The Secret Journals of Sherlock Holmes (A&B Crime)

by Thomson, June

  Leaving me at the desk, the Baron crossed the room to the door which communicated with the bedroom, shutting it softly behind him.

  I stood very still, silently counting off the seconds and straining to catch the slightest sound beyond the closed door. But the panels were too thick and I could hear nothing apart from the knocking of my own heart, which sounded to my ears like the beating of a drum.

  I recalled Holmes’ last words, warning me how much depended upon the successful execution of my part in his plan, and I felt the weight of responsibility lie heavy on my shoulders. If I failed, I should not only let my old friend down but should also confirm Mycroft’s unspoken reservation about my ability to carry out the enterprise.

  After a minute and a half, the door opened and the Baron re-entered the room.

  Trying to hide my curiosity, I watched him as he came towards me but I could discern nothing about his appearance which might suggest the place where the diamonds were hidden; no dust; no fibres; no signs of any kind.

  In one hand he was carrying a small wash-leather bag, fastened at the mouth with a drawstring, in the other a little jeweller’s box, covered with blue velvet, on the lid of which was stamped in gold the eagle crest of the Netherland-Sumatra Company.

  Placing both upon the desk, he drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket which he spread out beside them. Then, opening the wash-leather bag, he spilt its contents on to the square of blue silk. The stones came pouring out to form a little heap, glittering in the bright spring sunshine which came flooding in through the window.

  ‘Exquisite, are they not?’ he said softly, touching them almost reverently with one plump, white finger. ‘Such colour! Such lustre, even though they are uncut! Imagine them, Sir William, when they are shaped and polished and set into a necklace to adorn the throat of a beautiful woman. They will glitter like a constellation of stars. Now choose, my dear sir. Whichever one you pick shall be yours.’

  He passed one hand gently over the mound, spreading out the diamonds so that each separate stone caught the light and flashed it back at me in points of fiery brilliance.

  I confess that, despite myself, I was caught up in the thrill of the occasion and the magic with which the Baron managed to invest it, quite forgetting that the whole affair was nothing more than an elaborate fraud.

  Very tentatively, I indicated one of the stones which seemed to shine more brilliantly than the others.

  ‘An excellent choice!’ the Baron exclaimed approvingly. ‘I see you have the most superb taste, Sir William. It is a perfect specimen.’

  Picking it up with the pair of tweezers which lay ready to hand, he placed it in the small satin-lined box, which he handed to me with another of his formal bows.

  ‘It has been an honour to meet you, Sir William,’ said he, holding out his hand, ‘and to welcome you as a shareholder in the Netherland-Sumatra Company.’

  It was quite evident that the ceremony was over. In a few moments, I would be shown to the door and the opportunity to discover the evidence which Holmes so urgently needed would be lost for ever.

  I had failed and, with that realisation, my feeling of excitement was replaced by one of utter dejection and it was only with the greatest effort that I managed to maintain my smile.

  We shook hands and, as I turned to make my departure, I took a last glance at the scattered diamonds lying on the desk, knowing that, as soon as I had gone, the Baron would gather up the glittering hoard and return it to its secret hiding-place.

  It was only then that my attention was drawn to the little wash-leather bag which lay beside the gems and which until that moment I had disregarded. It was an ordinary object, unremarkable in every way except for a small brown stain close to its drawstring mouth.

  Hardly had I noticed it than the Baron again took me by the elbow with that amiable intimacy of his and began to escort me towards the door, and there was nothing I could do but accompany him.

  III

  On my return to Baker Street, I found Holmes pacing up and down the sitting-room in a state of great nervous tension.

  ‘Well, Watson?’ he demanded as I entered. ‘What have you discovered?’

  ‘Hardly anything Holmes,’ I confessed with a heavy heart.

  ‘How long was he gone from the room?’

  ‘About a minute and a half.’

  ‘Then,’ said he, brightening a little, ‘the hiding-place must be readily accessible. Did you hear anything?’

  ‘Not a sound.’

  ‘Or note anything unusual about his appearance?’

  ‘Nothing, I am afraid.’

  He sank down in a chair by the fire, his countenance once more clouded over.

  ‘Except …’ I began diffidently.

  ‘Except what?’

  ‘It is so trifling a matter, I hardly think it is worth mentioning.’

  ‘Let me be the judge of that! To what precisely are you referring?’

  ‘To a stain upon the bag in which the diamonds were kept.’

  ‘Stain? What sort of stain?’

  ‘I do not know. It was very small, Holmes; little more than a smear.’

  ‘What colour?’

  ‘Brown.’

  ‘Light brown? Dark brown? Come, Watson! Be more exact.’

  ‘Dark brown.’

  Holmes sprang to his feet and resumed his restless perambulations, his brows contracted and his hands clasped nervously together.

  As he paced up and down, he muttered to himself under his breath, ‘A dark brown stain. Not ink. Paint, then? Unlikely. Or dye? As improbable.’

  Suddenly he gave an exclamation of exasperation and struck himself on the forehead with his palm.

  ‘Of course! What a fool I am! The answer is obvious. Boots!’

  ‘Boots?’ I enquired.

  ‘Yes, Watson, boots. Or to be more precise, boot polish. What else could be found among a gentleman’s effects which would leave behind a small, dark brown stain such as you describe? The Baron must therefore keep his store of stolen diamonds in a pair of brown boots, almost certainly in the heels, the only part of a boot which offers any place of concealment. It is an old smugglers’ trick, I believe, to hide small items of contraband in a similar fashion. It is moreover safe from theft. No burglar is likely to make off with a pair of boots when there are more valuable articles worth stealing.’ Clasping me by the hand, he added, ‘My dear old friend, you have done sterling service this afternoon. I could not have bettered it myself.’

  I was highly gratified by this commendation, for I knew it was sincerely meant. It was not in Holmes’ nature to flatter anyone, not even the highest in the land, with undue praise. His approbation had to be rightly earned.

  ‘And now, Watson,’ he continued, ‘for the diamond. I assume Baron Maupertuis presented you with one. May I see it?’

  ‘Of course, Holmes,’ said I, taking the little jeweller’s box from my pocket.

  Seizing it eagerly, he carried it over to the window where, having taken the stone from its container, he subjected it to a minute examination with the aid of a jeweller’s eyeglass, turning it over and over between his fingers.

  ‘Is it false?’ I asked, assuming he was looking for signs it had been faked.

  ‘No, it is perfectly genuine. The Baron deals only in authentic diamonds,’ he assured me, replacing it inside its box, which he returned to me.

  I could not be sure, but I thought I perceived an expression of disappointment pass over his lean features. However, it was gone in an instant and before I could enquire into its cause, Holmes had moved on to the subject of my interview with the Baron, about which he questioned me closely, congratulating me again on the successful manner in which I had conducted it.

  For the next eight days, nothing occurred to forward the case and Holmes sank once more into that state of brooding melancholy which always overtook him in moments of enforced idleness. So low were his spirits that I feared he might have recourse to that artificial stimulant from which I h
ad attempted to wean him.10

  It was therefore a considerable relief to me when, at breakfast on the following Saturday morning, a letter arrived which Holmes had evidently been expecting, for he tore the envelope open and scanned the letter it contained with great haste.

  ‘The stalemate is over at last, Watson!’ cried he. ‘And the game is once more afoot!’

  Dashing into his bedroom, he emerged in less than ten minutes, fully dressed and carrying a small valise. ‘You are going away?’ I enquired.

  ‘For four nights only,’ he replied. ‘I shall return on Wednesday morning. Pray inform Mrs Hudson of my absence and try to keep Wednesday night free.’

  ‘Why, Holmes?’

  ‘Because, my dear fellow, by then I expect to have all my pieces on the board for the final move which will checkmate the Baron.’

  The next moment, the sitting-room door had banged shut behind him.

  I waited impatiently for Holmes’ return, curious to know what exactly he had meant by his reference to chess and how precisely he proposed setting about the Baron’s defeat.

  In the event, Holmes failed to arrive as expected on the Wednesday morning. It was not until four o’clcok that I heard the sound of his familiar footsteps bounding energetically up the stairs.

  ‘You are late, Holmes!’ I declared as he entered.

  ‘A thousand apologies,’ said he cheerfully. ‘I trust you were not anxious on my behalf. There was rough weather in the Channel and the packet was late in arriving at Dover.’

  ‘So you have been to France again?’

  ‘Not to stay on this occasion. I merely passed through on my way to Buda-Pesth.’

  ‘Buda-Pesth? What on earth were you doing there?’

  ‘Meeting a certain Mr Jozsef whose presence in London is essential to my plan. Mr Jozsef is a jeweller whose premises were burgled three years ago, presumably by Baron Maupertuis’s confederate, and a quantity of uncut diamonds were stolen. Out of the sixteen jewellers and diamond merchants whom I interviewed during my earlier enquiries, he alone was prepared to swear that he could distinguish his stones from all others; or, at least, some of them.

  ‘By great good fortune, Mr Jozsef, who designs and makes some of his own jewellery, had received an order for a bracelet from a wealthy client just before the burglary. It was intended as a coming-of-age gift for the customer’s daughter. From his stock of uncut diamonds, Mr Jozsef chose twenty-one stones which most perfectly matched one another in weight and colour. These he set to one side, having first noted down their particulars. As an extra precaution in case they should, by some unlucky chance, become confused with his other stock, he marked each with a tiny scratch, invisible to the naked eye.

  ‘However, before he could despatch them for cutting and polishing, his workshop was broken into and these diamonds, along with about a dozen more, were stolen. It is because of these tiny scratches that Mr Jozsef is certain he can pick them out from any others.

  ‘I had great hopes, Watson, that the Baron might have passed on some of these marked stones to his shareholders, but of the few I have managed to examine without rousing suspicion, none bore that distinguishing sign, including yours. They must therefore still be in the Baron’s possession. Consequently, I am left with no alternative. In order to retrieve them and so obtain the evidence I shall need to prove the Baron’s guilt, I shall have to turn burglar myself.’

  ‘But, Holmes, think of the risk you will be taking!’ I cried.

  ‘Oh, there is no risk, my dear fellow. The letter I received on Saturday morning was from the Marquis de Saint Chamond. In it, he informed me that, as I had requested, he had arrived in London and had written to Baron Maupertuis asking him to dinner tonight at his Mayfair house, an invitation the Baron has accepted. The engagement is for half-past seven. Therefore I estimate that by a quarter past seven at the latest, the Baron will have left the Hotel Cosmopolitan, clearing the way for me to enter his rooms and remove the diamonds.

  ‘I have already taken the precuation of booking a suite in the hotel on the same floor as the Baron’s and only a little distance from it. As soon as I have found the gems, I shall return to my suite with them, where Mr Jozsef will be waiting to examine them. If among them, he finds any of the marked stones, as I have every confidence he will, then the case against the Baron will be proved. If, on the other hand, none of the marked stones are discovered, then I shall simply return the diamonds to their hiding-place and the Baron will be none the wiser. I cannot see what risk I shall be taking.’

  ‘I was not referring to the physical danger but the legal implications,’ I replied. ‘You will be breaking the law, Holmes. Do you not recall your brother warned you that he could promise you only limited protection, should you do so? You could be placing your whole career and reputation in jeopardy. I do beg you to reconsider.’

  ‘I have,’ said he most earnestly. ‘For the past two months I have thought of little else than how to bring the Baron to justice. I am touched by your concern, Watson. But believe me, there is no other way.’

  ‘Could you not inform Inspector Gregson of your suspicions and leave it to him to make the search with an official warrant?’

  ‘No, Watson; I dare not. Suppose I am wrong and the diamonds are not hidden in the Baron’s boots? Or the marked stones are not among them but concealed elsewhere, possibly even on the Continent? Not only would the whole enterprise fail but the Baron would be warned of our suspicions. There lies the greatest danger. I must be sure of the evidence before Gregson can make an arrest. In this game the stakes are too high to risk a faulty throw.

  ‘However, allow me to set your mind at rest a little. I have gone part of the way to make my scheme legitimate. Earlier today, I left a message at Scotland Yard for Inspector Gregson, asking him to call at the Hotel Cosmopolitan later this evening, bringing with him some of his colleagues and a search warrant but giving him no further information except that I hope to have evidence of the Baron’s guilt and a witness to prove it. If I am right and the stones are where I think they are hidden, then Gregson will have the legal means to find them and arrest the Baron. If by any chance I am wrong, no action will be taken. I shall merely apologise to Gregson for wasting his time and some other method of entrapping the Baron will have to be devised.

  ‘For this reason, I see no other solution than to break into the Baron’s rooms and steal the diamonds myself.’

  ‘Then I will come with you,’ said I.

  ‘You shall do no such thing, my dear fellow. If you wish, you may accompany me to the hotel but you must remain inside the room and not set foot outside it.’

  ‘You cannot force me to. I give you my word that, as soon as you leave for the Baron’s suite, I shall follow at your heels.’

  ‘What a stubborn fellow you are!’ Holmes cried, looking annoyed. ‘What can I say to dissuade you?’

  ‘Nothing, Holmes. My mind is made up. You have often referred to me as your colleague, a title I have been proud to acknowledge. That same pride will not allow me to be merely your fair-weather friend.’

  ‘Then I see there is no point in arguing,’ said he, smiling and holding out his hand to me. ‘You have won, Watson. We shall become partners in crime! Let us trust we do not find ourselves standing shoulder to shoulder in the dock at the Old Bailey! Now for the particulars of my plan. I shall leave here at six o’clock for the boarding-house in Chelsea where Mr Jozsef is waiting, together with Mr Melas whom you have met before11 and who will act as interpreter, as Mr Jozsef speaks only Hungarian. From there, I shall take them both to Suite 206 which I have engaged at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. I suggest you join me there at half-past seven, after the Baron’s departure. But first I propose we ask Mrs Hudson to provide an early supper, for it may prove a long and tedious evening.’

  As soon as we had supped, Holmes set out alone for Chelsea while I departed for the Hotel Cosmopolitan a little over an hour later.

  During that intervening time, I had the leisure to consider
my own part in Holmes’ plan and, while I had no regrets over my decision to accompany my old friend, it was with some trepidation as well as excitement that I contemplated the adventure to come.

  Having met the Baron, I was in no doubt that he was a formidable and highly intelligent adversary with the wealth and power to strike back at anyone who opposed him. As Mycroft had said of him, he was an international criminal of the first order whose capture would avert a scandal of European dimensions. It was this latter consideration which afforded me the greatest thrill of expectation. Like a mountain-climber contemplating a high peak which he proposes scaling, my awareness of the dangers involved only served to whet my appetite for the challenge.

  IV

  It was little after half-past seven when I arrived at the Hotel Cosmopolitan and was shown up to Holmes’ suite on the second floor, where my old friend opened the door to me.

  ‘Come in, my dear fellow!’ he exclaimed, drawing me into the room where two gentlemen were already seated. ‘Mr Melas, of course, needs no introduction. My other guest, whom you have not yet met, is Mr Jozsef from Buda-Pesth. Mr Jozsef, Dr Watson, my colleague,’ Holmes continued, smiling and putting a special emphasis on this latter word.

  I shook hands first with Mr Melas, a short, stout man with an olive complexion, who interpreted Holmes’ remarks for the benefit of his companion. Mr Jozsef, who was elderly and white-haired, seemed bewildered by his transference from his workshop in Buda-Pesth to a London hotel. During these introductions, he kept casting anxious glances at Holmes much as a dog which, finding itself in strange surroundings, will gaze at its master in order to reassure itself by the sight of a familiar face.

  Holmes, who was in high spirits, was eager for these social niceties to be completed. Hardly had I relinquished Mr Jozsef’s hand than he had hurried on.

  ‘And now, my dear Watson, if you are still intent on coming with me, we shall search for the Baron’s boots, an amusing version of the old parlour game of Hunt the Slipper.’