Thirty-Nine Steps from Baker Street

by J. R. Trtek

  “Of course. You’ll be wanting your package, then. It arrived last week.”

  “Ah, good!” declared Holmes. “Yes, I was rather hoping to present it to Herr Von Bork this evening.”

  “I will go inside and fetch it,” said Arbuthnot.

  “A competent sort,” I remarked as the young man vanished within Holmes’s cottage. “And rather dashing in the bargain.”

  “Yes. The man’s entry into the Secret Service was most fortuitous,” said my friend. “His father went to Harrow with Bullivant, and then by chance Sandy became acquainted with Bullivant’s son, who often brought Arbuthnot to Sir Walter’s place in Berkshire for fishing. The spymaster is ever keen to snare promising recruits for his profession, and he quickly persuaded young Sandy to join the brotherhood of agents.”

  “Bullivant has a son?” I asked. “He has never mentioned the boy to me.”

  “Well, of course, he’s a young man now and not a boy,” replied Holmes. “And I suspect that Sir Walter has failed to refer to him out of a superstitious bent.”

  “What?”

  “Sir Walter’s son is a spy as well, old fellow. In this instance, the elder Bullivant was not happy with his offspring’s choice of career, but the son was determined to follow in his father’s footsteps. Currently, I understand Bullivant fils to be in Ottoman territory—on a rather dangerous assignment, no doubt. According to Mycroft, Bullivant never refers to his son because he believes to do so would bring bad luck of a most fatal sort.”

  “I see.”

  Just then, Arbuthnot emerged from the cottage carrying a parcel of wrapping paper and string. He handed it to Holmes, who held it in both hands as he thanked the young man.

  “Is ‘Martha’ about?” the detective asked.

  “No, sir. The old one left yesterday and the new one is to arrive later today. Shall I tell her the play is over before she assumes the stage?”

  “Yes, you might as well do so. The real Martha will be returning within a day or two, I expect.”

  “I shall stay until then, of course,” said Arbuthnot, “and then depart once she’s back here on the grounds. I hope she will find the place sufficiently tidy for her tastes.”

  “We will see,” Holmes replied with a sly smile.

  The two engaged in short conversation regarding the apiary, and then Holmes and I departed, taking the road back through Foulworth and then off to the northeast, heading for Von Bork’s headquarters.

  “Your comments regarding Martha confuse me,” I admitted as we left the village behind. “Your housekeeper was not in evidence, and you referred to a ‘new’ one and an ‘old’ one.”

  “True,” said Holmes. “You see, for the past two years, Martha has been fulfilling her usual duties not for me, but rather for Von Bork.”

  “What?”

  “It was of advantage to have one of our people at Von Bork’s residence at all times, and what better person for that purpose than a housekeeper?”

  “But to ask Martha—”

  “And why not ask Martha?” said Holmes. “She is crafty and calculating in her way, and she has never been in any danger. It was all managed before Von Bork ever met me as Altamount. A position at the German’s residence came up, and Mycroft arranged matters so that Martha was the only one who applied to Von Bork.”

  “That was very deft.”

  “And very Mycroft,” added Holmes. “The Germans have been quite happy with her, by the way. Indeed, I believe she is now the only servant left in the house—Von Bork has slowly been reducing his help in Essex, which suggests that he is preparing to return to Germany.”

  “That would seem rather ominous,” I observed.

  “Quite so. In any event, Von Bork views her as quite harmless.” He chuckled. “Martha has even overheard another German saying that she personifies Britain, with a complete self-absorption and air of ‘comfortable somnolence.’ Ha! They shall rue that comment, I tell you.”

  “But if Martha has been at Von Bork’s house these many months, you must have had an impersonator for her at your cottage as well. That was the meaning of your references to ‘old’ and ‘new’ Marthas, then?”

  “Yes,” said Holmes. “Several women have assumed her identity in Sussex over the past two years, each taking turns in the charade. Bullivant’s agents are not always limited to our gender, Watson.”

  “I see.”

  “There is another small revelation I must make,” said Holmes, now in a somewhat lighter disposition than before. “Given our earlier contretemps regarding your embrace of the motorcar, I have been somewhat reluctant to broach the subject.”

  “I am eager to hear it, then.”

  “Well, as you know, I have been posing as the Irish-American Altamount, and in that guise passing supposed secrets on to Von Bork.”

  “You are now sounding rather like me,” I said puckishly. “Let me hear the real Sherlock Holmes: direct and to the point.”

  “Von Bork and I employ an automotive code,” revealed the detective. “To outsiders, I pretend to act as a motor expert—I say, is something the matter?” cried Holmes as the vehicle swerved.

  “All is well,” I replied, turning the car back onto the road. “I was merely taken aback by your words. I believe I am now prepared for the rest. Pray, proceed.”

  “Well,” said Holmes, “my telegrams to Von Bork employ a code related to motors. In the code, everything likely to come up is named after some motorcar part. Thus, a radiator is a battleship, an oil pump a cruiser, and so on. This morning, I wired Von Bork to tell him that I would come to him tonight bringing new spark plugs, which is code for naval signals.”

  “I see. And so, in a way, you have accommodated the motor age as well.”

  “My dear Watson, I was never opposed to it.”

  “As you wish,” I replied. “But I was also going to ask if you think that my presence in this automobile will arouse suspicions on the part of the Germans. Jack James has been your chauffeur in the past, and the vehicle was his taxicab rather than this one.”

  “Ah,” interjected Holmes. “Do not worry. I have a compelling explanation for the change.”

  The sun was near setting as we continued toward Von Bork’s seaside headquarters, and after a long period of silence, I idly asked Holmes, “However did you choose to enlist Jack James?”

  “I did not choose him, Watson. Rather, he chose me.”

  “How so?”

  “I have already related how I began my pilgrimage as Altamount by travelling to Chicago before I was enlisted into an Irish secret society at Buffalo. I then sailed back across the Atlantic and gave serious trouble to the constabulary at Skibbereen, where I caught the eye of a subordinate agent of Von Bork, who recommended me as a likely man—the rest becoming recent history.

  “Gradually, I gained the German’s upmost confidence, and from that vantage point have guided his plans into going subtly wrong at every turn. As part of that process, I quietly arranged the capture and imprisonment of his three best agents, whom I persuaded Von Bork to replace, in turn, with Hollins, Steiner, and James.

  “All that would have gone undone, however, had it not been for the last man mentioned: Jack James. You see, Watson, shortly after arriving at Chicago over two years ago, I unwittingly ran afoul of a local gang who would have seen fit to make me vanish beneath the waters of Lake Michigan had young James not provided me shelter. I will omit the details and merely relate that, in the course of saving my life, he learnt the details of my mission and eagerly sought to become part of it.”

  “Out of a sense of adventure?” I suggested.

  “Yes, much like your innkeeper, Ewan Clark. The American had me over a barrel, as it were, and I was forced to take him on. And he has earned his place after the fact, I must say.”96

  “What will become of him now, do you think?”

  “Oh, Mycroft has arranged for his passage back to America. I shall tell Von Bork that Jack has been arrested and imprisoned at the Isle of Portla
nd, where he actually has been sent for his own safety—that will be my explanation, if necessary, for your presence. The young man is to sail home aboard one of our cruisers.”97

  “Will you tell him similar stories about Hollins and Steiner?” I asked.

  “Very prescient, Watson. Yes, I shall be doing just that.” Holmes stared up at the sky, which was now dimming. “We should be at Von Bork’s house within the hour,” he said. “Then twenty-six months of labour come to an end.”

  It was nearly nine o’clock when we stopped some distance away from the German’s residence. The sky was now dark, with but one remnant of sunset: a single blood-red gash lying like an open wound low on the horizon. Stars were already shining brightly, and below the cliffs, ship lights glimmered on the surface of the bay. Even in the deepening gloom, I could discern that the house itself was as Holmes had previously described it: long, low, and heavily gabled.

  “There is a delightful garden walk with stone parapet just off the study, which is still lit,” said Holmes. “But we will wait here until Martha gives us a signal that Von Bork is alone in the house. There,” he said, pointing to a bright window on the first floor. “That is Martha’s room. Her light will go out once the coast is clear.”

  “Is Von Bork with someone at present, you think?” I asked.

  “Do you not recognise the great motorcar that blocks the lane before the house?” said Holmes. “It is that of Baron Von Herling, Chief Secretary to the German legation in London, whom I have mentioned before as Von Bork’s overseer.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That is the vehicle we followed into the City that day we made plans to search for Hannay.”

  “The very same.”

  “Did you ever determine the nature of the baron’s business on that occasion?”

  “No,” said Holmes. “Steiner and Hollins made discreet enquiries later, but they discovered nothing.”

  We waited for near onto a half hour, during which my friend now and then leaned to one side to feel inside a coat pocket.

  “You are certain you have not lost your sponge?” I asked with amusement.

  Holmes smiled.

  “I am. And my bottle is at hand as well. But halloa, look you there! Martha’s light has gone out. Start her up, Watson, while I apply the bottle contents to the sponge.”

  A moment later, the automobile before Von Bork’s house sprang into life as ours began to move toward it. Two golden cones from the headlights of the other motor shot through the darkness and then briefly swept over us as the vehicle containing Baron Von Herling sped past.

  “I will step out at once,” Holmes told me as we approached Von Bork’s residence. “Please make as if to settle into a long wait here, but stay only five minutes before you carefully approach the house. Martha will let you in. Follow her, and you will be able to discreetly watch and listen to Von Bork and me. I do not expect anything to go amiss, but I want you in reserve should the unexpected occur.”

  “I understand.”

  “And, of course, you will be needed for the denouement,” he added as we braked to a halt.

  “I will be ready, Holmes.”

  “As you have always been, old fellow. Ah,” said he, putting the moistened sponge into a small sack that he stashed in a coat pocket before taking hold of the wrapped package given him by Sandy Arbuthnot. Holmes then pulled from another pocket a sodden, half-smoked cigar, which he stuck in his mouth. “I believe I see Von Bork coming out now. Wish us luck!”

  I observed a silhouette set against the open doorway rush forward eagerly to meet my friend as he left the motorcar.

  “Well?” a guttural voice croaked in the darkness.

  Holmes waved the parcel above his head, as if in triumph. “You can give me the glad hand tonight, mister,” he cried in the voice of Altamount. “I’m bringing home the bacon at last.”

  “The signals?” I heard the other ask.

  “Same as I said in my cable,” Holmes declared. “Fresh from Scapa Flow, every last one of them: semaphore, lamp code, Marconi. They’re copies, mind you, not the originals, but it’s the real goods, and you can lay to that.”

  He slapped the German upon the shoulder with rough familiarity, and the other stepped quickly away, out of further reach.

  “Come,” said Von Bork brusquely. “All alone I am in the house, save for my housekeeper. Only for you was I waiting. Come,” he repeated as the pair entered the house.

  I waited the prescribed five minutes and then left the motorcar, taking care to close the door quietly. I stepped swiftly toward the house, and within three paces of gaining it, saw the door swing open to reveal Martha, Holmes’s housekeeper of the past nine years.98

  “Halloa, Dr. Watson,” she whispered. “This way, please, and quietly. The German thinks I’ve retired for the night.”

  The old woman guided me along a hallway and then to an alcove, from which vantage point I could see into what I took to be the study.

  Masked by great ferns, Martha and I watched as Holmes, in disguise as Altamount, stretched his long limbs while sitting back in an armchair. Von Bork, his back to us, arranged papers upon a table, and then Holmes struck a match and with effort relit his cigar before looking around.

  “Making ready for a move?” the detective asked. “Say, mister,” he added, as his eyes fell upon a large, brass-bound safe that sat in a corner of the room. “You don’t tell me you keep your papers in that?”

  Von Bork turned toward my friend, and for the first time I viewed the German’s florid face and aquiline nose, a somewhat a distorted mirror image of Holmes’s own visage.

  “And why not?” Von Bork said, as if offended.

  “Gosh, you put your stuff in a wide-open contraption like that? And you call yourself a spy,” exclaimed Holmes with disdain. “Why, a Yankee crook would be into that in a second with a can opener. If I’d known that all those letters of mine were going to lie loose in a thing like that, I’d have been a mug to write you at all.”

  “It would puzzle any crook to force that safe,” answered Von Bork. “You won’t cut that metal with any tool.”

  “What about the lock?”

  “It is a double combination lock. Do you know what that is, Altamount?”

  “Search me.”

  “Well,” said Von Bork, “you need a word as well as a set of figures before you can get the lock to work.”

  He walked to the safe and pointed out to Holmes the radiating discs that wrapped round near the opening handle.

  “This outer one is for the letters, the inner one for the figures.”

  “Oh.”

  “So it’s not quite as simple as you thought, eh? Four years ago it was that this was made for me. What did I choose for the word and figures, do you think?”

  “It’s beyond me,” said Holmes.

  “Come, take a guess.”

  “I give up.”

  “Bah,” said Von Bork. “Well, those four years ago I chose August for the word and 1914 for the figures. Does that impress you, my American friend?”

  “That was smart,” said Holmes. “You must have known a lot back then, and had it down to a fine thing.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “‘We’?”

  The German’s eyes seemed to glaze over, and he muttered a single phrase: “Die Wilden Vögel, ja.” 99

  A smile broke over his face as he continued. “Yes, a few of us even then could have guessed the date. And here we are, and I am shutting down tomorrow morning, to return to Berlin.”

  “Then maybe you’ll fix me up also. I’m not staying in this gol-darned country all on my lonesome.”

  “What meaning do you imply?” asked the German.

  “Well, John Bull will soon be on his hind legs and fair ramping. The Continent has fallen into war, and Britain’s about to join in, ain’t she? I’d rather watch from over the water, I tell you.”

  “Yes, but what do you mean by being alone? You have your friend James, and there are Hollins and Stein
er to keep you company as well.”

  “Not any longer,” replied Holmes. “They’re all locked up.”

  “What?” cried Von Bork. “Why did you not already inform me of this? When did it occur?”

  “It happened last night. Coppers rounded them all up. For all I know, they might be after me as well. You know of anything that might have happened recently to make us vulnerable?” asked the detective, leaning forward in his armchair.

  “Nothing,” the Germany spy cautiously declared. “My work here has been completed.”

  Holmes leaned forward. “I’ve heard that some other spy ring up north has been taken in as well. You know anything about that?”

  “If I did, I would not share it with you, Altamount,” replied Von Bork curtly. “All you need know is that my own grand plan has reached fulfilment with these naval signals you have supplied. But tell me again: what has happened to those three men of yours?”

  “I told you: coppers got them. James is being carted off to Portland, I’m told. Don’t know what’s planned for the other two.”

  “What did they do to throw suspicion on themselves?” asked Von Bork, somewhat nervously. “It must have been his own fault in the case of James. You knew how self-willed he was.”

  “Oh, James was a bonehead—I give you that. But as for Hollins—”

  “That man had become mad. I told you we should stop trusting him.”

  “Oh, he had been going a bit woozy of late, yes,” admitted Holmes as Altamount. “But you have to admit that Steiner was a level-headed sort, and they got him as well.”

  “All three of them,” Von Bork said. “All in the same night? This is a serious blow. It must only make my departure more vital.”

  “But what about me?” said Holmes urgently. “If they’ve nabbed them three, they can’t be far off me, can they?”

  “You don’t mean that! In any case, you are an American citizen.”

  “Well, so was James, and it cut no ice with the British coppers who took him. You’re the boss. Aren’t you going to cover your men?”

  “Why—”

  “My landlady down Fratton100 way, where I’ve got my other place, she had some enquiries about me, and when I heard of it, I guessed it was time for me to never go back there again. How long until they look me up at my London digs, eh? Doesn’t it make you ashamed to see this happen to your men?”