Sherlock Holmes in Montague Street Volume 1

by David Marcum

  “Well,” Holmes replied, “it all comes to the simple first statement. You know that nobody left the place or arrived, except the postman, who couldn’t get near the drawings, and yet the drawings went. Is this your office?”

  The cab had stopped before a large stone building. Mr. Dixon alighted and led the way to the first-floor. Holmes took a casual glance round each of the three rooms. There was a sort of door in the frame of ground glass over the barrier to admit of speech with visitors. This door Holmes pushed wide open, and left so.

  He and the engineer went into the inner office. “Would you like to ask Worsfold and Ritter any questions?” Mr. Dixon inquired.

  “Presently. Those are their coats, I take it, hanging just to the right of the outer office door, over the umbrella stand?”

  “Yes, those are all their things - coats, hats, stick, and umbrella.”

  “And those coats were searched, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this is the drawer - thoroughly searched, of course?”

  “Oh, certainly; every drawer was taken out and turned over.”

  “Well, of course I must assume you made no mistake in your hunt. Now tell me, did anybody know where these plans were, beyond yourself and your two men?”

  “As far as I can tell, not a soul.”

  “You don’t keep an office boy?”

  “No. There would be nothing for him to do except to post a letter now and again, which Ritter does quite well for.”

  “As you are quite sure that the drawings were there at ten o’clock, perhaps the thing scarcely matters. But I may as well know if your men have keys of the office?”

  “Neither. I have patent locks to each door and I keep all the keys myself. If Worsfold or Ritter arrive before me in the morning they have to wait to be let in; and I am always present myself when the rooms are cleaned. I have not neglected precautions, you see.”

  “No. I suppose the object of the theft - assuming it is a theft - is pretty plain: the thief would offer the drawings for sale to some foreign government?”

  “Of course. They would probably command a great sum. I have been looking, as I need hardly tell you, to that invention to secure me a very large fortune, and I shall be ruined, indeed, if the design is taken abroad. I am under the strictest engagements to secrecy with the Admiralty, and not only should I lose all my labor, but I should lose all the confidence reposed in me at headquarters; should, in fact, be subject to penalties for breach of contract, and my career stopped forever. I can not tell you what a serious business this is for me. If you can not help me, the consequences will be terrible. Bad for the service of the country, too, of course.”

  “Of course. Now tell me this: It would, I take it, be necessary for the thief to exhibit these drawings to anybody anxious to buy the secret - I mean, he couldn’t describe the invention by word of mouth.”

  “Oh, no, that would be impossible. The drawings are of the most complicated description, and full of figures upon which the whole thing depends. Indeed, one would have to be a skilled expert to properly appreciate the design at all. Various principles of hydrostatics, chemistry, electricity, and pneumatics are most delicately manipulated and adjusted, and the smallest error or omission in any part would upset the whole. No, the drawings are necessary to the thing, and they are gone.”

  At this moment the door of the outer office was heard to open and somebody entered. The door between the two offices was ajar, and Holmes could see right through to the glass door left open over the barrier and into the space beyond. A well-dressed, dark, bushy-bearded man stood there carrying a hand-bag, which he placed on the ledge before him. Holmes raised his hand to enjoin silence. The man spoke in a rather high-pitched voice and with a slight accent. “Is Mr. Dixon now within?” he asked.

  “He is engaged,” answered one of the draughtsmen; “very particularly engaged. I am afraid you won’t be able to see him this afternoon. Can I give him any message?”

  “This is two - the second time I have come to-day. Not two hours ago Mr. Dixon himself tells me to call again. I have a very important - very excellent steam-packing to show him that is very cheap and the best of the market.” The man tapped his bag. “I have just taken orders from the largest railway companies. Can not I see him, for one second only? I will not detain him.”

  “Really, I’m sure you can’t this afternoon; he isn’t seeing anybody. But if you’ll leave your name - ”

  “My name is Hunter; but what the good of that? He ask me to call a little later, and I come, and now he is engaged. It is a very great pity.” And the man snatched up his bag and walking-stick, and stalked off, indignantly.

  Holmes stood still, gazing through the small aperture in the doorway.

  “You’d scarcely expect a man with such a name as Hunter to talk with that accent, would you?” he observed, musingly. “It isn’t a French accent, nor a German; but it seems foreign. You don’t happen to know him, I suppose?”

  “No, I don’t. He called here about half-past twelve, just while we were in the middle of our search and I was frantic over the loss of the drawings. I was in the outer office myself, and told him to call later. I have lots of such agents here, anxious to sell all sorts of engineering appliances. But what will you do now? Shall you see my men?”

  “I think,” said Holmes, rising - “I think I’ll get you to question them yourself.”

  “Myself?”

  “Yes, I have a reason. Will you trust me with the ‘key’ of the private room opposite? I will go over there for a little, while you talk to your men in this room. Bring them in here and shut the door; I can look after the office from across the corridor, you know. Ask them each to detail his exact movements about the office this morning, and get them to recall each visitor who has been here from the beginning of the week. I’ll let you know the reason of this later. Come across to me in a few minutes.”

  Holmes took the key and passed through the outer office into the corridor.

  Ten minutes later Mr. Dixon, having questioned his draughtsmen, followed him. He found Holmes standing before the table in the private room, on which lay several drawings on tracing-paper.

  “See here, Mr. Dixon,” said Holmes, “I think these are the drawings you are anxious about?”

  The engineer sprang toward them with a cry of delight. “Why, yes, yes,” he exclaimed, turning them over, “every one of them! But where - how - they must have been in the place after all, then? What a fool I have been!”

  Holmes shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re not quite so lucky as you think, Mr. Dixon,” he said. “These drawings have most certainly been out of the house for a little while. Never mind how - we’ll talk of that after. There is no time to lose. Tell me - how long would it take a good draughtsman to copy them?”

  “They couldn’t possibly be traced over properly in less than two or two and a half long days of very hard work,” Dixon replied with eagerness.

  “Ah! then it is as I feared. These tracings have been photographed, Mr. Dixon, and our task is one of every possible difficulty. If they had been copied in the ordinary way, one might hope to get hold of the copy. But photography upsets everything. Copies can be multiplied with such amazing facility that, once the thief gets a decent start, it is almost hopeless to checkmate him. The only chance is to get at the negatives before copies are taken. I must act at once; and I fear, between ourselves, it may be necessary for me to step very distinctly over the line of the law in the matter. You see, to get at those negatives may involve something very like house-breaking. There must be no delay, no waiting for legal procedure, or the mischief is done. Indeed, I very much question whether you have any legal remedy, strictly speaking.”

  “Mr. Holmes, I implore you, do what you can. I need not say that all I have is at your disposal. I will guarantee to hold you harmless for a
nything that may happen. But do, I entreat you, do everything possible. Think of what the consequences may be!”

  “Well, yes, so I do,” Holmes remarked, with a smile. “The consequences to me, if I were charged with house-breaking, might be something that no amount of guarantee could mitigate. However, I will do what I can, if only from patriotic motives. Now, I must see your tracer, Ritter. He is the traitor in the camp.”

  “Ritter? But how?”

  “Never mind that now. You are upset and agitated, and had better not know more than is necessary for a little while, in case you say or do something unguarded. With Ritter I must take a deep course; what I don’t know I must appear to know, and that will seem more likely to him if I disclaim acquaintance with what I do know. But first put these tracings safely away out of sight.”

  Dixon slipped them behind his book-case.

  “Now,” Holmes pursued, “call Mr. Worsfold and give him something to do that will keep him in the inner office across the way, and tell him to send Ritter here.”

  Mr. Dixon called his chief draughtsman and requested him to put in order the drawings in the drawers of the inner room that had been disarranged by the search, and to send Ritter, as Holmes had suggested.

  Ritter walked into the private room with an air of respectful attention. He was a puffy-faced, unhealthy-looking young man, with very small eyes and a loose, mobile mouth.

  “Sit down, Mr. Ritter,” Holmes said, in a stern voice. “Your recent transactions with your friend Mr. Hunter are well known both to Mr. Dixon and myself.”

  Ritter, who had at first leaned easily back in his chair, started forward at this, and paled.

  “You are surprised, I observe; but you should be more careful in your movements out of doors if you do not wish your acquaintances to be known. Mr. Hunter, I believe, has the drawings which Mr. Dixon has lost, and, if so, I am certain that you have given them to him. That, you know, is theft, for which the law provides a severe penalty.”

  Ritter broke down completely and turned appealingly to Mr. Dixon.

  “Oh, sir,” he pleaded, “it isn’t so bad, I assure you. I was tempted, I confess, and hid the drawings; but they are still in the office, and I can give them to you - really, I can.”

  “Indeed?” Holmes went on. “Then, in that case, perhaps you’d better get them at once. Just go and fetch them in; we won’t trouble to observe your hiding-place. I’ll only keep this door open, to be sure you don’t lose your way, you know - down the stairs, for instance.”

  The wretched Ritter, with hanging head, slunk into the office opposite. Presently he reappeared, looking, if possible, ghastlier than before. He looked irresolutely down the corridor, as if meditating a run for it, but Holmes stepped toward him and motioned him back to the private room.

  “You mustn’t try any more of that sort of humbug,” Holmes said with increased severity. “The drawings are gone, and you have stolen them; you know that well enough. Now attend to me. If you received your deserts, Mr. Dixon would send for a policeman this moment, and have you hauled off to the jail that is your proper place. But, unfortunately, your accomplice, who calls himself Hunter - but who has other names besides that - as I happen to know - has the drawings, and it is absolutely necessary that these should be recovered. I am afraid that it will be necessary, therefore, to come to some arrangement with this scoundrel - to square him, in fact. Now, just take that pen and paper, and write to your confederate as I dictate. You know the alternative if you cause any difficulty.”

  Ritter reached tremblingly for the pen.

  “Address him in your usual way,” Holmes proceeded. “Say this: ‘There has been an alteration in the plans.’ Have you got that? ‘There has been an alteration in the plans. I shall be alone here at six o’clock. Please come, without fail.’ Have you got it? Very well; sign it, and address the envelope. He must come here, and then we may arrange matters. In the meantime, you will remain in the inner office opposite.”

  The note was written, and Sherlock Holmes, without glancing at the address, thrust it into his pocket. When Ritter was safely in the inner office, however, he drew it out and read the address. “I see,” he observed, “he uses the same name, Hunter; 27 Little Carton Street, Westminster, is the address, and there I shall go at once with the note. If the man comes here, I think you had better lock him in with Ritter, and send for a policeman - it may at least frighten him. My object is, of course, to get the man away, and then, if possible, to invade his house, in some way or another, and steal or smash his negatives if they are there and to be found. Stay here, in any case, till I return. And don’t forget to lock up those tracings.”

  It was about six o’clock when Holmes returned, alone, but with a smiling face that told of good fortune at first sight.

  “First, Mr. Dixon,” he said, as he dropped into an easy chair in the private room, “let me ease your mind by the information that I have been most extraordinarily lucky; in fact, I think you have no further cause for anxiety. Here are the negatives. They were not all quite dry when I - well, what? - stole them, I suppose I must say; so that they have stuck together a bit, and probably the films are damaged. But you don’t mind that, I suppose?”

  He laid a small parcel, wrapped in a newspaper, on the table. The engineer hastily tore away the paper and took up five or six glass photographic negatives, of a half-plate size, which were damp, and stuck together by the gelatine films in couples. He held them, one after another, up to the light of the window, and glanced through them. Then, with a great sigh of relief, he placed them on the hearth and pounded them to dust and fragments with the poker.

  For a few seconds neither spoke. Then Dixon, flinging himself into a chair, said:

  “Mr. Holmes, I can’t express my obligation to you. What would have happened if you had failed, I prefer not to think of. But what shall we do with Ritter now? The other man hasn’t been here yet, by the by.”

  “No; the fact is I didn’t deliver the letter. The worthy gentleman saved me a world of trouble by taking himself out of the way.” Holmes laughed. “I’m afraid he has rather got himself into a mess by trying two kinds of theft at once, and you may not be sorry to hear that his attempt on your torpedo plans is likely to bring him a dose of penal servitude for something else. I’ll tell you what has happened.

  “Little Carton Street, Westminster, I found to be a seedy sort of place - one of those old streets that have seen much better days. A good many people seem to live in each house - they are fairly large houses, by the way - and there is quite a company of bell-handles on each doorpost, all down the side like organ-stops. A barber had possession of the ground floor front of No. 27 for trade purposes, so to him I went. ‘Can you tell me,’ I said, ‘where in this house I can find Mr. Hunter?’ He looked doubtful, so I went on: ‘His friend will do, you know - I can’t think of his name; foreign gentleman, dark, with a bushy beard.’

  “The barber understood at once. ‘Oh, that’s Mirsky, I expect,’ he said. ‘Now, I come to think of it, he has had letters addressed to Hunter once or twice; I’ve took ’em in. Top floor back.’

  “This was good so far. I had got at ‘Mr. Hunter’s’ other alias. So, by way of possessing him with the idea that I knew all about him, I determined to ask for him as Mirsky before handing over the letter addressed to him as Hunter. A little bluff of that sort is invaluable at the right time. At the top floor back I stopped at the door and tried to open it at once, but it was locked. I could hear somebody scuttling about within, as though carrying things about, and I knocked again. In a little while the door opened about a foot, and there stood Mr. Hunter - or Mirsky, as you like - the man who, in the character of a traveler in steam-packing, came here twice to-day. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and cuddled something under his arm, hastily covered with a spotted pocket-handkerchief.

  “ ‘I have called to see M. Mirsky,’ I said, ‘with a co
nfidential letter - ’

  “ ‘Oh, yas, yas,’ he answered hastily; ‘I know - I know. Excuse me one minute.’ And he rushed off down-stairs with his parcel.

  “Here was a noble chance. For a moment I thought of following him, in case there might be something interesting in the parcel. But I had to decide in a moment, and I decided on trying the room. I slipped inside the door, and, finding the key on the inside, locked it. It was a confused sort of room, with a little iron bedstead in one corner and a sort of rough boarded inclosure in another. This I rightly conjectured to be the photographic dark-room, and made for it at once.

  “There was plenty of light within when the door was left open, and I made at once for the drying-rack that was fastened over the sink. There were a number of negatives in it, and I began hastily examining them one after another. In the middle of this our friend Mirsky returned and tried the door. He rattled violently at the handle and pushed. Then he called.

  “At this moment I had come upon the first of the negatives you have just smashed. The fixing and washing had evidently only lately been completed, and the negative was drying on the rack. I seized it, of course, and the others which stood by it.

  “ ‘Who are you, there, inside?’ Mirsky shouted indignantly from the landing. ‘Why for you go in my room like that? Open this door at once, or I call the police!’

  “I took no notice. I had got the full number of negatives, one for each drawing, but I was not by any means sure that he had not taken an extra set; so I went on hunting down the rack. There were no more, so I set to work to turn out all the undeveloped plates. It was quite possible, you see, that the other set, if it existed, had not yet been developed.