Sherlock Holmes

by Dick Gillman

  Holmes paused, closed his eyes and was again deep in thought. “And yet… why would she have need to do that? Even if the men had seen her, knowing it was she who was responsible would be of little use. No! There must be another reason why these two men had to die.” Holmes was silent, knees drawn up to his chest and once more he returned to that contemplative state where he could play out a myriad of scenarios and analyse the data.

  Holmes remained thus for, perhaps, ten minutes. I hesitated to ask but I needed to know the answer. “I am still puzzled, Holmes. Why is it that the bags could not be retrieved before the twelfth?”

  Holmes’ eyes flicked open and he leapt from his chair, saying, “Watson, old fellow, I am much obliged.” He now began to pace the length of our sitting room as he appeared to be fitting the pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

  Pausing briefly, he asked, “Yes… why indeed? Consider this, Watson. Tindall is a guard on a train that has valuables locked away in a safe… a safe that requires two keys to open it. Moriarty offers Tindall and Carter a hundred sovereigns each for impressions of the keys. The robbery, whatever it might be, must have taken place some little while before the twelfth.”

  I thought for a moment. “So, when picking up the bags containing the bombs and scrap iron, they would not be concerned by the weight; they would think it to be the gold!”

  Holmes smiled, saying, “Precisely, Watson. Carter, it seems, was a little too eager to see his prize. He fatally opened the bag but a few yards from where he had retrieved it. Tindall would, no doubt, have done the same. Having reflected upon this, I believe now that both men were to be killed not because they could identify Moriarty, but to silence them! It was to hide the fact that they had made the impressions of the keys. Remember, no keys had gone missing. Nobody at Liverpool Street Station would ever know of this betrayal of trust.”

  I was still confused. “So, you believe the robbery took place sometime before the twelfth, either whilst the train was moving, with Tindall travelling as the guard, or once it had arrived at Liverpool Street Station?”

  Holmes stood for a moment and considered my question. “Yes… although the thieves would have had little time to carry out their activities at Liverpool Street. There would have been too many eyes and they also risked discovery. It had to be done whilst the train was travelling towards London.”

  I pondered Holmes’ words before asking, “But surely, once the safe was opened at Liverpool Street, the theft would have been immediately discovered and the finger of guilt pointed squarely at Tindall?”

  Holmes returned to his chair, saying, “Yes, that is indeed most troubling.

  He sat for several minutes before continuing, “I sent a telegram to Mycroft when we first became aware of this case, simply to advise him of the folly of blaming anarchists for the explosions. I know that he has the ear of the Special Branch. However, today, I despatched another to him. I am in need of his counsel in this matter and I have invited him to take a glass of sherry with us tomorrow morning, at half past eleven.”

  I felt my brows draw downwards slightly as I said, “But Mycroft does not like Sherry!”

  Holmes turned to me with a wicked grin, saying simply, “Precisely!”

  Chapter 6 - Five thousand sovereigns!

  Promptly, at half past eleven the next morning, the sound of a Hansom pulling up to our door in the street below and a familiar tread on the stairs announced the arrival of Mycroft Holmes. A few moments later, Mycroft swept in, quickly depositing his coat and hat before settling into a chair.

  "I see that you still persist in schoolboy humour, Sherlock. Why else would you attempt to taunt me?" asked Mycroft, with no malice.

  Holmes lowered his copy of 'The Times' and simply smiled, saying, "Mycroft, I cannot resist... but I do need your counsel. This matter at Liverpool Street, it has taken something of a twist. There appears to have been a robbery that has, as yet, been undetected."

  Mycroft took from his case a cigar and neatly clipped the end before lighting it. He now sat back as Holmes recounted all that had occurred. At the end, Mycroft was silent for perhaps two minutes before saying, "Yes, most curious. I am indebted to you for the information regarding Moriarty, the Special Branch was convinced it was the work of anarchists. This man, Tindall, he is being held securely?"

  Holmes nodded. "Yes, Lestrade has him under lock and key at Bow Street. Perhaps now is the time that we might use him to flush out Moriarty. Consider this, Mycroft. Moriarty must now be aware that the second bag has failed to explode. As such, one of the men who knows of the robbery still lives and can reveal this to the authorities. Tindall, under our guidance, can contact Moriarty with a demand for payment to ensure his silence."

  I watched Mycroft as he considered Holmes’ proposition. In truth, I was concerned, saying, "Surely, this puts Tindall at considerable risk? To ensure his silence, there is but one way in her book."

  Holmes nodded, saying, "Yes, but as this man is but one step from the gallows, he will, I believe, comply."

  Mycroft nodded and drew on his cigar. "I have to declare an interest here, Sherlock. His Majesty's Government uses the railways as a secure way to transport gold bullion. However, I am unaware of any such movement during the week leading up to the presumed robbery." Mycroft paused, saying, almost to himself, "That is something that I must determine once back in Whitehall."

  Rising from his chair and donning his coat and hat, Mycroft addressed his brother. "Keep me informed regarding your plans for Tindall. In the meantime, I will make enquiries regarding any Government shipments." With a nod in my direction, Mycroft swept out of our rooms.

  Holmes was now looking fixedly at some point in the distance, deep in thought. Only the occasional plume of blue smoke from his lips showed that he was, indeed, conscious. He remained thus for, perhaps, five minutes before turning to me and asking, "What might prevent a robbery from being discovered, Watson? Why was the package not found to be missing once the train had reached its destination?" Holmes took another long pull on his pipe before adding, "I believe that there must have been some form of substitution... but why has it not yet been discovered?"

  I sat and thought for a few moments before saying. "Well, perhaps, for some reason, the package has yet to be opened... or perhaps it went directly into a bank vault and remains unopened."

  Holmes nodded slowly, saying, "Yes, that is something that I had considered."

  We took luncheon and then settled back in our chairs to read a little. The ringing of our door bell and the appearance of Mrs Hudson at our door, clutching an envelope, stirred Holmes to look up from his paper.

  Mrs Hudson proffered the envelope, saying, "A government messenger brought this, sir. He said it was urgent."

  Holmes leapt from his chair, thanked Mrs Hudson and then quickly tore open the envelope. Turning to me, his eyes bright, Holmes said, “Five thousand pounds in gold sovereigns, bound for Imperial troops in South Africa, was sent by train to Southampton via Liverpool Street on the eleventh. Mycroft.”

  I spluttered, "Five... five thousand sovereigns! Great Heavens, Holmes!"

  Holmes pursed his lips, saying, "Yes... and if indeed they have been stolen and a substitution has been made, the theft will not be discovered for several weeks, not until the ship docks in South Africa." Holmes paused for a few moments before continuing, "We must return to Liverpool Street tomorrow, Watson. I need to examine the railway carriage that contains the safe." With that, Holmes took out his silver pencil and notebook and dashed off a telegram before ringing for Mrs Hudson.

  The following morning I found Holmes pacing our sitting room like a caged tiger. After a few minutes of this, I could stand no more. "Holmes, for pity's sake, desist! This constant pacing is good for neither your health nor mine!"

  Holmes regarded me with an intense look, it was clear that he was in torment. He needed to be once more active and, when our doorbell rang in the hallway below, he sprang like a startled gazelle down the stairs to answer
the door.

  A few moments later, he returned in triumph, holding aloft a telegram, saying, "Progress, Watson! Progress! The telegram I sent last evening was to the station master at Liverpool Street asking him to locate the secure railway carriage used on the eleventh. Fortunately for us, the company keeps shunting records of the rolling stock used for each journey. The carriage that is of interest to us is in a siding close to the station."

  With that, Holmes leapt towards the coat-stand, gathering his coat and hat before thundering down the stairs. I had little option but to follow, although at a somewhat gentler pace. As I closed the front door, I could see that Holmes had already hailed a Hansom and was beckoning me to join him. Impatiently, he shouted, "Come along, Watson! We must make haste!"

  Chapter 7 - A small, black bead

  As fast as I could, I climbed into the cab only to be thrown backwards as Holmes hammered upon the roof of the cab to encourage the cabbie to begin his journey. As we neared Liverpool Street Station, I could see that Holmes’ eyes were burning like coals. Barely had the cab stopped when Holmes ran from the cab leaving me to toss the cabbie a shilling. By the time I had caught up with him, he had already asked directions to the siding which housed the carriage and was again beckoning me to follow.

  Whilst Holmes ran ahead, I could only manage a brisk walking pace. My wounds from my service in India continued to take a toll on my fitness. Arriving at the carriage, I had to lean against it whilst I regained my breath. Holmes was keen to begin his examination but seeing my distress seemed to have a steadying effect upon him.

  Holmes patted my arm, saying, "I'm sorry, Watson. I have allowed my enthusiasm to overshadow my duty as a friend. Rest a moment."

  A minute or so had now passed and I was, for the most part, recovered. I shook my head, saying, "No, no... continue, Holmes. I am now refreshed."

  Holmes smiled and half turned the dull, brass handle that opened the door to the carriage. Once inside, I was surprised by how little light there was. I then realised that, of course, for security, there were no windows. The only light came from tiny panes of glass set high in the raised section of the roof. However, after thirty seconds or so, our eyes had become adjusted to the gloom. Holmes made his way through the carriage, passing through two stout doors which had, in turn, iron bands and fixings for added strength. At last we were in the section of the carriage which contained a large, black painted, iron safe. It was positioned against the wall and was bolted securely to both the wall and the floor. The door, I could see, had two separate keyholes, each edged in gilt paint. The gold lettering upon the door proudly announced the safe to be the product of ‘The Imperial & Colonial Safe Company'. From the centre of the door protruded a large, brass knob in the form of a fist holding a metal bar.

  Holmes had taken out his glass and was closely examining the safe. "Yes, without the keys, opening this safe undetected, would have been indeed problematical." Looking about him, Holmes suddenly dropped onto all fours. "Hello, what have we here?" Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, Holmes took out his Vesta case and struck a match. Holding the match before him, he reached down and picked up a tiny object that had seemingly become lodged between the safe and the wooden floorboards.

  Craning my neck, I asked, "What is it? Holmes"

  Holmes smiled and blew out the match, saying, "I believe it would be better if we were to move more into the daylight, Watson, before I can confirm my find."

  With that, we retraced our steps and soon stood once more outside the carriage. Holmes held out his hand and in his palm was what appeared to be a small, round bead. I was still no wiser, asking, "How is this bead important, Holmes?"

  Holmes took a small envelope from his coat pocket and placed the item carefully within it. "I believe that it is immensely important, Watson. It tells me why the robbery has not, as yet, been detected. Tell me, Watson. Which metal is similar in weight to gold?"

  I did not hesitate, saying, "Lead... it is a piece of lead shot!"

  Holmes nodded. "Quite so. The thieves would have brought with them weighing scales and sufficient lead shot to match the weight of the gold. Once the safe was opened with the duplicate keys, the gold would have been removed, weighed and then the equivalent weight of shot measured out." Holmes patted his coat pocket, saying, "This small piece of shot must have been lost during the weighing process. I must send a telegram to Mycroft to determine whether the supposed gold has left for South Africa."

  With that, Holmes and I hastened back to the station where a telegram was urgently despatched to Mycroft. With little further to be done and, after my morning's exercise, I was looking forwards to a hearty luncheon and a little respite back at Baker Street.

  It was early afternoon before we received a reply from Mycroft. Fortunately for His Majesty's Government, the ship had not yet sailed. The small wooden boxes which should have contained the sovereigns had been removed from the Purser's safe and opened to reveal their contents. As we had feared, they were filled with lead shot. The Government had lost the gold but had avoided the supreme embarrassment that would have ensued had the substitution only been discovered once the ship had docked in Durban.

  Holmes was sitting back in his chair, deep in thought. "You know, Watson, this theft had been planned meticulously. The lead shot must have been loaded onto the train as goods in order for it to travel in the secure carriage. During the journey it would have been opened, weighed out and exchanged for the gold."

  I considered this for a moment before asking, "What of Tindall? Do you believe that he was involved in this?"

  Holmes’ eyes narrowed. "I think probably not. The thieves would want to conceal their activities from him so he was probably made to leave the carriage whilst they opened the safe and made the exchange." Holmes paused, his forefinger now against his lips. "I believe, Watson, that now is the time to have a further conversation with Mr Tindall for he has become the key to this case."

  Chapter 8 - Holmes offers a lifeline

  Holmes rose and gathered his coat, saying, "Come along, Watson. Bow Street awaits us!"

  In truth, I would have preferred to rest a little but it was not to be. Soon we were on our way, travelling the busy streets of the metropolis. As we went, I asked, "Tell me, Holmes, how do you intend to use Tindall?"

  Holmes smiled, saying, "Moriarty will be acutely aware that, as there has been no second explosion, Tindall still lives."

  I nodded... but I was still puzzled. "Surely she cannot be concerned that Tindall could identify just the one man who recruited him?"

  Holmes wagged his finger. "No, Watson. It is not this aspect that concerns her. I believe that she was fully expecting that the theft would only be discovered when the boxes were opened in South Africa. That being the case, the Government would be unsure as to how, where and, indeed, when the theft had taken place. The more time that passed before discovery, the more difficult it would be to investigate the theft."

  Now I understood. "Ah... the threat that Tindall might reveal the theft before the ship sails may now drive her to ensure his silence."

  Holmes smiled grimly. "Quite so, Watson. He will be as a magnet, drawing them to him... and we will use this to our advantage."

  The cab stopped outside Bow Street Police Station. Once again I was awed by the grandeur of this fine, Georgian building constructed from lustrous, cream, Portland stone. It had been erected for a little over twenty years now and its style mirrored that of the Royal Opera House, across the street. Once inside, and with a word to the desk sergeant, we were swiftly taken to the cell that held William Tindall. Outside the cell there was a small blackboard fixed to the wall upon which had been chalked the prisoner’s name and below it, the words, ‘No contact’.

  A constable unlocked the iron clad cell door, saying, “Just shout when you are done, sir.” Holmes nodded and, as he turned to face Tindall, the door closed with an ominous ‘clang’.

  Tindall looked wretched and jumped at the sound of the door closing. He sat on a
straw filled mattress placed on an iron bed frame that was bolted to the floor. Light came into the cell through a small, square window made up of four rows of thick, glass blocks, set high up on the outside wall.

  Holmes pulled out the single chair that graced the cell, saying, “I think you may have to get used to that sound, Mr Tindall, as you will hear it for, perhaps, the rest of your life.”

  Tindall looked up. He seemed to be in deep despair, realising that he had little hope of ever again being a free man. In truth, I felt some compassion for him. He had been offered a way of keeping his family from being thrown into the workhouse and he had succumbed. Holmes, I think, had also seen this fellow as not being inherently evil, just weak and given to temptation.

  Holmes continued. “We were not introduced when we first met. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my companion, Dr Watson. We wish to ask you some questions and have a proposition for you. It may save your life and, perhaps, even shorten your prison sentence.”

  On hearing this I saw, for the first time, a glimmer of hope appear upon his face. “I’ll do anything, sir. Just ask.” He pleaded.

  Holmes leant forwards, asking, “Tell me about your journey of the eleventh.”

  Tindall sat up a little straighter and began thus. “Well, sir, our outward journey had been from Liverpool Street to Norwich. Before we set out, the man who had paid me the five sovereigns appears at the freight door of the carriage with a porter. On the porter’s barrow were two large wooden boxes, heavy they were, it took both of us to lift them into the carriage. Nothing happened on the outward journey but when we reached the terminus at Norwich, a platoon of armed soldiers appeared with a wheeled trolley. It had five small wooden boxes on it.”