by J. R. Trtek
“I shall show myself out. Good-day to the pair of you!” So saying, he left the room and descended toward the street.
“Cheeky fellow,” I whispered while listening to the stairs suffer under his weight.
“But possibly dangerous,” said Holmes, who rose and walked to his table to collect a celluloid envelope, into which he emptied ash from Girthwood’s cigar. “His coy manner is a veneer, Watson. Scratch it, and you will find pure malevolence underneath. Trust to it, for I know his sort.” He strode quickly to the window and looked down into Baker Street.
“There is now the implication that 221 is being watched,” I said quietly.
“Perhaps, though I think not yet,” said Holmes, taking the pipe from his mouth and pointing it down three times. “He does not signal to anyone in the street. In addition, when I was out as the workman today, I spent thirty minutes just outside 221 to determine if any such surveillance was under way.” He turned from the window. “I detected none. It would not surprise me, however, if Girthwood were to now engage someone to watch this house, though the fact that the man is new to London will, no doubt, work to our advantage.”
“Shall I fetch Miss Adler now?” I inquired.
“By all means, do so. The wait must have been a most uncomfortable one for her. Indeed,” said he, “allow me to join you. Together, we shall re-establish her in the maid’s quarters.”
We both ascended the stair to the lumber room, where we assured Miss Adler that Jasper Girthwood had left, and then returned the woman to her room. Once restored to the room opposite mine, our guest accompanied us down to the sitting room, where Holmes briefly recounted the substance of his interview with Mr. Girthwood.
“Do you think he sincerely believes I left to seek aid elsewhere?” Miss Adler inquired.
“I rather doubt the man does anything sincerely,” Holmes replied. “In the present case, I expect him to still harbour doubts. One additional item must be mentioned, Miss Adler. He did ask that I convey to you, should I have the opportunity, the fact that the rara avis is his by rights, and he expects it back.”
“I’ve no rare bird, Mr. Holmes,” said Irene Adler at once.
“Have you any idea to what artifact he might have been referring?”
“None at all. As I have told you, the details of what transpired between Mr. Girthwood and Robert are unknown to me.”
“We may not know,” said Holmes, taking the basket-chair, “but I think we may surmise.”
“Surmise what?” I asked from the hearth.
“All evidence would suggest that the scheme Miss Adler’s fiancé and Mr. Girthwood undertook centred round obtaining some objet d’art. However, there appears to have been a falling out. My supposition, Miss Adler, is that your fiancé undertook to obtain the artifact alone. He might well have decided there was no need to share its value with Mr. Girthwood and, thus, proceeded to Paris with only you. Is that possible, do you think?”
“I suppose I could imagine him so desperate as to take that course,” replied the woman.
“Please pardon the effrontery of my next question. Do you think your fiancé capable of leaving Paris with no intention of sharing its value with you?”
“I do not,” was Irene Adler’s cold response.
“Mr. Girthwood asserted the object, whatever it is, to be his,” I quickly added. “Could it be that Hope Maldon stole it from him?”
“No, Watson, I believe the original scheme involved both men and that, together, they sought to obtain some object from a third party. I think it probable that Girthwood was the one who located and identified the object in the first place and then lured Hope Maldon into providing the funds necessary for the execution of the plan. If that is so, then we know more about our rotund nemesis.”
“And what is that?” I inquired, noticing that Miss Adler took great interest in my friend’s assertion.
“That he himself lacks funds and is thus unconnected with any vast criminal organization. In short, his recent displays aside, Mr. Girthwood may be the real ‘prodigious bluffer’ among us all.”
“We should then discount him?”
“For our own safety and that of Miss Adler, I believe we should not. The lowlife of London will often work on speculation, Watson, if the potential stakes are great enough. Mr. Girthwood may well be capable of eventually surrounding himself with an improvised group of his own.”
“And so what is our next step?”
“First we shall inform Mrs. Hudson that the path is now clear for supper,” said he. “I had earlier, by telephone, set Shinwell Johnson upon the trail of one or two additional lines of inquiry, and he may ring us yet again. Until then, Miss Adler may return to the wonders of Mr. Reade’s book, you may continue your correspondence, and I have yet to examine the day’s newspapers.”
And so we each engaged in our individual pastimes while our landlady prepared the evening meal. It was then during supper, as Holmes was expounding on the relationship of chestnut trees to the American character, that we heard the house bell ring yet again.
Holmes set down his knife and fork and patted his napkin to his lips. “Allow me to see for myself,” he said, rising from the table. As he approached the open door to our sitting room, the detective was confronted by Mrs. Hudson, carrying an envelope.
“It’s for the dear,” she said. “I told the messenger who delivered it that she had left yesterday, as you’d instructed,” Mrs. Hudson went on. “But I took the liberty of saying we could see that she received it, expecting you’d want to see the contents.”
“Good,” said Holmes, taking the envelope from her and carrying it to Irene Adler. “Please stay, Mrs. Hudson. It is a calculated risk that Girthwood did not send it as a ruse, but by accepting this, we may gain more than we give away. Miss Adler, if you please?” he said.
Our guest opened the envelope and removed from it a card. Then, with an intake of breath, she let go of the paper, allowing it to drop onto the table.
“Robert!” she said with a shocked excitement that frightened me in its violence. “This must be from Robert!” she exclaimed in disbelief.
“May I?” asked Holmes, who, with the woman’s permission, took the card in hand. “It is blank on one side,” he said, turning it over. “And on the back is but one word—cut from a newspaper and pasted onto the paper—‘Soon.’”
“From Robert!” exclaimed Miss Adler again.
“Should we perhaps determine the origin of this?” I offered.
“A good point, Watson,” replied Holmes, who turned to our landlady. “Mrs. Hudson, did you think—”
“To ask the messenger whence he came,” she completed. “Of course, Mr. Holmes. It was from the Langham Hotel.”
“Why should your fiancé send you such a message?” asked the detective. “If he knows you are here, why does he not use the telephone?”
“I cannot say,” she replied. “As you recall, I have made mention of the fact that I was acquainted with you, though I did not explain the circumstances.” In a wavering voice, she added, “It seems as if mysteries are growing faster than our understanding of them.”
“All will come right,” I said in consolation. “You have a rock of support here in Baker Street, Miss Adler.”
“Please allow me to return to the issues at hand,” said Holmes with mild irritation. “Miss Adler, it appears that you must stay and hope your fiancé comes to you.”
“But what of Mr. Girthwood? If my Robert attempts to come here, does he not stand in danger of being intercepted? ”
“Yes,” said Holmes. “Watson, I believe matters are piled high with complexity, so much so that we may have to engage the full resources of this agency.”
“Not only Johnson, but Pike and Hollins as well?”
“Yes, and Upshaw, Mercer, and Stannard in addition. One way or other, Miss Adler, this fortress will be secured.”
“Are you certain?” the woman asked.
“We can but try to make it so,” replied Sh
erlock Holmes.
CHAPTER SEVEN :
Two Visitors
The second full day of Irene Adler’s presence under our roof dawned quietly. I descended to the sitting room to find that, once more, Holmes had been the first of our party to be about and Miss Adler would be the last. My friend greeted me from the carpet, where he lay surveying the agony columns from a much-rumpled copy of the Daily Gazette. This accustomed position did not surprise me, though I was taken aback by his being dressed for the street rather than draped in one of his dressing-gowns.
“If you will allow, Watson, I shall ring for your breakfast presently. This day’s work may prove demanding, and we must be off the mark without delay.”
“Numerous destinations lie ahead?” I inquired.
“For me, perhaps,” the detective replied. “But the demands, I fear, may, in the end, fall disproportionately upon you.”
After a moment silently spent in my own exercise of deduction, I said, with an air of mild disappointment, “I am to remain here to guard Miss Adler.”
“Yes, and you understand I should entrust that duty to no one else?”
I smiled modestly.
“In this matter, I do not jest, Watson. Shinwell Johnson and his peers have proven a great boon to this agency, but some tasks are beyond their ken.”
“Perhaps that is the burden you bear for having no peer in this realm.”
“I’ve no need for ingratiating comments, Doctor. Save that phrase for your narrative of this case, in the event, heaven forbid, that it is ever written.”
“The case must write itself first, unless you already have an ending.”
“One way or another, there will be an end to it,” Holmes muttered. “Though the substance of that final curtain, I currently know not.” With effort, he rose to his feet and, sighing, gathered up the remains of the newspaper. “Your own copy of the Chronicle is there, intact, upon the table, old fellow. But to continue my previous thread, I shall be out the balance of this morning, and while, as I remarked last evening, I think it unlikely that our Mr. Girthwood has yet mustered forces with which to assault 221, we cannot be absolutely certain.”
“Is there no other address at which Miss Adler might be more secure? Should we not take Stanley Hopkins into our confidence?”
“Neither suggestion appeals,” my friend replied. “Baker Street is the nexus of our operation, a centre we can ill afford to do without, and to place our guest elsewhere would divide our forces. Moreover, if the message of last evening is to be believed, young Mr. Hope Maldon will arrive here soon. On the other hand, giving greater play to the Yard would compromise Miss Adler’s need to remain deceased in the public eye in general and in that of the king of Bohemia in particular. No, this shall be our one and only fortress, and our own troops shall be the only forces involved. And you, Watson, must be their commander in my place while I reconnoitre.”
“Your dress suggests to me that your departure is imminent.”
“You’ve assumed my attributes already. Good!” said he. “I expect to return by midday, but do not be alarmed if I do not. Pray, Watson, admit no one above the ground floor. If Girthwood should call, you are home but ill; do not receive him. If it is Hopkins, attend to him downstairs if you must. As you can, maintain a casual watch upon the street. Trust that you will not be left completely alone. Earlier this morning, I gave much the same directives to Mrs. Hudson, and I instructed Shinwell Johnson to post two of our men outside.”
“I shall recognize them?”
“They are Upshaw and Mercer; both are already on duty outside.”
“Ah, good. Holmes, should I consider keeping my service revolver at the ready?” I asked as I reached for my newspaper.
My friend took his coat and hat and then paused for a moment of thought. “Place it unloaded where it may be brandished,” he said, “but no more. I truly believe Girthwood is not yet a physical threat to us, but we must not be complacent.”
“I understand.”
“As you always do,” he said, taking my free hand to bid me good-bye. “I shall return, I hope, within a few hours.”
With that remark, Sherlock Holmes descended the stair, left 221, and strode out into Baker Street. Looking from the bow window, I saw him nod imperceptibly to Upshaw, one of the junior agents, who leaned against a shop window, consuming a biscuit. The young man slowly rotated his gaze upward, and our eyes met. I held up my folded copy of the Chronicle, and he touched his free hand to the brim of his cap. Then, casually, I strode to my small trunk, opened it, and uncovered my pistol.
“Your breakfast, Doctor,” said Mrs. Hudson from the open sitting room door. “Here’s curried fowl, eggs, and ham.”
“Thank you,” I replied, quickly covering the weapon that had travelled with me round the world. I turned to meet our landlady.
“Have you any changes in the orders Mr. Holmes gave?” she asked.
“None,” I answered. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”
It was only when she had reached the bottom of the stair that I removed my unloaded pistol and cached it in my writing desk. As I began my breakfast, I heard Miss Adler coming down. We said our greetings, and then, with the woman’s permission, I rang Mrs. Hudson for a second plate. Within minutes, Irene Adler and I were each enjoying hearty servings of fowl and eggs.
“Doctor,” said Miss Adler suddenly. “Is this house being watched? I have caught sight of a stranger lounging outside in the back.”
I put down my cup. “Yes,” I told her. “We are guarded by Holmes’s men, and rest assured that everything is being done to protect you. In particular, I shall remain here with you at all times.”
“And Mrs. Hudson?”
“And Mrs. Hudson, too, of course. What that woman has done in the service of the agency may astonish you. Might I relate some of that history at some point?”
“After breakfast, I would be delighted to hear your stories, as I have enjoyed reading them.”
“Yes,” I said, putting my napkin to my mouth. “You paid me that compliment earlier, as I recall. Wish you more fruit?”
At almost the moment our meal was completed, Mrs. Hudson stepped in to take away the remains. As I rose to give our landlady full play of the table, I heard the house bell ring.
“I shall run down and see who it is!” cried Mrs. Hudson, who set our empty plates back upon the table and took to the stair at once. I, meanwhile, strode to the bow window and looked down. A man stood there before our door, which opened, prompting him to remove his hat. The full head of hair thus revealed allowed me to recognize him at once, and bidding Miss Adler to remain quietly in the sitting room, I hurried down and assumed control of the situation.
“Mr. Watson!” said Diarmund Stephenson from the open doorway. “Dr. Watson, I mean,” he added, dipping his head and putting fingers to his mouth. “Dr. Watson, yes. May I step in?” he asked, looking back and forth between myself and the landlady.
“Yes, of course. This is Mr. Stephenson,” I said to Mrs. Hudson, “secretary to our current client. I shall receive him there in the waiting room, if it will suit. Oh, and, Mrs. Hudson, please go on with that other chore you spoke of. My plate can wait to be cleared upstairs,” I said, so that Stephenson might not accidentally observe evidence that two people had breakfasted above.
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Hudson, seemingly understanding the reason behind my request. She retired to the kitchen area, while I led Stephenson into the waiting room.
“How may I help you?”
“Is Mr. Holmes about?” the young man asked, taking to a chair.
“He is out at present. I expect him to return later in the day.” I gathered the ends of my coat and sat down in an identical chair opposite him.
“I see. Well, then I am uncertain as to how to proceed. I had wished to speak to Sherlock Holmes, you see.”
“Does it concern Mr. Hope Maldon?”
“It does.”
“Mr. Stephenson, please trust me when I say that were Sherlo
ck Holmes present, he would tell you to treat me as his full partner,” I said boastfully, though my intent was to pry information from Stephenson rather than proclaim my own self-importance. Leaning back, I made a steeple with my fingers. “What you came to tell him, you may relate to me instead.”
“Well, of course I trust your word, sir,” the secretary said, coming forward in his chair to sit earnestly on its edge. “We all know Robert’s missing. That’s why you and Dr.—I mean, Mr. Holmes were there the other day. Lord Monsbury wishes to find Robert, does he not?”
“Go on,” I urged, ignoring the question with purpose.
“Well, I believe there’s more to this than the mere disappearance of a person, Dr. Watson. I believe that some property of the minister is gone as well. Were the two of you aware of that?”
“Why do you suspect this?” I asked, again wishing to reveal nothing to my visitor.
“I am truly reluctant to say. It would place me in a very bad light, I fear.”
“How so?”
“I shall seem the very model of impropriety, Dr. Watson, but I suppose I must spill out the entire truth before you. The fact is that, from time to time, I check upon certain possessions of the earl.”
“Please explain.”
“Lord Monsbury’s house holds a number of valuables, as one would expect. A number of these are kept in a wall safe in his study.”
“You know where that safe is located?”
“Yes, and I know where a spare key to it is hidden in the library.”
I paused to form my next remark. “And you periodically check the contents of the safe. That seems most irregular. Can you tell me why you do this?”
“For a bit of larcenous fun in the beginning, I suppose,” the young man said. He pushed back his rambling head of hair. “I rather enjoyed pulling out all the important papers and jewels and such, holding them, and then putting them back.”
“But you never removed any of these items.”
“Not permanently, no. Indeed, after awhile, I convinced myself that I was doing right by the earl in taking my inventory of the safe every few weeks.”
