by J. R. Trtek
“So,” grunted Launcelot Wake to the newcomer. “You’re going to be at Fosse Manor for the Easter Friday dinner as well?”
The young man’s tone was not hostile but did convey a touch of irritation. Ivery, however, took no exception to Wake’s manner of delivery and once more flashed his forgettable smile.
“This is the first I have heard of such,” the retired don said. He looked at Miss Lamington enquiringly.
“You should receive an invitation shortly from my aunts,” she said. “I suppose Launcelot’s revelation will give you slightly more time to consider.”
“I need no time at all to weigh the matter,” replied Ivery in his compelling voice. “I accept, even in advance of the formal invitation.”
“Excellent,” said the woman. “The colonel and a friend of his will be present as well.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Ivery. He looked at me with sly, half-lidded eyes. “Could that friend possibly be Sherlock Holmes?”
“Why yes, it is,” I said, taken aback.
“I am but a recent discoverer of your stories, Colonel Watson,” said Ivery. “However, I have become a most enthusiastic reader of them. When I learnt the name of Isham’s new head of hospital, I could not help but wonder if it could be that very same John H. Watson. And it is! Were you aware of who your new hospital head is, Miss Lamington?”
The young woman gave a bit of a start but quickly regained her composure.
“Why, no,” she said, looking at me with an expression of convincing surprise. “That is, I am somewhat familiar with the exploits of Mr. Holmes, of course, but I did not think to consider that you might be the author of those stories, Colonel.”
“The illustrious author,” amended Ivery.
“I fear that the word illustrious exaggerates my status,” I replied.
“And who is this Sherlock Holmes?” asked Launcelot Wake.
“There,” I said good-naturedly. “I told you it was exaggeration.”
Ivery and Miss Lamington chuckled, rather to the confusion and irritation of Wake.
“Obviously,” Ivery said, tracing the slanting strap of my Sam Browne belt131 with his forefinger, “you do not ply the streets of London with your detective friend these days.”
“No,” I cautiously declared. “I lectured recruits in Aldershot for most of the war before coming here to Isham. And, truth to tell, Sherlock Holmes has been retired from the business of detection for over a decade.”
“Perhaps, like you, he is now engaged in war work instead?”
“I believe he is so occupied,” I carefully replied. “Its exact nature, however, he has not deigned to reveal to me.”
Ivery nodded. “Please do not feel offended, Colonel, but I think it odd that the sisters Wymondham have invited to dinner a military man, though of course you are devoted to healing wounds rather than creating them.” He looked at me as if appraising my soul. “You see, the majority opinion in these parts is decidedly against the war.”
“I have had that inkling, Mr. Ivery.”
“I am against this war.”
“So I have been informed.”
“I hope that the prevailing sentiment in Biggleswick does not set you against our community,” said Ivery.
“We are all entitled to our views,” I replied. “Every Englishman should have his say.”
“As well as every Englishwoman,” Ivery added, indicating Miss Lamington with care.
“Of course,” I agreed as Wake frowned yet again.
“In that connection, Colonel Watson,” the former don said, “I have an invitation of my own.”
Launcelot Wake scowled and then guided his bicycle past Ivery before the man could continue. “Well, I will be going,” Miss Lamington’s cousin declared abruptly. “I suppose we shall all see one another again at Fosse Manor.”
As Wake pedalled away, I saw Ivery’s face contort into a smile that made his jaw and cheeks expand like india-rubber.
“A pleasant, if impulsive young man,” he observed. “But then, let me return to the matter of my invitation. Is the colonel aware of Moot Hall?” he asked Miss Lamington.
“Why, I do not know,” the woman said without hesitation. She looked between the two of us and then blushed most convincingly. “My discussions with him have concerned only the work of the hospital—we were talking of incoming patients when Launcelot rode by,” she said, holding up the dossiers she carried.
“I see,” replied Ivery. “Well, Colonel, Moot Hall will be found on the south side of our common, near the rail station. It is a prominent red-brick building and was built with money supplied by Mr. Shaw, the publisher who is my neighbour. Several Christian sects use it as a makeshift church of sorts, while I understand the pagans hereabouts employ the Haven Stones for their rituals. Some of us, however, find the hall useful as a setting for lectures and debates—I refer to a committee that Mr. Letchford and I take turns chairing. These gatherings provide all our resident intellects an opportunity to air their views.”
“Several speakers from many of the New Movements have appeared there,” Miss Lamington added, in a voice that made her seem all too credulous.
“Yes,” agreed Ivery. “Would you consider attending our gatherings, Colonel? Perhaps you will find the views expressed enlightening, or possibly you will consider them revolting and seditious. But it is all in the spirit of free exchange of thought, is it not?”
“I will certainly consider your kind offer, Mr. Ivery. Provided,” I added with a smile, “that you do not call upon me to speak my own mind.”
“Oh, I should be very sad if you do not,” he declared with mock disappointment. “But I can understand the reluctance. Your presence alone, even if silent, would be welcomed, I assure you.”
“I am certain the discussions are stimulating,” I said in a neutral voice.
“We find them so,” declared Ivery. He bowed to Miss Lamington and me, and then trudged off along the road.
“He is one to keep an eye out for,” the woman declared once Ivery was beyond earshot.
“Oh? You think him a possible German spy?”
“He is on my list of suspects, yes. Sir Walter requested that I mark those I thought required closer attention. Indeed,” she added, “they all will be at the dinner my aunts are giving.” The young woman smiled demurely. “I had a strong hand in suggesting it and arranging the guest list, you see.”
“And who else is on that list?”
“The publisher, Frederick Shaw, for one,” Miss Lamington said. “He travels almost daily to London, always with manuscripts supposedly within his valise, which never leaves him.”
“Yes, I have seen the man more than once, at a distance.”
“There is also Mr. Letchford, whom Mr. Ivery referred to. And a friend of Letchford, a young novelist—”
“Named Aronson.”
“Why, yes,” said Miss Lamington. “You’ve met him?”
“Both him and Letchford, yes.”
“I believe the latter to be of more interest than Aronson,” the young woman replied. “He is very involved in the activities at Moot Hall, as Mr. Ivery just noted. Moreover, speakers from elsewhere often present their views in the hall, and every one of them boards with Letchford while staying in Biggleswick.”
“You believe these speakers might be part of the Black Stone network?”
“Well, it is possible, is it not?” she said. “And Aronson is so much in Letchford’s company that I believe the pair must be taken together as guilty or innocent.”
“Most certainly.” Then, with care, I asked, “And what of your cousin, Mr. Wake? You’ve indicated that he will be present at the dinner.”
She smiled nervously. “Yes, he will, though Launcelot is quite harmless and will be at the dinner only because, were he not invited, he would take offence.”
“I wager he is a CO, is he not?”132
“Well, he does oppose the war, but his exemption is on account of being a civil servant,” she said. “He i
s a clerk in the Home Office.”133
“You declare him harmless, Miss Lamington, and yet he is often on that bicycle of his, isn’t he? Where does it take him?” I asked idly.
“Rather far afield, I must admit. Launcelot is very active—he hikes and mountaineers as well.”
“And where does he hike, Miss Lamington? What peaks does he climb?”
“Innocent ones, or so I believe.” Then, after a moment, she added, “I had not considered it before, Colonel Watson, but one of the places Launcelot not infrequently visits is Skye.”134
“I see. And Skye is close to Glasgow, is it not?”
“I understand your point,” admitted the young woman. She looked down with a thoughtful expression, “I suppose it is my duty to place him on the list as well, isn’t it?”
“Miss Lamington, I did not mean to cause you—”
“It is quite all right, Colonel,” she said, lifting her head and forcing a smile onto her lips. “You are correct. It is just as well, then, that I had my aunts invite Launcelot to dinner with the others.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “For he is now added to the list of suspects for Mr. Holmes’s consideration. That is my duty, to Sir Walter.”
“Duty, yes,” I said, thinking suddenly of Cecil Harper.
“But shall we return to your office, sir? I believe we should actually take a look at these dossiers I’m holding, as well as the ones still on your desk.”
We stood aside as two VADs escorted a patient, whom I recognised as the fragile Lt. Clayton, from the building and out to the south garden to view the primroses with those already there. Then, briskly, Nurse Lamington and I entered and walked straight to my office.
That evening I made a quiet tour of Isham before going out to the road, where I would wait for Scaife to arrive and drive me home, as he did every other day, in a dogcart borrowed from a neighbour—on alternate days, weather permitting, I walked the two miles to Biggleswick.
I looked into each ward and then passed through the surgical room—vacant at this hour—and on to the library, where several patients sat reading beneath warm amber lights. As I neared the main doors, I hear a scratchy gramophone start up from the recreation room and, smiling gently, stepped out into the early night air to find Corporal Scaife already waiting for me.
“Fruitful day, sir?” he asked as I sat down beside him.
“Yes, Scaife,” I replied as the horse began pulling our dogcart along the path homeward. “Very fruitful, and perhaps signifying an even greater bounty to come.”
* * *
102 This is probably a fictional reference to Room 40, the section of the admiralty identified with British codebreaking during the First World War.
103 As noted earlier, The Valley of Fear appeared in installments in The Strand Magazine beginning with its September 1914 issue.
104 Aldershot is a town located about forty miles southwest of London. The site of the first permanent training camp for the British Army during the Crimean War, it has had a continuing association with the military. At the time, the Royal Army Medical Corps’s principal training facility was located there.
105 “The wind-up” was slang for a case of nerves.
106 This was The Thirty-Nine Steps, serialized in Blackwood’s Magazine during August and September of 1915 before being published in book form a month later. The author, not identified in Watson’s narrative, was John Buchan, then a member of the War Propaganda Bureau.
107 The New Army was the huge force, initially comprised of volunteers, formed early in the First World War at the instigation of Lord Kitchener, the British Secretary of State for War, who foresaw a long struggle that would overwhelm Britain’s small professional army.
108 The Battle of Loos, fought in September and October of 1915, was the first great action by the New Army and the largest British offensive of that year. The attack was aimed at breaking through German defenses and restoring a war of movement after months of static trench warfare. It stalled, however, while inflicting heavy casualties on both sides.
109 That affair, which also involved Hannay’s good Boer friend Peter Pienaar, is detailed in the fictionalized account also written by John Buchan and published in 1916 as Greenmantle.
110 Millbank is an area of central London, formally in the City of Westminster. It was the home of the Royal Army Medical College, where instruction was suspended during the First World War so that the facility could be used to prepare vaccines and conduct research into the development of gas masks. Nearby was Queen Alexandra’s Hospital, which served as a general army hospital during the war. Watson is not specific in his comments, but one suspects he was referring to possible assignment at the latter facility.
111 Crookham Camp was the RAMC depot at Aldershot.
112 These comments refer to a case which Watson did eventually detail in “The Adventure of the Retired Colourman,” one of the last canonical Holmes stories published. In the doctor’s account, the individual referred to is named Josiah Amberley, and he is described as a retired seller of art supplies rather than an art dealer. The unsold theater ticket was a key piece of evidence in Holmes’s resolution of the matter.
113 It was within the vaults of Cox and Co. Bank that Watson had a tin dispatch box in which were stored papers concerning many of Holmes’s unsolved or unfinished cases. The doctor’s remark suggests that he had funds deposited in that institution as well.
114 This exchange between Holmes and Blenkiron is unquestionably a reference to the Zimmermann Telegram. That message, sent on January 16, 1917, from German Foreign Secretary Arthur Zimmermann to Berlin’s ambassador to Mexico, instructed the latter to propose an alliance with Mexico should the United States join Britain and France in their war with the Central Powers. Germany was to offer financial assistance to Mexico and promise to help recover territory that Mexico had lost to the United States during their 1846–48 war. Intercepted by the British and read by their cryptographers—apparently, by Sherlock Holmes himself—the contents were revealed to the Americans in February, and the telegram’s text was released publicly by the Wilson Administration by the end of that month.
115 This comment refers to Germany’s decision to renew unrestricted submarine warfare on February 1, 1917. U-boats would then once more sink freighters and tankers without warning, as opposed to surfacing first in order to search those merchant vessels and safely remove crews before attacking the ships. Blenkiron’s prediction proved true, for the American declaration of war came on April 6.
116 This is another reference to the events related in Buchan’s Greenmantle, which culminated in the Battle of Erzurum, fought between the forces of Russia and the Ottoman Empire.
117 An area in the south central portion of England, the Cotswolds is characterized by grasslands, stone-built villages, and stately homes and gardens.
118 The garden city movement was a method of urban planning started in Britain about the year 1900. It was characterized by advocacy of planned, self-sufficient communities surrounded by greenbelts with a mix of homes, industries, and agriculture.
119 The younger Bullivant’s assignment was related to the events described in Greenmantle, where the son’s death in 1915 is mentioned.
120 Holmes quotes from William Congreve’s 1694 play The Double Dealer: “No mask like open truth to cover lies, as to go naked is the best disguise.” Coincidentally, this same phrase was used by Samuel Rosenberg as the title of his controversial 1974 study of alleged hidden meanings in the Sherlockian canon.
121 While conscription had been instituted in Britain—excluding Ireland—in 1916, appeals against service were possible on the grounds of important work, business or domestic hardship, medical unfitness, and conscientious objection. By the time of Watson’s move to Biggleswick, more than three-quarters of a million men in the nation had been granted such exemptions.
122 In this time period, both women and men generally wore hats outside the home.
123 Those employed in civilian work de
emed of importance to British national security were issued official badges identifying their activity as vital to the war effort, so that they would not be seen as shirking military duty.
124 This may be a fictionalized reference to Emmeline Pankhurst (1858–1928) and her daughters, all of whom were active in the cause of women’s suffrage in Britain at the time.
125 A don is a university teacher. The term is often associated in particular with either Cambridge or Oxford, but Watson’s narrative does not mention any specific institution.
126 This reference means that the sergeant-major had undergone special training in connection with the Imperial Military Nursing Service, the nursing branch of the British Army.
127 The Voluntary Aid Detachment was an organization founded in 1909 with the help of the Red Cross. Each volunteer was referred to as a detachment or VAD. The majority were female, and at the start of the First World War, they sought to serve both at home and in France, an offer which initially was met with resistance.
128 The term “flapper” was used at the time to refer to a young girl who did not yet put her hair up in the style of mature women. There is no uniform consensus about the origin of the word—one common view is that it is a reference to a young bird flapping its wings when learning to fly, while another holds that it describes instead plaited pigtails flapping on a young girl’s back. The word was also British slang for a very young prostitute in the 1890s, but by the time of Watson’s narrative, that association had become much less common.
129 Maundy Thursday is a Christian holy day, the Thursday before Easter, and in 1917, it fell on April 5.
130 This refers to the Friday that follows Easter, as opposed to Good Friday, which precedes it.
131 The Sam Browne belt is a wide belt supported by a narrow strap passing diagonally over the right shoulder. Once a prominent feature of military and police uniforms, it has since become far less common, other than for ceremonial use.
132 Watson refers to Wake being a conscientious objector. See also footnote 121.
133 The Home Office is a department of the British government responsible for law enforcement, security, and immigration.