‘However, my motto has always been first things first. So, at my request, Morpeth took me upstairs to the garret to show me where the villain had entered. It was the only possible place of access for, as Morpeth explained, because of her ladyship’s fear of thieves, the rest of the house was like a fortress, with every window shuttered and every door double locked and barred.
‘I may still have a lot to learn about disguises and shadowing a suspect but there isn’t much anyone can teach me about the methods certain burglars use when breaking into a “drum”.4 As soon as I saw the little window in the slope of the roof and the neat way a hole had been cut in the glass near the catch, I knew it was the work of Bert Morrison.’
‘The man you chased over the warehouse wall?’ I exclaimed.
‘The very same scoundrel,’ Hunniford replied. ‘There was no question about it. When I climbed on a chair and peered out of the window, I could see that the nearest drain-pipe, up which he must have come, was a good thirty feet away with a drop of well over fifty to the ground. No one else could have shinned up there and made his way in the dark across that roof which had a pitch to it like the side of Mount Blank. Agile! Morrison was a veritable monkey and as slippery as an eel into the bargain. While I was at the Yard, I had investigated no less than fifteen burglaries which Morrison had carried out and yet I was never once able to lay him by the heels or prove his guilt.
‘His particular liking was for wholesalers’ and warehouses where there were rich pickings. But whenever London got too hot for him, he would move his pitch and “turn over”, as the underworld terms it, a big country mansion, stealing mostly silver and jewellery which, once melted down or broken up, could not be traced back to him.
‘Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to snap a pair of “darbies” on his wrists and see him hauled off to gaol, for it was on account of him that I had broken my leg and lost my job in the police force. And think what a feather it would be in my cap! Me, a private consulting detective, arresting the most notorious burglar in London! Why, I would have been almost as famous as Mr Holmes!
‘With these thoughts in my mind, I went downstairs to meet Lady Farthingdale.
‘She was sitting in the drawing-room and a queer-looking old lady she was, too. She was dressed all in black, with a widow’s cap on her head and her hands resting like claws on a silver-knobbed cane. But she was still as sharp as a needle. As I crossed the room towards her, I could see she was eyeing me up and down and taking my measure.
‘I must have passed muster for, dismissing the butler, she fumbled under the cushion behind her back and, taking out a little wash-leather bag, she dangled it in front of me.
‘“There are fifteen guineas in there,” said she. “They are yours, in addition to your expenses, if you recover what was stolen from me.”
‘Fifteen guineas! Why, Dr Watson, it was more than I had earned in three weeks while I was at the Yard.5 I confess though that, not knowing then about the ruby ring, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she, being such a miser, was willing to part with all that money for what Morpeth had told me was a mere handful of trifles, worth no more than a few pounds.
‘“I shall do my best, your ladyship,” said I.
‘“Then set about it at once,” said she with a snap of her lips. “And remember, Hunniford, I want it all back but especially the little wooden box. It contains something I value most highly. If you fail to recover it, you will receive no more than a guinea. Do you accept the terms?”
‘It was a hard bargain but, having always been something of a gambler, I agreed. She then pushed the little money-bag behind the cushion, rang for Morpeth and I was shown out of the house.
‘The following morning, I caught the first train to London, a plan already worked out in my mind.
‘I knew Morrison frequented the Tottenham Court Road area where there were several public houses he liked to drink in and meet his cronies. As his haul from Witchett Manor was so small, I also reckoned that he would not trouble to take it to his usual “fence”, a man down in Isleworth, but would try selling it off for what he could raise on it at the nearby second-hand dealers, some of whom handled stolen property.
‘My guess was correct. I tracked Morrison down to a lodging-house in Goodge Street and also managed to trace the silver and the pair of vases, which I bought back on Lady Farthingdale’s behalf. But I could not find the little wooden box anywhere. So, assuming Morrison had not yet sold it, I kept watch on his lodgings, disguising myself with the beard in case he recognised me, for I had questioned him a couple of times at the Yard.’
‘I assume, from Morrison’s subsequent actions, that he saw through the disguise,’ Holmes interjected.
Hunniford smiled ruefully. ‘I am afraid so, Mr Holmes. It was on the Wednesday morning. I saw him set out from his lodgings so I followed him. But, as you say, he must have recognised me, for he dived into Mr Abrahams’ shop, handed the box over and then shot off again like a bullet. I suppose, knowing I was hot on his trail, he was anxious to dispose of it before I could catch up with him.
‘I admit I was in something of a dilemma. On the one hand, I was keen to get hold of the box and earn my fifteen guineas. On the other, I did not wish to lose sight of my quarry. So, thinking I could go back later to the shop, I stopped to look quickly in at the window before hurrying after him.
‘To be frank, I lost him. I said he was as slippery as an eel and he had the advantage of knowing the area like the back of his hand. By the time I reached the corner of Coleville Court, he had vanished. He also cleared out from his lodgings, as I discovered when I went back there.
‘You can imagine my feelings. But, if I had lost Morrison, at least I knew where to find Lady Farthingdale’s trinket box. It was safe at Mr Abrahams’ shop. Or so I thought. So I kept watch on the premises, hoping I would see it put out for sale. I would then have bought it and that would have been the end of the matter. Instead, I succeeded in frightening poor Mr Abrahams out of his wits, for which I am truly sorry.’
‘And thereby forcing him to shut his premises,’ Holmes pointed out.
‘That was a real set-back to my enquiries,’ Hunniford admitted. ‘However, rather than return to Somerset without it and lose my fifteen guineas, I decided to wait a few more days and see what happened. The rest you know, Dr Watson. Disguised as Mr Abrahams, Mr Holmes put the box in the window where I saw it. Thinking my problems were at an end, I came in to buy it, only to find myself under arrest on suspicion of Morrison’s murder about which, at the time, I knew nothing.’
‘But if you did not kill him, who did?’ I enquired, nonplussed.
It was Holmes who answered.
‘A man called Ferrers, with whom Morrison was competing for the affections of the barmaid, Nancy, at the Crown public house,’ said he crisply. ‘It was a sordid little crime which need not detain us.’
Taking this remark as a cue for his own departure, Hunniford rose to his feet and shook hands all round.
‘Neither must I keep you any longer, except to say that Lady Farthingdale received back her ruby ring, I was paid my fifteen guineas and all ended happily as the lady novelists put it, although I should have liked the satisfaction of seeing Morrison behind bars. Still, as they say, there are more ways than one of skinning a cat, or, in his case, a cat-burglar.’
Laughing loudly at his own joke, he picked up the little ebony casket and slipped it into his pocket.
‘Well, gentlemen, I must be off,’ said he. ‘The wife is expecting me on the 5.25 train and I promised Lady Farthingdale I would return the box to her as soon as Mr Holmes had finished with it.’
We took our own leave of Mr Abrahams shortly afterwards, strolling back to our lodgings along Oxford Street.
As we walked, I took the opportunity to ask Holmes how he had set about devising the little scene which so far he had not explained.
‘It was quite simple,’ he replied. ‘Yesterday morning, I sent two telegrams, one
to Lady Farthingdale in which I requested the loan of her trinket box, the other to Hunniford, asking him to collect it from her and bring it to me. Then this afternoon, while you were playing billiards, he and I, with old Abrahams’ assistance, arranged the re-enactment which I thought might amuse you. It certainly gave me a great deal of pleasure. But I see that does not entirely satisfy you, my dear fellow. There is something else on your mind.’
I was much taken aback, for there was indeed one other aspect of the case which was troubling me. However, before I could voice the question, Holmes had answered it.
‘No, Watson,’ said he, ‘Morrison did not know that Lady Farthingdale’s ruby ring was hidden in the secret compartment of the box, otherwise he would have sold it to the gentleman in Isleworth who generally handled all his stolen booty. How did I know you were about to ask me that? Because you put your right hand up to your collar and cleared your throat, a sure indication that some aspect of the case needed further clarification. I have frequently observed the habit. As it was the only loose thread left dangling, I ventured to tie it up before you asked.
‘And, Watson, if you are considering writing up an account of the case, please do me the kindness of refraining. When Lady Farthingdale sent the box by Hunniford, she enclosed with it a message that not one word about the case should be published. She is an avid reader of your accounts of our little adventures together and looks forward eagerly to them appearing in print. However, she prefers not to be featured in one of them.’6
1 Mr Sherlock Holmes purchased his Stradivarius violin, worth at least five hundred guineas, from a ‘Jew broker’s’ in Tottenham Court Road for fifty-five shillings. It is possible he was referring to Mr Abraham’s shop although this is not certain. Dr John F. Watson.
2 For a full account of this case, readers are referred to ‘The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax’. Dr John H. Watson was taking a Turkish bath when Lady Frances Carfax’s former governess, Miss Dobney, called on Mr Sherlock Holmes to report her disappearance. Both this case and that of old Mr Abrahams are undated but evidently took place when Dr John H. Watson was in residence at Baker Street, either before his marriage in the late 1880s or after the spring of 1894 when, on Mr Sherlock Holmes’ return to England, he moved back to his old lodgings. Dr John F. Watson.
3 Thurston, Christian name unknown, was the only person with whom Dr John H. Watson played billiards. Vide: ‘The Adventure of the Dancing Men’. Dr John F. Watson.
4 A ‘drum’ is criminal slang for a house or other premises applied to a site of a planned robbery or one where a robbery has already occurred. Dr John F. Watson.
5 At the turn of the century, a detective inspector of first-class rank earned between £250 and £280 per annum, one of second rank between £180 and £230 per annum, while a uniformed inspector’s salary was 56 shillings a week or £145 per annum. Dr John F. Watson.
6 No reference is made in the published canon to Lady Farthingdale. However, in ‘The Disappearance of Lady Carfax’, Mr Sherlock Holmes states that he ‘cannot possibly leave London while old Abrahams is in such mortal terror of his life.’ Dr John F. Watson.
THE CASE OF THE FRIESLAND OUTRAGE
I
It was, I recall, late one stormy evening in November 1894, some months after Sherlock Holmes’ miraculous return from death at the hands of his arch-enemy, Professor Moriarty, at the Reichenbach Falls,1 that the following remarkable events occurred which were so nearly to cost us both our lives.
Having dined, we had retired to our armchairs on either side of the blazing fire, Holmes deep in a volume on early Elizabethan ciphers, I absorbed in nothing more abstruse than the Evening Standard, content that my old friend had no case on hand to force us out of doors in such tempestuous weather.
Hardly had the thought crossed my mind than Holmes lifted his head and, laying aside his book, remarked, ‘A cab has just drawn up outside, Watson. I believe we have a visitor. Rather than allow the maid to be disturbed at such an hour, I shall let him in myself.’
‘Him?’ I enquired.
‘Oh, it is undoubtedly a man. Did you not hear the slam of the cab door? No woman would act in quite so positive a manner.’
I had heard nothing above the sound of the wind roaring in the chimney and rattling the windows in their frames, although I was not surprised that Holmes had discerned these distant noises. His hearing is keener than that of any other man I know.
He left the room, returning soon afterwards with a short, powerfully built, bearded man, so broad across the shoulders and so stocky of frame that he appeared quite square in shape. From his pea jacket and peaked cap, I took him to be a seafarer, a supposition which proved correct when Holmes introduced him.
‘This is Captain Hans Van Wyk, Watson.’ Turning to our visitor, he continued, ‘Pray be seated, sir.’
Van Wyk removed his cap, revealing a head of grey hair, as thick and as grizzled as his beard. His weather-beaten face was deeply creased about the eyes with humorous lines, suggesting a jovial nature, although the gravity of his general demeanour revealed that whatever business had brought him to consult Holmes was of a serious nature.
‘Master of the Dutch vessel, the SS Friesland,’ said he, sinking down into the chair which Holmes had indicated. Although his English was on the whole excellent, he spoke with a guttural accent. ‘I apologise for intruding on you so late in the evening, gentlemen. But the lady insisted I came to you, not the official police.’
‘I think,’ said Holmes, resuming his own seat, ‘that you had better begin by telling us who the lady is and why she is in such urgent need of my help.’
‘Of course, Mr Holmes. However, I ought first to explain a little of the background to the affair. The SS Friesland is a small cargo vessel, plying between the coasts of Germany and Holland and the south-east of England. We also carry passengers; not many, as there is cabin accommodation for only a dozen. Yesterday, we docked at the Free Trade Wharf2 in the Port of London where we unloaded and took on a fresh cargo, ready for the return voyage to Rotterdam. We are due to sail at half-past one tomorrow morning on the high tide.
‘A few passengers embarked earlier this evening, among them an elderly gentleman, a Mr Barnaby Pennington, and his daughter. I did not see them come on board, although I understand from the steward that they went straight to their cabins.
‘Some time later, Miss Pennington went on deck and approached the mate in some distress. It seems that, after she had settled herself into her own cabin, she went to her father’s which was opposite hers to make sure that he, too, was comfortable for the night. Having knocked and received no reply, she let herself in, only to find the cabin empty and signs that a struggle had taken place. Her father’s luggage had been rifled and a large sum of money, together with some important documents, was missing.
‘The mate alerted me and I ordered an immediate search of the whole ship but no trace of Mr Pennington was found. I also questioned the crew. But no one had noticed anything suspicious, although that is understandable. It is a dark, wet night and the men were busy about their own tasks.’
‘Miss Pennington had heard nothing?’
‘Evidently not, Mr Holmes, apart from some muffled thuds which she took to be coming from the deck. The storm was then at its height.’
‘And what of the other passengers. Have you spoken to them?’
‘Not personally. I was too occupied with supervising the search and examining the crew. However, the steward questioned them on my instructions. He reported that none of them had heard or seen anything out of the ordinary. There are only four of them on this voyage and the cabins between theirs and Mr Pennington’s are unoccupied. I have since taken the precaution of posting a man at the head of the gang-plank in case anyone should try to take Mr Pennington ashore. Of course, it may be a case, as you English say, of bolting the door after the horse has vanished.’
‘You mean that someone could have come on board and abducted Mr Pennington without your knowledge?�
��
Captain Van Wyk spread out his large, gnarled hands.
‘On such a night, anything is possible,’ he replied.
‘You said you spoke to Miss Pennington,’ Holmes continued. ‘Had she any idea who might be responsible for her father’s disappearance?’
‘No, none at all, sir; except she seemed to think robbery might be a motive.’
There was a hesitation in the captain’s voice which Holmes was quick to perceive.
‘You yourself do not believe it?’
‘I think there may be more to the case than simple theft, Mr Holmes. When I spoke to the lady, she was strangely reluctant to discuss her father’s business affairs. She was also most insistent that I was to come directly to you and no one else. She has written a letter which she asked me to deliver to you personally.’
Feeling in his jacket pocket, Captain Van Wyk produced an envelope which he handed to Holmes who, having opened it and glanced quickly over the sheet of paper it contained, read the message aloud for our visitor’s benefit as well as my own.
‘“Dear Mr Holmes, Captain Van Wyk will have explained to you the circumstances surrounding my father’s disappearance. As I have great fear for his safety, I beg you to make enquiries on my behalf. My father has often spoken of your detective skills in relation to one specific investigation.”’
At this point, Holmes broke off to ask Captain Van Wyk, ‘Did Miss Pennington happen to mention any particulars of this inquiry?’
‘Yes, she did, Mr Holmes!’ the captain replied eagerly. ‘It was the Blackmore case.’
‘Indeed!’ my old friend murmured. ‘As I remember, it was a most delicate business.’ Seeing my look of enquiry, he explained, ‘It was an investigation I carried out in ’89 when you were in practice in Paddington. I did not call on your services, Watson, as you were laid up at the time with an attack of bronchitis. To continue with the letter. Miss Pennington goes on to add, and the sentence is underlined twice, “On no account must Scotland Yard be informed of this affair.” The letter is signed Maud Pennington. Well, Captain Van Wyk,’ Holmes concluded, folding up the sheet of paper and placing it in his pocket, ‘I shall certainly accept the young lady’s request. The case presents some unusual features. You came in a four-wheeler, I believe, which you have retained?’
The Secret Journals of Sherlock Holmes (A&B Crime) Page 13
