by Dick Gillman
At the corner of Broad Street Holmes stopped, searching for a street name. Looking upwards above the frontage of a corner shop he was fortunate to observe a cast iron sign announcing, 'Oak Terrace'. I had barely caught up with him before he was off again and searching for number 14. Fortunately for me, the numbers started at number 1 at the corner and seven houses down was the house in question.
More than a little out of breath I reached him, supporting myself on the wall of the property. “For pity’s sake, Holmes!” I panted, “Remember that I am a wounded old soldier!” Holmes laughed and then tapped on the door of number 14. We waited but a few moments and then the door was opened by a young woman. Over her shoulder was draped a young baby whose back she was patting gently.
Holmes touched his hat and enquired, “Mrs Levy?” The young lady nodded and Holmes passed her his card.
The eyes of the young woman widened. “Tell me it's not my Ben, he ain't been in trouble again, has he?” She clutched for the door frame with her free hand.
Holmes was quick to support her elbow, saying, “No, no...I was wanting to enquire about the house you rented in Broad Street.”
The young woman recovered quickly and was obviously somewhat relieved. “Oh yes, a terrible business. I can't believe the stories I'm hearing. I've heard say that the daughter, Flora, has done in her Mum and Dad with a hammer!”
Holmes visibly stiffened. “That is untrue. Flora is innocent. Of that you can be quite sure.” With the greatest of self-control, Holmes took a deep breath and smiled. “Tell me, when you were a tenant there, did you ever light a fire in the grate of the back bedroom?”
Mrs Levy thought for a moment. “Well sir, we tried once. Ben laid a fire and started it going but there was such a wind from that chimney that the room filled with smoke. He had to fetch a bucket of water to put it out! It was bitter without any heat. The cold wind fair whistled down that chimney, so much so, that Ben had to stick some wood up there to try and block it off, but it still blew.” I could see Holmes’ expression change from one of enquiry to one of satisfaction.
Holmes touched his hat once again, saying, “Thank you, Mrs Levy. We will trouble you no further, you have been extraordinarily helpful. Goodbye.”
As we walked away, I conferred with Holmes. “It would appear, from your expression, that this new information substantiates your theory, Holmes.”
Holmes nodded. “Perfectly, Watson. I am almost in a position to present my findings at the Inquest. I do, however, need to see Dr Parry's analysis of the deceased's stomach contents. We shall call on him on our way back to Baker Street.”
Chapter 8 - Doctor Parry
We hailed a cab on Broad Street and a few minutes later we found ourselves outside a somewhat grand Georgian house, a little distance from Hanover Square. The house was red brick with an arched doorway and pale cream stone lintels and sills. To the right of the pillared portico was a brass plate, announcing the residence of Dr J. Parry.
Holmes pressed the bell button to the side of a fine, half glazed door and, a few moments later, a smartly presented maid opened the door to us, asking, “Yes, sir?”
Holmes took his card holder from his waistcoat pocket and handed a card to the maid. “Please be so good as to give this to Dr Parry.” The maid bobbed slightly, closed the door and could be seen hurrying away down the hall. Almost immediately she returned, I could see that she was accompanied by the taller figure of a man.
The door opened and there before us was a figure I had seen before, Dr John Parry. He was a tall, slim man aged in his late thirties with dark brown hair and a trim moustache. He held out his hand saying “Sherlock! How good to see you...and Watson! How are you, old fellow?” Holmes and I were indeed pleased to be remembered. We entered the house, exchanging pleasantries as we walked along the hall towards a welcoming fire in a well-furnished study. Parry smiled, saying, “Please, be seated.”
We sat in two fine, leather covered Chesterfields with high, winged backs that faced a large mahogany desk. Holmes looked around the room and smiled. “You appear to be making a good living, John.”
John Parry almost blushed. “Yes, I'm afraid my practice these days is quite small, I seem to be doing a considerable amount of work for the courts and I have become a lecturer in Histology and Medical Jurisprudence at St. Stephens College.”
Holmes nodded. “It is about a legal matter that we have sought you out. I understand that you took away samples of the lungs and the stomach contents from two people who lived in Broad Street.”
Dr Parry thought for a moment. “Ah yes, the Smiths.” He moved to the rear of his desk, opened a drawer and removed a slim file containing his notes. “Yes, my analysis showed an absence of any narcotic or toxic substances in the stomach.”
Holmes sat with his fingers steepled, touching his lips. “It is then as I thought. Tell me, John. Did you confirm the presence of carbonic oxide gas in both the blood and lung tissue?”
Dr Parry's head shot up. “Why, yes! How could you have known?”
Holmes had a grim smile upon his lips. “The police are so fixed on this case being murder and Flora Smith being the obvious killer that they have ignored the possibility of there being a silent killer in the room. Flora was very fortunate not to have been a victim herself.” Holmes rose, saying, “Thank you, John. We will see you again at the Inquest in the morning.”
Holmes appeared supremely confident. However, if he did not succeed, Flora would have to stand trial for murder in the Crown Court. I feared that even if she was to be found innocent, the trial itself had the potential to mentally scar her for life and to ruin her.
Chapter 9 - The Inquest
The day of the Inquest had arrived and Holmes had risen bright and early. “Come along, Watson. We want a front row seat!” I knew that he said this in jest as he being the person representing Flora's family, he would already be at the front of the court!
The Inquest was to be convened not far from Broad Street, in the concert room of the Crown and Glove Hotel and conducted by the local Coroner, Mr Thomas Hughes, with a 14 man jury. We hailed a cab and soon arrived at the hostelry. The Crown and Glove was, considering the area, quite a grand building. It was built in red, London brick with contrasting brickwork around the windows which, in turn, were acid etched and gilded with Acanthus leaves.
The Hotel housed two bars and signs directed the public to the Coroners court. A constable was on duty at the entrance to the concert room and he saluted smartly as we approached. Holmes passed the constable a note for the Coroner. This advised him that Holmes was to be the representative of the Smith Family. The constable saluted again and directed us to a single row of chairs which had been arranged facing a small raised stage.
Upon the stage, the curtains had been pulled back and a central table, with a single chair, had been reserved for the Coroner. To the sides were two smaller tables. One for the court recorder and one for a legal assistant, should the Coroner need clarification on any points of law. The jury were to be seated to one side of the court so that they could have a clear view of both the stage and also the 'body' of the court, as it were.
The room began to fill, mostly, it seemed, with local people who were simply curious but also with some members of the Smith family. I saw little Alfie and his cousin, Lucy, sitting between a lady and gentleman who I took to be Alfie's parents. Alfie waved only to be scolded by his mother. Sitting amongst the public I observed two reporters complete with note books. One of them was to be seen making sketches of the improvised courtroom.
The police presence had notably increased and, as I watched, the fourteen members of the jury filed in and sat on their allotted chairs. On the opposite side of the room a table and two chairs had been set out. From my position, I saw Flora being led in, handcuffed to a female police officer. Holmes, I could, see had noticed her and gave her a nod and a smile. Flora, in turn, responded with a weak smile but she looked unwell. Her complexion was quite grey.
Once everyo
ne was seated, a door to the side of the stage opened and the Coroner, flanked by his assistants, entered. As one, the whole room rose and waited until the Coroner was seated before sitting once more.
Clearing his throat, the Coroner, Mr Hughes, addressed the court. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today not to apportion blame but to determine facts. From those facts we will make a finding, a representation, if you will, to the authorities who will in turn decide whether any further action needs to be taken. This is an inquisitorial process, it is not a trial with a defendant and a prosecutor. We are here to find out why these deaths occurred, the cause and the circumstances. I shall call witnesses and listen to testimony from interested parties. I understand that Mr Sherlock Holmes is here on behalf of the Smith family, is that so?”
Holmes stood and bowed slightly towards the Coroner. “Indeed, sir. I am.”
The Coroner nodded and Holmes resumed his seat. I leant towards Holmes and whispered, “This seems very formal, Holmes. It must be very frightening for Flora and her family.”
Holmes’ face was impassive. “I fear it may become quite difficult for them.”
The Coroner continued by stating that he was satisfied with the identification of the two persons who had perished and called the first witness, Sergeant Grey.
A tall police Sergeant in full uniform and sporting fine 'mutton chop' whiskers approached the table where Flora sat. He was then sworn in to give evidence under oath. In his testimony, he repeated what he had written in his report. He then added that the hammer that was found in the scullery had been tested for finger prints and those found on the handle matched those of Flora Smith. At this, there was the sound of booing and loud muttering from the public.
The Coroner struck the table firmly with his gavel, saying loudly, “Silence!”
Sergeant Grey was about to sit down when Holmes rose and addressed the Coroner. “If you please, sir. I would like to question this witness.” The Coroner nodded. Holmes turned to Sergeant Grey and smiled. “Tell me, Sergeant, how was the behaviour of Flora Smith when you first met her?”
The Sergeant rubbed his whiskers. “Well, sir. She was unsteady, confused, like. She was staggering as if she had taken some drink but she hadn't, I smelled her breath and I found no intoxicants when I searched the house.”
Holmes continued. “The hammer you discovered in the scullery that had Flora's fingerprints upon the handle, was it hidden?”
Sergeant Grey replied immediately, “No, sir. It was in plain view beneath the sink.”
Holmes put his index finger to his lips. “Was there evidence of any blood or hair at all on the hammer head?”
The Sergeant referred to his pocket book. “No, sir. Just a little coal dust.”
Holmes nodded. “Oh, just one final thing, Sergeant. Did you examine the window in the back bedroom?"
The Sergeant nodded. "Yes, sir. There was a piece of folded newspaper inserted in the gap in the frame, seemingly to stop draughts of air entering the room."
Holmes paused. "Did you also examine the chimney in the back bedroom at Broad Street? When I visited the property, I determined that it had been blocked by a previous tenant.”
The Sergeant looked quite shocked and stammered, “Why... no, sir. It never occurred to me.” Holmes thanked the Sergeant and sat down.
The next witness to be called was Dr Parry. As expected, he presented his findings admirably including the results of his analysis of the blood samples and stomach contents.
At the completion of Dr Parry's evidence, Holmes rose from his chair again, asking, “If I may...” The coroner nodded and simply waved in Holmes’ direction. “Dr Parry, you stated that the lungs and blood of the victims showed evidence of inhalation of carbonic oxide gas. How is carbonic oxide gas formed in a domestic situation?”
Dr Parry turned and faced the jury. He then proceeded as though he was giving a lecture. "Carbonic oxide gas is an invisible and odourless gas produced when a source of carbon, in a fuel, for example coal gas, coal, coke or wood, is burned with an insufficient or restricted supply of oxygen. It is a natural product of combustion and is present in the smoke given off as the fuel burns.”
Holmes nodded. “What would happen then, Dr Parry, if a room was lacking in a source of fresh air and the smoke could not escape?”
Dr Parry continued. “If a room were not to be properly ventilated, these gases would build up very rapidly to a point where they would become fatal."
Holmes nodded. "Tell me, Dr Parry, what would be the effects of this gas on a person who had, say, bronchitis compared to a younger, fitter person?"
Dr Parry thought for a moment. "In my opinion, the person with bronchitis would become breathless and agitated as they tried to breathe faster, to catch their breath. This would, in turn, draw in more of the carbonic oxide gas. Their complexion would become reddish purple in colour as their blood became damaged by the gas. In the healthy person, the same concentration of gas might make them unable to move for some hours after waking. It may also cause them to be severely confused and have difficulty with their balance."
Holmes referred to the notes he had made from the post-mortem report. "I noticed, in the coal cellar at Broad Street, that there were marks on the steps and on the wall that suggested a person had fallen down the cellar steps. How might that be in keeping with your examination of the body of James Smith?"
Dr Parry replied without hesitation. "The injuries I discovered on the body, the grazing to the arm, the broken fingernails with coal dust residue, the bruising to the face and ribs are all conducive with a fall down a flight of steps." Holmes nodded to Dr Parry and sat down.
Chapter 10 - Making a Statement
Holmes did not rise to ask questions as family members were called to relate the background of the family and to describe how Flora's parent's health had deteriorated over the preceding months. Only at the end did Holmes, once again, stand.
Half facing the Coroner and the jury, he proceeded thus. "Sir, as a representative of the Smith family, I would like to make a statement regarding the facts as I see them."
The Coroner nodded. "I am sure the court would welcome your appraisal, Mr Holmes." Holmes bowed briefly.
"We have heard how Flora Smith staggered in distress to a local shop after being trapped under the bodies of her parents for several hours. That fateful night, she had lit a fire in the bedroom for the first and, unfortunately, the last time using waste coke called Rattle-Jacks. She had done this not knowing that the chimney had been almost totally blocked by Mr Levy, the previous tenant. Flora's father, James Smith, had blocked a source of ventilation into the room and these pieces of coke had then burned with little oxygen. This caused them to produce a deadly concentration of an invisible and odourless gas which, due to the poor health of the victims, killed them. Flora Smith, herself, was gravely affected to the extent that she became confused and lost the ability to move. It took several hours before she had the strength to raise the alarm. This was not a willful act, on her part.”
Holmes paused for a moment to let the jury consider what he had said. “James Smith's body showed injuries consistent with a fall down the cellar steps. His wife had chronic bronchitis and easily fell victim to the toxic gas. Her body shows the classic signs of poisoning by carbonic oxide gas. There is no evidence to suggest foul play and expert testimony has been given that there is no evidence of willful poisoning. Indeed, the tissue samples obtained by Dr Parry only show damage consistent with the inhalation of carbonic oxide gas, the same gas that so very nearly claimed the life of Flora Smith.”
Holmes again paused briefly and turned, very slightly, to look fully at the jury. “Gentlemen. The mentioning of the hammer by the Police is necessary to provide a complete picture but I trust that you will agree that it is not relevant to the Smith's deaths. It is my submission that the court should consider a verdict of Accidental Death."
Holmes sat down and I felt moved to pat him soundly on the back. I turned and looked over t
owards the jury. I could see heads nodding, plainly showing that they too had been influenced by my friend's submission to the court.
As there were no further witnesses to be called, the Coroner addressed the jury. "Gentlemen of the jury. Do you wish to retire to consider your findings?" The gentleman at the end of the first row of jurors, who I imagined to be the foreman, turned and had hurried conversations with his fellow jurors, all of whom appeared to nod in agreement.
Turning back to the Coroner, the foreman stood and addressed him. "No, sir. That will not be necessary. We are unanimous in our finding of Accidental Death for James and Catherine Smith."
With that pronouncement, a huge cheer sounded from the assembled public and it took several minutes for the constables to restore order. Unfortunately, for Flora, this did not mean immediate release. She was taken back to Bow Street Police Station and had to wait until the following day when we attended the Magistrates Court. The court required two sureties of ten guineas, which Holmes and I were glad to provide, before Flora could be released on bail.
On her release, Holmes was almost bowled over as Flora ran and flung herself into his arms. "Thank you! Oh thank you, Mr Holmes." She finally let Holmes go and, with a tear in her eye, she ran to her family. I firmly believe that the tear on Holmes’ cheek was not one of Flora’s.
We heard a few days later that Flora had appeared at the Police Court and, that in view of the findings of the Inquest, the police would not proceed further in the matter and the prisoner, Flora Smith, was duly discharged.
~~~***~~~
The Angel’s Trumpet
Chapter 1 – The house in Portman Square
It was an unusual conversation one evening in Baker Street, towards the end of October 1901 which began the curious case that I have here recorded as that of 'The Angel's Trumpet'. We had just finished dinner and Mrs Hudson was clearing our dining table when Holmes noticed that she had paused and was looking directly towards him. She seemed troubled. It was as though she was about to say something but was unsure of herself.