‘Let us start with Smith.’
The manager smiled and said, ‘We often have a couple staying with us who register as Mr and Mrs Smith.’
‘I understand very well what you mean,’ said Holmes. ‘No, I am looking for a Smith who stayed on his own on or before the first of this month.’
A search through the list of names of those who had stayed at the hotel soon revealed that just before the day of the murder, a Smith had stayed for three days.
‘Although there is only a remote possibility that this Smith is the murderer,’ said Holmes, ‘we must not dismiss him for the time being. Now, Watson, I must send a telegram to Inspector Lestrade at Scotland Yard. He should be able to verify the address given by Smith.’
That evening a telegram arrived from Lestrade. ‘As I suspected, Watson, Lestrade found no such address in London. Now we have to find more about this Mr Smith, or whatever his real name is.’
‘We have little to go on. Where do we start?’
With the agreement of the manager, Holmes went very thoroughly over every inch of the room in which our suspect had stayed.
‘Watson, I know you are thinking that at least three other people have stayed in the room since the first of the month,’ he said, as the back of each drawer was searched. ‘However, despite the thoroughness with which the room has been cleaned, there is always the possibility of some minute trace remaining of each person who has stayed in the room.’
He started to lift the paper lining of the drawers that the chambermaid was supposed to have changed after a guest had left. ‘Ah, what have we here?’ He held up a small laundry bill. ‘It has the name Prestot or it may be Prescott. More importantly it has the address. Now all we have to do is re-examine the guest list and if none of the addresses matches this one then we have made the first step in our search.’
He was right. None of the addresses matched that on the laundry bill.
‘Well, Watson, who lives at 19 The Blundells, Chelsea? Is it Smith, Prestot or Prescott?’
We devoted the rest of the day questioning shopkeepers and stall holders. Late in the afternoon we took a stroll along the promenade. Near the aquarium there was a large crowd so we decided to join the throng. The centre of attraction was a railway that ran alongside the promenade.
‘Of course, this is Magnus Volk’s railway on which the carriages are propelled by electricity. A truly remarkable idea,’ said I.
‘Indeed, Watson. It reminds me that someone from our local electricity supply company has been trying to persuade Mrs Hudson that 221B should be lit by electricity. What I have seen of it does not impress me. As you know, apart from concerts, I care little for theatrical performances. At the few plays I have attended I found that the electrically lit auditoriums, along with the arc and limelights of the stages, provided an unnatural illumination. For the time being I shall remain content with the soft light of the gas and oil lamps.’
The next morning we took breakfast in the coffee room of the hotel. After a further altercation with the head waiter over the quality of the marmalade, we studied our notes of the answers we had received from the people to whom we had spoken. Holmes gave his opinion. ‘It is clear, Watson, that the murderer walked, rather than ran, from the Royal Pavilion, toward the seafront. This, we can assume, was to associate his appearance with that of the real clown. However he did not go too close to where the real clown usually stood lest someone saw two clowns. He then more than likely discarded his disguise. And therefore we can suppose that he then went to the station and took a train up to London and so to his Chelsea address.’
These deductions were interrupted by the arrival in the coffee room of a large man of military bearing. He came directly up to Holmes and said, ‘Mr Holmes, I’m the chief constable and I object strongly to the way in which you are interfering in the case of the murdered attendant. I must insist, sir, that you stop making inquiries. You are confusing those who may eventually appear as witnesses for the crown.’
I observed Holmes’ visage assume one of irritation and determination. He said nothing for a moment. He did not even rise from his chair. Then, opening his newspaper and with a dismissive wave of the hand, he said, ‘I shall ignore your request. Good day to you, sir.’
The chief constable looked surprised and then angry and then he turned and, muttering to himself, he left.
‘Well, that was a very sociable visit,’ remarked I.
‘You know, my dear fellow, that abrupt visit from the official police leads me to the opinion that there could be more to this case than we imagine.’
We returned to London. Holmes had decided that there were no more clues to be had beside the sea. Accompanied by Lestrade we went to the address in Chelsea. Outwardly it was little different from the other houses in the road. Without an authority to enter the premises all we could do was observe who went in and out. It was agreed that we should take turns to play the part of loafers outside the public house on the corner. From there we were able to keep watch on the house without revealing our intent. Holmes and Lestrade, of course, found no difficulty in adopting the disguise of someone who frequented a four-ale bar. For my part I had to appear as a distributor of religious tracts that urged those who enjoyed alcohol to abandon the vice. I had to summon what little courage I possessed in order to withstand the verbal abuse to which I was subjected.
During my time on watch, as dusk was falling, I observed two men walking toward the house. They were arguing, although I could not hear what they were disputing. They went inside.
I reported what I had seen to Holmes and Lestrade.
‘No doubt our murderer has an accomplice,’ said Holmes. ‘It appears, from what you saw, that they are in dispute over either the disposal of the valuable jewel or, having exchanged it for money, are arguing over how the proceeds should be divided.’
As I have mentioned before, I always associate Holmes and his cases with breakfast. Once again it was interrupted by Lestrade saying, ‘Good morning, I have information that will surprise you.’
‘My dear Lestrade,’ said Holmes, ‘in our long and mutual involvement with the criminal world little now surprises me. If you are about to tell me the Crown Jewels have been spirited away by a modern Colonel Blood it will not affect my enjoyment of this delicious and very rare orange preserve.’
‘No, Mr Holmes, not the Crown Jewels. Although from the manner in which they are kept in the Tower, such an event would not surprise me. The surprise is a body recovered from the Thames early this morning. And you may be even more surprised to hear that it was wearing a clown’s costume.’
Holmes immediately stopped eating. Although he did not admit to being surprised, I could tell that inwardly he was. ‘Lestrade, when can I examine the body?’
‘When you are ready, Mr Holmes. The deceased is with the River Police down at Wapping. Papers were found in his pockets giving us the name Prescott.’
I could not help thinking of the fact that in so many of the cases on which I have been with Holmes, we have had to visit the more unpleasant parts of the capital. The police surgeon informed us that the cause of death was by some poison. Holmes examined the body and paid particular attention to the hands.
‘Now that is very interesting,’ he said, as he placed the third finger of the victim alongside that of the other hand. ‘See, the indentation adjacent to the nail of this finger is usually caused by frequent use of a pen. There is also slight discolouration from ink that gets onto the shaft of a pen. This suggests very strongly that the victim is right-hand preferring and is a scribe.’
I hastened to remark, ‘However, you deduced that the murderer was left-handed. And we assumed he had discarded his clown’s costume somewhere in Brighton.’
‘So I did. However, I believe we may have been on the trail of two men, not one. This may not be the Brighton murderer. It could be the body of his accomplice. Is this an attempt to suggest that the case is closed; the murderer having taken poison? The clown’s costume is e
ither another attempt to lead a false trail or is a macabre joke. This is not Prescott.’
‘Shall we now attempt to see who is in the house in Chelsea?’ I suggested.
Holmes turned to Lestrade and asked, ‘Is that possible, Inspector?’
‘Well, there could be some difficulty in obtaining permission to enter the premises, Mr Holmes. We would have to convince my superiors that we have enough evidence to connect the finding of this body with whoever is in the house. And of course establishing a connection with the Brighton Clown murderer. For a reason that I cannot understand, I have been ordered not to seek the help of the Brighton police with my investigation of this poisoning.’
‘What you say, Lestrade, does not come as a surprise. I shall need some time in which to go through my commonplace books. Particular attention will be paid to any cuttings or notes under the headings of Brighton and Windsor.’
That evening after our supper, Holmes turned to those thick volumes in which he noted any items in the newspapers that might prove of value in the future. He also methodically cut items out of periodicals and pasted them on the pages. As the squirrel in its drey, Holmes collected for the future.
‘By the by, Holmes, were there any other distinguishing marks on the body we examined this morning?’
‘None. Apart from the deceased being right-handed and was a scribe, I found no other clues.’
It was close to midnight before Holmes found what he was looking for. ‘Now this is very interesting. These cuttings from the Windsor papers disclose that a number of very valuable pieces of jewellery had been brought back to England from India by an army officer after the Mutiny. Apparently their ownership had been in dispute for a number of years. The government insisted that they belonged to the crown. The officer, at the time a Lieutenant Sandarson, had come across them during the fighting.’
‘That was a very singular affair,’ said I.
‘This report, dated 1860, refers to Sandarson’s decision to relinquish the jewels. They were eventually placed in the royal collection at Windsor Castle. They were not put on display. Most importantly, Watson, among the precious items was an exceptionally large and pure ruby of immense value. It was part of a heavy gold chain.’
‘I suppose, Holmes, if we find the murderer that should lead us to the gem.’
The sultry weather persisted. Afghanistan had been hot at times yet the air was often clean and less oppressive. Holmes was making his customary diligent reading of the personal columns of the morning papers.
‘This small item, Watson, tells us that any person who knows the whereabouts of Simon Small, a clerk with Gadsby, Clawer and Rogers, is requested to communicate with them. Now a visit to those gentlemen may prove of value to our case.’
Messrs Gadsby, Clawer and Rogers proved very helpful. When we arrived at their offices, Rogers had just returned from identifying the body in a clown’s costume as that of their clerk Small. He told us that he had failed to arrive for work on the previous Monday. On examining the desk used by Small, it was clear that he was right-handed. Holmes asked if he had taken any documents with him when he last left the office. Gadsby replied. ‘I cannot be certain. Although we did find a bundle on his desk that should have been replaced in the strongroom.’
‘Did you examine it to see if all the documents were in place?’
‘As far as I could tell, Mr Holmes, they were all there.’
‘And who is your client?’
‘The papers had been left by a client for secure keeping. Confidentiality is the keystone of a lawyer’s profession.’
‘I fully understand,’ replied Holmes. ‘Nevertheless, surely, my knowing the name of your client betrays no confidence. I do not need to know what is in the bundle.’
‘Well, I suppose it is ethical to reveal his name.’ He turned to his partner. ‘Do you not agree, Clawer?’ Clawer nodded his head and said, ‘His name is a Lieutenant Colonel Charteris, retired from a Highland regiment.’
‘We are most obliged to you, gentlemen. Good day.’
As we made our way back to Baker Street I said, ‘It appears then that this Charteris is connected in some way with the Mutiny jewels.’
‘I agree, Watson. However, what connection? At the moment it may be pure coincidence that his documents were perused and possibly some were taken by Small, and that Small was involved with the one who murdered to obtain the jewel. There is, of course, the possibility that Charteris may have been serving in India at the time of the Mutiny. A look in the army or regimental lists for 1857 may prove instructive.’
An inquiry through Holmes’ brother Mycroft revealed that Charteris was indeed in India in 1857. As requested, Mycroft provided a list of all the officers who were there at that time. Another important piece of information came from Lestrade, who found out that the clown’s costume had been hired to Small.
‘This case is becoming more convoluted every day that passes,’ said Holmes. ‘We still have yet to find Prescott; Lestrade confirmed this as Smith’s real name from a visit to the laundry named on the bill we found in the drawer of the hotel room.’
During our next discussion with Lestrade, he agreed that a visit to Small’s home might prove useful. The first thing we observed was the open door to the room he rented in a terrace house in Islington.
‘I suppose, Lestrade, as the door is open, you can dispense with a warrant in order to enter.’
‘Yes, Mr Holmes, there is nothing to stop us.’
The sparsely furnished room revealed at first little of interest until Holmes found a cutting from a newspaper. ‘Look at this. Here is a report of the Brighton murder. This is a further clue that indicates that Small is involved.’
He then started to make a careful study of a pile of legal foolscap lying on the table. Small appeared to have been attempting to write a letter. There were four attempts. Each had been heavily inked over. However, on one of them we could make out ‘C knows about the true nature of the ruby’.
‘Now C is most likely Charteris,’ said Holmes. ‘This letter we can assume was sent to someone who, on learning about the true nature of the ruby, was prompted to kill for it. Small had taken the document that exposed the murderer’s connection with the ruby. Once the gem had been taken he was most likely killed because he threatened to go to the police.’
I interrupted Holmes’ deduced account of events by saying, ‘What did you mean, the true nature of the ruby?’
‘There is one possibility that the words “true nature” could imply that the stolen ruby was a fake, paste in fact, and Charteris knew it. And someone else has known it for over thirty years. We need to find out who the other keeper of the secret is. This copy from a list for 1857 includes the name of Charteris as well as that of a Lieutenant Sandarson, with both gazetted to the same regiment.’
Holmes began to send out messages to his many informants close to the criminal world. At first when I learnt of the way in which he consorted with some of the worst elements of our society I was appalled. However, Holmes assured me that such intercourse was sometimes the only way to elicit clues.
‘Just as in our law-abiding society, gossip is the lifeblood of many, so in the criminal world there is gossip. From that gossip we can learn much,’ was his reply to my reservations.
Two days later Holmes was able to say, ‘Sandarson is definitely associated with Charteris. He is now Sir Edward Sandarson Bart KCB. He is the same who discovered – or was it looted? – the jewels in 1857. He is one of those seemingly very respectable men who sail extremely close to the legal wind. He is, so I understand from my information, another Moriarty. However, on a much smaller scale.’
‘Important news indeed, Holmes. Am I right in summing up what we know to be able to say that both Charteris and Sandarson have known all along that the ruby was paste?’
‘That is certainly so. Yet why did Sandarson commission a very professional burglar to seize the ruby knowing full well that it was of little value? Another matter, why wait for s
o many years after the Mutiny? Well, there may be an answer in Small’s unsent letters. There are still some sheets that I have yet to study. Of course, it could be that I am maligning Sandarson and he has had nothing to do with the affair. Nevertheless, given his undoubted unsavoury associates, he has to remain a suspect.’
At breakfast next morning I waited to hear if Holmes, who had been up for most of the night, had found another clue.
‘I have these telegraph messages, Watson, that were with the papers on Small’s table. They are addressed to him. At first I did not think they provided much information. They were from Prescott instructing Small to be at the Chelsea address at certain times. What I had failed to realize at first was that the telegraph office that originated the message was not Chelsea, but Tunbridge Wells.’
‘That suggests Prescott was away on some business in Tunbridge Wells. Up to no good, no doubt.’
‘The significance of where the telegrams came from is found when you consider that Sir Edward’s address is “Lucknow”, Fordcombe near Tunbridge Wells. At the time, I did not relate the word luck with a capital L that I found on one of the scraps of paper with the name of a place.
‘Now listen to this, Watson, I have been able to bring together enough incomplete letters and sentences to deduce that Small advised Prescott or Sandarson that Charteris’s affairs were the responsibility of a relative who had been given power of attorney. Charteris is no longer capable of understanding the world around him. The list on the back of one of the papers is that of the documents in the Charteris bundle. Among the items is a reference to a sealed envelope that on the death of Charteris had to be passed to the commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. When Sandarson or Prescott, or both, were told about the envelope they must have realized that it could contain a confession, one that would expose the crimes of others. Assuming that Charteris might die at any moment, Sandarson persuaded Prescott to commit the burglary at Brighton. By removing the paste ruby it was hoped that it would not be possible to say one way or the other that it was real or a fake.’
Sherlock Holmes at the Breakfast Table Page 4