by Dick Gillman
Holmes smiled and wagged his finger at me. His smile grew broader as he examined the envelope that he had picked up, saying “Well, well! I appears that you have more correspondence… Miss Jane Watson!”
Fortunately, I had replaced the teapot and was now only holding my cup as I jolted forwards, shouting, “What?” and slopping a sizeable quantity of hot tea into my saucer.
Holmes held up the envelope to the light from the window before then holding it to his nose.
A puzzled look now appeared on Holmes’ face. “Now… this is most unexpected, Watson. I did not foresee any further contact. I believe it to have come from the same source as the pills for I detect the very slightest odour of mint. Would you mind if I opened it on your behalf?”
I cradled my tea cup and brimming saucer in my hands whilst I carefully shook my head, saying, “Not at all Holmes, as I am a little indisposed at present… although I too am curious!”
Holmes stood and, reaching for his stiletto, carefully slit the envelope. Removing the contents, Holmes began to read. As I watched, I saw his face change. The muscles in his slender cheeks bulged and grew taut like cords of steel as he clenched his teeth in anger.
Suddenly, Holmes cried out, “Damnable wretches! How can they act so? It is beyond belief!”
He threw down the piece of paper and began to pace our rooms like a man possessed, up-ending any piece of furniture that was in his path. Seldom have I seen him so enraged. Swiftly putting down my cup and saucer, I scrabbled on the floor for the sheet of paper that he had so angrily tossed to one side.
Retrieving it, I could see that it was a partly printed and partly hand-written letter. I began to read…
“Madame, I am in possession of a letter written by you on the 11th of October in which you sought to purchase certain abortifacients in order to commit or attempt to commit the heinous crime of abortion. By their purchase, you sought to prevent yourself giving birth to a child. Both of these actions are criminal offences in themselves and punishable, under the law of England, by penal servitude. It is my duty to inform you that criminal proceedings have already begun against you and that a warrant for your immediate arrest is to be issued unless you send me, on or before Friday morning next, the sum of two guineas.
I also require you to sign the statement below and return this letter with your payment.
James Francis Clements, Public Official, Queen’s Bench, London.
I, Jane Watson, do solemnly swear, upon my honour, that I will never again attempt, by any means, to prevent myself giving birth to a child.
Signed before God.”
I collapsed into my chair, scarcely believing what I had read. Holmes was still pacing wildly and I cried out to him, “But…but this is blackmail Holmes! How are they able to do this to these poor creatures that they have already so villainously deceived?”
Holmes stopped pacing and stood directly in front of me, his eyes burning like coals. “How indeed, Watson! But consider this, how can these women go to the authorities without confessing to a serious crime and suffering the shame and consequences of it? They cannot! What villainy indeed! It is imperative that we act at once, Watson.”
With that, Holmes dived for his notebook and began frantically scribbling a telegram. “I am asking Lestrade to come here at once for this is something that we cannot do alone, Watson.” When he had finished, he tore the page from his notebook before ringing the bell madly for Mrs Hudson.
It had taken the rest of the morning for Holmes to become sufficiently calm to allow himself to sit and enjoy a pipe of tobacco. It was clear to me that the events of the morning were still preying greatly upon his mind.
As we sat and waited for Lestrade, Holmes’ mind seemed to become focussed on the details of the deception. Taking up his pipe, he drew strongly upon it before saying, "You know, Watson, enticing the weak and vulnerable to purchase a useless 'cure' is commonplace. To then blackmail them and require them to return the blackmail note with their payment is inspired!”
I nodded… but wondered at how Holmes could separate the evil of the scheme from the mechanics of the deception. Suddenly, the implication of what he had said struck me. I shook my head in disbelief, saying, "No, Holmes! You do not see her hand in this?"
Holmes was staring at a point far in the distance. As he drew upon his pipe, he slowly nodded. "I suspect Julia Moriarty to be at the centre of this intrigue, Watson. She will distance herself from its baser workings and allow her minions to gather in the profits."
I could barely take this in, Julia Moriarty! The evil sister of the infamous James Moriarty. The woman who had sworn revenge for her brother’s death and now sought to resurrect his criminal empire. "But... but this a crime against her own sex, Holmes! How can she exploit these women so?"
Holmes was entirely cold in his reply. "We are all sheep to be fleeced in her eyes, Watson…" He then paused for a moment before continuing, "Although... this need to obtain a sworn promise, it is something that I had not considered to be within her character. It is a weakness, Watson. A nod, if you will, to her own latent maternal instinct."
I thought this over before replying, "But she has sold these women a remedy which they believe will end a life!"
Holmes drew steadily on his pipe before raising a cautioning finger and saying, "Ah, the victims believe it to be so... but the pills, as we now know, are quite harmless. They could so easily have been laced with all manner of adulterants and poisons. A criminal without a care for the mother and unborn child would not have been so mindful of the content.”
He paused for a few moments, seemingly deep in thought, before continuing, “No, Watson. She has inadvertently revealed a side to her character that she would, no doubt, have preferred to remain hidden."
We took luncheon at noon and it wasn’t until a little after 1pm that we heard the bell ring in the hall below and then the steady, measured tread of a policeman upon the stairs and then outside our rooms. Ushered in by Mrs Hudson, to whom he gave the briefest of nods, Lestrade removed his hat and coat and laid them on the back of our settee.
Lestrade looked across the room towards Holmes and then, in quite a brusque tone, said, “I hope this excursion across London is worth my time, Mr Holmes. I have a desk full of cases that will not solve themselves and require my attention.”
Holmes, I'm sure, was about to make a less than complimentary comment as to the ability of the inspector when he saw my pained look and upheld hand. Giving the briefest of nods in my direction, Holmes bit his lip.
Inviting the inspector to be seated, Holmes laid before Lestrade all that we had discovered. It took him some twenty minutes to fully appraise Lestrade and, when he had finished, Lestrade was seen to be sitting back, open-mouthed.
Gathering himself together, Lestrade leaned forwards and rubbed his chin. "Well, Mr Holmes, you astound me. How are we to proceed?"
A wry smile now appeared on Holmes’ face. "Well, Inspector, I think it necessary to approach this from two different directions. Firstly, we must halt production of these pills and also curtail their advertising."
Lestrade had taken out his official notebook, licked his pencil, and was now seen to be making copious notes, whilst rapidly nodding in agreement.
Holmes continued, "Secondly, a watch must be set on the post office box to which the blackmail payments are being sent and whoever collects them must be detained."
Lestrade continued with his notes whilst adding, "Yes, yes, I agree. I think that would be best.” Lestrade paused for a moment before saying, “Given the nature of the investigation, I believe that Scotland Yard should now take over this case, Mr Holmes. I am, of course, most grateful for your assistance, as always. If I could have the letters to which you referred…?” With a glance in my direction he concluded, “I will, of course, keep Doctor Watson's name out of any official documents."
I nodded in gratitude whilst Holmes gathered up the two letters and removed Violet Dixon’s newspaper cutting from his waistcoat poc
ket. These three items he handed to Lestrade whilst saying, "I am indeed happy to have been of some service... but tell me Lestrade, when do you intend to strike?"
Lestrade did not hesitate. "It will be tomorrow, Mr Holmes!" With that, he swiftly put on his coat and hat, placed the items in his coat pocket and with a final 'goodbye', he almost raced from our rooms.
Chapter 6 – Lestrade springs the trap
I looked at Holmes in amazement. I had expected at least some kind of protest as the case was whisked away from him by Lestrade. Scratching my head, I said, "I do not understand, Holmes. You have presented the facts to the man and he has, in effect, stolen the case from you!"
Holmes laughed and reached for his pipe. "Did you hear him thank us for our 'assistance', Watson? I have never seen him so eager to leave and get back to Scotland Yard!"
I was now confused. "Are you not concerned that he will simply arrest those responsible and take the credit?"
Holmes replied, sternly, "I do not do this for the glory, as you well know.” I felt a little rebuked by this but his face then took on an impish expression as he asked, “Tell me, Watson, you have hunted in the Highlands. How does a hunter flush out the game?"
I thought this an odd question and considered it for a moment before replying, "Well, a Setter is used to indicate the location of the game and then a Springer is sent in to flush them out...Ha! Lestrade is the Springer!"
Holmes laughed, patting me on the back. "And you made a very fine Setter, Watson!"
We both laughed and, when once more we were seated, Holmes began to explain his plan. "Lestrade is able enough to locate and close down the manufacture of the pills, I have no doubt. It is the blackmailers who are our quarry, Watson. Lestrade will lie in wait and arrest some poor lackey whose role it is to empty the post office box each day, not knowing the contents. This arrest will satisfy Lestrade. We, meanwhile, will be watching for the bigger game who will be nearby but evade Lestrade’s trap."
I nodded and then asked, "Do you think they will lead us to Moriarty?"
Holmes’ expression became thoughtful. He drew steadily upon his pipe before replying, "I am unsure, but it is a possibility, Watson. I would be grateful if you could bring your service revolver with you tomorrow, just as a precaution."
Holmes turned and looked at our wall clock. "Are you agreeable to a little exercise, Watson? As I recall from the letter, the payment was to be sent to the General Post Office at St Martin's Le Grand. I think we might take a stroll there and see the lie of the land."
I readily agreed and within ten minutes, we had dressed warmly, hailed a passing cab and were on our way to Aldersgate Street. Our arrival brought us to the front of an impressive, Grecian-styled stone building which stretched some two hundred feet either side of a colonnaded, Grecian, peaked portico. Stepping down from the cab, we made our way up the central steps and through the columns to the entrance to the building proper.
As we passed through the most impressive cast bronze, entrance doors, Holmes caught my arm, saying, "This must be a casual visit, Watson. We do not want to spring the birds ourselves simply by our presence."
I nodded and, as we walked, ever watchful, Holmes used his cane to ostensibly point out to me the architectural features of this fine building. Moving further into the foyer, there could be seen counters where customers could make enquiries and purchases. Above one small area of a counter there hung a sign saying, 'Post Restante'. Holmes touched my sleeve briefly but we walked on without a further glance. To the sides of the public area were benches and we took the opportunity to sit and rest for a moment.
Holmes bent slightly towards me, saying, "Here, Watson. This is an ideal location to observe both the counter and the comings and goings from the building."
I nodded but asked, "How will we know when the letters from that particular box are being collected?"
Holmes smiled. "I am sure that friend Lestrade will make a very public display of arresting whoever collects from the box. We however, must watch and see who takes flight and follow immediately... but discreetly. I require you to wait in the street, ready with a cab, whilst I observe here." I agreed and we returned to Baker Street, cheered and braced by our afternoon stroll.
As we sat and smoked that evening, I wondered about the timing of our visit to the post office. "Tell me, Holmes," I asked. "At what time do you envisage our next visit to Aldersgate Street to be?"
Holmes was sitting back in his leather armchair. He took his pipe from his mouth, saying, "This is something that I have considered, Watson. Whoever collects the letters will, no doubt, wait until almost the end of the day to ensure that all the mail for that day has been placed in the box. I have made enquiries and the ‘Post Restante’ counter closes at 4:30pm; therefore, I suggest we begin our watch from an hour before."
I must confess that I was most eager to see who collected the letters, and, more importantly, who would flee from the scene.
Little occurred during the following morning, I cleaned and loaded my service revolver and I saw, by the soiled cleaning cloth and the open box of ammunition left on our dining table, that Holmes had been similarly occupied. If Julia Moriarty were at the heart of this villainy, then Holmes would be taking no chances.
By three o'clock we were ready and Holmes was now pacing, eager to travel to Aldersgate Street. "Come along, Watson, make haste! We do not want to miss Lestrade's triumph! Holmes laughed, leaving our rooms almost at the gallop. I hurried after him down the stairs and into Baker Street where Holmes stood with his gloved hand raised, waving, to summon a cab.
As we neared the General Post Office, Holmes turned to me, saying, "You have a most important role, Watson. As soon as Lestrade springs his trap, I fully expect someone to leave the post office in haste and take a cab. You must be ever watchful. I will follow swiftly at a safe distance but you must keep your eye on whoever leaves until I can join you."
Holmes directed the driver to take his cab to the rear of a line of cabs waiting at the stand opposite the post office. I remained in the cab whilst Holmes wandered nonchalantly towards the post office, stopping briefly to buy a newspaper.
After having watched the ebb and flow of the tide of humanity in the street for some ten minutes, there was suddenly the shrill sound of a police whistle followed by a commotion on the steps of the post office. A struggling figure was being manhandled by two burly constables towards a closed police van that was quickly approaching from a side street.
As I watched, a figure slid from the small group that had formed to see what was happening. I noticed that he walked just a little too briskly towards the cab at the head of the queue at the stand. Fortunately for Holmes, the cabbie had taken the opportunity, whilst he had no customers, to feed his horse. It took a minute or so for him to remove the nose bag from around the horse’s head, much to the annoyance of his impatient fare. This short delay was sufficient to allow Holmes to walk unhurriedly from the post office to our cab without attracting any undue attention.
Looking behind me, I saw Holmes step up to where our cabbie was seated and press a coin into his hand before exchanging a few words. Holmes joined me mere moments before our cab began to move forwards towards the head of the queue. The first cab moved off when we were but ten yards from it and I could see an anxious, moustached face at the rear window of the cab, looking to see if anyone were setting off to give chase. As our cab was already in motion before his set off, he seemed untroubled by our presence.
After about a mile, the cab in front of us stopped. The man inside leapt from the cab and, after throwing a coin to the driver, ran to the front door of a house and disappeared inside. Our cab continued on its way and only stopped once we had rounded a corner, some fifty yards further on.
Holmes sprang from the cab and immediately headed for an alleyway that ran parallel to the houses. "This way, Watson!" cried Holmes, "We must see who is at home!"
Chapter 7 – A question of conscience
Charging along the alle
yway, Holmes ran full tilt until he was within ten yards of the house of interest. He then slowed and approached with caution. Looking around me, I could see that each house had a rear yard with an attached wash house within it. We both had removed our hats and Holmes carefully peered around the corner of the wall that divided the yard from that of the house next door. With his gloved hand, he motioned for me to follow. We flattened ourselves against the grimy, brick wall as we crept towards the rear window of the house. Thankfully, the back yard was ill-lit by the watery, autumn sun and the gaslights in the house had been lit.
As we inched closer, we could see that he room was clearly the kitchen. Raised voices could be heard from within and two men could be seen engaged in a heated discussion. I crouched beside Holmes and I could see that upon the kitchen table were open ledgers and piles of letters, together with neat stacks of gold coins. From my position a little way behind Holmes, my view was somewhat restricted. As I watched, I saw him suddenly stiffen whilst whispering, "Moriarty!"
On hearing her name, I edged forwards to get a better view. In doing so, my knee inadvertently caught the handle of a galvanised bucket causing it to fall noisily. Faces inside the room instantly turned towards the window. I had the briefest glimpse of an auburn haired woman plunging a hand into her bag and then a flash of bright metal before my head was roughly pushed down below the window ledge.
Instantly, my shoulders and bare head were showered with a cascade of broken glass as two shots were fired, shattering the kitchen window. Holmes had sprung to one side and I now crouched even lower, seeking the protection of the brickwork. I saw that he had drawn his revolver and I fumbled for mine. As I did so, I found that my vision in one eye was suddenly obscured by a steady flow of blood from the top of my head. Putting away my revolver, I took out my handkerchief and pressed it firmly to my scalp in an attempt to staunch the heavy flow of blood.
Holmes risked a quick glance into the kitchen and saw that it was now empty. As he did so, we heard the front door of the house slam. Holmes turned to give chase along the alleyway but, as he did so, he saw the blood streaming down my face and now soaking my clothes.