The Secret Files of Sherlock Holmes

by June Thomson

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘If the affair were still undiscovered, she would hardly need to confide in me. In my experience, ladies of her rank and distinction do not usually consult private detective agents unless there is a threat of scandal. Besides, consider the lady’s situation. She is young and beautiful …’

  ‘Yes, indeed, she is!’ I agreed warmly. ‘I saw the pictures of her in the illustrated papers at the time of her marriage to the Duke.’

  I did not add, being a little sensitive about Holmes’ reaction, that I had cut out one particular illustration of the wedding which I had kept in my desk for several weeks. In it, the Duke and Duchess were seen emerging from St Margaret’s, Westminster, she with her bridal veil thrown back, revealing the delicate beauty of her features and her large, brilliant eyes, the richness of her dark hair enhanced by the Welbourne diamond tiara. In comparison with her radiant youth, the Duke seemed taciturn in appearance with a proud, austere profile.

  ‘And married’, Holmes continued, ignoring my interruption, ‘to a man much older than herself who is more interested in his country estates than accompanying his young wife to those social functions which her charitable activities as well as her position in society oblige her to attend. However, we shall know if my deductions are correct when the lady in question arrives this afternoon at three o’clock. If she is indeed who I think she is, she will not come in her own coach which is emblazoned with the ducal coat of arms but in an ordinary cab, her features hidden under a thick veil. But no covering can entirely disguise her appearance. The Duchess is distinguished by her height and her grace of carriage. She has also, I understand, a remarkably beautiful voice which is low and musical. But we shall see, Watson. We shall see.’

  It was with considerable impatience that I waited for three o’clock, eager to discover if Holmes had been right in his predictions and whether his prospective client answered his description and was indeed the Duchess of Welbourne.

  Holmes himself seemed unmoved by any such emotions and spent the intervening hours smoking and lounging on the sofa.

  Shortly before the appointed time, I rose from my chair by the fire, where I had been reading in a desultory fashion, and took up a position by the window which overlooked the street. As I arranged the curtains to make sure they concealed me from view, I was somewhat disconcerted to hear Holmes give a sardonic chuckle behind me although, as the clock struck three and the sound of wheels was heard approaching through the fog, his own curiosity finally overcame him and he joined me at my vantage point in time to witness the arrival of a four-wheeler which drew up outside the house.

  ‘You see, Watson,’ he remarked with evident satisfaction as the door of the cab opened and a tall, graceful figure alighted, dressed in a long black cloak, her face and shoulders covered by a thick veil.

  Moments later, we heard light footsteps mounting the stairs and Holmes, crossing to the door, ushered in his client. I, meanwhile, had hastily resumed my place by the hearth where I remained standing, in readiness to be introduced and in some trepidation at meeting so exalted a person.

  ‘Mrs Woods?’ Holmes inquired. ‘Pray come in and be seated.’

  She accepted the invitation without speaking, merely giving a small bow of acknowledgement before taking her seat in the armchair which Holmes had indicated, at the same time glancing in my direction as if to inquire into my presence in the room.

  ‘This is Dr Watson, my colleague,’ Holmes informed her. ‘I can assure you, madame,’ pronouncing the word with a French inflection, ‘that he is totally trustworthy and that whatever you choose to say in his hearing, as well as mine, will be treated in the utmost confidence.’

  Another slight inclination of her head indicated that she accepted Holmes’ explanation and, as he and I seated ourselves in preparation for the interview, I took the opportunity to glance at her surreptitiously.

  Despite the thick cloak and veil, neither of which she made any attempt to remove and which effectively hid her form and features, it was still possible to discern by the graceful manner in which she sat, her slender back held very erect, the head poised at an elegant angle, that the Duchess of Welbourne was both young and beautiful.

  Remembering the picture of her in the illustrated paper, I fancied, as I took my seat, that I caught a gleam of that rich dark hair and a faint outline of those exquisite features under the heavy veil but I fear my imagination may have been too eager to supply these details.

  She remained silent, as if reluctant to open the interview, and, after a few moments, Holmes addressed her directly, his manner grave and courteous.

  ‘You mentioned in your letter, madame, that the matter on which you wished to consult me was one of great urgency and delicacy. May I suggest that it might concern an affaire de coeur which you are anxious should remain secret?’

  She was too well-bred to show any overt emotional response although I noticed that her black-gloved hands stirred momentarily in her lap.

  ‘You are quite correct, Mr Holmes, although I cannot possibly imagine how you came to such a conclusion,’ she replied.

  If I had any lingering doubts about her real identity, they were entirely banished when I heard her speak. Her voice, as Holmes had predicted, was low and musical, perfectly controlled like a well-modulated instrument and yet with a faint suggestion of vibrato on the lower notes which hinted at the emotional stress from which she was suffering.

  ‘Although,’ she continued, ‘I should explain that the relationship was indiscreet; nothing more. However, as I am a married woman and my husband prizes his own and his family honour most highly, any breath of scandal could have the most dire consequences. I dread to think of my husband’s reactions should any word of my imprudence reach his ears.’

  At this point, the tremulous note in her voice became more pronounced and Holmes and I waited in silence until, with a proud lift of her veiled head, she indicated that she had regained her composure and could continue the interview.

  ‘About six months ago, I had reason to attend a charity concert alone – that is, apart from my companion who usually accompanies me on such occasions. My husband’s business affairs frequently take him out of town for long periods and, besides, he does not much enjoy social functions. At the concert, I was introduced to a young man, unmarried and of good family connections. In the course of our conversation during the interval, we discovered we had many interests in common, among them music and literature. He had in his possession, he told me, an 1863 first edition of the poems of Verlaine and when I expressed a desire to see it, he promised to send it to me. The volume duly arrived with an accompanying letter and on returning the book I, in turn, wrote him a short letter of thanks. A little later, he wrote to me again, enclosing a donation to a charity with which I am connected and to which I replied, expressing my gratitude.

  ‘You may imagine for yourself what subsequently occurred. The correspondence continued and grew more warm and intimate although it never transgressed the boundaries of friendship and we never met privately, only in public at certain social occasions attended by mutual friends and acquaintances. Innocent though these meetings were, they had the effect of deepening our regard for one another and I fear this warmth of feeling was expressed in our correspondence. However, Mr Holmes, in the wrong hands, those letters could be misinterpreted as evidence of an adulterous affair and could be used by my husband, if he ever learned of their existence, as grounds for a legal separation or even a petition for divorce, should he be so minded.’

  ‘And you have been threatened with exposure of the letters?’ Holmes asked. ‘By whom?’

  ‘That is the baffling part of it, Mr Holmes. I neither know the identity of the person who has written to me, threatening to reveal the correspondence, nor how my letters could have come into that person’s possession. Apart from the first two exchanges of correspondence which were dictated to my secretary and transcribed by her on to the typewriting machine, and neither of which con
tained any expression open to misinterpretation, all other letters have been written by me in private in my own handwriting and no one, not even my secretary, can know that we have continued the correspondence.’

  ‘Could they have been intercepted between the time you wrote them and they were posted?’

  ‘That is not possible, Mr Holmes. I wrote the letters in the evening alone in my study, after my secretary had left the house. She does not live in but comes daily to deal mostly with the correspondence arising out of the charitable work with which I am associated. As soon as the letters were completed, I took them upstairs to my bedroom where they were locked away in a bureau to which only I have the key. They were never left lying about. The following day they were posted.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘By my companion.’

  ‘Could she have had access to them?’

  ‘No, Mr Holmes. Although most of the post is left in the hall for a manservant to handle, as I have a great deal of correspondence to attend to regarding the charities, some of which is urgent, I quite often arrange for my letters to be dealt with separately in order to catch an earlier collection. This is always done when I am taking an afternoon drive or visiting an acquaintance. The carriage is stopped at a convenient postbox, my companion then alights and places the letters inside it. I was most careful when the correspondence contained a letter to the gentleman to make sure that it was placed in the centre of the bundle and that I watched from the carriage to see that none of the letters was inadvertently dropped or held back; not that I have any reason to mistrust my companion. She is my former governess and a highly respectable person.’

  ‘Who has access to your study?’

  ‘Only my secretary and the housemaids.’

  ‘And to your bedroom where the bureau is kept?’

  ‘Again the housemaids. Also my companion. But none of them has a key to the bureau. The lock is a strong one and has never shown signs of having been forced.’

  I thought Holmes put the next point with extreme delicacy.

  ‘Is it possible that the gentleman could be involved – indirectly, of course; I imply nothing more – perhaps by being careless in leaving your letters lying about where a servant or casual visitor might have access to them?’

  Even so, despite Holmes’ discretion, the lady for the first time showed a strong response. Clearly angered, she lifted her chin below her veil and I swear I saw the glitter of her dark eyes.

  ‘That is entirely out of the question, Mr Holmes! He is a gentleman of honour, utterly trustworthy and anxious to preserve his good name as well as mine. Any scandal would be as damaging to him as to me. It would not only destroy his standing in society but his regi …’

  She broke off at this point, aware that her warmth of feeling might have betrayed her into revealing too much about the gentleman’s identity. Then, recovering her self-control, she resumed her account.

  ‘Since I received the letters threatening exposure, I have spoken to him and he has assured me that as soon as he had received and read my letters, they were locked up in his writing-box, to which only he has a key. The box has not been tampered with. I was as scrupulous with his, making sure that they were read in private and were immediately placed inside my bureau. In addition, both of us were most careful to mark our letters ‘Private’ so that they would not be opened by anyone except ourselves although it would appear that only my letters to him have been intercepted. However that has been achieved, I can assure you that there was no opportunity for an inquisitive servant to gain access to them. I need hardly add that, since I have received the first threatening letter, I have ceased all contact with the gentleman and all correspondence between us has been destroyed, together with the blackmailer’s.’

  ‘That is a great pity,’ Holmes remarked. ‘The blackmail letters might have contained many useful clues as to the writer’s identity.’

  ‘I did not dare keep them in case they, too, fell into the wrong hands,’ the lady replied. ‘Besides,’ and here the slender shoulders made an involuntary movement suggesting a shudder of revulsion, ‘I felt too contaminated by them to wish to preserve them. However, I can describe the letters to you. There were three in all, and I received them at intervals over the past few weeks. They were written in capitals in a hand I did not recognise on cheap paper, demanding that certain sums of money be sent to a Mr P. Smith, care of the Coventry Hotel, Newton Street in Bayswater. If I failed to do so, the writer would inform my husband of my relationship and exchange of correspondence with the gentleman.’

  ‘Could the handwriting have been disguised?’

  ‘That is possible. The capital letters were awkwardly formed as if written with the left hand although the style of the contents was fluent. The postmarks were always WC1.’

  ‘Were there any spelling mistakes?’

  The lady seemed surprised at the question.

  ‘No, Mr Holmes. In fact, I should say that the letters displayed a good level of education.’

  ‘And how were the threats carried out? Did the blackmailer, for example, enclose a copy of your letters? That is often the case in these situations.’

  ‘Not in this instance. The writer merely quoted certain words and phrases I had used in my correspondence with the gentleman, placing them between inverted commas to show that they were direct references.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Holmes remarked, as if he found this significant. However, he made no further comment, merely continuing with his questioning. ‘What sums of money were demanded?’

  ‘The first was for twenty guineas, the second for fifty. I complied with the instructions and sent the money to the address I had been given. The third demand, which I received yesterday and which prompted me to write to you, requesting your assistance, was not for money this time but for a pair of pearl earrings. I do not know what to do, Mr Holmes! The earrings are not only extremely valuable but they are a family heirloom and, should I part with them, my husband is almost certain to notice their absence. He is due to return from the country next week for an important social function at which I shall be expected to wear them. How am I to explain what has happened to them and what am I to do in the future to protect myself against these demands and the continuing threat of exposure?’

  At this appeal, spoken from the heart, Holmes rose from his chair and paced up and down the room silently for a few moments, deep in thought. All the while, the lady’s veiled face was turned towards him, waiting with evident anxiety for his reply.

  Then, as abruptly as he had risen, Holmes resumed his seat and, leaning forward, began to address her with great earnestness.

  ‘The case has many extraordinary features, madame, but I believe it can be solved if you trust me and carry out my instructions without question. First, send the earrings as you have been instructed. No! No!’ he insisted as she began to protest. ‘It is essential that you do so otherwise the blackmailer will be forewarned and may be forced into taking more extreme action. See that they are posted off today without fail. I can guarantee that the earrings will be returned to you before your husband’s arrival next week.

  ‘Secondly, make sure that you are absent from home on Thursday afternoon between the hours of two and four. Can you arrange that?’

  ‘Certainly, I can. But I do not see …’

  ‘Without question!’ Holmes reminded her.

  She acquiesced with a gesture of one black-gloved hand.

  ‘Excellent! Then, madame, if you care to return here on Friday afternoon at the same hour, I believe I shall have good news for you.’

  ‘Can you guarantee the return of the earrings, Holmes?’ I asked when he returned to the room after having escorted the lady downstairs to her waiting cab. ‘Isn’t that promising rather too much so early in the case?’

  ‘I think not,’ he replied.

  ‘But that surely implies that you already know the identity of the blackmailer?’

  ‘I am almost certain although I shall be quite positive of
that by tomorrow.’

  ‘I do not see how,’ I persisted, a little exasperated by his self-assurance. There were times when I found Holmes overconfident of his own abilities.

  ‘From the evidence, my dear fellow.’

  ‘What evidence? You have not even examined the blackmail letters. I cannot possibly see what evidence you are referring to.’

  ‘Then allow me to recapitulate the facts for your benefit. The Duchess of Welbourne, alias Mrs Woods, enters into an indiscreet correspondence with a gentleman. The letters are written by her in private in her own handwriting, posted under her supervision and kept locked up by him in a box which shows no sign of having been tampered with. There would appear to be no means by which her letters could have been intercepted. And yet an anonymous blackmailer has managed to gain access to her correspondence and to threaten our client with exposure, quoting certain words and phrases from the lady’s letters. Note that particular fact, Watson. “Certain words and phrases”. It is not without relevance to the inquiry.

  ‘As to the blackmailer, we can deduce certain irrefutable evidence concerning his or her identity. Much of it is, I admit, negative but it has always been one of my most firmly held maxims that, in the process of deduction, negative evidence can be as useful as the positive sort. Given that tenet, what do we know that the blackmailer is not which can be advantageous to the inquiry?’

  ‘I really cannot say, Holmes,’ I replied, surprised by this novel approach to the investigation.

  ‘Oh, come, my dear Watson! Is it not obvious? The person who is threatening our client is not an expert although, when I first read her letter and deduced she was being blackmailed, I assumed that some professsional extortionist was behind it who makes his living from preying on wealthy victims. But, having heard the lady’s account, I am now convinced that this is not so in her case. The sums of money involved are too small. The man I have in mind* would expect to milk his clients of several thousand pounds, not a few guineas. And he would certainly not demand jewellery as part of his payment. Jewels are too difficult to dispose of. It would involve a receiver of stolen property, which would lead to complications and the introduction into the transaction of a third party who might betray him or resort to blackmail himself. No; the man I was thinking of deals strictly in cash and keeps his business entirely in his own hands.