Sherlock Holmes at the Breakfast Table

by L. F. E. Coombs

  After supper Holmes sat at the big table used for his chemical and forensic experiments. An hour passed before he exclaimed, ‘Watson, I think I have come closer to our man! The ash is that of a Bengal Thin cheroot. Until now I’ve yet to find anyone in this country who smokes them. However, now we have the major who more than likely acquired a liking for them in India. In the morning I shall repair to Salmon and Gluckstein in Piccadilly. If anyone has a Bengal Thin it will be they. Now for this blank page from the cabinet maker’s order book. Will you assist me, please?’

  Holmes selected from one of the many flasks on the table one containing a black powder.

  ‘I say, Holmes, you are not going to use that carbon powder? It gets everywhere and Mrs Hudson will not be too pleased. It will mean that our meals will be served without comment and may not be very appetizing for at least a week.’

  Nevertheless, Holmes was always ready to incur Mrs Hudson’s wrath in the interests of science. As instructed, I carefully poured the powder down the surface of the paper. Gradually an address emerged.

  ‘There it is. I can just make out the Archers Grantchester. That’s enough. We now know the cupboard was consigned to Grantchester and it is more than likely that is where the thief, who may be the major, set off for the laboratory.’

  ‘Not much to go on, surely, Holmes. Who are the archers?’

  ‘Not who but what. It is the name of a grand house, and immediately we have another confirmation that Moriarty is behind all this. When I was up at Cambridge a fellow student was Guy de Beaumaine, whose distant ancestor had waded ashore with William the Norman. One lovely afternoon we took a punt upstream to Grantchester. Beaumaine had invited us to tea at ten to three at the Archers. We were accompanied by none other than Moriarty, who at that time was our tutor. In those years, before he turned to crime, he was a renowned academic.’

  ‘That suggests that Moriarty has some hold over Beaumaine and, as you say, it was from the Archers that he and the major set out for the laboratory.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly. I imagine my commonplace book may provide a clue in that direction. By the way, the name is often pronounced “bowmen”. You see the connection between the name and the name of the house?’

  ‘Not really. However, if you say so, Holmes.’

  Holmes gave a resigned shrug and did not reply.

  He took down one of the thick books, each full of cuttings from newspapers and journals as well as letters and other ephemera. For over an hour he pored over book after book. Suddenly he jumped up, waving one of the books, and said, ‘I have it. There are a number of reports of Beaumaine losing large sums when gambling. One newspaper item from the past suggested that the estate had been heavily mortgaged at one time. A favourite device of Moriarty is to encourage the scions of noble and rich families into gambling. He then takes over their debts and thereby is able to keep such a strong hold on them that they cannot resist helping in some criminal activity. Remember Beaumaine holds an important government position, as do others who have been weak and foolish. I am certain that, through one of them, Moriarty has been able to learn about the concentrator.’

  The next morning, to the surprise of a passing policeman and a road sweeper, Holmes was standing against the doorway of the cigar and cigarette shop at 7.30, a time when few gentleman would be expected to be about. The mention of Inspector Lestrade’s name was sufficient to satisfy the constable that he was not loitering with intent. As soon as the shop was opened, and even before the manager had time in which to light the small gas jet on the counter, he was inside.

  ‘Good morning,’ said he.

  ‘Good day to you, sir,’ replied the manager. ‘You are a very early customer.’

  ‘For good reason. I need urgently to find some Bengal Thin cheroots. I believe your reputation is such that you will have some.’

  The manager lit the small gas jet on the counter and pondered the question.

  ‘Let me think. Ah, do you know that it was only about two weeks back that a gentleman bought ten bundles. In fact they were nearly all we had. I have had to send for more in case he pays another visit.’

  ‘Excellent. Now, can you describe the man?’

  ‘Difficult. We have over a hundred customers each day. Admittedly I and my assistant – he’s late again – know the regulars, of course. The purchaser of the cheroots was not one of the regulars.’

  ‘Perhaps I might help you. Was he very tall and very thin and had a swarthy complexion and a dark moustache?’

  ‘Why yes, I do recall him. He lit one of the cheroots and I noticed that he had to step well back from the counter so that he could bend to reach the flame.’

  ‘He took the cheroots with him?’

  ‘Well, no, he asked me to send them to his hotel.’

  ‘As I had hoped. May I see your delivery book? By the way, you say he bought nearly all the cheroots.’

  ‘It so happens, sir, I do have some among these odd ones in the drawer. Here they are.’

  ‘I should like to have a few. How much?’

  ‘To you, Mr Holmes, nothing.’

  ‘You know who I am?’

  ‘Of course. Some years ago you came into the shop and to my surprise bought one of every brand of cigar, and samples of all the different cigarettes. Later Inspector Lestrade of the Yard was inquiring about some cigars found at the scene of a crime and he mentioned that you had written a small book about how to identify tobacco ash.’

  The name and address in the cigar shop delivery book led Holmes and I to Green’s Hotel in Buckingham Palace Road. The manager immediately recalled a Mr Millard staying there.

  ‘A most difficult guest. He browbeat my staff into letting him have a room even though he had sent no telegraphed request. At the time we were very full because we abut onto the Royal Society of Science. The members were holding their annual founder’s day ceremonies.’

  ‘Most interesting. Can you recall anything else about him?’

  ‘He is not likely to be forgotten. I caught him in an, er, well you know, embarrassing situation with one of the chambermaids. She had to go. We have a reputation to maintain.’

  ‘Anything else. Did he smoke?’

  ‘The housekeeper showed me the dreadful state in which he had left his room. There was cigar ash everywhere and the grate was full of stubs. She had had to open the windows in order to clear the room of the strong smell of his tobacco.’

  ‘Cheroots, no doubt!’ said Holmes.

  In the secretary’s office at the society, Holmes produced the letter that had been sent to the professor at Cambridge.

  ‘Is that your signature or indeed did you write this letter?’

  ‘It is a reasonable facsimile of my signature. However, this is certainly nonsense. I never wrote such a letter. The society has not planned to award the professor with any gift delivered to his laboratory. The fact of the matter is that, yes, we have planned a ceremony to honour him, but it will take place here and later in the year.’

  ‘How was the society’s headed paper obtained?’ was Holmes’ next question.

  ‘Not too difficult. There is headed paper and envelopes on the desks in the members’ reading room.’

  ‘Does the doorkeeper know the members by sight?’

  ‘The majority, I should say. They have to sign the register when they come in.’

  ‘On founder’s day I presume there were many guests?’

  ‘Many.’

  ‘So the staff would not be surprised to see a stranger in the reading room?’

  ‘Not really. On that day, of course, some of the members were staying at Green’s and the passageway connecting us with the hotel is open to allow the waiters to move between the hotel kitchens and our banquet.’

  In our discussion on the way back to Baker Street, I suggested, ‘Undoubtedly Millard is or was Tresscot-Jones and he stole the society’s headed paper and envelopes without difficulty. Do you not agree?’

  ‘Yes, that appears so.’

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nbsp; ‘It seems we have reached a point in the case at which it is difficult to see a way ahead,’ said I. ‘I suppose we have to decide now between looking for the concentrator or the thief. Do we pursue the object or the man?’

  ‘In many ways, Watson, the concentrator is the more important. However, the man might lead us to the object. Yet the concentrator will not necessarily be with Tresscot-Jones. Without doubt Moriarty is behind all this. Why was the major in Meadborough on the day after the robbery?’ He reached for his pipe and thought for a moment before saying, ‘Of course, the town is on the line from Cambridge and not far from Grantchester. We are faced with the possibility that the concentrator is either with the major or it is still at the Archers. Although the major did not appear to have it with him when we happened to watch him from the train. So it is either at the Archers or somewhere between Grantchester and Meadborough. The question is, where. He left no instructions at the hotel about forwarding any letters.’

  When we got back to Baker Street, Lestrade was waiting for us. Holmes gave him a résumé of our visit to the hotel.

  ‘I agree with your reconstruction,’ said the inspector. ‘As you requested I have been in touch with the police at Meadborough about the man who was found murdered. They told me that he was a well-known local character who was, more often than not, the worse for drink. He had a habit of accosting strangers begging for money. Unlucky for him he may have accosted, of all people, the major. So far they have found no trace of him.’

  We arrived in Grantchester. Lestrade was armed with authorization from the Home Secretary that ensured access to any premises and the right to call upon the help of any police force.

  ‘I suggest we enquire at the station first,’ said Holmes. ‘We cannot march up to the Archers and demand that the premises be searched. Moriarty is too wily for that. He will have hidden his prize somewhere else.’

  ‘Agreed,’ responded Lestrade.

  At the station, when Holmes described our quarry to the booking office clerk, he replied, ‘Yes, sir, on that day I do remember a man looking like that who bought a ticket to London via Cambridge.’

  ‘Did he have a bag with him?’ asked Lestrade.

  ‘Can’t really say.’

  ‘Can you recall anything else?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘Well, come to think of it, I was surprised to find a gentleman buying a ticket at that time of the morning. Not many gentlemen come for a train at six in the morning.’

  ‘Now, are you sure that he was alone?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘Yes, very sure.’

  ‘Another question – did you see him get into a train?’

  ‘Sorry. You see, it’s always very busy at that time of a morning. There are always a lot of workmen and also women taking fruit and vegetables to market. Both platforms get crowded. We get both an up and down train stopping at the same time.’

  ‘At the same time, you say. Most interesting.’

  ‘Ah, wait a minute. There’s another odd thing. After he had gone, two gentlemen came and asked me if a tall thin man had caught a train that morning. They also wanted to know where he had booked to.’

  ‘Now this is very important,’ said Holmes. ‘Was one of the two men very large?’

  ‘Quite right, sir, he was a very big man.’

  ‘Thank you very much. You have been most helpful.’

  Holmes spent some time studying the timetable before saying, ‘I believe that he may have crossed the bridge when the train to Cambridge arrived in order to get to the other platform and board the Meadborough train and not the one to Cambridge. The two trains, according to the timetable and as the booking clerk mentioned, happen to cross at that time of the morning. It was not us who he was trying to throw off the scent. He was leading a false trail for Moriarty.’

  ‘Why should he want to do that?’ I remarked.

  ‘It could be that he sneaked out of the Archers at dawn carrying the concentrator. Do not you agree, Lestrade?’

  ‘Yes, that’s quite likely. The major may have suddenly decided to leave in a hurry because he had thought of a devious plan of his own to outwit Moriarty. He was double-crossing the others.’

  ‘Double-crossing, I understand, is some criminal jargon that has entered the language in recent years,’ said Holmes.

  On the assumption that the major was in Meadborough and that he may have had an accomplice waiting for him, we travelled there and inquired at the town’s two hotels. At the temperance hotel, to our surprise, because it was an unlikely place to be visited by an ex-army officer, the manager remembered the major.

  ‘Yes, a Millard stayed here on that date.’

  ‘You are certain?’ asked Lestrade.

  ‘Certainly. Here is the register. I also recall that he smoked in bed. There was ash all over the room.’

  ‘Cheroots, no doubt. Did he have any luggage when he first arrived?’

  ‘Well, he only had a Gladstone bag. He said his other luggage had been deposited at the station.’

  ‘Very interesting,’ said Holmes. ‘Our man seems to depend a lot on the railway, and that supports the idea that all along he intended to outwit his accomplices.’

  The manager turned to a shelf and said, ‘He may come back to collect these gloves. Or he may have discarded them because they are not very clean.’

  ‘May I see them?’

  Holmes examined them closely, sniffed at them, and said, ‘If he returns it is most important that you inform the police. This is Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard – he will confirm what I say.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lestrade, ‘and it is most important that you do not mention that we have been here. He is a dangerous man.’

  We stood outside the hotel debating our next move. Holmes said, ‘Now we have to consider where the major may have left the concentrator, or even consigned it to an accomplice. The most likely place to look, I suggest, is at the station. He may have decided to send it by train to somewhere else for collection.’

  We went across the market square to the station opposite the hotel.

  ‘There is a good chance,’ said Holmes, ‘that what we are after is in the left luggage office. Of course we may be too late and it has already gone. Lestrade, this is where you come in. Use your powers to have all the bags examined. We need not concern ourselves with any that are less than two feet in length.’

  After an hour nothing was found. The porter who was helping us muttered, ‘lucky we ain’t doing this in the West station. They’ve three times this lot.’

  ‘Watson, you’re the one who’s supposed to know all about railways,’ said Holmes. ‘Why did you not speak up?’

  ‘I assumed, like you, my dear fellow, that it would be here. The hotelier did not specify which station. But this is the closest. However, it so happens I am well aware that there are four stations for this town: South, West, Central and Meadborough Road. You see, in the fifties and sixties the town’s people strongly supported a number of railway bills that would connect them to the outside world. Three companies entered into cut-throat competition and—’

  Holmes interrupted me saying, ‘Yes, yes, the names of the stations will suffice. We will now try the West station if that is the next nearest.’

  Once more, a searching of bags took place. This time, however, Holmes had only been inside the luggage office for a minute or two when he pounced on a cricket bag, saying, ‘This looks like it.’

  After insisting that the station staff leave the office, the bag was opened. Sufficient to record that that was the end of the quest for the Boswell Concentrator. However, we still had to trace the perpetrators of the crime. And that is another story.

  We three, who between us had recovered one of the nation’s most precious secrets, were relaxing after a splendid ‘victory’ dinner in the dining car of the southbound express. Holmes and Lestrade were going over the facts and events. There were still some unanswered questions.

  ‘Why,’ asked Lestrade, ‘did you go straightaway to the cricket bag at
the West station, Mr Holmes?’

  ‘The gloves, the gloves. You remember the manager of the hotel drew attention to the marks on the discarded gloves. Well, my nose detected linseed oil. At the time I was not sure it was important. Not until we were among the luggage and saw a cricket bag did I apply the clue. The major must have found the bag in the house and decided that it would make an unobtrusive way of carrying the concentrator. Also he must have used a cloth that had been wrapped round the cricket bats to protect the concentrator. They must have been recently oiled, and when he threw them out to make room some of the oil must have got onto his gloves.’

  ‘Your nose saved us much time.’

  Holmes tapped his nose and said, ‘It can be most useful on occasions to be a human bloodhound.’

  I raised the matter of Beaumaine and his part in the affair. We all agreed that he would be arrested and that because of his high position in government the resulting scandal would precipitate a political crisis. As for Moriarty and the major, they were, unfortunately, still at large.

  My attention began to wander. The soft roar of an express speeding through the night and noise of the wheels all added to the effects of the claret and brandy. The voices of my companions faded and faded.…

  Diamonds at Sea

  Or

  The Missing Bridesmaid

  In which the Baker Street Irregulars play an important part.

  When looking through the notes of Holmes’ investigations, one is faced with many which present strange and interesting events, so that it is difficult to know which to choose and which to leave aside. Mindful of the criticism of the manner in which some have been narrated, a careful choice has had to be made. Some cases appear to have baffled his analytical skills and therefore should not be published; particularly if they have had no obvious beginning and no end. Some would have their explanations founded upon conjecture alone, and on surmise, rather than on the logical proof which Holmes considered absolutely essential.