“Lestrade?” I queried. “Would Potter not be more likely to be listened to, assuming he can be convinced to speak for me?”
Holmes grimaced. “Inspector Potter has proven… uncooperative, I am afraid. He has already refused to aid you in any way.”
Just then I heard a doorway being opened somewhere nearby and in a flash, Holmes was gone. Only as he locked the door and his footsteps receded from me did I realise I had failed to ask him about the success he had mentioned regarding my own case.
* * *
The next morning dawned cold but bright.
Holmes arrived, as he had said he would, at around nine, transformed from the beetle-browed guard of the night before. He and Lestrade were already seated in Keegan’s office when Shapley brought me to join the meeting. To my surprise, Inspector Potter was also present, standing to one side of the governor.
“It would seem that there is some concern for your safety,” the governor began without preamble, indeed almost before the office door was closed behind me. “Mr. Holmes here – in company with Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, for reasons which I admit elude me – claims that there have been threats against your life. Is this true?”
“It is,” I replied.
“And these threats have been prompted by certain assistances you have supplied Scotland Yard during Mr. Holmes’s work as a… what was it again, consulting detective?”
I glanced down at Holmes, who stared implacably ahead, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Yes, I believe that to be the case.”
“Hmm.” Keegan coughed and Potter handed him a sheaf of papers from the briefcase I now saw he had been holding behind his back. He began to read one, his finger tracing the lines as he read. In the ensuing silence, Lestrade took the opportunity to confirm our previous successes.
“Dr. Watson’s assistance has been invaluable on many occasions in the past, Governor Keegan. He and Mr. Holmes have provided invaluable aid to the Yard in several high-profile cases, including some whose impact was felt in the highest positions in the land.”
I was grateful to the little inspector, for I knew it must have pained him to describe Holmes’s role in such glowing terms. It mattered little, however, for Keegan had evidently found what he was looking for, and replied in the most dismissive tone.
“The highest positions in the land, is it? Mr. Holmes hinted as much before the prisoner arrived but I assume now, as then, you are unable to provide any detail of such cases? For reasons of national security, was the phrase you used, if I recall correctly?”
Grudgingly, Lestrade nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but Keegan was not finished.
“And the other cases in which these two gentlemen have been of help to the police? Those involving a less exalted clientele? Are those the sort of things Dr. Watson writes about in the popular periodicals? The… ahem, Sign of Four, for instance,” he asked, stumbling deliberately over the title.
“It is,” Holmes interjected before Lestrade could reply. “I have upbraided Watson more than once for his tendency to sensationalise our already fascinating work, but I cannot deny the accuracy of the bare facts he presents in each case he reports, once shorn of what he tells me is necessary literary licence. I do not flatter either Watson or myself when I say that we have a high success rate in our investigations, and have been responsible for the capture and imprisonment of numerous vicious criminals. Which is why he is in need of special protection while he remains temporarily incarcerated in this establishment.”
“As you said,” Keegan responded smoothly. “Yet, when I contacted Inspector Potter this morning – in his role as the detective actually investigating Dr. Watson’s crimes – he informed me that Dr. Watson plays only a very minor role in such affairs. And as I read through these summaries the inspector has placed before me, it is clear that Watson is simply a useful if cavalier man with a revolver, who otherwise appears to spend much of his time on purely administrative errands, or applauding his colleague’s own apparently limitless intelligence. In fact, I cannot see a single case in which he might be said to have played an essential part in the capture of anyone.” Both his tone and his smile were mocking. “Would it not be fair to say that in every case, events would have unravelled exactly as they did were Dr. Watson to have been absent throughout?”
Holmes made no reply for a long second. He leaned forward and ground his cigarette out in the ashtray, then brushed the tips of his fingers together.
“First, Governor, I would remind you that it is more proper to say ‘Watson’s alleged crimes’. He has been convicted of nothing to date – at least not by any court. But to answer your question, no, that would not be fair at all. I shall go further. It would require an almost wilful misreading of every case in which we have been involved to draw such a conclusion. It is true that Watson often downplays his own essential contribution to our investigations for reasons of literary effect, but even someone taking his tales at face value could not fail to see the many and varied ways in which he provides insight and suggests new approaches in times of difficulty. Any policeman worthy of the name would advise you of the truth of that assertion.”
As he concluded, Holmes allowed his eyes to wander across to Potter and rest there, his final sentence directed at the inspector and not the governor. Potter did not miss the implied insult.
“How would you know what makes a decent policeman, Holmes?” he spat, stripping all courtesy from his voice. “You don’t have what it takes to be even a poor one, and deep down you know it. Police work is difficult and it’s frustrating – and it’s without reward more often than not. There’s no picking and choosing of clients, and neither can you ignore the dull cases and only involve yourself in the interesting ones. It’s long nights spent in the rain and the wind, watching and waiting, and longer days tramping round the city, poking your nose in where it’s not welcome and hoping nobody decides their life would be easier if the interfering copper were dead in the gutter. Mostly, though, a policeman deals with stupidity all day long, and you could never bear that, could you, Holmes? I’ve never investigated a snake trained to climb up ropes – yes, I read some of Dr. Watson’s doggerel before I passed it to the governor – but I’ve seen any number of big buggers beat their wives to death because their tea wasn’t ready, or there was no money for beer, or just because they could. What would you do with men like that, Holmes? How would you investigate them? And how would you get on if you had half a dozen like that a week? No criminal masterminds. No cunning plans. Just brutes being brutes, and a policeman coming along later to pick up the pieces and try and make something of them.”
Holmes said nothing throughout this tirade. He stared at Potter through a haze of cigarette smoke, then suddenly rose to his feet and stalked across the room, until the two men stood almost toe to toe.
“I have never hidden my... disappointment with Scotland Yard, Inspector Potter. Lestrade will tell you, and Watson will no doubt back him up, that I am often less than complimentary about the efforts of his colleagues and himself. To my mind, they are ponderous and flat-footed, slow in both wit and action, and inclined to accept the easiest solution rather than the correct one. But...” he continued as Lestrade flushed with colour and opened his mouth to speak, “it is those very qualities which make them so well suited to the work you have just described. You ask how I would investigate the thug who beats his wife to death? The answer is obvious. I would not. There would be nothing to investigate, only injuries to be healed and punishment to be meted out. I am not temperamentally suited to either role, Inspector, but the likes of Gregson, Bradstreet and Hopkins are ideally fitted to the task. Plodders to a man, but diligent, and dogged too. As, I suspect, are you, Potter. Perhaps if you had not over-reached yourself, allowing your ambition to outstrip your ability, you might not be in the position in which you now find yourself.”
Potter’s voice was shrill with rage and his face flushed red. “The position I find myself in? What do you mean by
that? It is not I who over-reaches himself, Holmes, but you. In your hurry to defend your friend the killer, you defame a police force whose members are your superiors in every way, and a man like Lestrade who has risked his very career to assist you in that foolishness. I wonder what he has to say to your contempt?”
If Holmes was concerned by this appeal to Potter’s fellow officer, he did not show it. “Lestrade knows the value I place upon him,” he replied. “Indeed, hand on heart I can say that I have described him in the last few days as the ideal detective. And if he does not know that I owe him a debt of gratitude for his help in recent weeks, then he is as poor a detective as you are yourself. To be clear, I very much doubt that to be the case.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” Lestrade said quietly, “but I can speak for myself. Whatever relationship exists between Mr. Holmes and myself is no business of yours, Potter,” he continued, squinting at his colleague through narrow eyes. “But you mentioned the risks I’ve taken in helping Dr. Watson, and I’ll tell you why I’ve taken them, shall I? Not because of Mr. Holmes or the help he occasionally gives Scotland Yard, nor even because he’s saved my life before now. I’ve helped because he’s a good man, who I know never killed that old woman. For one thing, only a fool would think the evidence points to him. But, nearly as important, he’s not got it in him. He’s a good-hearted man, is Dr. Watson, for all that he’s been personally responsible for the apprehension of criminals far more dangerous than your friend the governor’s ever likely to see inside Holloway.”
As soon as the words fell from Lestrade’s mouth, I knew that he had made an error, and from the look on his face, that he knew it too.
So it proved.
“You make Governor Keegan’s point for him, Inspector,” Potter responded quickly, before Lestrade could retract his statement. “The criminals Holmes and Watson capture do seem to die quite often, one way or another. And as for those who do not end their days dancing on the scaffold, are they not far more likely to be found in Dartmoor or Newgate than Holloway? Are there currently, in fact, any prisoners at all within these walls whom Holmes and Watson placed there?”
“There are none with whom we have dealt directly,” Holmes reluctantly answered in Lestrade’s stead. “But that is hardly the point. Watson is known to be an ally of the police force. He is, as you have admitted, responsible for sending sundry criminals to the gallows. The attacks by Isaac Collins and others are surely evidence enough that a prisoner may not necessarily be directly linked to our cases for Watson to be a target of retribution!”
It was clear that Keegan believed Potter had trumped us. He was not to be swayed. His smile became a grin, and he settled back in his chair with a small sigh of satisfaction.
“You could say that of almost every man in here, Mr. Holmes,” he shrugged. “If I were to give special consideration to everyone who might be targeted for some offence committed outside these walls, the punishment cells would soon be overflowing. No, I am sorry, Inspector,” he continued, turning to Lestrade, “but my hands are tied. And frankly I would be remiss if I did not take a moment to question exactly why a Scotland Yard detective who is not attached to this case sees fit to bring a civilian into my office to plead for such special treatment? I am a busy man, as I am sure you must be, and it strikes me as a waste of both your valuable time and mine to spend half an hour listening to the random entreaties of what – now I have met him in person – seems to me to be nothing but an amateur with an over-inflated sense of his own competence.”
Holmes’s back stiffened at that, and he rose quickly to his feet.
“Clearly the time being wasted is our own, Lestrade,” he said coldly. “The governor’s obvious preconceptions make it unlikely that Watson will be granted equitable treatment, which makes it all the more pressing that we spend our time more profitably.” He stared down his nose at Keegan, who remained in his seat, an insolent smile still visible on his face. “But before I go, it would be remiss of me not to demonstrate exactly the calibre of man I take him to be, and exactly how little Watson should fear his opposition.”
So saying, he bent forward across the governor’s desk. Keegan leaned back in sudden fright and I heard Shapley take a step forward from his place by the door. Lestrade too moved, shifting to one side, so that he stood in between Shapley and Holmes. “Best to let him have his say, I’ve always found,” he said quietly, as Holmes went on in a sharp, clinical voice.
“You are a vain man, Mr. Keegan, but you have never attracted a wife. You spend almost all your salary on satisfying your expensive tastes, which causes you to worry that you will have no means of support when you are too old to work. You employ no servants, possibly for financial reasons. You are not liked by your men, obviously. And of course, you play billiards frequently but remain a poor player.”
The governor stared at Holmes, the colour slowly suffusing his face. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner—” he began, but Holmes cut across his bluster with a cold fury, such as I had rarely seen in my friend before.
“I dare, Governor, because I am not one of your lick-spittle lackeys, nor one of the poor unfortunates who suffer under your lamentable ‘care’.”
“To my infinite regret, I assure you,” the governor spat out. “If you were to present yourself in this office, spouting such a pack of falsehoods in an official capacity—”
“You and I both know that there is no falsehood in anything I have said, but for the benefit of my colleagues, I shall explain, if you wish.”
Allowing Keegan no chance to demur, Holmes pressed on with what was swiftly turning into a character assassination.
“Your vanity is undeniable and all too clear to the thoughtful observer. You have shaved recently, in the last few days, but missed a single hair on your chin. It is rather too long to be the result of one day’s growth and since you could hardly present yourself in this office unshaven, you must have had a beard until recently. The skin around your chin and under your nose is of a slightly paler colour than the rest of your face – which, given that you must spend most of your time within these walls, indicates both that you were bearded for a considerable length of time, and that your beard was of the fashionable Van Dyke variety favoured by members of the artistic community. That the errant hair is grey in colour – unlike your unnaturally black hair – suggests to me that vanity caused you to remove your beard. Add to that your suit and shirt, whose quality must strain the purse of any public servant, and the faint aroma coming from them of extremely costly cigars, and I struggle to think of any other description than vain.”
“What of the lack of a wife?” Lestrade encouraged Holmes, evidently enjoying the spectacle.
“Surely even you noticed the second button down on Mr. Keegan’s expensive French shirt, Lestrade? It has come astray and been sewn back on, but the thread is not quite the right shade. It does not match the buttons above and below it. No wife would make such an elementary error. Nor would any servant worthy of the name, hence he has none such, though his salary would undoubtedly allow him one should he wish it.”
“And the billiards?” I worried that I would be punished later for my interjection, but watching Holmes in full spate was the first real pleasure I had felt in days.
“A mere trifle, Watson, I assure you. But if it will amuse you… the indentation on his left middle finger and the less noticeable callus on the forefinger of the same hand could only be caused by a billiard cue held frequently. The small trophy on the shelf above his head declares that he came third in an intra-prison competition seventeen years ago; the absence of any other trophies indicates he has not improved in the meantime. As I said, a mere trifle.”
The familiar rhythm and tone of one of Holmes’s explanations soothed me, I cannot deny, and I found myself looking even on the governor with a little more kindness, helped in large measure by the extreme displeasure evident on his face. It was swollen with indignation, and reddened to the point, I both feared and hoped, of apoplexy. H
e said nothing while Holmes spoke, but as a brief silence fell on the room he seemed to come to his senses and, with an enraged cry, barked an order at Shapley.
“Take the prisoner back to his cell!” he ordered, “and escort Inspector Lestrade and his companion out of the prison. Now!” he concluded, his voice raised almost to a bellow.
The officer gave me a shove in the back, propelling me towards the door, before with only marginally more politeness asking Holmes and Lestrade to follow him. As I was marched away from my friends, I had just time to hear Lestrade ask Holmes how he knew that his men disliked Governor Keegan, and Holmes’s reply that, having met the man, need he really ask?
There had been an undeniable pleasure in watching Keegan humbled, but any satisfaction I felt was only fleeting. Within minutes I was once more in my cell, with the mechanical routine of the day ahead of me and, in the not too distant future, a trial which, for all Lestrade’s supportive words, I might well lose.
I held fast to those encouraging words throughout the long day, intending to ask Holmes about the progress he had mentioned as soon as he arrived for his shift as Andrews. In the event, however, he appeared at my cell door in the early afternoon, with an order in his hand to take me to the infirmary. It seemed the morning meeting with Keegan had at least prompted the governor to have my injuries examined by a doctor.
“Fortunately for us, there are staffing difficulties in the prison at the moment. One of the warders on today’s roster failed to appear this morning, and so a runner was sent round to my lodgings requesting my presence for a portion of the day shift.” He allowed himself a quick smile. “The absence may be connected to an anonymous telegram to the local constabulary giving warning that a certain guard had republican sympathies and planned a bombing atrocity in the near future. Don’t worry!” Holmes quickly stifled my objection. “I have also asked Lestrade to ensure that the fellow is treated well and only held in custody until I give the word for his release. But this way I can be present as often as I wish for the next few days.”
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes--The Improbable Prisoner Page 18