Sherlock Holmes and the Adler Papers

by John Hall

  ‘Mr Maunby? I dare say Mr White has explained matters to you,’ said Holmes. ‘I wish merely to ask whether you recall a customer who hired you and your carriage the day before yesterday? The time I am particularly interested in would be around half past two.’

  It was Mr White who answered. ‘He paid for the whole day, sir. About nine o’clock in the morning, he came here. That right, Tommy?’

  ‘Right enough, sir.’ Mr Maunby grinned. ‘Paid for the whole day, but I got finished early.’

  ‘You say “he” paid,’ said Holmes. ‘The customer was a man, then? Did you know him, or get his name? Can you describe him?’

  Mr White frowned. ‘Can’t recall as he gave a name, sir, and I certainly never saw him before. And now you mention it, he was well wrapped up, cloak and hat and scarf, so I can’t say as I saw his face neither. Tommy?’

  ‘Can’t say as I did, sir. Nondescript, as you might say. And wrapped up, like Mr White here says.’

  ‘H’mm. Well, then, he hired you and the carriage at nine. What then?’

  ‘Well, sir, he asks me to drive round the corner and stop! Naturally enough, I asks him, is this as far as you want to go, sir? He just grunts, says “I’ll tell you when to move”, or words to that effect. Well, he’d paid in advance, I knew that, so I wasn’t bothered, I just thought he was – well, an odd one, as you gents would say. Then, early afternoon, he wakes up, so to speak, says, “There’s a lady there I wish to speak to, driver. Move on, and stop when I say”. So I moves on a few yards, no more, and he calls to me to stop. Then he speaks to the lady.’

  Holmes produced the photograph of Irene Norton once again. ‘Was this the lady?’

  Like the doorman at the Northumberland Hotel, Mr Maunby smiled appreciatively. ‘It was, sir.’

  ‘And did you catch anything of what passed between them?’

  ‘It’s this way, sir,’ said Mr Maunby. ‘This job, if you took notice, you’d learn all sorts of secrets. A bit like a doctor or a lawyer – or a private detective! Begging your pardon, sir. So you gets into the habit of taking no notice, as it were. Truth to tell, I was thinking about my dinner, having not eaten since breakfast, and as I recall, I was kicking myself, in a manner of speaking, for not nipping down and getting something to eat whilst the old – the gentleman, that is – was asleep, or not taking any particular notice of anything, as it were.’

  ‘ “Old”, you say?’ asked Holmes quickly. ‘Was he old, then?’

  ‘No, sir. Sorry, sir, just a manner of speaking. He kept his voice low, like, so I couldn’t rightly say how old he might have been. No older than you gents, I dare say.’

  ‘So you heard nothing?’

  ‘I don’t say that, sir. I just say that I couldn’t repeat it word for word. But he asks her where she’s going, something of the kind, and she says something like, “None of your business”. Only –’ he hesitated.

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Holmes.

  ‘Well, sir, you’re a man of the world. You know as well as I do myself that this business about “None of your business” can be said in a few different ways. What I mean is, a bloke can say it to you in the pub in a way that means he wants you to make it your business in the sense of wanting you to take a swing at him; but then a girl can say it to a bloke in such a way as it means that she wants him to make it his business in another way altogether, if you follow me, sir?’

  ‘Indeed I do. And how did this lady say it?’

  ‘Oh, easily enough, sir, on the face of it, and a dainty little laugh to go with it. But it seemed to me that she meant it, if you understand me.’

  Holmes frowned. ‘She tried to make light of it, but could not quite hide her concern?’

  ‘You have it, sir! Anyway, he says something more, but – like I said – he kept his voice low, so I couldn’t rightly hear him. Then the lady says, “I’ll take some convincing”, or maybe, “You’ll need to convince me”, or it might have been, “You’ll have to go some to convince me”, or anyway it was something on those lines. And he says, “Very well, if you’ll give me the chance, I’ll undertake to do that”, as it might be. Something like that. And she hesitates a bit, then climbs into the carriage, and he tells me the address.’

  ‘Ah! And what was the address?’

  ‘It was number eighteen, Little William Mews, sir. In Mayfair.’

  ‘And you took them there?’

  Mr Maunby nodded. ‘They got down, and the gent he says, “Thank you, driver, that will be all”, and he hands me a half-sovereign over and above the day’s hire that he’d already paid! So I comes back here, leaves the carriage, and goes off to find some grub.’

  ‘And this number eighteen, Little William Mews? What sort of house was it? Anyone else there that you noticed?’

  ‘It was a mews cottage and stable, sir, just as the name says. The stables each side was busy enough, but number eighteen was all quiet. I’d been through that way a week ago,’ Mr Maunby went on, ‘and there was an agent’s board, “To Let”, outside the place, but that wasn’t there then, on the day we’re talking about, that is. I took it the gent had just taken the house.’

  ‘I see. You were kind enough, I think, to call me “a man of the world” just now,’ said Holmes with a smile. ‘I think I may venture to suppose that you are the same, sir, and I would ask you this. How did you read matters between your fare and this lady?’

  Mr Maunby considered a long moment. ‘Well, sir,’ he said judiciously, ‘I took it they was man and wife, and she’d run away. He comes after her, asks her to think again, shows her the house he’s just taken for the two of them.’

  Holmes nodded. ‘You are extremely astute,’ he said. ‘In the circumstances, you will appreciate why I have been called in, and you will further appreciate that your discretion would be much appreciated.’ He passed some coins to Mr Maunby, and also to Mr White, who stood listening pretty much open-mouthed. ‘Come along, Watson. Good day, gentlemen, and thank you for your help,’ and Holmes led the way back to Northumberland Avenue.

  ‘Do you think that fellow had it right, then?’ I asked.

  ‘It may well be so,’ Holmes answered carelessly. ‘It may indeed be that Mr Godfrey Norton has pursued his runaway wife here.’ He looked around, and added, ‘In any event, if they think at the cab yard that it is merely a case of a runaway wife, they may be less inclined to speculate further in public.’

  ‘I see. In any event, it is certain that the man was not unknown to Mrs Norton, for she showed no fear or surprise at his approach; and she seems to have allowed herself to be persuaded to miss her appointment with you readily enough. Still it is odd, Holmes. I take it we are going to Little William Mews?’

  ‘We are – cab!’ Holmes waved at a passing cab, and we climbed aboard. ‘Mayfair, driver, Little William Mews, if you please.’

  Holmes sat in silence as we rattled along, and indeed I was disinclined to speculate as to what might be behind the very odd circumstances that were coming to light. Could it be nothing more serious than a matrimonial tiff that had brought the erstwhile Miss Adler to consult Holmes? It seemed trivial enough, in all conscience, particularly in view of the oddly worded note she had sent. But then I knew that all sorts of folk consulted my old friend upon all sorts of matters, the trivial as well as the nationally important, the farcical as well as the tragic, and sometimes the language in which their appeals were couched was strange, even melodramatic, in the extreme!

  We arrived in Mayfair, and Holmes told the driver not to wait. ‘We can get another cab easily enough here,’ he told me. ‘And it may be that this business will take some considerable time to unravel.’

  Number eighteen, Little William Mews, was a typical mews establishment, if perhaps a touch more run-down than its near neighbours. At street level there was a large wooden double door to the stabling, the paint on this door being somewhat the worse for wear; next to this was an ordinary house door, leading to the upper floors where the coachman and his family would normally live. Th
ere were no curtains at the windows, though, and the whole place bore every sign of being unoccupied, and in fact of having stood empty for some time.

  ‘Nobody at home, it seems,’ I muttered. ‘Although there’s no “To Let” sign, just as that chap at the yard told us.’

  Holmes waved a hand. ‘Easy enough to take the place on a short lease, a month, three months, Just long enough –’ and he broke off.

  ‘Long enough for what?’

  ‘Long enough, I was about to say, for them to carry out whatever nefarious schemes they had in mind. It does look as if the birds have flown, though, Doctor, as you observe. Still, it may be worth our while just to take a look inside.’ So saying, he approached the door that led to the cottage side of the house, and discreetly tried the lock. ‘Hmm.’ He glanced to one side, and smiled.

  I followed his gaze, and saw an iron ladder, evidently intended as a fire escape, bolted to the wall. Looking up, I saw that a first-floor window stood conveniently by the side of this ladder – or, I should say rather, the ladder had been affixed conveniently by the window. The effect was the same, however, and it was only too clear to me just what Holmes had in mind. I began, ‘Holmes, you cannot –’ but I was too late, he was already shinning up the ladder. I saw him take some implement from his pocket, fumble with the window catch, then throw the window up and climb inside. This was done, I may say, in almost less time than it takes me to write about it.

  I glanced round, a touch nervously. It was around the hour of noon, and the various stables and so on round about were quiet, their inhabitants obviously out on the day’s work, or inside eating their midday meals. Still, there were one or two loungers in the street, and I hoped fervently that none of them had taken too keen an interest in what Holmes and I were up to.

  My musings were interrupted by a sudden shout from the open window. ‘Watson! Watson, come quickly, man!’

  I did not hesitate, but clambered up the iron ladder, somewhat encumbered by my medical bag – for you will recall that I had been on my way home from my morning rounds when I had become so suddenly and curiously enmeshed in this strange affair. I reached the window, and climbed in. The room was empty of furniture, and bore an air of neglect. Holmes stood there, dishevelled, his face flushed with excitement.

  ‘What is it, Holmes?’

  For answer, he grabbed my arm and fairly hauled me into the next room. That too was dusty, empty of furniture save for a single ordinary kitchen chair that stood in the centre of the room. Seated on this chair was Mrs Irene Norton, looking as if she were about to swoon.

  As you will readily believe, a good many questions occurred to me; but the important thing at that moment was to attend to Mrs Norton. It is no insult to my own dear wife to say that the former Miss Adler was a beautiful creature, lovely of face and figure, and with long, lustrous hair that would be the envy of many a Society beauty. Now, though, her face was pale, save for a livid bruise on one side, and there were great dusky patches under her eyes. On the floor by the chair in which she sat there were a couple of lengths of rope. ‘They had bound and gagged her,’ said Holmes, seeing me glance at these ropes.

  ‘The villains!’ I hastily examined Mrs Norton. She was weak, and there were some slight abrasions on her wrists, and that bruise on her face, but I could see no real damage.

  I held some smelling-salts under her nose, but she waved me away. ‘If I might have a little water?’ she asked, faintly. ‘I have neither eaten nor drunk these two days.’

  ‘Of course! Holmes, could you –’ but he was already gone, returning a moment later with water in a large, cracked, and slightly grubby cup.

  ‘Best I could –’

  ‘Oh, Mr Holmes, no champagne ever tasted better!’ Mrs Norton told him. ‘Or sherry either! I shall need no aperitif to make me want my supper tonight!’

  ‘Drink slowly,’ I told her.

  Holmes asked, ‘Watson?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Norton is a little fatigued, a little dehydrated, and, as she has delicately hinted, ravenously hungry! But nothing more serious than that, I fancy.’

  ‘It is as well,’ said Holmes, a grimness in his tone and upon his features that boded ill for whoever was responsible for abducting Mrs Norton and leaving her in such a state. ‘Can you walk, madam? Or –’

  ‘I can walk, Mr Holmes. Perhaps a drop more water?’

  Holmes brought more from the kitchen downstairs, and I added the merest splash of brandy, for it was clear that Mrs Norton, despite her bantering tone, was very weak.

  We assisted her down the rickety stairs, and Holmes fiddled with the lock of the cottage door, muttering, ‘I shall make good any damage later,’ as he forced it open.

  I went out first, and was about to offer Mrs Norton my arm when I became aware that we had attracted a quite sizeable crowd. Evidently those loungers whom I had noticed earlier had given the alarm, and the local inhabitants had turned out in force to confront what they must have thought was a gang of burglars. A commendable and public-spirited action, to be sure, but it looked a trifle awkward for Holmes and me. A couple of rough-looking men headed the group, one of whom swung in his hand a large iron spike. I remember thinking – rather foolishly perhaps – that it must be some instrument for removing stones from horses’ hooves; certainly it could do some nasty damage to a man’s head. I was about to speak, when from the back of the crowd a voice which I recognized called out, ‘Here, enough of that! I’ll take charge here!’

  ‘Lestrade! Is that you?’ I asked.

  The wiry figure of our old friend Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard elbowed its way through the crowd. ‘What’s more to the point, is that you, Doctor Watson? Lord, it is! What the – that is, what on earth are you doing here? And Mr Holmes, too, and with a lady?’

  ‘Nothing that would concern you, Lestrade,’ said Holmes crisply. ‘There may be some trifling damage to the lock of this door, for which I shall stand good. That aside, it is merely a case of a dispute between husband and wife.’

  ‘Oh, a “domestic” case, is it?’ said Lestrade, somewhat disappointed. ‘If that’s so, I’ll clear off, for whoever is in the right in such matters, we – the police – are invariably in the wrong! I’ve known a couple fight like cat and dog, and then team up to bean the constable who tried to interfere.’ This was said, I might add, in such a tone as to suggest that Lestrade himself had been ‘beaned’ more than once at some early stage in his career. ‘I’ll get a locksmith, Mr Holmes, and have him send you the bill.’

  ‘Please do, Lestrade. If we might have a cab?’

  And before too long, we were all three in a cab and headed for Baker Street. Mrs Norton tried more than once to say something, but neither Holmes nor I would allow her to agitate herself. Arrived at 221B, I summoned an astonished Mrs Hudson, and ordered beef tea at once, and a little steamed fish later, such being the only supper I would countenance for Mrs Norton for the moment.

  We escorted the lady to Holmes’s rooms, and placed her in the best armchair. ‘Mrs Hudson will be here with your beef tea before too long,’ I said. ‘And when you are stronger, and have had something to eat –’ and I broke off, looking at Holmes. ‘It would hardly be seemly, Holmes, for Mrs Norton to remain here. And an hotel, even the Northumberland, is a touch impersonal, given the shock Mrs Norton has had.’

  He nodded. ‘I believe you have a spare room, Doctor? If your wife were agreeable –’

  ‘Oh, have no fears on that score, Holmes,’ I told him. I noticed that Mrs Norton was making some effort to interrupt me. ‘Pray do not exert yourself, dear lady,’ I said. ‘Whatever it may be, it can wait a little while.’

  ‘Oh, but it cannot! It really cannot! Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson, you must go at once!’

  ‘Go?’ asked Holmes. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Why, to Bohemia, of course! Mr Holmes, you must save the king!’

  TWO

  As a general rule, Mr Sherlock Holmes is not easily shocked, nor does he lack for words in most situations. Now,
however, he floundered almost as badly as I was floundering myself. ‘To Bohemia?’ said he. ‘Why, I hardly – Watson?’ And he shot me a glance full of meaning.

  ‘Yes, you are right, Holmes. The strain of the past few days –’

  Mrs Norton broke in, ‘No, no, Doctor! I understand that you think it is some foolishness engendered by my ordeal, there is nothing else you could think, but I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth.’ She stopped, and put a hand to her brow.

  ‘You are fatigued, madam,’ I began, but any further remarks were cut short by the entrance of Mrs Hudson, bearing a tray with that beef tea which I had ordered, along with some of her tiny cheese scones.

  ‘I thought, Doctor, that the lady might manage a bite to eat,’ said Mrs Hudson.

  ‘Not too much, mind,’ I cautioned. As Mrs Hudson fussed round Mrs Norton, I drew Holmes to one side. ‘It seems clear, Holmes, that the events of the past two days have indeed unsettled the poor lady, revived memories of the king –’

  A little laugh interrupted me. ‘At any rate, Doctor Watson, the strain has not affected my hearing, which always was acute!’ said Mrs Norton. ‘No, Mrs Hudson, that will be excellent! I can manage for myself, now. Thank you so much.’ As Mrs Hudson shot an angry glance at Holmes and myself, and left the room, Mrs Norton went on, ‘I can understand how it must seem, but I assure you that I am not wandering in my mind. The king is indeed in grave danger, and I suspect that you are the only men who can save him.’

  ‘If that is so,’ said Holmes, sinking into a chair opposite Mrs Norton, ‘then we shall need to know something of what brought you here to London in the first instance, and also something more specific as to what happened two days past.’