by J. R. Trtek
“Oh,” said the man, as if the revelation were a minor one.
“Your son will be awarded for his daring contribution to the war effort,” Holmes quickly declared. “I think it not at all unlikely that he will receive a medal for his efforts.”
“A medal?” the woman said, abruptly looking up from her needles. “What do you mean by telling me he’ll get a medal?” She snorted and returned to her work. “That’s a fantasy and a half.”
“Medal’s got some value,” asserted the man. “But what’s all this about? You two still haven’t explained yourselves.”
“Billy did enter a warehouse, sir,” Holmes told the man. “And by telling me what he observed, and by suffering with his wound, he has helped our nation’s war effort greatly.”
“How can that be?” the man asked. “Hell, if getting hurt now and then is worth a commendation, I’d be scooping up heaps of medals down at the iron works.”
“Your son undoubtedly will receive a commendation for the information he has provided me today,” asserted Holmes. “It would not surprise were it signed by the king himself.”
The husband and wife looked at each other, dumbfounded.
“But he lied,” said the woman. “He trespassed.”
“His indiscretion was on behalf of our country,” declared my friend. “And if a penalty must be exacted, has he not paid it already? Surely you have witnessed the agony inflicted upon his hand.”
“Well, of course I have,” the woman said defensively. “That, however, is beside the point. He has—”
“He has earned his badge of bravery already,” the detective said, reaching into a pocket. “And he has given our government invaluable information in the struggle against Germany.” He held out a handful of half crowns.
“What’s this?” the husband said.
“A small portion of Billy’s coming financial reward, quite beside the medal he will receive. The balance will be forthcoming.”
“What?” cried the woman, while the man simply snatched the coins from Holmes’s palm.
“Are they real, Len?” she asked.
“Real as real,” he answered. “There’s nearly two quid here. And you say there’s to be more?” he asked Holmes. “Much more?”
The detective nodded.
“And a medal and being commended?” the woman asked, her mood now changed. “All for my Billy?”
“Trust to it, madam. I speak the truth.”
“Well,” said the husband. “Eggs is eggs.” He clenched his hand round the coins he had taken from Holmes and walked past us to peer in at his son, still on the bed and surrounded by his friends.
“Da” came Billy’s voice from the other room.
“Just stay there, son,” said the man, who turned round to face Holmes and me.
“All right, then,” he muttered. “We’ll take your word for it.”
“The one there is a doctor,” said his wife as she gestured toward me. “Said he’s doing fine.”
“Yes,” I said as the husband gave me an inquiring look. “Your son is progressing well and will fully recover from the wounds he received.”
“All right, then,” the man repeated. “All right, I say.”
Later, after we had departed the building, we chanced across a hansom, one of the dwindling examples of its kind. Holmes gave me an expectant look, and I answered with a shrug. We both tumbled into the vehicle and told the driver to take us to Queen Anne Street.
“It seems a wonder we were ever satisfied with such conveyances,” I remarked after we had gone but a few blocks, for I found the interior much smaller than those I remembered from the past.
“Well, you now have your motorcar,” said Holmes, “though I don’t believe you have taken it out of the stable since early spring. With the general shortage of petrol, I doubt you will find opportunity to use it until this war is over. I hope you can afford the upkeep for a luxury you cannot enjoy, old fellow.”
“In truth,” I admitted to my friend, “I sold it shortly before setting out for Isham. Got a pretty penny for it, if you must know.”
“There are no plans for a replacement?”
“Oh, there are plans, to be sure.” I watched the blocks pass as our horse kept up a steady gait. “Once the war ends, I will purchase one of those American vehicles recommended so long ago by Blenkiron.”
I glanced at Holmes, whose gaze was fixed upon the passing store fronts as he fidgeted beside me.
“Perhaps you would enjoy a ride now and then,” I added.
“Perhaps,” he said, still seemingly uncomfortable as we rode along.
“Were you not somewhat free in your pledges to the young boy’s parents?” I asked after a while. “Or will you once again raid your brother’s resources and prey upon his goodwill.”
“Of course I shall,” replied my friend. “The government funds Mycroft has deposited in my account will cover an additional reward for Billy many times over, and if my brother cannot have a special medal struck, we will have him requisition a spare DCM or some such.”238
“And can Mycroft produce a commendation signed by the king himself?”
“I believe so,” my friend answered. “Indeed, my brother can do more than merely believe in six impossible things before breakfast, Watson; he can accomplish them.”239
“And what of the empty warehouse?” I said. “When will it be searched more completely?”
“Later today,” replied Holmes. “I will ring up Magillivray as soon as we reach Queen Anne Street and have him speak to the building’s owners—he will pose as an aide to you, Watson, and you will purport to be a representative of the government, wishing to use the structure for official business. Then we shall all conduct a careful survey of its interior, as well as learn what we can from the owner about his previous tenant.”
At length we passed into Queen Anne Street and were deposited in front of my residence. Holmes paid the driver and then stood to watch the cab disappear into the bustling traffic of our modern metropolis.
“Hum,” he said. “I agree with your earlier pronouncement, Watson: I cannot see how we managed with those vehicles when we inhabited Baker Street. Remind me to never ride in one again. Nostalgia has its limits.”
* * *
227 A mews is a group of stables built around a yard or along an alley, often with rooms above.
228 Poplar is a district in East London.
229 Before the First World War, some sums of money were still paid in gold coins, one of which was the sovereign, worth £1. In order to conserve gold reserves for the war effort, however, the British government in 1914 began issuing £1 paper notes signed by the Permanent Secretary to the Treasury, Sir John Bradbury, and within a year, gold sovereigns had essentially vanished from public circulation. Bradbury’s name became a slang term for the paper notes, which subsequently became a permanent fixture of British economic life.
230 “I leave it to you, sir,” was the frequent answer given by cabmen when their clients asked to know the fare. Drivers gave that response in hopes that they would be paid more than the legal rate.
231 Gasometers—inaccurately named by William Murdoch, who developed gas lighting—do not measure anything, but rather are large cylindrical containers that store gas at near atmospheric pressure. For that purpose, they are now obsolete.
232 A valinch is a tube usually employed to draw liquor from a cask, while a flogger is a mallet used to move the bung, or stopper, of a cask.
233 Mustard gas was first used by the German army in July 1917, just before the Third Battle of Ypres. British solders called it Hun Stuff, or HS.
234 A lascar was a sailor from any of the countries east of the Cape of Good Hope—quite often India—employed aboard European ships. The East India Company recruited many, most of whom settled in Britain. At the start of the First World War, over fifty thousand lascars lived there.
235 Dead Man is a variant of Blind Man’s Bluff, and terrace lets are what Americans would term tow
nhouses or rowhouses that are rental units.
236 A tallyman was a debt collector who took payments for goods obtained under hire purchase, somewhat analogous to what Americans call an installment plan.
237 Also known as Knocky Door Ginger and by other names, Ginger is a children’s prank involving knocking on the door or ringing the doorbell of a building and running away before anyone answers.
238 The Distinguished Conduct Medal, instituted in 1854, recognized an act of gallantry by a soldier below the rank of officer. It was discontinued in 1993, when it and two other awards were replaced by the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross.
239 Holmes’s remark would appear to be a play upon a comment by the White Queen in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass. See also footnote 87.
CHAPTER TWENTY: THE TRANSPORT LEAGUE
Holmes rang up Inspector Magillivray and instructed him to make arrangements with the warehouse owners to meet with their land agent at the building later that day. In the midst of his conversation with the man from Scotland Yard, however, the house bell rang. With Holmes still engaged on the telephone, Martha approached me.
“It is a gentleman who wishes to discuss the gold sovereign offer,” she said, handing me a card from a Mr. James Lewis.
Her comment quite puzzled me. “Well,” I replied, turning to watch my friend conclude his discussion with Magillivray, “I suppose you may escort him here to the sitting room. We should be able to receive him in a moment, I believe.”
Holmes rang off as our housekeeper left the room, and he gave me an expectant look.
“Did I hear Martha say something about sovereigns?” he asked.
“Yes. There is some fellow at the door who has come concerning an offer of sorts concerning gold coins,” I said, handing him the card. “I took the liberty of inviting him in, but I do not understand what—”
“Ah,” said Holmes, setting down the card without looking at it. He rubbed his palms together. “Our first enquiry. We can only hope the person has a story of interest.”
“I believe I can only hope to grasp an understanding of what is about to transpire before it does so. That, however, is contingent upon your rapid explanation.”
“You saw me write out a notice for placement in the papers but the other day,” the detective reminded me.
“I recall you requisitioning a portion of my foolscap for that purpose, but you never revealed the substance of the posting.”
“Did I not? Well then, forgive my oversight, Watson. You see, given William Grace’s tale of being paid in gold sovereigns by Von Bork, I thought to give notice that I would pay any holder of such coins many times their actual worth.”
I thought for a moment as we heard footsteps approaching along the corridor.
“The expectation being that perhaps some of those who reply to your advertisement will have unknowingly received the gold coin from the Germans, and that their stories will give you more information on our enemy’s plans,” I hurriedly whispered.
“Just so,” said Holmes with a smile as Martha knocked upon the open sitting room door.
“A Mr. James Lewis,” the old woman said, ushering into the room a very thin, bespectacled young man who struck me as rather bookish.
“Halloa, gentlemen,” he said at once, glancing between the two of us as Martha withdrew. “Which of you has made the offer of payment for sovereigns? Or, perhaps, it is both in association?”
“I am the person who placed the notice,” answered Holmes. “Pray, be seated, Mr. Lewis, if you wish. I am Sherlock Holmes.”
“The retired detective?” replied Lewis, who remained standing. “I had no idea you had moved back to London. My, what an honour it is to meet you.” He turned toward me. “May I then boldly enquire as to whether you are Dr. John Watson?” he asked.
“I am,” I answered humbly.
“It is my honour to make your acquaintance as well,” the man said. “And a pleasure in your case, Doctor, for you see, one of my distant cousins is Edmund Warburton.”
“Ah,” I said in an even voice. “It has been some time since I have thought of that name. Well, if you are his distant cousin, I suppose that makes us even more distant relations, at least through marriage.”
“Yes. I was but a child when the matter of Edmund’s father came to a crisis, and I was told of the affair only much later. However, Mr. Holmes, I congratulate you on your efforts all those years ago on behalf of the colonel. He did not deserve the troubles he had to bear, that is certain.”
“In the end, it was but a trifle,” declared Holmes with modesty. “Though my journey to the affair’s conclusion was rather more than humdrum.” He gave me a kindly glance and then turned back to Mr. Lewis. “You say you have come about my offer.”240
“Yes, sir. It is that current prospect that brings me, not the travails of my family’s past. You see, over the years, I have accumulated a rather sizable collection of gold coins, including rather many sovereigns.”
Holmes smiled at the man while he searched for a pipe, and as I gestured for Mr. Lewis to sit down, I could tell that my friend realised he had not found one of the individuals he sought by placing his notice in the papers.
“In truth,” said Holmes, grasping his cherrywood, “the notice you read in the newspaper was somewhat incomplete. I am seeking not just any gold sovereign, but rather a particular mintage. A moment, if you will,” said he, putting down the pipe and taking up pen, with which he dashed off a brief notation upon a piece of scrap paper. Holmes offered the note to Mr. Lewis.
“Thank you,” said our guest, who looked at the detective’s scrawl. “I am a coin fancier and know my collection well, and I can tell you immediately that I do not have the variety you seek. Indeed, I was not even aware that such a mintage exists.”
“I regret that you have been inconvenienced,” said Holmes as he once more grasped his pipe.
“Oh, I had but a short distance to travel from my work, which is here in Marylebone,” said Mr. Lewis. He smiled at me. “I suppose, Doctor, that someday we might share a dinner together and renew family ties, eh?”
“It is possible, certainly,” I replied in an even voice. “To echo my friend, I regret that you have journeyed here to no result.”
I rose from my chair, which had the desired effect of eliciting the same action from our visitor.
“Well,” Mr. Lewis said somewhat awkwardly. “I suppose I will leave, then. But not empty-handed,” he added. “For I have met Mr. Sherlock Holmes and re-established connections among the greater Warburton clan.”
I offered to escort Mr. Lewis to the door, forcing myself to play the part of a convivial relation, at least for a short while longer. After several minutes of further conversation as we slowly made our way along the corridor, I sent him on his way without making any commitment with respect to his offer of a meeting at Simpson’s.
Returning to the sitting room, I found Holmes now wrapped in blue veils of smoke, glancing about while one of his old commonplace books lay upon his lap.
“Watson,” he said, “is my copy of the Almanach de Gotha 241 lying about in your vicinity?”
“No,” I replied after quickly surveying the piles of books, charts, and papers that lay scattered near my feet.
“Hum. Well, I shall find it eventually. I trust you caught up on family matters on your own?” he said languorously.
“As much as I should wish to,” I replied quietly. “And so, will we now be bombarded by supplicants offering gold sovereigns?”
“I fear that may be the case,” said Holmes, not looking up from his collection of clippings. “I do apologise for your being discommoded, but it strikes me as the approach that best combines effectiveness with discretion.”
“I cannot argue that point.”
“I am only interested, of course, in those coins that may have passed from German hands,” Holmes remarked. “The hands of one German in particular.”
Late that same afternoon, Holmes and I again stood at t
he centre of the great room within the empty warehouse where young Billy had received his blisters. We were in the company of Inspector Magillivray, Sergeant Scaife, and a handful of constables—all in civilian clothes. According to Holmes’s direction, I wore my military uniform and, for the moment, acted as if I were the leader of our delegation.
“I do hope you will recommend that the government employ this building, Colonel,” said the land agent who had opened the structure for our examination. “It was only just vacated, and of course we will arrange for it to be cleaned. If you would—”
“I believe what I and my civilian staff prefer above all else at the moment is to be allowed to thoroughly examine the arrangement of rooms and facilities ourselves,” I said abruptly after receiving an anxious look from Holmes. “This is but one of many sites the government are considering, and we must be timely in our assessment. You will then not mind leaving us alone for a time, so that we may complete that task?”
“But of course,” replied the agent solicitously.
“And you will provide us a list of previous tenants for the past three years?” I added.
“It is being prepared even as we speak,” the man declared.
“Good.” I glanced at Holmes before addressing the agent one last time. “We will meet with you outside within an hour, then,” I told him. “And I thank you for your cooperation.”
“Colonel,” said the man hesitantly, “there is one other matter on which my employers do wish reassurance.”
“Yes?”
“Their understanding is that this building will not be used for weapons manufacture. Is that correct?”
“It is,” I said. “There will be no munitions or volatile materials of any kind on these premises, I assure you. That is, should the government decide to make us of this structure.”
“Oh, that is excellent news,” replied the land agent. “Particularly with the site being so near the gasworks, there is no desire for another Milvertown242 to happen here.”
“I can assure you that there will be no danger imposed by the government’s use of this building,” I told him. Then, after a moment of awkward silence, I once more suggested that our party be left alone to survey the site.