Repeat Business

by Lyn McConchie

  “The letter?” Holmes said quickly. “You have it with you?”

  Tadpole passed over the missive at once and my old friend read it in silence before showing it to me. It was written in neat, very legible handwriting inscribed in black ink on good quality paper with a matching envelope. I read—

  My Dear Sister and Brother-in-Law,

  Your charming son is enjoying a brief holiday in my care. But I feel that some remuneration is in order since when last we met you deprived me of the profit I had intended to achieve. I am aware that you have little ready coin, but I am sure dear Percy will be able to offer me something of similar value to that which I lost, in fact I am aware that even now something reposes in his office safe which would be of considerable value to a number of people.

  I suggest that a complete and identical copy of this paper would be adequate remuneration for my care of Oliver, and to achieve his safe restoration to the bosom of your family. It is also suggested that the police are not informed of my very reasonable request since I am sure they would insist upon intruding—be assured, my dear relatives, I would resent this exceedingly.

  However, should you also feel yourself unable to provide the required document copy then I would be reluctantly obliged to encourage your cooperation by remitting personal items to you which it would greatly inconvenience your son to relinquish on a permanent basis.

  When you are ready to comply, place an advertisement in the newspapers which says ‘offered for sale, a complete set of the 1856 Encyclopedia in French.’ Do not take too long lest I become impatient,

  Ever your devoted brother,

  Joseph

  I shot to my feet waving the letter. “Holmes!” I cried. “This is the most outrageous, the most terrible thing of which I have ever heard! You cannot allow it. That a child should be so vilely threatened, it is infamous!”

  Holmes surveyed us all coolly. “It is certainly very unpleasant, but we will do no good by wasting our energies in telling each other so. We must find the child, but first,” here he turned to Tadpole and addressed him quietly. “Mr. Harrison appears to know a good deal about your business. What do you know of him since he fled London four years ago?”

  Tadpole pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The police kept me informed for some time, and so far as they themselves knew. The influence of my uncle, Lord Holdhurst, saw to that. Joseph Harrison succeeded in reaching America, where he vanished into the teeming slums of New York. He later surfaced further west, where he was suspected of the attempted blackmail of a railway magnate. The man denies it, but it is believed that before the items were recovered, he had paid over several very large sums of money to Joseph and his associates.

  “After that Joseph was known to be in Chicago when two violent robberies of women took place. They were held up and their jewels were stolen, and in the process one woman’s escort was fatally injured. The American police hunted vigorously for Joseph after that, but he was nowhere to be found until he reappeared in New York last year. He was then believed to be involved in a fatal kidnapping where the six-year-old daughter of a wealthy father was stolen away and a huge ransom paid to reclaim her.”

  Annie broke down at this point. “They never got her back, he never returned her. None know what happened to the child. Oh, Oliver, my son, my little son!”

  Holmes’ face was grave and I dropped back, speechless, into my chair. That tale was awful beyond words, and if Joseph Harrison had done this once, why then should he hesitate to act so again? But why had he not returned the child? I opened my mouth to ask and Holmes gave me a warning look and the slight shake of his head. I kept silence and waited until he spoke.

  “Have you kept these events from the police as he requested?”

  “I have, I swear it, the police have no suspicion. They have said to me that they think the child has been taken up to be cared for by some family who do not realize who he is.” Again I received that tiny indication from Holmes that I should say nothing.

  “Very well. Place this advertisement in the newspapers at once, ‘Offered for sale very shortly, a complete set of the 1856 Encyclopedia in French,’ then go home and wait; but while you wait, I want the both of you to do something for me which could be vital.”

  Annie raised her head. “Anything, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Very well. I want both of you to sit down and list everything you can both remember of Joseph. His habits, his preferences and dislikes, his haunts in the days when he lived in London; write down the names of old friends or even acquaintances of his of whom you may know and any details of them. This information will enable me to search for your child more effectively. If you are in doubt as to whether an item might be included, then include it. Better too much than too little. Do you understand?”

  I saw Annie’s lips firm, Tadpole’s drooping form straighten. With an honest task to do, something that might aid their son, they had hope and courage once more. I saw them into a cab and returned to Holmes to ask the questions he had earlier forbidden me.

  “What do you believe did happen to that unfortunate little girl, Holmes?” I inquired.

  “Yes, I saw you were about to ask that question and also to question the police belief that some family has taken in your friends’ child,” Holmes said. “As to the little girl, there are two main possibilities, neither of which I would have wished the Phelps to consider. The child may have been accidentally killed during the abduction, or she may have been deliberately murdered if she had by some error seen one of her abductors clearly and they feared her being able to describe him to the authorities. As for the police’s belief as told to the Phelps, it is no such thing. That is a ruse to keep the parents calm while the police search.”

  “Do you think then that they suspect the child was deliberately stolen?”

  “I think not, else their questioning would already center on that, but they will have some hypothesis in mind. Let them keep it. We have work to do, my dear Watson.”

  “Of course, Holmes. What do you want me to do?”

  “Note that the last knowledge of Harrison was in New York, and that almost a year ago now. I suspect that he came to England immediately after that, and that it is in our own country we may find some record of him. Do you go to all the main newspaper offices and read their papers. Begin a full year back, then work forward and seek out any major story that seems to you to smell of the taint of Joseph Harrison. You know what he attempted here, and you have heard your friend on what the American authorities believe him to have done. Look for brutal robberies of that kind, the theft of valuable papers, or any indications of a missing child under circumstances which suggest foul play.”

  “What will you be doing, Holmes?” I asked curiously.

  My old friend smiled grimly. “Last time Mr. Harrison made an error. He kept the naval treaty with him until he could explore the market in possible buyers. I think that this time he may have found possible buyers first, and is now engaged in seeking out what merchandise he may sell to them. I will ask questions, Watson, of a number of those who will know what spies are currently at large here and in what embassies their masters lurk.”

  I nodded. “Then I’ll see what trail I may find for you.”

  He clapped me gently on the shoulder. “I count on you.”

  It was with pride that I went to my task, and my remembrance of his trust kept me at the dusty yellowing files of newspapers long after I would otherwise have ceased. But my searches were rewarded near the end of the day. I took copious notes of both cases, continuing a while longer, but with no further success. I returned to our rooms to find Holmes just alighting from a cab. I allowed him to precede me to our rooms and spoke as soon as I had closed the door behind us.

  “Holmes, I think I may have the start of Joseph Harrison’s trail for you, and what success have you?”

  “Enough to convince me that Mr. Harrison has indeed this time chosen to reverse the process. Godfreid Hunnzer is in town, as are Pierre Dubois and Felix Von Marken
heim. A gathering of the vultures, and vultures do not gather unless they have good reason to think that carrion awaits them.”

  I smiled at his comments as I spread my notes upon the table. Mrs. Hudson appeared just then, so that I was forced to gather them up again and allow her to place our dinner on the surface instead. I made no objections to the slight delay, however, for I was famished—and together Holmes and I fell upon our food. But once we were done and Holmes’ pipe was lit, I produced my notes for the second time.

  “I have not yet completed my research to the present time, Holmes. I have three months’ worth of the newspapers yet to go and shall return tomorrow to complete my task. But I have two possibilities, either of which may set you upon Harrison’s trail.”

  Holmes nodded. “I never doubted you would find me something, Watson. What can you offer?”

  “There are two cases. The first was in December last, and appears to have been no less than a brutal and calculated highway robbery and I mean exactly that, Holmes. Lord and Lady Wentwood and their daughter were returning from a ball given for their daughter’s best friend at her home in Highwood Hill just out of London and to the north of the city. Their own home is only three miles distant, so despite the lateness of the hour—and the increasingly inclement weather—they were returning home after the ball and not remaining the night. It would have been about four in the morning, and it appears likely that all three Wentwoods were dozing, as their coachman may have been, since none of them saw the men before a shot was fired.

  “The ball took the coachman through the shoulder and he fell from his seat with a scream which alerted the Wentwoods. However, they appear not to have understood what it was that caused his fall. They climbed from the carriage and were raising the man from the snow into which he had fallen to ask what had occurred when they found themselves menaced by a ring of six men, all masked and heavily armed.”

  I broke off to comment. “It is a disgrace; it comes to something when an Englishman cannot return home in his own carriage from a friend’s house without being threatened by armed ruffians.”

  “Quite so, my dear Watson, but please continue; like you, I sense the hand of Joseph Harrison in this.”

  “The Wentwoods were stripped of their jewels and other valuables. Even the wounded coachman’s pockets were plundered, and the fur cloaks of both women were stolen. The Wentwoods were further outraged when one of their matched quartet of carriage horses was added to the villain’s loot for, as he told them,

  “It will not prevent your reaching your home again, but it will see that you do not do so too quickly for my liking.”

  “Was the horse found?”

  “It was discovered in an old barn several miles to the west of the place where the holdup took place. The animal was unharmed.” I paused. I may say that by now I know something of the way Holmes would consider the evidence so I commented. “I suppose that one should look to the east for the villains after that. They would not have given so clear a pointer to their intended direction, surely?”

  “Well done, Watson,” was my friend’s reply. “No, I do not think they may be found to the west. But the east may also be the wrong direction. I found Mr. Joseph Harrison not so difficult to read as he may think. No I think it is to the south they fled. But pray continue.”

  “There is little else. No trace of the men has been found, nor of any of the Wentwoods’ possessions save the horse. The reporter was gratified, however, that none of the Wentwoods had been harmed in the robbery, and their coachman is making a good recovery.” I turned over my notes and sorted out the second set.

  “The other event was an odd one. A little under four months after the Wentwood robbery, a man was set upon here in London. He was a rent collector for a large firm that has a great number of houses in an area near the Thames. He was rendered senseless by an unexpected blow upon the head from behind, and while he was unconscious his cash satchel and rent book were stolen.

  “The police are at a loss to explain why the book should have been stolen, and surmise that the thief may have been a householder wishing to obscure his failure to pay. This theory they hold to, as the thief certainly went to some trouble to obtain the book, which is normally carried within a large buttoned pocket on the inside of the collector’s overcoat. To steal the book required some time and effort therefore, and the police are of the opinion that these would not have been expended without cause.”

  I saw Holmes’ eyes brighten. “I was right?” I asked. “This may have been the work of Joseph Harrison?”

  “So I think. I do not know as yet why he should have committed the act, but your instincts are right, I believe.”

  I returned diligently to my search of the newspapers the next day, but discovered no more. Holmes came and went all that day and the one following, and I could see that he too had nothing to report. On the late afternoon of the third day Tadpole was waiting anxiously upon the doorstep for our return.

  “In God’s name, gentlemen, can you tell me nothing? My wife is distraught and I—” Here he broke down momentarily. “I fear for Oliver’s life.”

  I ushered him to our rooms and Holmes turned to him urgently. “Please hand me your report, sir. All that Watson and I can do is being done. We are on the trail, but our quarry is not yet in our sights. It may be that the information you bring us will show us the way.”

  Tadpole thrust the sheaf of paper into his hands at that. “We have worked day and night upon this. Annie has recalled many incidents from their childhood, and I have added others of which Joseph had told me. I believe that everything we know is here. May it be a light to your feet from the darkness in which we labored.”

  Holmes took it, sat and began to read immediately. After a time he glanced up. “Your wife says that as a child Joseph often committed mischief, then stood by and laughed. Do you think her descriptions of exactly how he acted to be taken as completely accurate?”

  “I do, Mr. Holmes.”

  Holmes went back to his reading, while I poured us all a drink. I could see it would require some time for Holmes to read everything that Tadpole and Annie had written, so I turned to my old school friend, speaking quietly so as not to distract Holmes. After queries about mutual school friends, I turned to another topic—noticing casually as I did so that Holmes was almost at the end of the papers.

  “You said that you moved recently. What is your new address?”

  “It is near to the Thames, it is a pleasant street,” here he named it and I nodded agreement; I knew the area and it was a street with good houses and an excellent view of the river. “The houses on the side opposite our own back on to the top of the river wall. I daresay they are damp and for that reason the rents are low. Our house is dry, however, despite the recent rains having been so heavy that the Thames is in flood, the rent too is still moderate so that—”

  Holmes, who had been listening to this, leaped up with a cry. “Watson, I have been slow to see. It is you who have put my feet on the path. Yes, it all fits. Annie’s description of her brother’s habits, your friend’s new address that I did not know. It fits. I know the answer but we must have confirmation, then we will require aid from the police, Lestrade owes me and will aid us now.”

  Tadpole and I were hustled from Holmes’ rooms before we could seek clarification of these enigmatic remarks. We paused at a building, while Holmes rushed inside and returned some ten minutes later, wringing the hand of a bemused-seeming man in the building’s lobby.

  “Thank you for your help. It may do more than you think towards a resolution of the mystery which puzzles you.”

  With that Holmes entered the cab again and gave the driver the address of Scotland Yard, enjoining him to make all possible haste. We halted once again on that journey while my friend hailed a shabby urchin whom I recognized, and gave the lad orders in a voice so soft neither Tadpole nor I could hear the words. The lad hurried off and was lost in the crowd while Holmes rejoined us, and the cab set off again. But once a
t Scotland Yard, Holmes signaled that Tadpole should remain in the cab.

  “No, Mr. Phelps. I have need of you for other tasks. Firstly, you shall go to your office, and then to the newspaper offices where you shall place the advertisement Joseph originally demanded be published to tell him that you have a copy of the papers.”

  “But I do not have the papers he demands?”

  “Counterfeit something while you are at your office, something which on first glance will appear to be genuine. We must distract Joseph Harrison’s attention if it is he who comes to buy.”

  “Very well, sir, what then?”

  “Go home to your wife, and I would have you appear dejected and downcast as you enter the house. Tell Annie she may emerge from the house and appear to be weeping as you take a turn about the garden. You shall seem to be comforting her, but in great heaviness of heart yourself. I emphasize that these attitudes are essential; if you do not feel, either of you, that you can counterfeit them, then remain within the house. I shall be with you after dark.”

  “You think—you believe—have you some reason to hope?” my school friend faltered, his gaze affixed to that of Holmes.

  “I have every reason to hope you will hear tonight as soon as the newspapers appear. Once we know Joseph’s plan, then we can make plans of our own—but I am convinced he will wish to obtain the papers from you as soon as ever he can. Do as I say, it is of the utmost importance.”

  Tadpole nodded, and called directions to the driver. We watched as the cab swung into the traffic and Holmes turned back to the austere building before us. “Now, if only Lestrade is in and will assist.”

  We were fortunate in both things. Lestrade was in, and any initial reluctance was overcome by Holmes’ prompt disclosure of his reasons for the request.

  “So it was not a matter of a lost child,” Lestrade said heavily. “We had our doubts at the time but chose to say nothing. We did not believe the parents involved, and my superiors would not have me question the nephew of Lord Holdhurst too strictly. Well, well, so it was a kidnapping, and how I loathe that vile American practice. It is rare here yet and we would keep it so. No, Mr. Holmes, let you give the instructions, and my men and I shall obey them. I owe you for that other matter; I gained my promotion over it, as you said, and I always pay my debts, sir.”