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

by Thomson, June

  He led the way out of the room and along the corridor to the door of the Baron’s suite a little distance away where he paused and, having made sure no one was about, slipped a skeleton key into the lock and turned it.

  The drawing-room beyond, where I had first met Baron Maupertuis, was in darkness apart from the glow from the street lamps shining in through the window. But a light had been left burning in the bedroom, where the curtains were already drawn.

  Holmes crossed immediately to a large mahogany press standing against the far wall which he opened, revealing a pair of highly polished brown boots lined up side by side with other footwear below a hanging rail of clothes.

  With a low exclamation of triumph, Holmes lifted them out and inspected the heels.

  ‘You see, Watson,’ said he, ‘they are slightly higher than is usual. The Baron must have had them specially made. And look here! Can you see this line close to the soles where a layer of extra thick leather has been added and fixed into place by these tiny screws? They mark, I believe, the opening to the secret hiding-place where the stolen diamonds are concealed.’

  Gripping the heel of the right boot firmly with one hand, Holmes twisted the lower section round in much the same manner as one might unscrew the stopper of a bottle. It yielded slowly to his grasp until at last the whole bottom section of the heel had pivoted stiffly on its retaining screw, revealing the hollow centre into which was crammed a small wash-leather bag.

  The left heel was similary hollowed out and contained a second bag, as Holmes discovered when he had wrenched it open.

  ‘A rich haul indeed!’ he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he slipped both into his pocket. ‘We are almost there, Watson. All that remains is to call upon Mr Jozsef’s good offices to supply the final proof.’

  Replacing the boots in the cupboard, he led the way out of the Baron’s rooms, the door of which he locked behind us.

  As soon as we had returned to our own suite, Holmes wasted no time in making use of Mr Jozsef’s good offices, as he had termed them. Indeed, Mr Jozsef was already prepared for the role he had to play, for we found him seated at the desk in front of the window, the appurtenances of his trade set out before him in the form of a pair of tweezers, a jeweller’s eyeglass, a pair of tiny brass scales and a square of black felt on to which he emptied with great eagerness the contents of the two little wash-leather bags which Holmes handed to him.

  He set to work at once, picking up each glistening stone in turn which, after examining it with great care with the aid of the glass, he placed to one side, while we stood behind him, watching anxiously. From time to time, he selected one of the diamonds for special scrutiny and this, after the most rigorous examination, was weighed on the scales. Then, having consulted a small leather-bound notebook, Mr Jozsef would lay it down on the black felt, taking care to keep it separate from the other gems, until eventually they formed a little pile of their own.

  There were, I judged, over three hundred uncut stones altogether and the task of examining each one was slow and laborious, made more onerous by the complete silence in which it was conducted. No one spoke and, as the minutes dragged by, first Mr Melas and then I, too, lost interest and quietly withdrew to the other side of the room where we sought the comfort of a pair of armchairs.

  Only Holmes remained standing at the desk, still absorbed in Mr Jozsef’s meticulous appraisal, although, as time passed, I was aware of an increasing tension on his part. On several occasions, he drew out his pocket watch and glanced surreptitiously at its dial and I guessed that he was anxious for the examination to be finished before the arrival of Inspector Gregson and his colleagues.

  At last, it was over. Mr Jozsef removed his eyeglass and, looking up at Holmes, his lined features puckered up into a smile, the first which had crossed his countenance the whole of that evening, began to address him very earnestly and rapidly in Hungarian.

  Jumping to our feet, Mr Melas and I joined them at the desk.

  ‘He says that he is sure these stones are his,’ Mr Melas said, interpreting the elderly jeweller’s remarks, at the same time indicating the smaller of the two heaps of diamonds which numbered about twenty gems. ‘They correspond in weight and colour to those stolen from him in 1884. What is more, they bear his mark.’

  ‘And he would be prepared to swear to that in a court of law?’ Holmes asked.

  Mr Melas interpreted both the question and Mr Jozsef’s assent.

  ‘Excellent!’ Holmes decared, his whole countenance lighting up. ‘And now, Mr Melas, if you would be good enough to escort Mr Jozsef back to his boarding-house and to tell him to wait there, I shall call on him in a few days, by which time I expect the Baron and his associates will be under arrest.’

  On receiving this assurance, Mr Jozsef beamed his approval and, gathering up the scales and his other instruments which he returned to the small valise he had brought with him, he and Mr Melas both took their leave.

  As soon as they had gone, Holmes collected up the diamonds and replaced them in the two wash-leather bags with the exception of one stone from the little heap of marked gems, which he left lying on the desk.

  ‘I shall now return these to the Baron’s boots where shortly the good Inspector Gregson will find them when the official search is made. I should prefer you to wait here, Watson, for I am expecting Gregson and his colleagues from the Yard to arrive at any moment.’

  Within minutes, Holmes had returned and, shortly afterwards, a knock at the door announced the arrival of Gregson, a pale-faced, flaxen-haired man, wearing civilian dress, who was accompanied by two plain-clothes officers.

  ‘I received your message, Mr Holmes,’ said Gregson, looking about the room and acknowledging my presence with a curt nod of his head. ‘Where is the evidence you said you hoped to have? And where is the witness you also mentioned?’

  ‘The witness has already left but may be called upon at any time. As for the evidence, it is here,’ Holmes replied, leading Gregson to the desk where the single diamond lay upon the square of black felt. ‘If you care to examine it with the aid of this jeweller’s glass, you will see a tiny mark scratched into its surface.’

  As the inspector looked at the stone, Holmes gave him a brief summary of Mr Jozsef’s acount of the robbery at his premises and how the diamond came to be marked in the first place.

  ‘Well, that is proof enough for me,’ Gregson replied. ‘I have here a warrant to search the Baron’s rooms, as you requested. All that remains is for me to present it when the gentleman returns.’

  ‘Which should be soon,’ Holmes informed him. ‘The Marquis de Saint Chamond will so arrange matters that Baron Maupertuis will leave his house at approximately half-past eleven. It is now nearly a quarter before midnight. I have tipped one of the pageboys to rap upon the door as soon as he sees the Baron enter the hotel.’

  ‘Then we should not have long to wait,’ observed Gregson. ‘In the meantime, Mr Holmes, perhaps you would satisfy my curiosity about one aspect of the case.’

  ‘Of course, Inspector.’

  ‘It concerns that diamond,’ Gregson continued, glancing down at the desk.

  ‘What do you wish to know?’ Holmes enquired casually, although I saw by the tightening of his jaw that he had anticipated the inspector’s question and I felt my own mouth go dry in expectation.

  Holmes would not lie in answer to a direct query. It was not in his nature to deceive deliberately when so challenged, although he might, when the occasion demanded, withhold evidence when he considered that to do so would assist an inquiry.

  ‘How were you able to acquire it?’ Gregson asked and then, to my relief and no doubt to Holmes’ as well, he proceeded to supply his own answer. ‘I understand the Baron handed out a number of these uncut stones to his various clients. I suppose you were fortunate in finding it amongst them. It’s just a matter of luck, Mr Holmes. I don’t mind admitting that there have been several cases I have been called upon to investigate in which, if Lady Luck hadn’
t been on my side, I should never have caught the villain. You may recall the Bermondsey murder?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Holmes murmured.

  ‘Now there was a remarkable instance.’ Gregson, who was evidently in a reminiscent mood, continued, ‘If Clarke hadn’t been seen by that costermonger climbing out of the bedroom window, I couldn’t have proved his alibi was false and so brought him to the gallows.’

  He was interrupted by a soft tap on the door, at which Holmes started up.

  ‘There is our signal!’ said he. ‘Baron Maupertuis has arrived at the hotel. I propose, Inspector, that we allow him a few minutes to reach his room and then we confront him with the evidence.’

  Inspector Gregson took this last opportunity to remind his fellow officers of their duties. Potter, the taller of the two, was to remain outside in the corridor while Johnson, a burly, heavily moustached detective, who was to accompany us into the room, would guard the door from the inside in case the Baron should attempt an escape.

  Holmes, who had opened our own door a fraction in order to keep watch through the crack, now held up his hand and announced in a whisper, ‘He is here!’

  At this, Gregson nodded silently to his two colleagues and with the inspector leading the way, the five of us set off along the corridor.

  I cannot speak for my companions but, as we approached the Baron’s room, I felt my pulses quicken at the thought that within minutes the most accomplished swindler in the whole of Europe would be under arrest and that I had played a not insignificant role in his downfall.

  When Baron Maupertuis opened the door to Inspector Gregson’s knock, he was still wearing evening clothes, although his silk hat and cloak lay discarded upon the sofa.

  It was evident that he was not expecting callers and, for a few seconds, his smooth, handsome features bore an expression of annoyance at our arrival at such a late hour.

  But he was too intelligent not to guess the purpose of our visit. I saw his glance flicker across our faces and he gave a start of recognition as he came to mine. But it was on Holmes’ countenance that it rested the longest and it was he whom the Baron finally addressed.

  ‘I believe we have met before at a reception in Paris,’ said he, smiling blandly. ‘Mr Cornelius Spry, is it not?’

  ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ my old friend corrected him.

  ‘Indeed, sir! I am honoured, for I have read about your exploits,’ Baron Maupertuis replied. ‘Then I may assume the gentleman with you is not Sir William Manners-Hope but Dr Watson, your colleague and amanuensis. Pray come in, gentlemen, and bring your companions with you. They are police officers, are they not? Their bowler hats betray their profession. No gentleman of any quality would wear such undistinguished items of apparel.’

  ‘I am Inspector Gregson of Scotland Yard,’ that officer announced, much piqued by the Baron’s contemptuous tone. ‘I have reason to believe that you have been engaging in a fraudulent enterprise. I have a warrant here to search your effects.’

  ‘Search all you wish, Inspector,’ the Baron replied, waving an expansive hand. ‘You will find nothing incriminating either on my person or among my possessions.’

  ‘Not even in the heels of your boots?’ Holmes enquired.

  ‘Boots?’ Gregson cried, greatly astonished.

  The Baron, who had retreated into the room as we advanced, came to a sudden halt, still smiling, although the manner in which he played with the signet ring upon his little finger, twisting it this way and that, betrayed an inner agitation.

  ‘Yes, Inspector; a pair of brown boots which are in his bedroom press and in the heels of which is concealed a quantity of uncut diamonds,’ Holmes continued. ‘Among them, you will find more of those marked stones, similar to the one I have already shown you, which I can prove were stolen in May 1884 from Mr Jozsef’s premises in Buda-Pesth.’

  Before Inspector Gregson had time to recover from his surprise, the Baron began to laugh softly.

  ‘Congratulations, Mr Holmes!’ said he. ‘You are indeed a worthy opponent! But if you think you will have the pleasure of seeing me behind bars, then I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you. I have spent too long mingling with the most illustrious society in Europe and dining at the highest tables to submit to eating prison fare or rubbing shoulders with the criminal classes.’

  As he spoke, he continued to twist the ring upon his left hand; a mere nervous habit, I assumed.

  Then suddenly, in one swift movement, he raised that hand to his mouth, pressing the ring against his lips. Before any of us could move or even cry out, he had closed his teeth with a snap and swallowed convulsively, the tendons in his throat straining like tightened cords. A few seconds later, a violent shudder passed through his entire frame and he fell lifeless to the floor as if struck by a thunderbolt from heaven.

  Holmes and I ran across the room to his side.

  ‘Prussic acid,’12 said I, bending over the Baron’s body and smelling the unmistakable odour of bitter almonds upon his lips.

  ‘And here is the means of taking it,’ Holmes added grimly. He had lifted the Baron’s left hand and was pointing to the ring, the gold bezel of which was now open like a flap, revealing a tiny inner compartment. ‘It must have contained a capsule of the poison. Oh, what a fool I am, Watson! I saw him toying with it but never guessed his purpose.’

  ‘There was nothing any of us could have done. The poison acts too quickly. As soon as he bit upon that capsule, he was a doomed man,’ I said, trying to reassure him, although I doubted if he found any consolation in my words.

  ‘Indeed, Watson,’ said he. ‘But I should have liked the opportunity to return his compliment, for he, too, has proved an adversary worthy of the name.’

  He had drawn himself upright and was gazing down at the Baron’s inert form, his countenance so grey and haggard that I was deeply shocked, not fully realising until that moment the intensity of the strain he had undergone during the course of the investigation.

  Nor was it over with the death of Baron Maupertuis. There were certain formalities which had to be carried out, including the inquest at which both Holmes and I gave evidence, although, through Mycroft’s influence, no reference was made to the means by which my old friend had acquired the proof of the Baron’s guilt.

  It was because of this same reason that I have decided not to publish a full account of the case.13

  There were other duties placed upon Holmes’ shoulders. On several occasions, he was obliged to travel to the Continent to assist the police authorities in those countries where the Baron had carried out his fraud in compiling a full report. This led to the arrest and subsequent imprisonment of the Baron’s confederates, the two so-called experts who ran his laboratory at the Hague, and the professional burglar, a notorious criminal, Pierre Loursat, who had stolen the uncut diamonds. I understand that, after protracted enquiries, these stones were eventually returned to their rightful owners.

  In the meantime, although congratulatory messages and telegrams poured in from all over Europe, Holmes received little pleasure from these accolades and continued to sink deeper into depression.

  I shall refer only briefly to the subsequent events. If this narrative is ever published, then readers will be aware of what followed, for I have given as full an account as I thought suitable in the opening paragraphs of ‘The Adventure of the Reigate Squire’. In it, I refer to the complete breakdown of my old friend’s health and how, on 14th April, I was summoned to Lyons, where Holmes was helping the French police. It was there that his iron constitution finally failed him, leading to his collapse from nervous prostration at the Hotel Dulong where he was staying.

  On our return to England, I took him to stay for a week’s recuperation at the house of an old army friend of mine, Colonel Hayter, at Reigate in Surrey, hoping that the rest and change of scenery would help to restore him to full health. It was during this visit that he became engaged in the curious and complex inquiry into the murder of William Kirwin, the Cunninghams’
coachman.14

  There is only one postcript I wish to add regarding an aspect of the Maupertuis case which was never resolved.

  This concerns the number of the Swiss bank account in which Baron Maupertuis had placed the money he had obtained from the sale of shares in the Netherland-Sumatra Company. Although a full list of these investments, which amounted to the huge sum of nearly half a million pounds, was discovered among his papers, no record of where precisely they were deposited was ever found, apart from the enigmatic phrase ‘Midas, le Roi d’Or’15 which featured several times in the documents.

  Holmes is convinced that this is a coded reference to the name and number of the Baron’s account in Switzerland. Despite strenuous efforts, neither he16 nor any of the other experts who were called upon to give assistance were able to decipher it.

  I assume the money is still there, accumulating interest, and must therefore, at the time of my writing this, have increased considerably.

  If this narrative is ever published and if any reader succeeds in deciphering the code, then that person will have the key to a vast fortune which even Baron Maupertuis himself, for all his colossal schemes, could not possibly have anticipated in his wildest dreams.

  1 James Ballantyne Hannay (1855–1931), a Glasgow chemist, conducted a series of experiments using 4 mg of lithium and a mixture of 10% rectified bone-meal and 90% paraffin spirit which was placed inside wrought-iron tubes and heated inside a large reverberatory furnace for several hours. Out of eighty such experiments, only three were successful, producing tiny crystals which experts at the time attested were diamonds. In 1943, 1962 and 1975, these crystals, which had been preserved at the British Museum, were retested using more sophisticated techniques which proved the crystals were natural, not synthetic, diamonds. It was assumed that either Hannay or one of his workmen had planted the diamond crystals or, more likely, Hannay’s original materials were contaminated by diamond particles. Attempts to manufacture synthetic diamonds were not successful until 1953. Aubrey B. Watson.