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

by Hugh Ashton

  “ Where do you propose going ? ”

  “ As I was assisting the reverend gentleman to retrieve the papers that had dropped, I remarked an envelope addressed in a female hand. While you were engaged in picking up the other papers, and putting our friend to rights, I managed to obtain the name and the address of the sender. There is no call for you to appear so scandalised,” he added. “ I did not read the contents of the letter, merely the sender’s address and her name. We will accordingly pay a call on Miss Deborah Hamilton at her home in Kensington this afternoon.”

  “ And we will see what charmer has stolen our reverend friend’s heart.”

  “ Maybe, maybe. But first, let us attend to the inner man, then the spirit in the form of the concert, and to finish the day, we will satisfy our intellectual curiosity with our visit to Miss Hamilton. There is a kind of balance there, do you not think ? ”

  The afternoon’s concert was more than something of a torment to me. My musical tastes never approached the degree of connoisseurship that was possessed by Sherlock Holmes, and tended more towards operetta. Though I could appreciate the technical virtuosity with which the maestro played his violin, I would have chosen a more tuneful programme for my own pleasure, had I been presented with the opportunity. Holmes, for his part, appeared lost in a dreamy state, eyes closed, and one hand gently beating time to the music. After the second encore, which finished in a bravura display of a broken string and horsehair flying from the performer’s bow, we left the hall and made our way to the street in Kensington where Miss Deborah Hamilton resided.

  The house was a handsome one, and had obviously been repainted and decorated. “ I wonder who this Miss Hamilton might be ? ” I said to Holmes.

  Holmes asked the maid who opened the door to us whether Miss Hamilton was at home, presenting his card to her. The answer came back shortly that she would be delighted to see us, and we were ushered into the drawing-room of the house, where an elderly woman was sitting in an armchair. The room itself was comfortably furnished, and with bookshelves lining three of the four walls, it spoke of the learning of its occupant.

  “ Forgive me for not rising,” were Miss Hamilton’s first words to us, spoken in a soft cultivated voice. “ My arthritis is particularly virulent today. I was walking with a friend last evening, and the cold and damp has aggravated my condition.”

  “ You are Miss Deborah Hamilton ? ”

  “ That has always been my name.” There was more than a hint of humour in her reply.

  “ There is no other Deborah Hamilton living at this address ? ” I could not help but ask. It was hard for me to imagine that this elderly genteel lady could be the recipient of the Archdeacon’s epistles of passion.

  She looked at me strangely. “ As far as I am aware, I am the only person by this name living here,” she said, with a puzzled smile. “ Have you any reason to believe otherwise ? ”

  I stammered some response, and moved to the chair, introducing myself, taking her small, yet firm and dry, hand.

  “ Of course I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes,” she said to my friend. “ And of you, too, Dr. Watson. Your accounts of the adventures you have shared together with Mr. Holmes have given me many hours of amusement.”

  It is always pleasant to hear praise for the fruits of one’s labours with the pen, and I thanked her for her words.

  “ But what can I do for you two gentlemen ? ” she asked. “ I hardly believe that I have committed some crime of which I remain unaware.” Her eyes fairly twinkled with good humour, and I was forced to smile at her words.

  “ Nothing as serious as that,” Holmes laughed. “ I simply wish to ask you if you are acquainted with the Venerable Harper-Barrington, the Archdeacon at Larrowby.”

  As these words, her demeanour, which up to this time had been friendly and open, changed markedly. “ I do not see that it is any business of yours, Mr. Holmes, if no crime has been committed,” she retorted. “ He may or may not be known to me, but that is my affair, and not yours. Good afternoon to you gentlemen.”

  It was a definite dismissal, and we made quick apologies and left.

  “ She knows him, then ? ” I said to Holmes once we were outside.

  “ Oh yes, she knows him well,” he answered me. “ I think we will take a trip up North. Go to King’s Cross station and purchase two tickets for Larrowby. I will join you presently. Wait for me in the buffet.”

  I followed Holmes’ instructions, but had not long to wait before he joined me, carrying a package bound up in brown paper. “ You have the tickets ? Good, then let us be off.”

  The express train took us smoothly and easily to Larrowby station, whence we hired a cab to take us to the Cathedral Close, where the Archdeacon’s lodging, a building in fine late medieval style, was located.

  The Archdeacon himself answered the door, and was visibly staggered when he recognised Holmes and myself. “ My dear sir ! ” he exclaimed. “ Though I did extend an invitation to you, I hardly expected you to take me up on it so soon. Do step in and take tea. A fresh pot can be easily arranged.”

  Once settled in the comfortable armchairs, Holmes enquired of our host, “ As a matter of fact, it was not you with whom I wished to speak.”

  “ Oh ? Then with whom ? ”

  “ With Miss Kitty Bellecharme.”

  The effect on the elderly clergyman was electric. His face took on an expression of horror, and he came close to dropping his teacup, which he replaced on the saucer with trembling hands. “ How ..? How in the world did you come to know of her ? ”

  “ Through Miss Deborah Hamilton,” Holmes smiled.

  “ She would never give me away ! ” cried the Archdeacon.

  “ Nor did she,” Holmes reassured him. “ She maintained her silence. I have deduced the presence of Miss Bellecharme here from what I observed when we visited her.”

  “ How much do you know ? ”

  “ I believe I now know all,” Holmes said calmly.

  “ But this is impossible,” said the old man. “ I thought that the existence of Miss Bellecharme was known only to Miss Hamilton and myself. I suppose now you will be demanding money from me to keep her existence a secret,” he exclaimed indignantly.

  To my astonishment, and that of the Archdeacon, Holmes threw back his head and laughed heartily. “ My dear sir, I am not here to spread the word about Miss Bellecharme, and I would not take a penny from you to maintain her present state of discretion. I have only discovered her as a result of enquiries instigated at the request of your nephew, young Fairdale Hobbs.”

  A look of relief spread over the old man’s face. “ Forgive me, Mr. Holmes for my most un-Christian thoughts regarding your motives. For a while I was under the impression that you were of the same stamp as some of those other confounded private detectives of whom I have heard so much ill. So young Fairdale saw me last night in London and worried about me ? ”

  “ After having discovered scraps of a letter from Miss Hamilton asking for more passion in Miss Bellecharme’s work, and the corner of a manuscript of hers which had escaped the fire.”

  “ I see. How careless of me,” remarked the Archdeacon, smiling broadly.

  By now I was completely confused. “ Pray tell me,” I enquired of both, “ what is going on. Where is this Miss Kitty Bellecharme, for example ? ”

  At this, Holmes redoubled his laughter, joined by the clergyman.

  “ You are looking at him,” admitted the latter, pausing for breath in his merriment. “ I am Miss Kitty Bellecharme.”

  “ And Miss Deborah Hamilton is her literary agent, and these,” opening the parcel that he had brought from London, “ are her collected works.” The parcel proved to contain a number of cheap novelettes, of the genre generally described as “ romantic” and purchased by servants or shop-girls for their entertainment. “ I had hoped,” continued Holmes, still smiling, “ that Miss Bellecharme would be able to sign her name in these.”

  “ Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you are a
man of surprises.”

  “ How in the world,” I interjected, “ did you come to these conclusions ? ”

  “ Yes, I also shall be interested to know how you came to discover all this,” our host agreed. “ I take it you two gentlemen will stay for dinner, and lodge with me tonight, by the way ? It is a long way back to London, and dusk has already fallen.”

  We accepted with gratitude, and Holmes, having received permission to light his pipe, sat back and commenced his narrative.

  “ From the description of the letter which had been sent to Miss Kitty Bellecharme at the poste restante, I felt that there was some element of subterfuge involved. Why would our host here wish to keep letters addressed to a woman who did not even possess an address ? But I still wish to know why that phrase about requiring more passion was contained in the scrap of letter that your nephew discovered ? ”

  The Archdeacon broke into loud guffaws. “ Oh, my goodness,” he laughed. “ Was that really the phrase he discovered ? My latest manuscript of ‘ Sally and the Earl of Devonshire’ was not altogether to Miss Hamilton’s taste. She required Sally and her noble lover to display a little more intimacy—nothing distasteful, you understand—but simply less Platonic, perhaps.” He sat back, still smiling. “ Go on, Mr. Holmes, this is most amusing.”

  “ Then there was the question of the burnt quires of paper in the grate, which were definitely in your hand, according to your nephew, and of which only one corner survived, containing a most suggestive phrase.” He reached in his pocket and produced the document in question, which he handed over, to the initial astonishment, followed by the laughter, of the author.

  “ Well, bless my soul ! No wonder he thought I was carrying on some sort of dalliance. And then he saw me in Piccadilly on one of my unannounced visits to London with Miss Hamilton. But surely he would have realised that any kind of liaison with a lady of her years was unlikely ? ”

  “ It was a foggy evening, and apparently the lady had muffled her face against the damp.”

  “ Ah yes, I remember. What a comedy of errors this is turning out to be ! And how did you come to know of Miss Hamilton ? ”

  “ Ah, that was from a letter that you were carrying when you collided with Dr. Watson here outside the Carlton. I picked it up and could not help but remark the sender’s name and address.”

  “ Hardly gentlemanly of you,” the Archdeacon reproved Holmes, but gently. “ Considering that you yourself were on the trail of one whom you might reasonably have suspected of ungentlemanly conduct, perhaps you may be forgiven.” His round face creased in a smile, and it was clear to me that he was enjoying this exposition of the discovery of his secrets.

  “ At the Club, I requested you to write on a piece of paper, and I was able to satisfy myself that both the paper and the writing matched those already in my possession.”

  “ Why yes, I have frequently written my little oeuvres on the Club paper, and it was one of those drafts that found its way into the fireplace when young Fairdale surprised me that evening.”

  “ And when we visited Miss Hamilton, it was obvious that she knew you, from her reaction to a mention of your name, and also that she was connected with the world of books and publishing. One whole shelf of her bookcases seemed to be devoted to the work of Miss Kitty Bellecharme.”

  Our host blushed. “ I must confess that Miss Bellecharme has been most prolific. I discovered some thirty years ago that I had a talent for producing this kind of writing, and enjoyed the exercise. You can imagine that it produces a most pleasing contrast to the everyday life of a provincial archdeacon, though it is naturally not one that I wish to bring to the notice of my flock, or indeed of anyone. Miss Hamilton is a distant cousin of some kind, and I had heard that she acted as a literary agent who sold manuscripts to publishers on the behalf of authors. I contacted her under this ridiculous name of Kitty Bellecharme, giving a poste restante address, and much to my surprise, she accepted the book and sold it to a magazine as a serial. Since then, as you can see, I have had success in my other life.” He gestured towards the pile of books that Holmes had brought with him. “ It is most amusing. My housemaid appears to be a devotee of my work, being totally unaware that it is her master who is the author of the romances I have from time to time discovered her devouring.”

  “ And at some stage in the proceedings Miss Hamilton discovered your true identity ? ”

  “ I informed her myself, after some five years of doing business with her. She was surprised, as you can imagine, but we decided to leave the arrangements regarding Miss Bellecharme and her postal arrangements unchanged, since they were working successfully.”

  “ And the money that Hobbs has told us you donate to good causes ? ”

  “ It is all Miss Bellecharme’s doing. I have not profited one penny personally from this work.”

  Holmes sat back and puffed at his pipe, while I digested this tale.

  At length, the Archdeacon broke the silence. “ Do you think I should continue, Mr. Holmes, now that my secret is known ? ”

  “ By all means, my dear sir. You are giving harmless pleasure to thousands, I dare say, and the money you are receiving and redistributing is undoubtedly doing good to many others. Furthermore, it is obvious from your account and your manner that it is an activity that gives you great pleasure. I would recommend, though, that you inform your nephew of these activities. He appears to be genuinely concerned about your moral well-being.”

  “ I will do so. Now it is time for dinner, and I trust that tomorrow morning you will give me the pleasure of allowing me to escort you around some of our local churches to admire some of the architecture therein.”

  “ If Miss Kitty Bellecharme and you can spare the time, we will be delighted to accompany you,” Sherlock Holmes answered him, with a warm smile.

  -oOo-

  AN ACCOUNT OF THE

  VICTOR LYNCH FORGERY

  (AS RELATED BY INSPECTOR CHARLES LESTRADE OF SCOTLAND YARD)

  EDITOR’S NOTE

  As I was looking in the dispatch-box, among the varied papers, not all of which appeared to concern themselves with Sherlock Holmes, my eye was caught by a long letter written in an unfamiliar crabbed hand, with the sender’s address given as “ Scotland Yard”. Naturally this piqued my curiosity, and I picked up the sheaf of papers, and perused them with interest.

  It transpired that the writer was one Charles Lestrade, whom we all know as the most famous of all of Sherlock Holmes’ official contemporaries and colleagues. The letter started as one of condolence to Dr. Watson on the loss of his friend Sherlock Holmes following the tragic events at Meiringen, but as I read on, I was increasingly interested in the other case—the first one in which he collaborated with Holmes, at the beginning of the famous detective’s career, and which he describes to Watson.

  This is the case to which Holmes refers in A Study in Scarlet, when he says that “ Lestrade is a well-known detective. He got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here.” The case is also referred to in The Sussex Vampire, where Holmes mentions the entry of “ Victor Lynch, the forger” in his Index.

  So here is Sherlock Holmes, before he became famous, and without Watson, as seen through a different pair of eyes to those with which we usually see him, and not always as sympathetic or as understanding as those of Watson. It is, however, notable for the grudging respect in which Lestrade undoubtedly holds Holmes, a respect which was not always apparent from the way in which he (Lestrade) was described by Watson. It is also notable for the way in which Lestrade recreates Holmes’ distinctive manner of speech, which is more than likely the result of his police training.

  -oOo-

  MY DEAR DR. WATSON,

  It was with a profound sense of loss and genuine grief that I read the letter that you were kind enough to send me from Switzerland. I offer my deepest and sincere condolences, knowing as I do the strong friendship and affection that obtained between you and Mr. Holmes. Natur
ally I will attend the service of memorial at the time and place you mentioned in your letter, and I am sure that Inspectors Gregson and Bradstreet, among others, will wish to attend and pay their respects to a man who has been of such great assistance to the police forces of this country.

  As you know, I was acquainted with Mr. Holmes before you met him, at the time when he was living and carrying on his work from rooms in Montague Street. If you have no objection, I would like to take this opportunity of giving you some details of the case which brought him and me together for the first time. I have enjoyed your writing of the cases where Mr. Holmes and I worked together and you were present, and it struck me that it would make a pleasant addition to your work if this were to be “ written up”, as they say, in your literary style. You can guess that the nature of my work does not make for a smooth flow of words, and I know my masters in different areas when I meet them, whether it be story-telling, or even in my business of detection, where I freely admit that, by breaking the rules, Mr. Holmes often brought a fresh set of eyes and a new approach to the cases in which I was involved.

  Let me tell you, then, of the story of the Lynch forgery case, which I hope will convince you that even though I may sometimes have appeared a little displeased with the methods and conclusions that Mr. Holmes employed, it was little more than a competitive urge, such as one sportsman may experience in a race against another. Please accept this as my tribute to a man who, for all his faults, displayed a greater understanding of the work of a detective than any other I have encountered.

  With my deepest respects, I remain yours most sincerely,

  [Signature]

  C. Lestrade (Detective Inspector, Metropolitan Police)

  -oOo-

  AT THE TIME I DESCRIBE, I had been newly promoted to the rank of Detective Inspector in the Criminal Investigation Department after more than five years’ service with the police force. It was a good chance for me to display whatever abilities I may possess, and I took every chance I was given to do so. As you have probably noticed, there is often a good-natured rivalry between two officers in the force who are making their way up the ranks, and my particular rival was Tobias Gregson, one of the best officers in the London area. He has worked with you and Mr. Holmes on a number of occasions, of course, including that case when you and I first met, which you entitled “ A Study In Scarlet”.