Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #4

by Marvin Kaye

  Introductions were quickly made. Her Grace returned to her examination of silver toothpick holders and other small trinkets, while the viscount eyed the items on the counter and criticised each one. He then stepped to my side and nudged me with an elbow.

  “Keeping an eye on Grandmama, eh? Capital idea. My uncle informed me that he intended to consult you regarding her condition,” he whispered. “Can’t be too careful when she’s out and about.”

  “I beg your pardon,” I replied, drawing away. What effrontery!

  “Not at all.” He winked, returning to Her Grace when she called to him.

  The duchess completed her purchase. A smile touched her lips as she turned to Holmes.

  “I am returning home now, Mr Holmes. You are released from duty.”

  Holmes barked a laugh and then bowed.

  “Your Grace is too kind.”

  She then gestured to me. “Doctor, accompany me to my carriage, if you please.”

  I was delighted to offer this small service and gave her my arm. We were followed by a shop assistant carrying her parcel.

  As I handed her into her carriage, the viscount hurried from the shop. “I say, Grandmama! I may as well return home with you.”

  He brushed past me and climbed into the carriage.

  I waited until the brougham had clattered down the street and turned the corner before re-entering the shop. Holmes was deep in conversation with the manager.

  “Ah, Watson,” he said as I approached. “Mr Ferguson has a question for you.”

  Mr Ferguson leaned across the counter. “Doctor, did you see Her Grace pick up a wee enameled card case? The green one?” he asked, his voice a murmur.

  I thought for a moment before replying in the same soft tones.

  “I believe Her Grace examined one, but I’m certain she returned it to the counter. Why?”

  “A card case has gone missing,” said Holmes, looking unruffled. “Although before searching any further, Mr Ferguson, I would ask Watson to show us the contents of his left outer pocket.”

  “The contents of my . . .” I stared at Holmes as I slipped my hand into the pocket. “Why, there is nothing—Good Lord!”

  I drew out my hand. A small green card case rested in my palm.

  Ferguson uttered a strangled sound and reached for the case.

  “But I never touched it,” I cried, allowing Ferguson to snatch it away. “How could it—?”

  “Calm yourself, my dear fellow,” said Holmes, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “No one believes you were responsible for taking it.”

  “I should hope not!”

  “No, it appears she took it from the counter and then slipped it into your pocket.”

  “But Holmes, the viscount could have—”

  Holmes squeezed my shoulder and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He turned to Ferguson. “I believe you have heard rumours about Her Grace, Mr Ferguson.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. Holmes was as good as stating that the duchess was responsible for the theft. Surely the viscount had the same opportunity to take the card case and slip it into my pocket as his grandmother.

  “Aye, I have.” Ferguson sighed. “Though I thought to pay them no heed.”

  “It is a sad case,” Holmes said softly. “And one that, were it made public, could bring shame upon the family.”

  “But what am I to do if it happens again, Mr Holmes?” Ferguson asked, frowning. “She frequently patronises our business. I cannae call the police, but the losses—”

  “I believe I have a solution to your problem.” Holmes smiled. “Observe her whenever she visits. Anything that is not paid for should be added to her account. I believe this will prove most satisfactory for both parties in handling any such incidents in the future.”

  Ferguson’s dour expression cleared. “That would suit us quite well, Mr Holmes.”

  “Excellent,” said Holmes. “In that way your shop will sustain no loss, and the family will be spared public scandal. Yes, a very satisfactory arrangement, I think.” He turned to me. “Come along, Watson.”

  I could barely wait until we were out of the shop and walking along the pavement before turning to Holmes.

  “But, Holmes! Her Grace might not be guilty; the viscount could have as easily taken the card case.”

  “I know that, dear fellow,” he said, raising his stick toward an unoccupied hansom. The driver reined in the horse. “Did you notice that she appeared very fond of the boy?”

  “I did indeed. Yet that does not explain why you have cast suspicion solely upon her.”

  After giving our address, Holmes and I climbed inside the cab.

  “Watson, I am in the process of setting a trap.” Holmes signaled with his stick, and the driver set off. “I have deep reservations regarding Sheppington. He may be using his grandmother’s regard for him and playing upon her affections, either alone or in collusion with his uncle. If Denbeigh and Sheppington are guilty of conspiring in order to gain control of Her Grace’s fortune, I will draw them out and expose their machinations.”

  “So you believe her to be the victim of a plot?”

  “Possibly, Watson, possibly. If, on the other hand, she does suffer from kleptomania, we must see to it that she does not have the opportunity to disgrace herself and her family by being publicly exposed.”

  “But how are we to do that?”

  “We took the first step this afternoon. Our next task is to send a message and ask Denbeigh and Sheppington to call upon us on the morrow.”

  * * * *

  The next day dawned bright and chill. Holmes and I were immersed in the morning newspapers and Mrs Hudson was clearing our breakfast dishes when the bell announced visitors. She bustled out with a tray of crockery, only to appear again moments later, breathing heavily.

  “Her Grace,” she panted.

  The dowager duchess entered, heavily veiled. With a brisk nod, Her Grace dismissed Mrs Hudson, then lifted the veils before turning to Holmes.

  “Mr Holmes, Doctor. I apologise for calling unannounced.”

  She appeared slightly flustered, but when I suggested she be seated, she gave an impatient wave.

  “No time, gentlemen. I overheard Maurice speaking of his visit; he will be here soon.”

  “How may we be of assistance?” asked Holmes.

  “Count von Kratzov is giving a ball tomorrow. He currently occupies one of my properties in Town; therefore I must make an appearance.” She paced from the hearth to the breakfast table and back. “He will be displaying the von Kratzov emeralds, the first time they have been publicly shown outside of Poland. I suspect that Maurice may attempt some mischief in order to disgrace me and further his aims.”

  “We must prevent that from occurring, Holmes!” I said.

  “Indeed we must.” Holmes looked inquiringly at her. “Would it be possible to procure an invitation for the good doctor and me?”

  “I would be grateful if you and Doctor Watson would accompany me.”

  Holmes shook his head. “It would be best if we were not of your party.”

  “Ah. Of course.” She smiled. “I will drop a hint to a friend, who will ensure that you both are included on the list of guests.” She held out her hand to Holmes, who bowed over it briefly.

  “Excellent!” Holmes glanced at the clock. “And now I am expecting your son—”

  “Yes!” She lowered her veils and hurried to the door. “Thank you, Mr Holmes, Doctor.”

  Rather than bother Mrs Hudson, I saw Her Grace to the pavement and hailed a hansom for her. She thanked me most prettily before departing.

  I had barely gained our chambers before the bell rang again. Within moments, Denbeigh entered, accompanied by his nephew.

 
I bowed, but remained in my place by the window where I could clearly see both men. If either Denbeigh or Sheppington attempted to surreptitiously pocket an item in order to dishonour Her Grace, I wished to be the one who revealed their perfidy.

  As Holmes explained the advantages of forging agreements with all of the shops patronised by Her Grace, Sheppington prowled about the room before lounging against the hearth. He withdrew a silver case from his pocket, extracted a cigarette, and lit it.

  Denbeigh frowned. “And what is to prevent these shopkeepers from falsely charging my mother for items she did not take?”

  “These are the most reputable establishments in London,” said Holmes. “Any such allegations would be ruinous.”

  “I agree with Mr Holmes, Uncle.” The young man shrugged and flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the embers. “If we can’t stop Grandmama pinching the stuff, at least this will keep it quiet.”

  “Hilary!” Denbeigh appeared scandalised. He turned to my friend. “Very well, Mr Holmes. Although I have reservations, we shall try your suggestion.”

  Holmes coughed gently. “Matters are already arranged at Carrington’s. All that remains to be done is to make similar agreements with the other shops your mother patronises. Would you care for me to undertake this task?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr Holmes,” said Denbeigh stiffly. “I shall take responsibility for this matter myself.”

  Dropping onto a chair, Sheppington crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back. “I only wish that since Grandmama’s so free and easy with other people’s belongings, she’d loosen up the money bags for me a little. I’m stone broke. And Uncle, I know you’ve lost a bundle—”

  “We will not discuss that at present, Hilary.” Denbeigh glanced at Holmes. “Do you have further advice regarding my mother’s affliction?”

  “Not at present.”

  “Then we shall bid you good day. Come, Hilary.”

  Sheppington heaved a sigh as he rose. “Of course. Goodbye, Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson.”

  Holmes turned to the window, while I saw His Lordship and his nephew to the door.

  “Do you believe Denbeigh will follow your suggestion and contact the shopkeepers?” I returned to my chair. “He did not seem especially taken with the idea.”

  “Very true. You noticed that he did not mention the ball or the emeralds?”

  “Why would—” I stopped, suddenly struck by Holmes’s implication. “Do you believe that omission to be suspicious?”

  “Possibly so.” Holmes’s shrug was positively Gallic. “Another possibility exits, however. If Denbeigh knows the emeralds are well protected, and that his mother would have little chance to pilfer them, he would have no cause for concern.”

  “So, we shall spend tomorrow evening observing Her Grace,” I said. “I can only hope it is less arduous than our afternoon trailing her about the shops.”

  “I suspect that observing Her Grace will be the least interesting portion of our evening,” said Holmes with a laugh.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You heard Her Grace, Watson. This will be the first time the von Kratzov emeralds will be on display outside Poland, and not only will they be an object of interest to members of society, but they will attract the attention of every jewel thief in Europe.”

  “Good God, do you think so?”

  “I do indeed.” Holmes’s eyes sparkled. “In fact, I will be very much surprised if we do not encounter several notorious thieves during the course of the evening.”

  “But Holmes! Should we not inform Scotland Yard of your suspicions?”

  “I am certain that the count has taken every precaution,” he replied. “But it is a clear day, if a trifle chill. I suggest we take the air now, for I shall be occupied later this afternoon.”

  I rose and followed him. We donned our coats and gloves, and as we stepped onto the pavement, Holmes reached into his pocket and froze.

  “Holmes!” I exclaimed, gazing at his countenance in alarm. “What is wrong? Are you ill?”

  He took a deep, shuddering breath, threw his head back, and emitted a bark of laughter that would have frightened me if he hadn’t immediately calmed.

  “I am well, Watson.” His dark eyes flashed as he withdrew his hand from his pocket. He opened his fingers, and laying on the kidskin was the jade dragon.

  “Bless me!” I stared at the bauble.

  “Indeed.” Holmes chuckled and returned the dragon to his pocket. “This is becoming quite a pretty puzzle, my dear chap. Who is returning the stolen articles? The thief, for some unknown reason? Or another party who wishes to prevent a scandal?” He clapped on his hat. “Come, Watson.”

  I followed him, still overcome with astonishment. If Holmes was correct regarding the interest generated by the jewels, as he almost invariably was about these things, tomorrow evening would test our abilities. The combination of the finest emeralds in Europe and Her Grace could only mean trouble.

  * * * *

  After luncheon, Holmes remarked that he would be absent from our chambers for some time, since he would be occupied with certain investigations.

  I spent a quiet afternoon and evening alone, perusing the newspapers and other publications for any hint of gossip or innuendo regarding Her Grace and her family. Apart from His Lordship frequenting the races, however, they garnered no mention in the press.

  I was not unduly concerned by Holmes’s absence; he occasionally disappeared for hours or days at a time when immersed in an investigation. He did not return to our chambers that night, or if he had, he arrived late and departed before I awoke. Our invitations to Count von Kratzov’s ball that evening arrived before luncheon; however, I had seen nothing of Holmes throughout the day, nor received word of his whereabouts.

  The sky was darkening into dusk when I rose to dress. I glanced at the clock; Holmes was deucedly late. Had he forgotten our promise to Her Grace and Lord Maurice to attend the ball?

  At that moment, a flurry of knocks sounded from the front door, followed by raised voices. My chamber door was flung open, and a man dressed in soiled work clothes, clutching a flat cap hurried in, followed by Mrs Hudson.

  “Oh, Doctor!” she cried. “He would not wait—”

  “I should hope not.” The man spoke with familiar voice. “Thank you, Mrs Hudson.”

  I started. “Holmes?”

  With a sigh, Mrs Hudson left. Holmes removed the putty that had altered the contours of his nose and smiled.

  “Good afternoon, Watson. I hope you are preparing to dress for—”

  “Really, Holmes.” I gazed at his grimy clothing and shook my head. “You are absolutely disgusting.”

  “My dear fellow, the disguise was necessary,” he said, eyes twinkling. “It enabled me to acquire information regarding Her Grace. Let us change our clothing, and I shall tell you in the cab on the way to Count von Kratzov’s.”

  * * * *

  The evening gloom had fallen by the time we finished dressing and descended the stair. Mrs Hudson stood before the door, holding Holmes’s hat.

  “I have brushed it as best I can, Mr Holmes,” she said, as he donned his coat and scarf and pulled on his gloves. “I really don’t know how you manage to get so filthy.”

  “As I said at the time, it was not my fault, Mrs Hudson. Blame Red O’Toole, the bare knuckle fighter, and his propensity for taking offense at gentlemen in evening clothes.” She shook her head as Holmes took his hat. Clapping it on, he smiled and chose his stick. “Excellent!”

  I turned away and suppressed my smile.

  “Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” I said, buttoning my coat and drawing on my gloves before taking up my own hat and stick.

  I followed Holmes into the bustling crowds, for despite the chill, the streets teemed with ac
tivity. Holmes hailed a hansom and after giving the count’s Grosvenor Place address to the driver, he sat back on the leather seat with a small sigh.

  “You asked about my activities today,” Holmes began. “You will be pleased to know I performed honest labour and a little reconnaissance. With the assistance of Mary, the youngest and most imaginative of Her Grace’s housemaids, I repaired several broken panes in Her Grace’s dressing room.”

  I glanced at Holmes. “How convenient that there were broken panes which required repair.”

  He did not reply, but simply flashed a small smile and folded his hands upon his knee.

  “And how were those panes broken?” I continued. “Your young colleagues throwing rocks, perhaps?”

  “It is positively shameful how these hooligans run wild.”

  I was not at all surprised Holmes had arranged such an event. In the interests of justice, he maintained that to prove the greater crime, one could be forgiven the lesser. I generally agreed.

  “And what about young Mary?” I turned a critical eye on him. “I hope you did not play upon her expectations.”

  “Never fear, my dear fellow. I assure you that our relations were entirely proper. Her eldest brother is a glazier in Plymouth, and we spoke of the demands of his trade after the fleet has returned to port.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You would be surprised at the amount of destruction perpetrated by Her Majesty’s forces whilst in their cups.”

  “I assure you, I would not.” I suppressed vivid memories of the actions of my military brethren during leave. “And what news did Mary convey?”

  “A great deal of commiseration for Her Grace and Lord Maurice regarding the activities of Viscount Sheppington, some of which were conveyed in a whisper, with hints of others that were far worse and could not be spoken of.”

  I shook my head. “Is the young man truly so far sunk in vice and dissipation?”

  “Apparently so, although when I enquired if she had witnessed any of his dreadful behaviour, she denied it.”

  “Then how did she know of it?”