The next day was what I term a ‘chemical day’. That is one during which Holmes busies himself with retorts and other apparatus on the long table at the back of the sitting room. Mrs Hudson had long ago abandoned the table’s once highly polished surface to the ravages of the noxious chemicals with which Holmes experimented. Unable to suffer the fumes any longer, I went for a walk in Regent’s Park. On my return I found the chemical experiments abandoned and Holmes was deep in thought as he reclined in his favourite chair. The chemical fumes were now replaced by those from his pipe. His opening remark revived the Rainbow stone affair.
‘The reluctance of many of the cooks and others to divulge the contents of their pantries suggests a visit to the high-class grocers that serve the area.’
When we arrived in St John’s Wood, we enquired at each of the grocers whether there was anything unusual among the regular deliveries they made. One of the grocers provided a clue.
‘Now you mention it, sir, there are them jars like what I’ve got to deliver every month.’
‘May I see one,’ asked Holmes.
‘’Fraid not, sir, they’ve all been and gone out two weeks or so back.’
‘To whom did you send them?’
The grocer leafed through his delivery book and took out a sheet of foolscap.
‘Here’s the list for this month.’
At the sight of the now familiar ducal crest at the head of the list, Holmes exclaimed, ‘A light at the end of the tunnel! A cause yet not a reason. This is interesting. Look, Watson, one name has been crossed off from the list of ten.’
‘Surely a grocer’s delivery list is of little consequence?’ I commented as we drove back to Baker Street.
‘Of greater consequence than you might imagine,’ was the reply.
Lestrade was awaiting our return and was somewhat surprised to be told that he need not expect any more pantry burglaries in St John’s Wood.
‘Now, now, Mr Holmes, even though I respect your powers of detection and deduction, I cannot believe you can be certain that our man has suddenly repented of his criminal ways.’
‘He may not have repented even if he has, indeed, completed the task he was set. A task that I suspect has been ordered by that master of crime, our old friend Professor Moriarty. As we speak he and his minions have spirited away the stolen jars to some lair where the contents can be searched.’
We were all attention on hearing the great detective’s conclusion.
‘You mean the jars stolen in St John’s Wood?’
‘Yes, Inspector, jars of preserve or, rather, marmalade.’
Through his network of street urchins and others, Holmes was usually able to trace the movements of criminals as they moved about the Great Wen. Accompanied by some of the larger members of the constabulary, Holmes, Lestrade and myself burst into a filthy lair, in a filthy rickety house, on the edge of the river in a noisome part of the capital. In the dim light we could just discern the figure of a big, tall man with his back to the window. In front of him on a table were some white stone jars and the discarded oiled paper seals each with its Tarrant Parva crest.
‘Moriarty, if I am not mistaken. We’ve caught you with your sticky fingers in an even sticker mess. Seize him, Constables,’ shouted Holmes.
Before any of us could get round the table, Moriarty appeared to vanish. One second he was there, the next he had, with surprising agility for such a massive body, gained the open window. There was the sound of a splash and squelching of mud and he was gone.
‘I trust you and your men are fond of marmalade, Lestrade, because what I am seeking may be in one of those jars.’
‘What are we looking for, Mr Holmes?’
‘Something about the size of a sparrow’s egg. Now, let me see, how many jars are there? Ah, yes, there are only nine.’
Nothing was found. At the nearest telegraph office, Holmes sent a simple message to Tarrant Parva. It read: ‘Look in the tenth jar.’
The duchess got her diamond back. The duke heard nothing of the affair. Lestrade remained unaware of how close he had been to affairs of state. The inspector at Wimborne trembled every time a letter came from the Home Secretary. He hardly dare speak to anyone lest he inadvertently divulged the secret of Tarrant Parva.
Holmes settled back and proceeded to summarize the steps that led to the recovery of the Rainbow diamond. As was his custom when summarizing a case, his fingertips touched together under his chin. Each point in the case was emphasized by the parting of his hands.
‘Every month the duchess sent a jar of her very special marmalade to each member of the Cabinet. Sometimes a member would not be listed because this was a sign of her disapproval of his actions or lack of action. You see, the key to the mystery was the relationship between the dates of what might have seemed to be unrelated events. Now it is important to realize that the precious jewel was removed on the first day of the month. On the third day the grocer distributed the jars in accordance with the duchess’s list. On the fourth day the pantry burglaries started. Nine days later occurred the last of the attempts to secure one of the jars. A minor clue was the grocer’s distribution list on which I observed that one name of the ten had been crossed out. Recourse to an earlier copy of The Times revealed that a member of the government had resigned a month before. Therefore, the grocer had been sent only nine jars for the month.
‘When Sykes was confronted and cornered in the preserves room he managed to thrust the diamond into one of the open jars of marmalade. These were being allowed to cool before being sealed. The next day the girls responsible for securing the jars, packing them in a wicker basket and despatching them to the station carried out their tasks unaware that one of the jars might have held such a valuable jewel. You will recall, no doubt, the size and the noncommittal manner of the coachman at Tarrant Parva. That was Moriarty. I suspected from the beginning that he would be the instigator of the robbery. His plan had gone awry because, presumably, he had intended that Sykes, his accomplice, would have been undetected and been able to hand over the diamond. And, of course the vicious attack made upon us may have been instigated by Moriarty. Although for the time being I cannot think what his real intention was, other than to injure us.
‘Moriarty somehow may have gained access to Sykes before the latter was removed to London. Or he was outside looking in through the window and saw the diamond being secreted in one of the jars. He was unable to intercept the basket of jars because both the carter and the railway officials were extremely vigilant. Any mishap to the basket would bring down the wrath of Tarrant Parva on their heads. Eventually he traced the destination of the precious cargo. However, it was too late: the grocer had distributed the jars.’
I interrupted the story: ‘Holmes, there is something missing in your reconstruction of events. Surely the diamond could have been discovered at any time after the third day when the marmalade was being taken from the jar at a breakfast table in one of the houses?’
‘A good point, Watson. I am pleased that you have followed my reasoning so attentively. The answer lies with the relationship between the duchess and the Cabinet. You will recall that in her sitting room there were many books on fruit growing and preserving, and an open copy of Beeton’s book on household management and cookery. However, I suggest you failed to notice also that there were as many on law and on our unwritten constitution. The duchess has long been known as the “power behind the duke”. Were it not for the equivalent of the Salic Law in our political world, she might even have become First Lord of the Treasury. She indicated her approval or disapproval of decisions taken by a member of the Cabinet by the sending or withholding of a jar of her homemade marmalade. Each month the arrival of the stone jar with the ducal crest signified approval. Its absence would prompt a telegram to Tarrant Parva apologizing or seeking an explanation. No doubt you observed the apron hanging in the preserves room and the books in the duchess’s sitting room that suggested she prepared the marmalade with her own hands. You migh
t say the Cabinet was tied to her apron strings. A further imposition on each member was the strict injunction that under no circumstances must each month’s jar be opened before the twentieth day of the month. That is why, Watson, the diamond could remain undetected until that date. The recipe was kept a secret even from her own servants. As is your nature, you expressed concern over the mark of a whip or crop on the face of the maid in one of the houses. I deduced later that she had been caught helping herself to the special marmalade.’
Again I interrupted the reconstruction of events.
‘Why did you smell and touch the grass outside one of the houses in St John’s Wood?’
‘Only because my eye caught sight of a glistening substance. The aroma of oranges and my sticky finger suggested that whoever had come over the wall had dropped some marmalade. I confess, Watson, that among all the investigations with which I have been involved never has such a seemingly small observation proved so difficult to relate to other facts. Indeed I even went as far as dismissing it from my mind. And then when studying a map of roads around Tarrant Parva, I noticed that on the direct route between the Station Hotel and the lodge gates there was the Orange Tree Inn. Perhaps Moriarty, knowing my powers of observation and that the inn sign could provide a clue, deliberately took us on a circuitous route and was not, as we first assumed, lost. However, on reflection, I am inclined to believe that that would have been too clever, even for him. I should have mentioned that it was likely that whoever the burglar was knew what might have been in one of the jars, and tried to get at the diamond and outwit Moriarty. Hence the traces of marmalade.’
I then mentioned the sticky end to the search.
‘Holmes, the Rainbow stone was not found in the marmalade in Wapping.’
He gave one of his knowing smiles and said, ‘Because it never left Tarrant Parva. The laws of probability decreed that there was a one in ten chance that it was in a particular jar. It was, and the particular one was the unsent tenth residing on the shelf in the preserves room. Had the particular minister not resigned then we may never have seen the diamond again.’
A few days after the end of the affair, a messenger arrived from Tarrant Parva. He handed over a handsome cheque along with a large hamper, inside of which were enough jars of the duchess’s marmalade to last for many weeks.
The Deerstalker
In which a cricket bag holds a clue.
Holmes and I were on our way back to London. We were seated in one of the sumptuous first class compartments of the Central British Railway. Whenever the train stopped at a station I observed very closely the people on the platform. My reason for doing so was to anticipate that moment when Holmes would suddenly say, for example, ‘Do you remember that commercial traveller we saw at so and so? You noted, no doubt, that his business was in the seed trade?’ I was often mortified by appearing to be so unobservant that I made every effort to become as skilful as Holmes.
Holmes directed my attention to a man walking along the platform of a provincial town station at which the train had stopped.
‘It is incredible, Watson, the lengths to which a man will go to adorn his person with some strange item of dress. Look at that absurd headgear. It has a peak both back and front and ear flaps tied together on top.’
For once had I discovered a flaw in my friend’s encyclopaedic collection of information?
‘Holmes, surely you recognize a deerstalker’s cap?’
‘Come to think of it, I have seen one before. I still say it is an odd hat to wear in this part of the country where there are few, if any, wild deer. Nevertheless, it is far too eccentric for my tastes.’
Of course, I was not certain whether or not one of my legs was being pulled.
As the guard blew his whistle there was a commotion at the ticket barrier. A tall man dressed in a frock-coat and carrying his hat was forcing his way past the railway officials, who were trying to restrain him. He burst free just as two policemen appeared. The train had started to move. I leaned out of the window and watched the presumably ‘wanted man’ run alongside the train, wrench a door open and fall into the compartment next to ours. We heard the bang as the door was shut.
‘He’s in the next compartment!’ exclaimed Holmes. ‘For a gentleman to be in such a hurry to escape the law suggests a major crime has been committed.’
‘Should we pull the communication cord and stop the train?’
‘No, Watson. If we do that he will no doubt jump out and disappear. Better he stays where he is. The next stop is not for another twenty minutes. No doubt his presence on the train will have been telegraphed ahead.’
As the train sped on its way, Holmes sat in deep thought. His thin fingers were pressed together under his chin. I was not sure what facts needed to be gathered about the tall man.
‘Have you reached any conclusions about the man in a hurry, Holmes?’
‘All we have is a supposed criminal. We need a crime before we can reach any positive conclusions.’
‘We may not know of the crime yet we can reach some conclusions straightaway.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Holmes.
‘Simple deduction, as you would say. Our subject has a robust constitution. He is, or was, most likely an officer in the army and has spent many years east of Suez.’
I could see that Holmes was taken aback. Never before had I ventured opinions from so few facts with such obvious assurance.
‘My dear fellow, I can appreciate why you say he has a robust constitution because of the speed and agility with which he gained the train. However, your surmise about the army and the years in the east?’
‘Fairly simple. I might even say elementary, except that word is far too common among writers of detective stories. I will tell you. Firstly his handkerchief was half out of his sleeve. Officers, such as myself, had no pockets in their uniforms in which to stow a handkerchief. And so at one time he certainly held the Queen’s commission. Secondly, his swarthy and raddled complexion exhibited the ravages of the diseases and fevers to which so many white men, including at one time myself, are subject in hot and humid climates.’
‘I must admit that I have to agree with your deductions, Watson.’
As the train began to slow down on the approach to the next stop, we looked out of the window. As expected, the door of the next compartment swung open. Before the train reached the platform, the supposed criminal leapt out and disappeared into the bushes alongside the line. Some policemen who had, as we had anticipated, been alerted by the telegraph, were waiting on the platform. Holmes beckoned one of them.
‘Constable, your man has slipped away before we came to the platform. That is if he is the tall one-time army officer who has served in the east.’
‘Are you a friend of his, sir? You seems to know rather a lot about ’im.’
‘Certainly not. I am just expressing opinions based on facts.’
‘I advise you, sir, to keep your ’pinions to yourself and let us decide.’
Holmes was not best pleased at being rebuffed.
A few days after the event of the fleeing man, Holmes was reading the proceedings of the Royal Society of Science.
‘I’m reading a most interesting report. You may also find it so.’
‘What is it about?’
‘A Professor Heinrich Hertz of Karlsruhe Polytechnic has demonstrated that electric waves can be reflected, refracted, diffracted and polarized in the same way as light. The other day at the Royal Society he demonstrated these effects. I confess to failing to understand the principles involved. Nevertheless, I can appreciate that they may lead scientists along entirely new paths of discovery.’
‘Most intriguing,’ I replied, ‘although I cannot really grasp the concept of electric waves.’
Some time later I was startled from my reverie by a loud exclamation from Holmes. ‘I say, what a coincidence! Having just read of this Professor Hertz and his waves, I am now reading about a disturbance at a Cambridge laboratory in which th
e name Hertz is mentioned. So what can we make of that?’
‘As you say, a coincidence. It may be nothing more than that.’
A few mornings later, I found Holmes sprawled in his chair. His countenance displayed the effects of the strong narcotic with which he had injected himself. As usual I had tried to dissuade him from drugging himself. For over a week there had been few calls upon him to exercise his deductive powers. A lack of intellectual activity made him irritable and subdued. Mrs Hudson entered and, with a resigned look at the wreck of a man by the fire, she said, ‘Doctor, there are two gentlemen insisting that they speak to Mr Holmes. What shall I tell them?’
‘You will have to say that he is not available for a consultation.’
‘I cannot lie.’
‘You will not have to. Now help me get him into his room. You can then say that he is not here: that is to say, in this room. Which indeed he will not be.’
Once Holmes was out of the way, Mrs Hudson showed the visitors into the famous room that served as study, sitting room, dining room and laboratory.
‘Good morning, gentlemen, I am sorry that Mr Holmes cannot meet you today,’ said I. ‘If you will state your business I will let him know and then I am sure he will communicate with you. I am Doctor Watson, his confidant in all matters obtaining to his investigatory practice.’
The two men exchanged glances. One shook his head and said, ‘Doctor Watson, we appreciate from all that we know about Mr Holmes and his work that you are indeed a most trustworthy keeper of secrets. However, our commission involves matters concerning the safety of the realm and it states most specifically that no one, including you, may be party to what we have to discuss with Mr Holmes. I can assure you that, as such, no aspersion is cast upon your character. Under the circumstances therefore all we ask you to do when Mr Holmes returns is to impress upon him that we must speak to him. It is not only most important that we do so, it must be as soon as possible. Even a day’s delay may prove disastrous. Please request him to telegraph us as soon as he has read this letter. Our address is on the envelope.’
Sherlock Holmes at the Breakfast Table Page 9