by Martin Daley
“Do not mention it, my dear Armstrong,” was Holmes’s modest reply, “I have enjoyed working with you immensely. It is a pity some of your colleagues do not share your view.” His sardonic reply was not lost on those present.
“Will the other members of the gang be returned?” asked the Inspector.
“My brother will arrange their transportation in the next few days.”
The colonel then spoke, “You have cleared up this problem Mr. Holmes and I am now confident that the French colours will be returned in time for our celebrations, although we have not much to celebrate this year. The shame on the regiment,” he added, again to himself. “But you have done your job Mr. Holmes and for that I add my thanks to that of the Inspector. Please accept this as just reward for your efforts.” He handed Holmes an envelope that contained a cheque for his services.
“Thank you Colonel,” replied Holmes. “I do not see the need for us to prolong our visit, so if you will excuse us, we shall return to London.” Lieutenant Colonel Hulme assented with a silent nod. Holmes then broke my reverie, “Watson? It is time we were leaving.”
I looked up, startled, before trying to wrench a monosyllabic affirmation from my chest, but it got stuck in my throat and virtually died on my lips. I was vaguely aware of offering a hand to the Commanding Officer and the senior policeman and we left them to ponder the situation.
Sergeant Smith also excused himself stating that there had been a disturbance at the town hall and he needed to return to ‘clear the problem up’.
As Holmes and I descended the stairs, Sergeant Armstrong met us. It was clear by his expression – his face clouded with bewilderment – that he was fully aware of the events of the past few hours and I realised that this is what he and his policeman cousin would have been talking about when I had observed them earlier.
The normally assured tone of the Non Commissioned Officer faltered as he addressed us, “I would have sworn there’d been a mistake but Harry came to see me last night, after you’d seen him Mr. Holmes. He talked me through what had happened. I’m still in a state of shock to be honest.”
“Your friend took the honourable way out Sergeant,” said Holmes. “He also confessed to your Commanding Officer this morning.”
“Yes, he said he was going to; typical ‘H’, that.” Armstrong then looked quizzically, unsure whether or not to contradict himself. It was one of those occasions when one is so sure of something – or someone – that one is thrown into a state of confusion when it is proved that the opposite is true to what one is so sure about. Vaughan’s friend and colleague then broached a subject that was clearly bothering him, “Was it me that put you on to Harry, sir?”
“Do not torture yourself unnecessarily,” was Holmes’s compassionate reply, “all of the evidence and testimonies were suggestive in themselves, but there was no one piece of evidence, given from anyone, which gave excessive weight, one way or another to the investigation. It was not until it was all available and could be pieced together that the true picture of what happened became apparent.”
“It explains why the captain asked me to perform the review in Penrith I suppose,” said the soldier, through his vacant stare.
“Indeed.”
“This chap that Harry was dealing with – he wasn’t a shortish, thin bloke with brown collar length hair, was he?”
“He was,” replied Holmes.
The NCO growled an imprecation to himself, as he turned away in anger, “I must have been there on one of the nights Vaughan was meeting him in one of the local pubs. We hadn’t arranged to meet but it just so happened that I went in for a swift one after work. There’s Harry sitting on his own, in the corner of the bar. He looked up and there was such an unusual expression on his face – clearly he wasn’t expecting me.
“‘Looking for some company?’ I said. “‘Geordie! I’m … er … here to meet someone.’
“‘Sounds a bit cloak and dagger! Hope you’re not up to anything untoward,’ I said jokingly.
“Now I think back, Harry laughed nervously at this comment and looked around furtively, ‘No, no, just a bit of private business,’ he replied.
“We talked for a while but I can see now that he was on edge the whole time. I finally made my excuses and left after having a drink with him. As I left the bar, the bloke I’ve just described passed me on his way into the pub. With nothing more than a reflex glance, I looked through the window of the pub from the street outside, as I walked past. Sure enough there was this bloke shaking hands with ‘H’ before sitting down with him.
“My God! It’s all so clear to me now looking back. If only I’d known what the bugger’s motives were,” continued Armstrong, “I could have gone back in and brought Harry to his senses. I would’ve shown that la’al sod a thing or two an ‘all.”
“You could not have possibly known what was occurring that night,” said Holmes, “I’m sure Captain Vaughan is well aware that he has a trusted friend and colleague. He acted in full knowledge of the possible consequences however, so I repeat, Sergeant, there is no need to torture yourself over the matter.”
“Do you think that his otherwise immaculate record will count in his favour?” The question was at best naive, as the soldier would have had a greater knowledge of such military procedures than Holmes. It was clear that, like me, he was not thinking straight and had resorted to clutching at straws, on his friend’s behalf.
“I have little knowledge on how the army deals with such matters,” confirmed the detective. “We must leave now, Sergeant Armstrong. Thank you once again for your help and good luck.”
We shook hands with the crestfallen NCO, who was still unable to hide his disappointment and shock – something that I could easily relate to. Given the surprisingly speedy conclusion to the case, Holmes suggested we attempt to catch the ten forty-five train heading for the capital.
Back at The Crown and Mitre, our witnessing of the aftermath of what Sergeant Smith had referred to as ‘a disturbance’ completed our surreal morning. Apparently the gang of ruffians I had seen hanging around the town hall steps had been waiting for some of the city’s dignitaries to arrive. It was their job to complete the laying of tramlines throughout the city centre and it appears they were in dispute over payment; hence their protest.
We entered the lobby to see Mrs. Graham dabbing the grazed forehead of the unfortunate Town Hall Doorman, Mr. Wilson, as his battered topper lay on the floor beside him.
Sergeant Smith was interviewing Mr. Graham and noting down his responses, “So you saw what happened Sam?”
“Oh aye, it was a rare ole barney!” was our host’s enthusiastic reply. “Old Mr. Wilson there cem down the steps to move them along. Things then got a bit ugly and a couple of your lads who were walkin’ up Scotch Street moved in. Then it really kicked off; knocking seven bells out of each other the’ were. That’s when one of the coppers whistled for help. I think you know the rest.”
On the street outside a group of uniformed policemen were in the process of preparing to frogmarch the individuals arrested back down Scotch Street to the police station.
This bizarre scene only added to my state of dumfoundedness. Holmes and I left the official forces to deal with the situation and went up to our rooms to prepare for our journey home. I packed my things in silence, as the echo of banging draws and cupboard doors permeated from my friend’s lamentably untidy room. Billy once more helped us with our luggage and when in the lobby of the Inn once more, Mr. Graham informed us that Colonel Hulme had already made preparations to settle our expenses. We thanked him and his wife for their hospitality and left in the carriage he had ordered for us.
At the railway station, all noises seemed to merge with the muffled messages from the tannoy announcer; such was my mindset. Holmes appreciated my state of shock and allowed me time to regain my poise before explaining the case. I was virtually oblivious as our train gently rattled out of the border city and headed south into the idyllic parkland of the L
ake District.
Chapter Thirteen - The Case Unravelled
I sat staring blankly out of the carriage window at the dark clouds that hung menacingly in the sky like enormous muslin sacks, ready to discharge their cargo on the area below at any moment.
“I just cannot believe it,” I mumbled to myself for the umpteenth time and then, finally directing a question at Holmes, “why would Harry Vaughan do such a thing?”
“For money!” he replied. “Captain Vaughan would have reached his retirement within the next two years having completed thirty years service. And what had he to show for it? Not even a Majority. Did it not strike you as odd when he contacted you, that in the many years since you went your separate ways, had only achieved one promotion?”
If I had to choose one lesson from working with Holmes for so long, it would have to be that there is only one thing worse than other people’s stupidity – and that is one’s own! “I must confess, I did not pick up on that at the time,” I said, annoyed, once more, at my own dimwittedness.
“No? Still, you must not be so hard on your friend Watson; I view him as a victim in all this sorry mess. The man as you quite rightly pointed out was a fearless soldier but the truth is that Vaughan is a maverick who did not tow the party line, so to speak. A classic example of this was his saving of yourself all those years ago. Did you not recount to me that he ‘… led a group of soldiers out from behind the lines’, to save Murray and yourself? What you considered brave, his superiors viewed as foolhardy.
“Then there was Sergeant Armstrong’s comment that he had to reign his more senior colleague back from ‘… running out, all guns blazing’. The truth of the matter is Watson that this man was popular with his subordinates but much of his work went unrecognised by his superiors. You yourself, described his as ‘ambitious’, and yet it appears his ambitions were never realised. This evidently led to resentment and his attempting to secure a nest egg for his forthcoming retirement.”
“But how were you alerted to him?” I asked.
“If the truth be told, I suspected something was amiss before we even left Baker Street. Vaughan stated that he knew you no longer lived in our rooms through your writings in The Strand. Why then did he send his letter to Baker Street, knowing full well that you would not be there to receive it? Furthermore, why would he send a letter at all? Surely a telegram would be in order given the lack of time before the 28th.
“When we interviewed Robins he told us that, contrary to what we were led to believe, it was not Vaughan at all who suggested to his Commanding Officer that we could help. It was Robins himself who planted the seed with Hulme after recalling his brother witnessed our solving of the Colonel Barclay affair some years ago. Armstrong then commented that Vaughan knew you. At no time during the week of the theft did Vaughan recommend our help, until prompted, this despite his acknowledgment to us – in the presence of the colonel – that the resources of the local constabulary were stretched.
“Then upon our arrival, he met us at the station and then dined with us later; but not only did he fail to protest at my suggestion that we start our investigation the following day, he did not mention the case once during the evening. You obviously did not notice as you were wrapped up in re-living former adventures but I thought it strange, at best.
“Further evidence was submitted by Sergeant Armstrong, who informed us that it was usually his superiors who went out to Penrith to hold the review session, but on this occasion, Vaughan asked him to go. In so doing he conveniently removed a potentially helpful witness from our investigation for a day or so, and this bought his colleagues more time to make their escape. Armstrong himself picked up on this point less than an hour ago, when we spoke with him.
“In short, the whole series of events reeked of delay Watson, and the longer the delay, the greater chance of his confederates completing the theft and making their flight, whilst all the time the trail was going cold. Once they were overseas, there would have been nothing to link Vaughan to the theft.”
“Now you mention it,” I said, “I dined with him on Sunday night and he never mentioned the case then either, despite originally telling me that the colonel wanted to know the latest position.”
“I suspect his visit was prompted by his own nervousness,” commented Holmes, before continuing. “Another anomaly came to light when our friend Mr. Scott made reference to his picking up five uniforms to clean, excluding the set he himself replaced in the middle of the week. This after Armstrong had stated that the officers and NCOs used three each. Hulme, Vaughan and Armstrong should have therefore used nine uniforms between them – Scott only dealt with eight. A minor point at the time but suggestive in itself. The sergeant also commented about the dirty uniforms found during his inspection. These men could not possibly dirty their own uniforms when they were twenty miles away! Vaughan must have replaced them after his associates used them.”
“Do you know who his associates were?”
“Although I deduced their nationality, I did not learn of their identity until I spoke with Mycroft yesterday. I suspected that the ‘Sinn Feine’ note we received at the Inn was an effort to side-track us, but it would have been remiss of me not to follow it up.”
“So it was Vaughan who sent us the note. Why would he do this?” I asked, still confused.
“As I told yourself and Inspector Armstrong last week, the erstwhile London villains, Styles and Bennett, read of the theft of the drums and saw it as an opportunity to distract the police, thus enabling them to attempt to break-out Adams. But it was not only the Londoners who benefited from their theft at the town hall. Vaughan could not have believed his luck at the opportunist theft, as this muddied the waters still further and gave his colleagues extra time to escape. When I deduced the reason for the second theft, you will recall that before we left the police station, Inspector Armstrong said he would contact the colonel. In doing so – via Hulme – he inadvertently alerted Vaughan to our success, who then acted quickly in an attempt to lead us away from the trail once more, by making the Irish suggestion.”
“That’s right” – I snapped my fingers in sudden recollection – “we left Armstrong to go to the prison and then returned to the Inn where the note was waiting for us.”
“As it was, our trip to the Irish quarter helped us enormously, for I must confess I did not anticipate stumbling into the same public house as Vaughan and his colleagues had frequented shortly before the robbery. In trying to lead us away from our path, he in fact, carelessly drew us nearer our goal.
“You will recall upon our visit to the Irish pub that the landlord told us of the strangers, two weeks earlier? My reason for returning to the bar as we were leaving was to describe the gentleman that joined the group. The landlord confirmed my description of Captain Vaughan. Furthermore, he added that the description actually fitted another man in the group; ‘I thought they were brothers’, he told me. Vaughan was actually meeting his associates to finalise their plan for the following week. The choice of location was obviously because of its close proximity to the castle, as was the other location for the separate meeting between Vaughan and the leader of the gang, alluded to by Sergeant Armstrong earlier.
“Back at the ‘Joiner’s Arms’, the landlord told us that only Vaughan and one other appeared to be conversing, during this insidious meeting. The reason for this was that the other members of the gang could not speak English! You see Watson, Vaughan’s associates were not Irish, but French!”
“French?” I ejaculated.
“Special agents, working for the French 34eme Regiment, which brings us to the motive for the theft. They were plotting to recapture their drums, lost all those years ago in Spain. You are the military man Watson not I, but the purpose of my first telegram to Mycroft last Friday was to request his services; by making some discrete enquiries through his contacts at the War Office as to the history of our French cousins.
“He established that the regiment in question was founded by N
apoleon himself, when he became Emperor in 1804 – raised as a crack outfit, specifically to fight in the seemingly endless campaigns against his European neighbours. They did not get off to a very auspicious start however, with our friends from Cumberland stealing their Drums and Colours on the Spanish Peninsular.
“Things went from bad to worse as your military history will tell you, my friend. The only successful campaign the French took part in, in the whole of the century just past, was when they were allied to Britain in the Crimea. Alas the 34eme were not part of the French forces in Russia. This therefore begs the question – upon their centenary – what do they have to celebrate?”
“So they thought that they would restore some credibility by retrieving the trophies lost by their fallen comrades,” I concluded.
“Precisely,” cried Holmes, “but to do so, they needed an insider who had access to keys and equipment. In the frustrated Vaughan, they found the perfect accessory, who brought the number of the gang to five.”
“So why did you keep referring to the possible involvement of RSM McCue?”
“Watson, I did not; you did! Once you heard of McCue’s Irish connections, your imagination took over once more and – given his rather strange behaviour and the coincidental timing of his arrival with that of the theft – you automatically assumed that he was somehow involved.”
“But if that is the case,” I protested, “why did you question Hulme about Young and McCue and not Vaughan?”
“Simply to eliminate them from our enquiries. I was already convinced of Vaughan’s activities, but I need to satisfy myself that there was no other involvement from within the regiment.
“My second telegram to Mycroft again requested his help by using his influence at the War Office and with the Admiralty. He organised the despatching of a frigate from Plymouth – they were therefore intercepted and subsequently arrested the French members of the gang as they attempted to make it across the Channel.