by June Thomson
‘I do not follow you, Holmes,’ I replied, puzzled by the remark.
But he dismissed my question with an equally enigmatic reply.
‘Money can buy many things, Watson; freedom, for example.’
I only understood his remark as it applied to himself some little while later when, not long before we set out together for a week on the Continent to escape from England while his arch-enemy, Professor Moriarty,24 was arrested, Holmes spoke of his longings to live in a ‘quiet fashion’, as he expressed it, and concentrate his attention on his chemical researches, an ambition which the investigation on behalf of the Royal Family of Scandinavia, together with the inquiry he had made for the French Republic, had made financially possible.25
The relevance of the remark to my own affairs became clearer at a much later date, after Holmes had returned to England after an absence of three years following his apparent death at Moriarty’s hand at the Reichenbach Falls.
In the meantime, my dear wife Mary had died26 and, on Holmes’ return, I sold my practice in Kensington and moved back to share my former quarters in Baker Street with my old friend. A young doctor called Verner had, to my great astonishment, paid the high price I had asked rather hesitantly for the practice. I was later to discover that Verner was a distant relative of Holmes’ and that it was Holmes himself who had found the money, at least part of which, I am sure, came from the fee paid to him by the King of Scandinavia.27
And so, as he had suggested, the fee did indeed serve as a golden key to open more than one Medici casket, so to speak, for that money enabled me to live comfortably in Baker Street and to enjoy with the greatest of pleasure the renewed companionship of my old and very dear friend, Sherlock Holmes.
1 There are two references to the King of Scandinavia in the canon. One is in ‘The Final Problem’, in which Sherlock Holmes speaks of the financial benefit he had received from ‘recent cases’, in one of which he had been of assistance to the Royal Family of Scandinavia. The other is in ‘The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor’, in which Sherlock Holmes remarks to Lord St Simon that, in taking on his case, he is ‘descending the social ladder’ as his last client was the King of Scandinavia. There was, in fact, no King of Scandinavia, only of the united kingdoms of Norway and Sweden which were ruled over by Oscar II (1829–1907). After Norway’s independence in 1905, Oscar II ruled over Sweden only. The fictitious king of Scandinavia’s daughter, Clotilde Lothman von Saxe Meringen, had been engaged to the King of Bohemia. Vide: ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’. Dr John F. Watson.
2 This is the autumn of 1888, as Dr Watson married between that autumn and the spring of 1889. Dr John F. Watson.
3 See footnote 2 of The Case of the Upwood Scandal. Dr John F. Watson.
4 See footnote 2 of The Case of the Arnsworth Affair. Dr John F. Watson.
5 I have not been able to trace a hotel of this name in Piccadilly and therefore suggest it is fictitious. Dr John F. Watson.
6 Claridge’s hotel was situated in Brook Street, Westminster. J. Neil Gibson, the ‘Gold King’, stayed there. Vide: ‘The Problem of Thor Bridge’. Sherlock Holmes asked Martha, his agent, to report to him there. Vide: ‘His Last Bow.’ Dr John F. Watson.
7 Sir Henry Baskerville stayed at the Northumberland hotel, which was situated in Northumberland Avenue, not far from Trafalgar Square. Dr John F. Watson.
8 The Alfred jewel dates from the reign of King Alfred the Great (871–899) and bears the inscription ‘Aelfred mec heht gewyrcan’ – ‘Alfred ordered me to be made’. It is made of gold and cloisonné enamel and carries the figure of a man, covered with a piece of transparent rock crystal, thought to be a representation of Christ. Its function may have been that of a book pointer. Discovered in 1693 four miles from Athelney where Alfred founded a monastery, it is at present in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. Dr John F. Watson.
9 See footnote 1. Dr John F. Watson.
10 In The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes admits, ‘Some touch of the artist wells up within me, and calls insistently for a well staged performance.’ Dr John F. Watson.
11 There are several references in the canon to Sherlock Holmes’ unfortunate habit of injecting himself with a ten per cent solution of cocaine. He also used morphia on occasions. Vide: A Study in Scarlet, ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’, and ‘The Adventure of the Five Orange Pips’. Dr John F. Watson.
12 Underworld slang for a burglar who used keys or picklocks to carry out his robberies. Dr John F. Watson.
13 The Medicis were a rich and powerful family of merchants and bankers who ruled over Florence, and later Tuscany, from 1434 to 1737. The most famous of them was Lorenzo de’ Medici, known as ‘The Magnificent’, who was a patron of arts and letters. Dr John F. Watson.
14 Slang for picklocks. Dr John F. Watson.
15 Sherlock Holmes was adept at using footprints as a method of detection and claimed he could tell a man’s height by the length of his stride. There are several references to his skill. Vide, among others: The Sign of Four. Dr John F. Watson.
16 Sherlock Holmes successfully carried out several burglaries himself, as for example in the case of Charles Augustus Milverton. Vide also: ‘The Adventure of the Bruce Partington Plans’ and ‘The Adventure of the Illustrious Client’. In ‘The Adventure of the Retired Colourman’, Sherlock Holmes remarks that burglary was an alternative profession which he could have taken up. Dr John F. Watson.
17 See footnote 5 of The Case of the Manor House Mystery. Dr John F. Watson.
18 Sherlock Holmes bought a ‘first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with nickel-plated jemmy, diamond-tipped glass cutter, adaptable keys, and every modern improvement which the march of civilisation demands’ in readiness for his planned burglary at Charles Augustus Milverton’s house. Dr John F. Watson.
19 Vide: ‘The Final Problem’, ‘The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax’ and ‘The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone’. Dr John F. Watson.
20 W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, the lyricist and composer of many highly popular operettas, began collaborating in 1871. In 1881, Richard D’Oyly Carte built the Savoy Theatre to house their productions, which included H.M.S. Pinafore and The Mikado. They were both knighted. Dr John F. Watson.
21 When a medical student at St Bartholomew’s hospital, Dr Watson played rugby for the Blackheath Rugby Club, in what position is unknown. After he was wounded at the battle of Maiwand, he had to give up the game. Vide: ‘The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire’ and A Study in Scarlet. Dr John F. Watson.
22 Sherlock Holmes boxed while at university. Dr Watson decribed him as an ‘expert’ while McMurdo, a professional prize fighter with whom Sherlock Holmes once boxed for his benefit night, remarked that Sherlock Holmes himself could have turned professional. Vide among other references: ‘The Adventure of the Five Orange Pips’, A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of Four. Dr John F. Watson.
23 The Marquess of Queensberry Rules were, in fact, drawn up by John Graham Chambers, a member of the Amateur Athletic Club (AAC) and were published in 1867 under the patronage of the eighth Marquess of Queensberry. The rules, which are still in use, governed the conduct and conditions for boxing matches, i.e. the size of the ring and the length of time each round lasted. Dr. John F. Watson.
24 Professor James Moriarty, whom Sherlock Holmes referred to as ‘the Napoleon of Crime’, was a brilliant mathemetician who wrote a treatise on the binomial theorem and held the Chair of Mathematics at a provincial university. He later organised and ran a criminal syndicate. Sherlock Holmes vowed to destroy him and the two men finally met face to face at the Reichenbach Falls in Austria, an encounter which led to the Professor’s death. Vide: The Valley of Fear, ‘The Final Problem’ and ‘The Adventure of the Empty House’. Dr John F. Watson.
25 In 1891, Sherlock Holmes was engaged by the French government upon ‘a matter of supreme importance.’ Vide: ‘The Adventure of the Final Problem’. Dr John F. Watson.
26 See footnote 5 of The Case of the Aluminium Crutch
. Dr John F. Watson.
27 The exact sum is unknown. Dr John F. Watson.
Read on for an extract from June Thomson’s latest book,
The Secret Archives of Sherlock Holmes …
THE CASE OF THE CONK-SINGLETON FORGERY
It was about six years after my old friend Sherlock Holmes returned to London following his apparent death at the hands of Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls1 and my own return to our shared lodgings in Baker Street that I became associated with him in a curious case of forgery. It began prosaically enough with the arrival of a visiting card which the boy in buttons2 brought upstairs to our sitting-room and handed to Holmes who, having studied it with raised eyebrows, passed it to me.
It bore the name of Archibald Cassell followed by the words ‘Art Dealer’ and an address, the Argosy Gallery, Bond Street, London. Below this was a handwritten message which read: ‘I apologise for arriving without an appointment, Mr Holmes, but I have a matter of some urgency about which I wish to consult you.’
‘What do you think, Watson?’ Holmes enquired. ‘Should I agree to see this Archibald Cassell?’
‘The decision is entirely yours, Holmes,’ I replied, secretly pleased that he should consult me about the matter.
‘Very well, then. As we are not overburdened with cases at the moment, I shall say “yes”. Show Mr Cassell up, Billy,’ Holmes instructed.
Moments later the client in question entered our sitting-room. He was a tall, silver-haired gentleman, distinguished-looking in impeccably cut morning clothes and wearing gold-rimmed eyeglasses. A small leather case under his arm suggested he was a businessman of some sort or another. There was, however, a harassed air about him which I judged to be out of character.
Having shaken hands with both of us and seated himself at Holmes’ invitation, he remained silent for a long moment before bursting out, ‘In all my years in business, I have never encountered a similar situation, Mr Holmes! I confess I am baffled by it! That is why I have come to seek your advice in the matter.’
‘Then pray do so, sir,’ Holmes replied coolly. ‘I suggest you begin at the beginning.’
‘Of course, Mr Holmes,’ Mr Cassell replied, making a visible effort to pull himself together. ‘As my calling card indicates, I am an art dealer and in my time many hundreds of paintings have passed through my hands, some of enormous value, but until this morning I have never been presented with such a dilemma. It is without precedence and, quite frankly, sir, I am at a loss to know how to deal with it.
‘A lady arrived at my gallery yesterday morning who introduced herself as Mrs Elvira Greenstock, the widow of Horatio Greenstock, who died two months ago, leaving all his property to her. Among her late husband’s effects were a number of oil paintings. It appeared Mr Greenstock was an art dealer in a small way; it must have been a very small way, for I have never heard of him, although I pride myself on knowing most of the dealers and collectors in the world of art. It was one of the paintings from this collection which Mrs Greenstock wished me to evaluate. It is not unusual for members of the public to request such a service, for which, incidentally, I charge a small fee. What they have to show me is generally not of any artistic merit and is worth nothing more than a few shillings. However, I tolerate such clients because there is always the rare possibility that what they have brought may be an unknown or lost work of one of the great masters. It has been known to happen.
‘I should perhaps at this point describe Mrs Greenstock to you, because her appearance has as much to do with my decision to consult you as the painting she showed me.’
He paused as if gathering together his recollections of his client, a bemused expression on his face as if he were finding it difficult to recall the lady in any detail, a hesitation which was explained by his next remark.
‘Forgive me, Mr Holmes, but there is very little I can tell you about her except to say that her appearance was most bizarre. She was tall, with an educated voice, but as she was dressed entirely in widow’s weeds, including a long, thick black veil, I cannot give you any description of her features, not even the colour of her hair or eyes. She was carrying a small leather valise and from it took a painting which she laid before me on my desk and asked me to evaluate.’
As he was speaking, Mr Cassell opened his own portfolio which he had placed at his feet and took from it a canvas which he held up before us so that both of us could see it.
It was an oil painting not much more than eight inches by six depicting a rural scene of trees and hedgerows, richly foliated, as well as meadows and fields of corn stretching back to the horizon, where the spire of a church was just visible. Above was a sky full of sunlit clouds moving towards the right-hand side of the canvas as if propelled by a light breeze.
I confess I am not an art expert and, given the choice, prefer portraits to landscape paintings. Nevertheless, I thought the picture captured most charmingly the beauty of the English countryside as it must have looked at the beginning of the century. I was therefore much taken aback when Mr Cassell remarked in a dismissive tone of voice, ‘The lady said it was a Constable3 but it is, of course, a forgery.’
‘Of course,’ Holmes murmured in agreement. ‘The clouds alone suggest it is not authentic, although the artist is competent.’
‘Oh, indeed!’ Mr Cassell concurred. ‘Whoever painted it is no amateur and might have convinced someone of less experience than myself that it is genuine. It lacks that fluid movement in the clouds that Constable was able to convey by a few brushstrokes, as well as the play of light across the leaves and grass.’
‘Given those criticisms,’ Holmes remarked, sitting back in his chair and bringing his fingertips together, ‘I am at a loss to understand, Mr Cassell, what is the dilemma you referred to. As the painting is a forgery, all you need do is send for the lady and tell her the truth.’
‘I agree with you entirely,’ his client replied, ‘and under normal circumstances I would have acted accordingly. Unfortunately, there are two drawbacks to such a suggestion. In the first place, I cannot send for the lady as I have no address for her. She refused to give me one. She would only arrange to call at my gallery again in a week’s time when I shall, of course, act exactly as you suggested.’
As he was speaking, Mr Cassell had laid the little painting face downwards on the table and Holmes glanced across at it as if idly.
I have known Holmes for many years and, although I do not claim to be acquainted with every aspect of his character, I pride myself on being sufficiently familiar with him to recognise signs of excitement on his part, however much he might try to disguise them. They are not glaringly obvious. Indeed, most people would not notice them at all. But on this occasion, a slight lifting of his right eyebrow and a general tightening of the muscles in his shoulders told me that something about the back of the picture had roused his interest.
Aware of this, I looked at it again more closely, trying to gauge what it was that had engaged his attention. But there was nothing that I could see, apart from a piece of quite ordinary brown paper which had been pasted across the edges of the frame, presumably to keep out the dust.
Holmes was saying, ‘You spoke of two drawbacks, Mr Cassell. The first was the lack of any address for Mrs Greenstock. That, my dear sir, can be easily rectified, if you will allow me to make some simple enquiries. What was the second drawback?’
Mr Cassell looked a little abashed by the question. Giving a deprecatory wave of his hand, he replied, ‘I am almost ashamed to admit it, for it is nothing more than sheer curiosity on my part. Who is this lady who calls herself Mrs Greenstock? As I have already explained to you, she is not to my knowledge the widow of any art collector that I have heard of. And why should she attire herself in a thick black veil, which she never raised once during my interview with her, unless she feared I might recognise her?’
‘Excellent, sir!’ my old friend exclaimed. ‘An admirable piece of deduction on your part!’
His client seemed only partly m
ollified by this commendation.
‘That may be so, Mr Holmes. However, that still fails to answer the question as to her identity. Are you prepared to look into the matter? To be frank, I am uneasy about the whole situation. I shall, of course, not buy the painting from her. But supposing she manages to persuade another dealer or a collector less experienced than myself to do so? I realise the old warning caveat emptor should apply to all business transactions, but there is the reputation of the art world to consider. I feel I cannot allow someone whom I know is a forger to pass off her work, or if not hers then someone else’s, as a genuine old master. Apart from the aesthetic consideration, it would be condoning a criminal act.’
‘I see your point,’ Holmes replied suavely. ‘To set your mind at rest, I will certainly look into the matter. You said the lady will call again at your gallery in a fortnight’s time?’
‘That was the arrangement.’
‘At what time?’
‘At eleven o’clock.’
‘Then, with your permission, Dr Watson and I will also present ourselves at your gallery on the same day but a little earlier, at a quarter to the hour. In the meantime, may I keep the painting?’
Mr Cassell seemed a little taken aback by this request but acquiesced with a bow and, having shaken hands with both of us, took his leave.
As soon as he had gone, Holmes gave a delighted chuckle.
‘To work, Watson!’ he cried.
‘On what, Holmes?’
‘On the painting, of course! But before I make a start on that, I shall look into the curious matter of the lady’s identity. Be a good fellow and run downstairs and ask Billy to bring up a bowl of warm water, a towel, a small sponge and some clean white linen rag while I find the entry I need in my encyclopaedia of reference.’4
