The Patient's Eyes: The Dark Beginnings of Sherlock Holmes

by Pirie, David

  There was, however, one curiosity that emerged from the interview. A letter had been found on the dead man from Baynes, accepting his invitation to dinner. This was bad for Baynes, but it was not all. In the corpse’s pocket there was a white sheet of foolscap, blank on one side but with a series of numbers on the other. The policeman passed it across to me with a sour look for it was obvious they could not make head or tail of it. I reproduce it here exactly as it was, for I still possess it.

  Garcia’s document

  5 9 13 17 8 16 12 8 7 5 2 11 11 3 7 13 20 5 14 8 10 3 6 6 5 14 21 4 2 7 11

  12 12 13 20 8 10 2 14 11 7 5 20 8 15 11 12 5 16 15 7 13 17 13 19 2 7 11

  12 8 8 15 5 22 5 10 13 11 5 2 14 2 19 13 6 6 10 2 14 10 8 7 14 8 15 13

  14 15 18 13 7 11 5 10 3 6 13 7 6 1 11 2 13 15 20 13 14 10 8 17 1 10 6 13

  5 17 11 2 12 13 20 8 10 7 8 13 11 8 15 13 14 8 14 11 5 7 8 6 1 14 8 4 19

  2 7 17 2 19 15 7 13 17 13 4 12 5 10 12 4 5 6 6 5 14 19 2 6 19 8 7 8 13 6

  18 8 2 18 8 13 14 15 7 8 13 6 16 5 11 3 13 11 5 2 14 16 11 12 8 11 12 5

  14 20 16 12 2 3 6 15 12 13 20 8 13 6 5 19 8 2 19 5 11 16 2 4 14 9 3 16 11

  13 16 12 8 10 7 8 13 11 5 2 14 15 2 8 16 5 14 17 1 5 14 16 18 5 7 13 11 5

  2 14 4 12 5 10 12 5 16 17 13 7 1 4 2 6 6 16 11 2 14 8 10 7 13 19 2 11 16

  8 2 5 10 8 18 11 5 2 14 13 6 17 13 14 3 16 10 7 5 18 11 2 19 1 8 1 8 19 7

  13 14 23 8 14 16 11 8 5 14 2 7 11 12 8 17 2 15 8 7 14 18 7 2 17 8 11 12 8

  3 16 5 13 17 11 12 8 7 8 22 2 7 8 3 16 5 14 20 11 12 8 22 2 2 23 13 16 13

  23 8 1 11 2 11 12 5 16 10 5 18 12 8 7 11 12 2 3 20 12 5 16 3 16 18 8 10

  11 14 2 21 2 15 1 13 14 15 10 8 7 11 13 5 14 6 1 14 2 11 15 2 1 6 8 4 5 6

  6 21 8 10 6 8 19 8 7 8 14 2 3 21 12 11 2 15 5 16 8 14 11 13 14 21 6 8 5

  11 5 19 11 12 8 1 13 7 8 11 12 8 14 2 19 1 0 2 3 7 16 8 5 11 13 23 8 11 12

  8 10 7 8 15 5 11 5 22 14 2 11 5 19 8 13 7 11 12 8 18 6 13 18 7 16 4 5 5

  6 6 12 13 19 8 11 2 8 14 15 3 7 8 11 12 8 17 3 11 13 11 5 15 17 3 11 13

  14 15 5 16 5 4 5 6 3 16 8 11 12 5 16 10 5 18 12 8 7 11 2 10 2 17 17 3

  14 5 10 13 11 8 4 5 11 12 11 12 2 16 8 18 6 13 1 8 7 16 6 5 23 8 21 13 7

  10 5 13 4 12 2 5 12 13 19 8 12 5 7 8 15 21 3 11 11 12 8 1 4 5 6 6 23 14 2

  4 14 2 11 12 5 14 21 2 19 5 11 16 6 13 7 21 8 7 18 3 7 18 2 16 8 2 7 5 14

  15 8 8 15 2 22 11 12 5 16 14 2 11 8 11 12 8 10 2 3 18 13 11 11 12 8 10 8

  14 11 7 8 2 22 5 11 5 16 2 22 10 2 3 7 16 8 13 10 2 7 18 16 8 5 12 13 20

  8 22 2 3 20 12 11 24 3 5 11 8 6 8 21 13 6 6 1 22 7 2 17 5 11 16 7 5 21 12

  11 19 3 6 5 14 12 8 7 5 11 2 7 17 7 16 13 14 1 13 10 13 7 6 5 14 2

  6 8 11 11 12 8 18 6 13 1 10 2 17 17 8 17 10 8

  I stared at these numbers in amazement. ‘But it is certainly a cipher or code. Surely this must prove Garcia or his murderer was involved in some subterfuge.’

  ‘It is just as likely,’ said one of them, ‘that you or your friend placed it there as a distraction. We can make nothing of it.’ And he returned to his questions.

  After several hours, it was dark outside and Inspector Warner entered to tell me Baynes was close to confessing and had been formally arrested and charged. They had little doubt that I was implicated too, but since there was less direct evidence in my case they would allow me to go home, before they resumed their questioning in the morning. I was not surprised when, at first, Warner utterly refused to let me talk to Baynes. But I pressed my case hard. As a doctor, I told him, I wished to observe Baynes’s condition. I had heard cases of men being beaten until they confessed. And, given the kind of interview I had just endured, I would not be put off.

  He looked at me closely. ‘Perhaps you merely want to ensure he sticks to your story. I assure you, sir, I do not beat the truth out of my prisoners. But you can have five minutes with him if you wish.’

  They escorted me down stone stairs to Baynes in his cell. Of course, my main purpose was to speak to him and I felt rather pleased my strategy had worked. I should have realised then that it had proved suspiciously easy.

  Baynes was still distraught as we whispered together through the bars. ‘I warn you,’ he told me, ‘heaven knows who is behind this. But I have felt someone watching me for days and you saw what they did to Garcia.’

  I promised him I would take every precaution and do everything in my power to help him, but one thing had to be settled. I looked round to make sure the jailer could not hear. ‘Baynes,’ I whispered, ‘I know it is hard for you but I must ask. Will you swear on everything you hold sacred that you had no part in this?’

  ‘I swear it.’

  I replied that I believed him and it was true.

  But then he looked at me with a terrible expression of anguish. ‘Doyle, I am so sorry to have brought this on you. You see … I have not told everything. Garcia and I did play a hand. He was a very poor player, among the worst I ever saw. But I won some money, quite a bit.’

  Of course, I was shocked by this and all my doubts flooded back. ‘What? But you must declare it.’

  ‘I cannot,’ he whispered. ‘They would believe the worst. You see, Doyle, he gave me a purse of money and today I thought I was being followed. And I hid it …’

  ‘But where is it?’ I knew the answer even as I asked.

  ‘In your house.’

  At least the street outside my property was dark and quiet as I turned into it. The only thought in my head now was to obtain this purse and either destroy it or give it to the police. If they discovered it on my premises it would be too late.

  My so-called practice did not seem particularly welcoming as I entered. There was a howling draft from somewhere, presumably the window which Baynes had used to climb in, but I cared little about that. I lit a candle and went at once to the spot he had mentioned, which was on the first landing. There I bent down and groped under the stair carpet, conscious of how guilty I must look. My hand connected with something and I pulled it out.

  The purse was exactly as Baynes had described and I noticed with some horror that Garcia’s initials were on it. The sum inside was not inconsiderable. Enough for me to clear my debts, I reflected miserably. And that thought was followed by another, which came so frighteningly quickly I was ashamed and excited. What was to stop me from flight? There was enough here to pay off any debts and I could be sure Baynes would not tell them of it. Without further evidence, would Warner bother to follow me to Edinburgh when they already had the main suspect? I think and hope I would have cast such temptations aside but I will never be quite sure for they were interrupted by a noise from above me.

  It was not loud, a soft footstep. But someone was up there. I was sure it could not be the police. They would have made themselves known when I entered. Again it came, a gentle scraping noise.

  A few moments later I was advancing up the stairs with my candle in one hand and a sharp knife in the other.

  There was nobody on the landing, but the sound had come from a large back bedroom that led off it. For some reason I found myself thinking of that crouched figure I had seen on the bicycle. I had no logical explanation for any of this but supposing it had killed Garcia? It would mean Miss Grace was in terrible danger. And was it now in there, waiting in the dark?

  Putting down the candle, I walked forward and flung open the door. It was pitch-black inside; there was no sign of anyone or anything that I could see. Holding the knife steady, I took a pace. Almost at once I felt clawlike hands around my neck. I lashed out, but the knife swished through empty air. The hands tightened brutally. I struggled desperately and they only locked harder. My senses were starting to swim but I was sure these were the hands that had killed Garcia.

  With a last effort I managed to use my weight to force my opponent back towards the landing and the dim flame of the candlelight. I could see a little more now, though my vision was clouded. There was the outline of a fierce, hawklike face, gleaming eyes, a fixed jaw. To my amazement I wa
s staring at the countenance of Dr Bell.

  He relaxed his grip, smiling. ‘Not the most auspicious way to welcome a guest to your home, Doyle.’ I was still panting for breath. ‘My apologies for depriving you of oxygen, but that looks like a Sheffield ’81 knife. And your consulting room is not too well equipped for surgery.’

  ‘I am glad to see you,’ I said with feeling. Indeed, I felt a huge surge of warmth and relief at the sight of him, especially now when he was so badly needed. ‘But what in the name of all that is wonderful brings you here?’

  ‘Well, another matter brought me south but I had reason to call and I have observed enough of today’s business to see you have need of me. I was reflecting on it while I unpacked some things. Your table is not well stocked, I know, so I purchased a hamper, which I have been opening. Come. You look in need of sustenance. I would say you have lost nine and a half pounds since I last saw you.’

  In a few moments my consulting room had been converted into a dining room and we were enjoying a feast. The Doctor was as good as his word and rapidly unpacked veal and ham pie, bread, sausage, cheese and butter, not to mention some condiments and a quart of beer. I needed no encouragement and fell to with a vengeance as we sat across the consulting-room table. It seemed like weeks since I had eaten and my spirits soared.

  ‘Yes,’ the Doctor was saying,’ I apologise for not replying sooner. Both your letters were forwarded to me in London where I was doing some examination duty. I decided there was every reason to pay you a call and arrived early today, but there was no sign of you. So I visited your former practice where my other old pupil was full of the Garcia business. Soon I had occasion to speak to Inspector Warner about it and I regret to observe several mistakes have been made.’ He swallowed a mouthful of pie.

  ‘I entirely agree,’ I said. ‘The police …’

  ‘ … are extremely astute,’ he interrupted. ‘Warner may well be the most capable officer I have ever encountered.’

  This hardly impressed me. ‘But they make no headway and suspect Baynes and I were involved!’ I protested.

  ‘As well they might,’ he said, dabbing a morsel of pie in some mustard. ‘Has it not occurred to you, Doyle, that if you were dealing with Beecher back in Edinburgh, you would have been deprived of your liberty at once, while Baynes would be on his way to the gallows? No, the Inspector is a shrewd man who, I suspect from what I have seen, plays his hand well. And if I am not very much mistaken, he is outside now. I assumed he would waste no time coming for what he seeks …’ He spoke nonchalantly enough as he pushed his plate to one side.

  I was horrified for, in my pleasure at seeing the Doctor and my delight at his provisions, I had forgotten all about the purse of money, which was still in my pocket.

  But the Doctor was not mistaken, for a police cab was visible in the street, and soon there were footsteps in my passage and Warner entered, another policeman behind him.

  ‘We wish to make a complete search, Doyle, for I know you have Garcia’s money. I am not so much of a fool as to allow you to confer with a charged criminal out of hearing. The prisoner in the next cell to Baynes was instructed to eavesdrop and I am delayed only because he saw the value of what he heard and tried to bargain with us.’

  ‘Do not worry, Warner,’ said Bell. ‘Doyle will hand over the money you seek.’ And to my horror he put his hand out for the purse. I had no choice. I could hardly lie, for the thing bulged out of my pocket.

  With some reluctance I got it out and handed it over, hoping the Doctor might save the situation for me. But he merely passed it on to Inspector Warner, who examined it with great satisfaction. ‘Yes, Garcia’s initials are here. Excellent, Dr Bell. This is conclusive, I think. The prisoner in the next cell did not hear as much of the conversation as I would have liked but at least he heard where the money was. I very much fear your young colleague here has played a major part.’

  ‘Undoubtedly he has,’ said Bell as both policemen stared at the money. And to my intense irritation he left it at that and cut himself some more pie.

  THE QUESTION OF GARCIA

  I suppose I should have been grateful they did not cart me off to the cells there and then. The Doctor had indicated he would guarantee my attendance when required and was on hand to see I did not abscond. This was not strictly true for he had already established himself comfortably at a local inn and left me shortly afterwards, but he knew quite well I would be there in the morning.

  Subsequently I spent a wretched night, fully aware Warner believed he had an unshakeable case against me. Of course, I had been pleased to see the Doctor again but he had treated the whole matter so casually I began to wonder if he was not punishing me for my long silence.

  In the morning we had arranged to meet at Cullingworth’s surgery, which was as usual seething with patients, but his assistant Hettie went to find her employer, as the Doctor ran an eye over me. ‘You did not sleep well, I perceive.’ I was still irritated with the way he had behaved the previous night and the humiliation of handing over the money, and he saw as much. ‘I can assure you, Doyle, that concealing evidence is never a profitable pursuit. The police are not so foolish as you believe. I want to discover what we can about Garcia here and then we will go to see them.’

  At this moment Cullingworth appeared from the throng, smiling broadly to usher us inside. ‘Why, Bell, how good to see you again so soon. I am glad you are helping with this terrible Garcia business. You can certainly count on my expertise. Once, I recall, you told me I’d come on further than anyone in your class.’

  The Doctor smiled. ‘In one respect, certainly, your development was remarkable.’

  ‘Diagnosis, of course. And so I have more patients than I know what to do with as Doyle here knows! Why, man, you would not give me a few hours of your time and we will whip through my backlist together? I could offer you fifty silver for a couple of days at most.’ And with supreme vulgarity, as he spoke he took a fistful of silver from the little cache on his desk and ran it through his fingers.

  ‘Oh,’ Bell said, ‘I suspect my style might not suit you.’

  ‘You are modest, but I know you are almost as quick as ever,’ said Cullingworth.

  I could see the Doctor was controlling himself. ‘Yes, I find it is useful when encountering the vain and the foolish. Now I would like to see Garcia’s notes.’

  If Cullingworth knew he was being insulted, he showed absolutely no sign of it. He went over to the cupboard, where he kept his medical notes, and produced a folder. ‘Normally these would be confidential,’ he said, ‘but in view of the circumstances I can make an exception. However, I would warn you there is very little to be gleaned here. I have not seen Garcia since Baynes dined with him. He had an appointment with me earlier this week and never appeared. As I think you know, I was concerned and mentioned it to Baynes.’

  ‘How did he react?’

  ‘He seemed very worried. But I am sure my locum is innocent.’

  The Doctor had taken the file and was studying it. ‘Tell me, Dr Cullingworth, how long had you known Señor Garcia?’

  ‘A few months. He came to me for a skin complaint. It is all in the notes. I understand he has business interests in Argentina and was certainly of good family. But he had not been in the country for long. Did you visit his house?’

  Bell did not look up from scrutinising the pages of Garcia’s medical file. ‘Yes, I was allowed to pay a short visit this morning early. I must say I found it most informative. And I notice this man’s appointments with you were always late in the day. Never before two in the afternoon.’

  ‘Why not!’ answered Cullingworth with interest. ‘I expect he was a late riser. And there was no family here, the man was a bachelor. I have no idea if he even had any friends. So there is little help to be had from other people as you see.’

  ‘Why on earth should I need help from other people?’ said Bell, closing the file impatiently, ‘when I intend to make his acquaintance?’

  Garcia
’s corpse lay awkwardly on the mortuary slab, the head discreetly covered as Bell and I stared down at it. Warner was beside us, keen to make use of the doctor’s medical expertise but, I knew, equally keen to continue questioning me.

  An attempt had been made to clean the body below us, but there were still ugly patches of earth and exposed flesh, and I found myself recalling Mary Godwin’s description of her creature and its skin that ‘scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath’. There was, I saw, in addition a deep laceration near the subclavian artery.

  Carefully, with that air of intense concentration I knew so well, Bell studied it and then slowly drew back the sheet from the head. In the cold lamplight from above, I now saw again the full horror of what had been done here. It was battered so badly that the skull itself was crushed, removing most of the face and leaving just a mess of hair and tissue.

  Bell stared in wonder. ‘Whoever did this used great force. I have rarely seen anything so brutal.’

  ‘Then you understand why I am so anxious to get to the bottom of it,’ said Warner grimly. ‘It is certainly the most savage beating I ever saw.’

  Bell bent close to get a better look. ‘And the weapon?’

  ‘I fear we have yet to find one, though we are still searching,’ Warner replied and I noted a new respect in his voice. It turned out he had made some discreet and unofficial enquiries into Dr Bell’s previous work in Edinburgh and was impressed. ‘I ought to say, Dr Bell, we will be grateful for any further light you can shed on the matter.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the Doctor murmured without looking up. ‘In the strictest confidence of course.’

  At last Bell finished his study of the head and replaced the cloth. Then he returned to his examination of the arms. After a time he took a wet linen cloth and carefully wiped away some of the earth that still covered patches of the skin. He was rewarded for this care, leaning forward intensely to examine a mark which had appeared.