Sherlock Holmes

by Dick Gillman

  As the gas lamps flared back to full brightness, the other men rose, nodded to Dr Garton and, as they left, each one passed an envelope to him. I was indeed puzzled by this but Stephen Grainger, seeing my unease, leaned towards me, saying quietly, “It is a small contribution for the séance of two guineas.”

  I fumbled for my wallet but as I did so, Dr Garton came round the table and held up his hand, saying, “There is no need for a contribution, Mr Watson. Your friend settled all when he made the appointment. I hope you enjoyed the séance.” Garton smiled in a lewd manner which, I have to say, I found most distasteful. He continued, adding, “I understand that you both will be joining me again tomorrow evening for our next séance.”

  I don’t know if my surprise showed upon my face as I stumbled a reply, “Err… perhaps so. Forgive me, for I am unsure of our commitments tomorrow.”

  Doctor Garton smiled and nodded. I said goodbye to Stephen Grainger and hurried from the room and out into the fresh air. What I had witnessed was quite disturbing. It was not the spiritual aspect of the evening that had offended me, although I knew it to be duplicitous, it was more the abhorrent and lewd behaviour of the other guests. I questioned the purpose of the séance for no questions had been asked of the spirit nor any information received!

  Finding a cab, I swiftly returned to Baker Street where I found the atmosphere in our sitting room to have taken on that blue haze produced only by the most ardent of pipe smokers. Holmes had draped his shoulders with his old dressing gown and was relaxing in his leather armchair, puffing contentedly on his briar.

  “Ah, the wayward spirit returns!” cried Holmes as I entered the room.

  I tossed Holmes an angry look as I replied, “Have a care, Holmes, for I am not best pleased after witnessing the events of this evening. I deem them close to depravity!”

  Holmes instantly sat forwards, his voice no longer teasing but now ice cold as he demanded, “Tell me all that occurred. Leave nothing out, Watson.”

  For the next twenty minutes, I recounted the evening in as much detail as I could. Holmes asked questions at various points and, once I had finished, he sat back in silence. With his knees drawn up to his chest and with his eyes closed, he drew steadily on his pipe. After some five minutes had passed, he took his pipe from his mouth and pointed the stem in my direction, asking, “Tell me more of this spirit, Watson.”

  I shook my head, a little bemused, saying, “I fear that there is nothing more to tell, I have described her as fully as I am able.”

  Holmes leant forwards, asking, “What of the scar on her right wrist?”

  I jolted upright in my chair, shouting, “Yes! Yes…now I remember, as I touched her forearm, I noticed that she did have… but that is impossible! How could you know?”

  Holmes smiled grimly. “She is no spirit, Watson. She is Garton’s maid! I noticed the scar when she took my hat and coat this afternoon when I arranged for your presence at the séance. After you described the spirit to me, it became clear that they were one and the same.”

  I sat back, shocked, as I considered this. “But…but why, Holmes? Why would she consent to become this fictitious Emerald Spirit?”

  Holmes wagged his forefinger in my direction as he said, “Remember, Watson, life as a maid in a small household is hard. This girl may well be earning less than ten shillings a week. It is not difficult to imagine that she would be prepared to disrobe if she were offered, say, an extra guinea a week.”

  I considered this and nodded as Holmes continued, “By using her in this way, Garton is both building his bank balance and his reputation as one being able to conjure up a tangible spirit. It would appear that he is conducting these séances four or five times a week and, in doing so, is pocketing ten guineas from each séance.”

  Holmes paused for a moment, drawing on his pipe and then blowing out a thin stream of blue smoke. “Consider this, Watson. Where else in decent society might a man have the opportunity to ‘legitimately’ caress a young woman under the pretence of verifying her physical presence in the room? There are those who believe and those who care not a jot for the spirit world… but would gladly pay for the titillation.”

  I shuddered at the thought, saying, “But this is exploitation and deception of the vilest kind!”

  Holmes nodded and then held his forefinger to his lips. “It is imperative that we do not lose sight of the fact that the man is a murderer, Watson. Elsie Grainger was about to expose him and what better way to dispose of this nuisance than by eliciting the help of the Emerald Spirit? Garton was not present when the spirit struck her down and, no doubt, had a perfect alibi.”

  We both fell silent. After a few minutes, I felt the tensions of the evening had been such that I desperately needed to retire. Bidding Holmes goodnight, I trudged to my room.

  Chapter 6 – The Crimson Spirit is invoked!

  Once in bed, I found it difficult to sleep. My mind raced with the events of the evening. It was almost one o’clock, and I had barely slept a wink, when I heard noises of movement from our sitting room. Taking my service revolver from its place in my drawer, I crept as stealthily as I could towards the slightly opened door.

  As my hand reached for the door knob, a familiar voice spoke quietly from within the sitting room, “You will not need the revolver, Watson.”

  Lowering the weapon, I was met by a familiar, yet now shadowy figure that was busily putting items from his collection of burglary tools into his black cape pockets.

  “I am stepping out for a short while, Watson. There is nothing that you need to know at present and I will join you for breakfast.” With that, Holmes swept past me, leaving me open mouthed and now even more concerned.

  After a wretched night’s sleep, I washed, dressed and stumbled my way towards our sitting room. There, at the breakfast table, sat Holmes. He looked refreshed, holding his folded copy of ‘The Times’ in one hand, whilst in the other he held a half slice of toast, liberally buttered and covered with fine, Seville marmalade.

  Putting down the newspaper, Holmes beamed at me, saying, “Ah! Watson. I trust my little excursion last night did not inconvenience you?”

  Trying as best as I could to remain civil, I responded, “No, not at all, Holmes. For whilst I was weary, I found it impossible to rest. I trust that your trip was worthwhile?”

  Holmes dabbed his mouth with a fine Damask napkin before replying, “Indeed so. I am impatient to see for myself this Emerald Spirit this evening and have taken the liberty of inviting Lestrade to join us.”

  This was certainly something that I had not expected. As I watched, there appeared a strange twinkle in Holmes’ eye as he turned his attention to the morning’s post. From the two or three envelopes on the breakfast tray, Holmes plucked a telegram and opened it, saying, “Ah, here is an item worthy of note, Watson. It is a reply from the manufacturers of the automated gas valve. It appears that Garton was indeed a proficient engineer and designer but had left their employ some months ago. There were suspicions that his designs had been secretly sold to a competitor.” Holmes’ countenance became grim as he declared, “This supports my opinion that we are dealing with a man driven solely by greed. His interest in the spirit world is purely for his own financial gain!”

  The door to our sitting room opened and Aunt Rachel, whom I had sadly neglected the previous day, joined us for breakfast. After finishing the meal and having enjoyed a refreshing cup of Darjeeling, Holmes turned to my aunt, asking, “Tell me aunt, have you ever been to Hyde Park?”

  I looked closely at Holmes as I thought this rather an odd question to ask. My aunt thought for a moment before replying, “Why no, I don’t believe I have.”

  Holmes sprang to his feet crying, “Splendid! Then I shall make it my business to stroll with you there before luncheon.” I began to rise from my place at the table but Holmes held up a hand with the palm raised towards me, saying “You need not trouble yourself to accompany us, Watson. I am sure that you can spend the time profitably. A nap,
perhaps?”

  I glowered at Holmes and wondered what might be the reason behind this sudden desire to stroll with my aunt. After they had left for Hyde Park, I returned once more to reading my copy of ‘The Lancet’ and became engrossed in an article regarding the new regulations for admission to the Royal Army Medical Corps. It seemed but a blink of an eye before Holmes and my aunt had returned but then I found my copy of ‘The Lancet’ tumbled on the floor in front of me.

  Feeling now a little more refreshed and, after eating luncheon together, I could not resist asking my aunt how she had enjoyed the park.

  Aunt Rachel smiled sweetly, saying, “It was both enjoyable and informative, John. Sherlock was the perfect guide and I was grateful for his company as we discussed Shakespeare and his counsel on another matter. Now, please excuse me for I have some needlework to do.”

  Throughout the afternoon, little was said of our upcoming evening visit to St. John’s Wood and, by six o’clock, Lestrade had arrived. With no further ado, we hailed a four wheeler and were off. As we travelled, I could see that Lestrade was clearly curious. Finally he asked, “I have arranged, as you requested, for two constables to come to the address you gave me. However, I didn’t have you down as one of those people what was interested in spirits and messages from beyond the grave, Mr Holmes. What’s the game?”

  Holmes’ face instantly became serious as he replied, sharply, “It is no game, I assure you, Lestrade. Tonight we will snare a man who has killed in a manner that emphasises the true meaning of premeditation.” Looking towards me, he added, “I trust you are armed, Watson?” I nodded and patted my jacket pocket, comforted by the weight of my service revolver.

  Lestrade, I could see, was not satisfied by Holmes’ reply and was about to ask more but Holmes held up his hand, saying, “All will be revealed shortly, Inspector. Have patience. The spirits, I feel, will have their revenge on those who have wronged them.”

  Lestrade and I exchanged looks of utter confusion and, although I had previously witnessed the séance, I was now unsure as to what to expect.

  Arriving at the home of Doctor Garton, we were greeted by the maid who, as I looked more closely, did bear a striking resemblance to the spirit! On entering the room for the séance, Holmes, I saw, checked his pocket watch and then waited for Doctor Garton. Within a few moments Garton joined us and Holmes introduced Lestrade as “Mr Gregory.” This, I might add, gave Lestrade something of a shock.

  Garton extended his hand from the long, flowing sleeve of his robe. He shook that of Lestrade, saying, with something I thought akin to a wolfish grin, “There is always room for another guest to be enlightened at my table.”

  There were three other men present in the room. These other fellows had clearly been to previous séances as, once seated, they immediately splayed their fingers on the table and waited for their partners on either side to follow suit. Holmes had chosen to sit opposite Garton and I could see from his expression that whilst stern, his eyes burned in anticipation. He was indeed eager for proceedings to commence. Lestrade was seated beside Garton and appeared somewhat hesitant; looking around him and taking his cue from the others.

  Soon, all was in readiness. Garton closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, saying, “Let us begin.” After a few moments he began to chant and, once again, I found myself compelled to chant also, “Emerald Spirit… come amongst us.” The feeling of an ice cold chill flowed over and around my knees to the floor. I glanced briefly at Holmes and saw a thin smile form upon his lips. Lestrade, however, looked on in awe of the proceedings and I noticed that his fingertips were starting to tremble.

  Within moments, Garton opened his eyes, his voice gathering strength as he announced, “She is coming… she is coming!”

  Just as before, the table began to rise as the gas lamps flickered before changing to that now familiar green flame. Lestrade seemed bewildered by the events, his eyes darting from one to the other of us.

  Suddenly, there was a flash and sparks flew from the gas lamps. The flame quickly changed from green to a lurid crimson which illuminated the whole room. From the place where I had seen the Emerald Spirit appear, another figure now stood in her place, one covered from head to toe in crimson muslin.

  Garton stared, terrified, at this crimson apparition. His jaw hung loosely as the figure approached. Peering closely, I could see that beneath the muslin was the clothed figure of a mature woman. Whilst I watched, the figure raised its arm and pointed a finger directly at Garton, saying, “You did this to me, you and your infernal machine. You brought me death, you deceived others and sullied the name of those who truly have the gift. I have become the Crimson Spirit, our world’s avenger. You must now admit your guilt for it is the only way that you will be spared the torment that will otherwise befall you in the afterlife.”

  I looked around the table in horror. All were as terrified as Garton…except one. The Crimson Spirit’s voice now began to rise in strength, commanding, “Tell them! Tell them all what you did to me, how you poisoned me and my beloved Stephen with your mechanism…Tell them!”

  All eyes turned to Garton who was staring fixedly at the crimson figure that he had somehow conjured. “Yes, it’s true, I did it… I had to. You had to die, you would have told all and ruined me…I could not let that happen, I couldn’t.” Garton then looked around him wildly, suddenly seeming to realise what he had just admitted to. He rose to flee but a hand with an iron grip had seized his arm and a steely voice halted his progress, saying, “Not so fast, if you please, Dr Garton.” Somehow, Lestrade had broken from his trance and now stood at Garton’s side.

  Chapter 7 – Lady Macbeth in St. John’s Wood

  Seemingly within moments, the lights had returned to their usual, yellow flame and the room had brightened. I could now discern a familiar figure beneath the crimson muslin. “Aunt Rachel!” I cried and I surged towards her. Pulling the shroud of muslin from her, I was indeed grateful for the embrace that she now gave me.

  Stepping back, my aunt smiled briefly at me and then her face became serious. “I had to do it, John, for Elsie and Stephen’s sake.” I smiled and readily returned her embrace.

  The two constables summoned by Lestrade had now appeared in the room and, with a nod from the Inspector, led Garton away.

  Aunt Rachel took my arm and, together with Lestrade, we left Garton’s residence. Once outside, I looked around for Holmes but he was nowhere to be seen. Then, with a wave, he appeared through the front door. As he approached, I noticed that his coat was unbuttoned. I was at once intrigued to know what he had concealed within its folds.

  A four wheeler was hailed and together we returned to Baker Street. Once settled and with a steaming cup of tea in hand, Holmes revealed to Lestrade the details of the case. As he proceeded, Lestrade’s eyes grew wider and wider and he was seen to reach for his notebook and then scribble wildly. All was now clear to me except for the details of Holmes’ moonlight excursion.

  On this point he had remained silent and only when Lestrade had finished his tea and had left, did I dare enquire as to what had occurred. “Tell me, Holmes, what did you discover on your outing to, I presume, Garton’s home?”

  Holmes smiled grimly and produced, from beside his armchair, a most peculiar object. “This device, which I recovered this evening, is of particular interest, Watson. It is the instrument of death created by Garton. From his previous employment, he used his knowledge and engineering skills to fashion a clockwork device that would deliver a small amount of powder into the gas supply at a pre-determined time.”

  “Ah! So that is why the séances were always to start promptly at seven o’clock!” I cried.

  Holmes nodded. “Precisely Watson. They had, literally, to run like clockwork in order that the Emerald Spirit should appear on time. As you can see, there is a small hopper attached to the clockwork mechanism and it is in here that Garton placed the copper powder.” Looking towards my aunt, Holmes continued, “…and it is here that he also placed
the powdered carbon to such deadly effect at the Grainger’s residence.”

  Holmes paused briefly, placing the mechanism on the floor beside him. “I will entrust this to Lestrade with my report of its purpose. During my ‘visit’, I was fortunate to be able to examine the room where the séances took place. You recall that when the Emerald Spirit appeared, you felt a sudden coldness in the air and a mysterious vapour swirled around you?”

  I nodded, thinking back to what I had seen at the first séance. “Yes, that was most curious.”

  Holmes smiled enigmatically, asking, “Tell me what you know of the substance ‘dry ice’, Watson?”

  I thought for a moment and rubbed my chin before replying, “Well, I know but little. I have seen it produced from a cylinder of carbon dioxide… Of course! It is extremely cold and the carbon dioxide gas given off caused moisture in the air to condense …and being denser than the air around it, the gas readily falls to the ground…but how did Garton use it?”

  Holmes nodded his agreement. “I found such a cylinder in the scullery. Beneath the table used for the séance was an insulated box into which Garton placed some ‘dry ice.’ You will recall that he always sat in the same place at the table. He used his knee to operate a hidden, sliding shutter mechanism on the box. By this means he was able to release the ice cold carbon dioxide gas which produced the chilling effect on those seated at the table and also the clouds of water vapour.”

  “How did he achieve the tilting table?” I asked.

  Holmes smiled. “A simple parlour trick, Watson. I looked beneath the table where Garton sat and I could see long scratches on the underside. Garton wore a robe with long, full sleeves. This was to conceal that, strapped to the underside of his forearms, there were two metal ‘tongues’ that fitted beneath the table-top. His hands remained in view and remained in contact with those of the persons on either side but he was able to tilt the table simply by raising his arms.”