by Dick Gillman
My mouth fell open on hearing this. "But...but she was there...unless… unless Charlotte was mistaken or Lady Stevens doesn't want to admit being there."
Holmes wagged his finger at me, saying, "Neither of those things is true, Watson. Lady Stevens confirms that she was there but is adamant that nothing untoward happened to Mrs Mayfield. She insists that all four ladies enjoyed a very pleasant time at the Duval's." Holmes now paused, holding his forefinger up to his lips before continuing, "I think, perhaps, that after our visit to Portman Square, it may be beneficial to pay a call on Mrs Mayfield herself."
I sat back in the cab, totally mystified by this turn of events. However, I had little time to consider the matter further as the cab had now drawn up to the kerb in Portman Square. The cab had stopped outside a row of very impressive, four storey, stone buildings with fine arched porticoes. Each storey had boldly arched windows and was, indeed, quite elegant. Holmes climbed the worn Portland stone steps to the front door and pulled upon the polished, brass knob that protruded from a circular plate inset in the stonework. After a few moments the door opened and we were face to face with Charlotte Chalmers. Immediately, her hand went to her mouth in shock and horror on seeing Holmes and me at her employer’s residence.
Holmes greeted Charlotte, saying quietly, “Good morning, Charlotte. Have no fear, we have been invited here by Mr Duval… but it might be better if you were to treat us formally as guests to your master's house and not allude to our previous meeting.”
Charlotte still looked somewhat concerned and barely managed to bob a curtsy and say, “Yes, sir”, before bringing us into the grand atrium within. On either side of this impressive entrance hall, grand, Italian marble staircases, with matching balustrades, swept upwards to the next floor. From a frescoed archway between the staircases, we saw Claude Duval approaching, his injured arm now supported by a sling of fine, black silk.
Duval hailed us. “Mr Holmes! Doctor Watson! I am so pleased you could come. This way, gentlemen.” Turning on his heel, he led us further into the house and onwards towards the rear. Opening a door, we entered a room filled with light from a spectacular, glazed orangerie. Although it was October, the room felt warm from the sun's rays and was filled with the pungent scent of flowering plants.
“This is wonderful… and in October!” I cried and was instantly drawn towards the mass of flowers, climbing plants and foliage that erupted from jardinières placed at intervals on the marble floor of the orangerie. I moved from one plant to another, like some eager butterfly in search of nectar. After two or three minutes had passed I suddenly remembered my manners and returned to our host, rather shamefaced. “I'm sorry, Mr Duval. I was so attracted by your display of plants. I see that there are some that I have seldom seen growing outside of Asia.”
Duval smiled and held up his good hand, saying, “I cannot take the credit for this, Doctor Watson. It is the pastime of my wife. She is from Mulhouse, in eastern France, and many of these specimens she brought with her to London. Please, gentlemen, be seated and I shall ring for tea. My wife will join us presently.”
Whilst Mr Duval pulled upon the ornate bell cord, I looked around at the splendidly decorated room. The walls were covered with elegant wallpaper, together with a number of large oil paintings of classical subjects, mounted in gilded, swept frames. The sideboards, tables and chairs were finely carved and also gilded, very much in keeping with Duval's French heritage. We sat and exchanged pleasantries and after only a few minutes, Charlotte appeared with the tea tray. She did not serve the tea, placing it on one of the sideboards before returning below stairs.
Duval must have seen us looking cautiously at Charlotte which caused him to say, “Our maid is quite capable but it is a foible of my wife's. She prefers to serve the tea herself rather than having the maid pour it out.” At this, Holmes sprang to his feet, saying, “It may not, perhaps, be etiquette for a guest to serve the tea but, as you are temporarily indisposed and your wife is not present, I shall be more than glad to take her place. In the meantime, I have brought my sketchbook for you refer to.”
I could see that Duval was greatly torn between wanting to be a good host and having an opportunity to peruse Holmes’ sketchbook once again. With a smile, Duval said, “Alas, Mr Holmes, I am unable to serve the tea so I have a good excuse to consult your notes.”
With that, Duval almost pounced on the sketchbook and became instantly engrossed in it, having it balanced on his knee whilst turning the pages with his single good hand. Holmes gave a thin smile and raised an eyebrow in my direction. It was a clear sign that he was engaged in some form of subterfuge. Holmes had his back to both Duval and me whilst he was standing at the sideboard, pouring the tea. Whilst he was engaged in this, I somehow sensed, rather than saw, that someone had entered the room. Turning to my right, I observed a slender, female figure approaching Holmes. It seemed that only I had noticed her arrival, Duval being totally engrossed in the sketchbook.
“Holmes!” I cried, “I think that you will need to pour a fourth cup.”
Holmes looked over his shoulder and casually held up the teapot, saying, “I think not, Watson. Madame Duval is a coffee drinker, are you not, Madame?”
Madame Duval's face was like stone but, as she locked eyes with Holmes, a slight smile appeared. “How intuitive of you, Mr Holmes. Please, enjoy your tea and I will join you gentlemen in a few moments, if I may?” Reaching to the side of Holmes, Madame Duval picked up a slim volume from the sideboard before leaving without a second glance.
Holmes now served each of us and we sat enjoying our tea in this fragrant room. “Tell me, Mr Duval, are you also from Mulhouse?” asked Holmes.
Duval shook his head. “No, Mr Holmes, I am a Parisian but my mother was English. I met my wife in Paris some two years ago… it was, what the English might call, a whirlwind romance. We met in January and were married by March. In truth, I do not know what she saw in me. It was certainly not my money. Whilst I am quite well known for my flying and I am invited to many social occasions where I meet many important people, I am not a rich man.”
I looked around the elegant room and Duval saw my gaze and laughed. “It is not my fortune that provides all this, Dr Watson, it is Adelinda's.”
Holmes nodded and I heard him mutter under his breath, “Adelinda!”
The door to the room opened and I could smell the coffee as Madame Duval entered the room, followed closely by Charlotte bearing a tray. Dismissing Charlotte, Madame Duval poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting beside her husband.
Holmes pointed to the sideboard, saying, “Now that you have broken your arm, Mr Duval, you must find it difficult to open your snuff box. I noticed a fine, engraved silver example on your sideboard.”
Duval laughed, but one glance at his wife told me that she was far from being amused. Her look towards Holmes was full of malice. “No, Mr Holmes, I do not partake of snuff. The box contains plant pollen. Adelinda uses it to hand pollinate her flowers as we have neither bees nor butterflies inside the house.”
Holmes smiled and nodded wisely. “Ah, I see. I did wonder as to the need for an artist’s paintbrush whilst administering snuff. Well, thank you for the refreshments. I trust my notes have been of some value, Mr Duval. I am afraid Doctor Watson and I must take our leave. He has a patient to see in Harrow, a Mrs Mayfield.”
The crash of breaking china and a cry from Madame Duval made the three of us look in her direction. She looked ashen and was dabbing at her dress with a napkin. “I'm so sorry… please forgive me, Claude.” With that, Madame Duval ran from the room.
Holmes picked up his sketchbook and, after shaking hands with a plainly shocked Mr Duval, we left his home, walking out once more into Portman Square. Holmes hailed a passing Hansom and I was more than a little surprised when he directed the cabbie to take us to Kew Gardens.
Chapter 6 – Kew Gardens and a lesson in Applied Botany
As we travelled towards Kew, I was mystified by our change of destin
ation. “Tell me, Holmes, why Kew? I thought we were to visit Mrs Mayfield in Harrow.”
Holmes’ face showed no emotion. “It would be quite pointless; I believe that she would have no memory of the event whatsoever.”
Turning towards me, he could see from my expression that I had not followed the train of events that had brought him to this conclusion. “It is my opinion, Watson, that we are dealing with international intrigue. I believe Madame Duval to be in the pay of the German Government and she has been gathering intelligence through her tea parties. Our visit to Kew will no doubt confirm it.”
I sat bemused. Shaking my head, I said, “I’m sorry, Holmes. I will have to wait until after dinner when you can explain all.” Holmes laughed and patted my arm in re-assurance.
It seemed that we had only travelled some little distance before we could see the huge glasshouse of Kew Gardens. Holmes asked the driver to wait for us at the gates and tossed him a shilling. Making our way towards the glasshouse, Holmes enquired as to my thoughts on Duval's own orangerie.
Thinking as I walked, I said, “Well, it was both unexpected and pleasantly fragrant. Some of the varieties of plants that I observed were ones I thought I would not see again outside India. I noticed that there were several plants of the Solanaceae family...of course, the Hindu datura!” I cried. On saying these words, the memory of my service in Afghanistan and my journeys through India flooded back, reminding me once more of the wonderful local vegetation.
Holmes nodded, and as we drew near, we were met by a member of Kew Gardens’ staff who immediately recognised my friend. “Why, Mr Holmes! What a pleasure it is to see you again, sir. How can we be of service?”
Holmes nodded politely and asked, “I wonder if it might be possible for us to see some of your Datura specimens? I would appreciate a little information on them and their uses.”
Our guide smiled, saying, “Of course, Mr Holmes. This way, sir.”
We were led into the great glasshouse and then on into an area that held even more plants that I recognised from my time in Asia. I must confess that the scent of the flowers in this area was certainly not as pleasant as that of Mr Duval's orangerie. Our guide noticed my expression of distaste and smiled. “Ah, not all the members of the datura genera are sweet smelling, sir. Try this one, Datura suaveolens, ‘The Angel's Trumpet’.”
Holmes smiled and nodded. “I believe that you will find this particular datura more acceptable. The clue is in the name, Watson. Suave, as you will no doubt remember from your Latin class, means sweet, hence 'suaveolens'. Tell me, if you will, what is the significance of the common name ' The Angel's Trumpet'? Is it simply the shape of the flower?”
Our guide shook his head. “Sadly not, sir. That is a common misconception. Perhaps it might be more accurate to say that the angel's trumpet might be the sound one would hear if one were to ingest a fatal amount. It must be remembered that these plants have been used for centuries as a poisoner’s tool… but not only that, extracts from their seeds and pollen from the flowers have been used as both a sedative and a so called ‘truth drug’.”
“A truth drug?” I blurted out.
Our guide nodded. “Yes, sir, many people become very loose-tongued when they have ingested an infusion made from these datura seeds or even from just a sprinkle of pollen put into their tea. Very often those who have imbibed become very passive and have no recollection of what has happened. However, other drinkers have been known to hallucinate and suffer severe muscle spasms. The effects vary and there have indeed been fatalities in those who have drunk it.”
It was a revelation! I stood there and simply uttered the word “Tea!”
Our guide again nodded, “Yes, sir. Dosage is not an exact science, you understand. It depends on the age and variety of plant, how the poison is administered and, indeed, on the individual.”
Holmes stood in thought for a moment, his forefinger pressed to his pursed lips. Then, smiling to our guide, Holmes said, “Thank you. It is as I suspected. You have been most helpful. Come Watson, I have an urgent telegram to send!” With a nod to our guide we were off. Our cab was still waiting for us at the entrance to Kew and, after only stopping briefly to send a telegram, we were soon back in Baker Street.
Dinner was eaten almost in silence for, until I was refreshed, I could not reason effectively. With the meal finished, we sat and smoked. After a few minutes, I decided it was now an appropriate time to ask Holmes to explain his solution to the case.
Summoning up my courage, I asked, “Tell me, Holmes, in such a way that my addled brain will understand, what exactly happened today?”
Holmes laughed. “In a nutshell, Watson, it is really quite simple. The German Secret Service was using Adelinda Duval to administer a truth drug, obtained from the plants in her orangerie, to the wives of singularly important men. This was done in order to obtain sensitive information which could then be used by the Germans to blackmail them.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes… but how was it done and how did you detect it?” I cried.
Holmes took a pull on his pipe and began thus… “I became suspicious when Charlotte told us that Madame Duval only drank coffee when entertaining her lady friends and insisted on serving the tea herself. Any respectable household would expect the maid to carry out this task. However, Madame Duval needed to do this herself in order to be able to administer the pollen from the datura.”
Again I nodded, saying, “Hence the pollen in the silver snuff box placed close to the tea tray and also the artist’s paintbrush!”
Holmes continued, “Precisely, Watson. The presence of the pollen and paintbrush could easily be explained away, if necessary, as a method of fertilizing the plants by hand… but the plan was flawed. When the pollen was added to the teapot, there was no guarantee that each person would get an equal dose. However, adding it to the teapot was the only practical way to administer the pollen. Madame Duval might well have an excuse to lift the lid of the teapot to inspect the tea but she could not risk being seen adding the pollen from the brush to each cup individually. The result of this unequal dosage, we know, from the two ladies falling ill.”
Holmes paused before adding, “Madame Duval was indeed extremely fortunate that Mrs Mayfield did not, in fact, die.”
I thought for a moment, saying, “And, of course, the drug left the victims with no memory of what had occurred. It was an ideal position for Madame Duval. If there were a mishap, the other ladies would deny having witnessed any wrong doing!”
Holmes nodded. “Quite so, Watson. You will recall that Charlotte said she always placed the tea tray next to Madame's diary. Whilst pouring the tea, I examined the paint brush and found the pollen in the snuff box… but I also did a most ungentlemanly thing. I opened and read Madame Duval’s diary. It was, without doubt, something her husband would never have done.”
I sat for a moment open mouthed and in shock… but I was most eager for Holmes to continue.
Holmes sat back, saying, “Within the diary were notes of the indiscretions made by the ladies whilst drugged during these tea parties. Some of the entries were indeed most informative as to both their husbands’ and their own behaviours and habits, the details of which would have caused acute embarrassment had the information become public knowledge.”
Holmes paused before continuing, “I have to say, Watson, that your warning of the arrival of Madame Duval into the room was exceedingly well timed.”
I smiled and nodded but I was still unsure as to the reason for some of Holmes’ actions. “Tell me, Holmes, why did you reveal to Madame Duval that you knew she drank coffee whilst others drank tea and also that we were to visit Mrs Mayfield?”
“Pressure.” replied Holmes. “I wanted to ensure that Madame Duval realised that we knew her game in its entirety. My suspicion is that she fled Portman Square immediately after our departure, leaving the innocent Claude Duval to face any dishonour that might follow as a result of her activities.”
I rubbed
my chin and then asked, “Was that your intention, Holmes? It seems more than a little harsh on Claude Duval.”
Holmes was silent for a moment. “Consider this, Watson. If I had revealed the activities of Madame Duval to the police, or indeed to Mycroft, Claude Duval, an innocent man, would have been ruined… as might the reputations of others. Overnight, he would have become a social outcast, unable to continue his work and be branded the husband of a German spy. No, Watson, that would not do. I had to ensure that Madame Duval’s activities ceased and, at the same time, the reputations of the ladies, their husbands and Claude Duval remained intact.”
I nodded, now seeing both the wisdom and the honour in Holmes’ actions.
Holmes sat in silence for several minutes before saying, “I will invite Claude Duval and Mycroft here tomorrow and lay out before them what has occurred. My telegram to Mycroft was but brief, identifying only Madame Duval and requesting that a watch be kept for her at the German Embassy."
The following day, in Baker Street, both Claude Duval and Mycroft Holmes learned of the duplicity and the grand deception undertaken by the woman known as Adelinda Duval. Observing the effect of this on Claude Duval, I have to say that I have rarely seen a man so broken. After Holmes had revealed Madame’s activities, Duval sat in silence for perhaps ten minutes, simply unable to comprehend. Finally, he rose, shook our hands and left. Although he had said that he was grateful for Holmes’ actions, I was indeed certain that it would take some considerable time for Claude Duval to become whole once more.
Mycroft remained behind after Claude Duval had left and shared a pipe of tobacco with us. It was evident from his manner that he was not greatly pleased by his brother's conduct! "Tell me, Sherlock, do you think you acted correctly when you, in effect, let this woman escape justice? My sources tell me that a woman who they believe to be Adelinda Duval entered the German Embassy around noon yesterday. Without doubt, she will be given diplomatic immunity and spirited away back to Germany!"