded and apparently wearing a long opera cloak with a tall silk hat, emerged from the house, and made its way to a carriage which had drawn out of a side-street.

  I rushed back to my waiting hansom, and instructed the driver, whom I had previously promised a generous payment, to follow the other carriage at a discreet distance. We set off at a slow pace, keeping about a hundred yards between ourselves and our quarry. Occasionally we lost sight of him, but by quickening the pace a little, it was possible to keep on his trail. The route he followed was somewhat confusing, though. At first I had imagined that we would be heading for the house in Finsbury which Holmes and I had visited earlier in the day, but at Holloway, we took an unexpected road to the right, rather than the left turn I had been anticipating, and headed south down the Holloway-road, turning right again at Islington and proceeding towards Kings Cross, from where we turned again, finishing our journey at Chalk Farm where we had started. It seemed possible to me that de Vries would make another sortie later that evening, and so I waited until midnight, the time I had agreed with Holmes, but in vain, as no figure emerged from the house during the time that I stood in the cold street.

  Somewhat chagrined at my experience, I instructed the driver to carry me back to Baker-street, where I awaited the return of Sherlock Holmes. I poured myself a brandy and soda, and devoured two or three of the roast beef sandwiches that Mrs. Hudson had left for us. Although I had fully intended to stay awake to greet Holmes on his return, the warmth of the fire, coupled with the effects of my refreshment, caused me to fall asleep. I woke to become aware that Holmes was in the room, standing in front of the fire, a sandwich in his hand, smiling down at me.

  “ By Jove, it is cold outside, is it not ? I am chilled to the marrow.”

  “ What time is it ? ” I asked him.

  “ About a half after three. I can guess you had poor hunting, and returned a little after midnight.”

  I confirmed this deduction. “ I was taken round in a circle, returning to the place where I had started,” I complained.

  “ No doubt he had spotted you and your carriage, and took appropriate action. In the event, he never made an appearance at the Finsbury house that I could observe.”

  “ But others did, I take it, judging by the lateness of your return ? ”

  “ Indeed so.” Here Holmes named three prominent Society ladies, other than Lady Celia, whose names I shall not repeat here. “ Though all wore domino masks, I believe that I am correct in my identification, since I was standing considerably closer to the house than were we on the previous occasion. As you may know, there are many more ways to identify an individual than by their facial features alone. There are certain peculiarities of posture and gait that are often more revealing than a face, and these are figures who are very much in the public eye. ”

  “ Do you believe that these women too, have fallen into this trap, and have been forced to sell the family treasures ? ”

  “ It is impossible to tell at this stage,” he replied. “ I strongly suspect, however, that the gambling den being operated will not be honest, and that it will be impossible for any gambler to win. There are many such ways in which such an establishment can be operated in such a way as to turn a tidy profit for its owners. There are tales of roulette wheels with hidden braking mechanisms to be operated by the croupier, as well as the more usual stratagems of marked cards and loaded dice that are often used to gull the frequenters of such places. If this is the case here, then we can be assured that the gamblers we have seen tonight will have suffered losses, possibly on the same scale as Lady Celia, forcing them to dispose of their family heirlooms surreptitiously.”

  “ How can you discover whether this is the case ? ” I asked him.

  “ I have yet to decide the precise method.” He yawned mightily. “ Come, Watson, it is time that we sought the comfort of our beds for the night. We will ponder these matters at more length in the morning.”

  Although I considered myself to have rested only merely adequ
ately when I arose at a relatively early hour the next morning, Holmes was already awake, breakfasting, albeit unshaven and in his dressing-gown.

  “ May I trouble you to bring over the newspapers, which I may assume that Mrs. Hudson, not wishing to offend my modesty, has left outside the door ? ”

  I brought the journals to the table, and passed the Times to him, whereupon he commenced scanning the agony column, as was his habit, while I perused the society pages of the Morning Post. An item therein caught my eye, and I exclaimed aloud.

  “ Holmes, you told me, did you not, that the Duchess of ______shire was one of the party that you followed last night, did you not ? ”

  “ I did.”

  “ Are you certain it was she whom you observed ? ”

  “ My dear man, I may not follow these matters with the same devotion as do you, but Her Grace is a well-known and distinctive figure. It could have been none other that I saw last night. Why do you ask ? ”

  “ She is reported here as having attended a function at the Worshipful Company of Glovers, from eight in the evening until midnight.”

  The expression on Holmes’ face changed, as he fairly snatched the newspaper from my hands and read the article with his own eyes. “ I am certain I am not mistaken in my identification,” he protested. “ It is time for us to visit the offices of this journal at the earliest possible opportunity.” So saying, he downed the remainder of his coffee, and disappeared to his bedroom, from which he emerged some time later, shaved and attired for the day.

  “ You are ready ? ” he asked me.

  I in my turn swallowed my coffee, and followed him out of the house, from where we hailed a cab to take us to the Post’s offices. Once there, Holmes demanded the identity of the article’s author of the sub-editor to whom we had been referred.

  “ That would be Oliver Ripley,” we were informed.

  “ And where is his desk ? ” asked Holmes.

  The newspaperman laughed in my friend’s face. “ My dear sir, Ripley has no permanent position in this office. He attends the functions he describes in his reports, and sends us his copy by messenger. We hardly see him in here from one month’s end to the next.”

  “ Very good. Where will I find him ? ”

  Again, a mocking laugh was the initial reply to this question. “ In bed, I would imagine, at this hour. Our Mr. Ripley is something of a night owl.”

  “ And his bed would be where, exactly ? ”

  The other sensed Holmes’ irritation and the fact that he was, with some difficulty, keeping his temper in check, and modified his tone. “ He lives in Hampstead,” he told us, and scribbled an address on a card. “ But be warned, he may not be at his most communicative at this hour.”

  Holmes took the card, and we took a cab to the address in Hampstead, which turned out to be a lodging house off Rosslyn Hill.

  The landlady who opened the door to us examined Holmes’ card, and informed us shortly that Ripley was not available.

  “ I heard him come in at four this morning,” she told us, with a sniff. “ And somewhat the worse for drink, I would say, judging by the noise he made going up the stairs.”

  “ Maybe we could enquire at his door ? ” suggested Holmes.

  “ You can do that by all means,” she retorted, “ but I wouldn’t expect any results from him at only half-past ten in the morning. Third on the left on the second floor.”

  “ Thank you, Mrs. Greenslade,” replied Holmes, leaving the good woman, as well as myself, puzzled as to how he knew her name.

  “ How— ? ” I asked as we panted up the stairs.

  “ Did you fail to notice the note to the baker’s boy signed by Mrs. Emily Greenslade outside the front door ? No ? There are times when I positively despair of you, Watson,” he replied. “ Never mind, we are here.” He rapped smartly on the door with his knuckles.

  After the third bout of knocking there was a reply from within the room.

  “ Curse you, whoever you may be, and go away,” were the words, uttered in a muffled tone.

  Holmes repeated his tattoo on the door.

  “ Are you _____ deaf ? I told you to go away. You can give me the money tomorrow,” came the answer, a little more clearly this time.

  “ Well ? ” said Holmes quietly to me, raising his eyebrows, and knocked once more. This time, more definite results were forthcoming. We heard the sound of slippered feet moving towards the door, which was flung open to reveal a middle-aged man, dressed in night attire, with a startled expression on his face, and his tousled hair sticking from his head at all angles. He regarded Holmes and myself in seeming astonishment.

  “ You’re not Sir Godfrey, are you ? ” he said in surprise.

  “ I believe not,” said my friend, smiling. “ And neither is my colleague here.”

  “ Then who the deuce are you ? ”

  “ My name is Sherlock Holmes. Maybe you have heard of me ? ”

  “ The detective fellow, eh ? What do you want at this unearthly hour ? I was up late last night.”

  “ So Mrs. Greenslade informed us just now. I merely wish to know where you went last night after the function at the Glovers’.”

  “ How did you know I was there ? ” The sleep-filled eyes appeared to narrow as he attempted to concentrate on Holmes’ face.

  “ Your editor, Mr. Plumley, at the Post informed us that you had written the piece describing the function.”

  “ What’s it to you where I was and what I was doing ? If you want to know, I left that group of toffs and took myself to a cabman’s shelter near Charing Cross which I sometimes use when I have copy to write late at night. It’s warm, and they’re a good crowd. Half a bottle of whisky provides me with company, warmth and a place to write, and when shared generously enough, sometimes one of the drivers will even take my copy to be delivered to the office. I then returned here by cab. Now, is that enough for you, Mr. Nosy-Parker ? Or is there anything else you wish to know ? ”

  “ No, that will be sufficient, Mr. Ripley. Thank you. I am sorry to have disturbed your slumbers.”

  We turned and made our way down the stairs, thanking Mrs. Greenslade on our way out of the house.

  “ I told you that you were wasting your time there,” she told us, with a certain self-satisfaction.

  “ And you were perfectly correct, dear lady,” replied Holmes. “ Thank you all the same.” He made a courtly bow, and we let ourselves into the street, where we walked to the Hill, and turned the corner, before Holmes broke into an unrestrained chuckle. “ The cleverness of the man. He gives us an alibi which is no alibi, and yet...”

  “ How do you mean ? ”

  “ Consider, Watson. What time did the function finish, according to the report in the Post, which, let us remember, was written by Ripley himself ? ”

  “ At eleven,” I said.

  “ Let us allow him some fifteen minutes to reach his cabman’s shelter, some thirty minutes to write his copy—it was after all a short piece consisting largely of names—and then another ten minutes for the copy to reach the Post. That would provide ample time for editing and setting the piece.”

  “ So you think his work was completed before midnight ? ”

  “ Well before midnight. Why, then, would it take him four hours to return to Hampstead from Charing Cross, especially as he was in the easiest place in the world from which to hail a cab ? ”

  “ I cannot conceive that it could take so long.”

  “ Nor I. We must therefore conclude that he returned to Hampstead via another route, such as one which took him through Finsbury.”

  “ For what purpose ? ”

  “ To mark who was in attendance at the house there, and to provide alibis for them. Let us assume that he marked the attendance in Finsbury, wrote his piece there, and sent it to Fleet-street by a messenger. How often have you heard it asserted that a fact must be true because it has been printed in a newspaper ? ”

  “ Often enough,” I admitted.

 
“ So given that the ladies whom I observed last night are reported as having attended a social function, who would question the facts as reported ? ”

  “ The others who attended, perhaps ? ”

  “ Given the press of guests at these events, it is often impossible to determine who is there and who is not. Could any of those who were actually present at last night’s gathering swear that Lady Celia, for example, was or was not present ? I very much doubt it.”

  “ The husbands or partners of the other ladies whom you observed ? ” I suggested.

  “ I would wager that they are all out of Town at present, as is Sir Godfrey. Let me correct myself. I believed Sir Godfrey to be out of Town, and yet Ripley appeared to be expecting a visit from him. Can we assume, therefore, that Sir Godfrey is still in this city, unknown to all but a few ? I think so,” answering himself.

  “ And Ripley just now was expecting to be paid by him for some service ? ”

  “ That is the inference that I, too made, based on his words. Deep waters here, Watson, deep waters.”

  “ What does it all mean ? ”

  “ What this means, Watson, is that a line of enquiry that I had considered pursuing is now closed to me.”

  “ Your plan was to use the newspaper reports that I had previously researched to check on the attendance of those whom you suspected of being present at these gambling sessions ? ”

  “ Precisely, Watson. You know my methods in these matters all too well, do you not ? Now we can be reasonably certain that these reports are not to be trusted. Let it be a lesson to you. What is printed in the Press all too often serves the interests of those responsible for its writing, and does not always serve the cause of truth.”

  “ So we are back where we started ? ” I cried in despair.

  “ Hardly. I now have a list of three in addition to Lady Celia whom we suspect of having lost money at the casino, and whom, I guess, will have disposed of heirlooms—paintings or jewellery or some such—in order to meet the debts they have incurred. Our task, Watson, is not first and foremost to recover such items, but to prevent this business from continuing. What do we know so far ? ” Holmes started to tick off points on his fingers as we walked along. “ First, we may reasonably assume a connection with the Netherlands, may we not ? There seems to be a Dutch connection at every turn.”