by Ashton, Hugh
“You called on me earlier today, and informed me that M. Gérard’s kitchen was serving up one of your recipes. You were never in the habit of sharing your professional secrets?”
“No. As I say, in our profession we tend to be somewhat jealous of our skills and knowledge. It is a harsh world, Mr Holmes. And I am convinced that Gérard would never have stolen the recipe from me, either directly or through the intervention of some third party.”
“Where do you keep the recipes?” asked Holmes.
“Here, in my office. They are written in a book kept in a locked drawer of my desk. Would you like to view it?”
“Certainly.”
Lefevere brought a bunch of keys from his pocket, and selected one before inserting it into the lock of the desk drawer. “Is that the only key to that drawer?” asked Holmes.
“There is one other. It is kept in the safe of the Club manager.” He turned the key and opened the drawer triumphantly. As he looked into the drawer, his face turned ashen. “The book is gone!” he exclaimed with a face of horror. “See for yourself.” Indeed, the drawer was completely empty.
“Possibly you put it in another drawer?” suggested Holmes. “Or you removed it and forgot to replace it?”
“I fear that you do not understand the importance of this book to me. This is the culmination of my professional career. This is my life’s work. I would never have placed the book anywhere but here, and I would certainly never have omitted to replace it.” He placed his head in his hands, and appeared to be stricken to the point of weeping.
“Come, man,” said Holmes. “Let us approach this problem rationally. When did you last see the book? When do you last know that it was here?”
“Let me recall.” His voice was a little more steady as he considered the matter. “I would have to say somewhat less than a week ago. There were one or two suspicions that there was too much cinnamon for some tastes in one of my desserts, and I had occasion to modify the quantity. I do not remember opening the drawer again after I had locked the book away.”
“Who else knew that the book was stored here?”
“My sous-chef, who has been with me here for the past seven years, and the Club manager. That is all. Others may have suspected its presence, but it would be no more than a suspicion.”
“Would M. Gérard have known of the existence of the book?”
“He would certainly have been able to guess of its existence. Maintaining such a record is part of the duties of a chef de cuisine, after all.”
“May I examine the desk?” asked Holmes, bending and examining the lock with his magnifying glass. “Aha. It would appear that your lock has been recently opened by means of a picklock. You say that you always lock your office when it is unoccupied?”
“Without fail. Apart from anything else, it is necessary for me to keep quantities of cash here for day-to-day expenses and the like.”
“Have you noticed any money missing?”
“No, not at all. Part of my daily routine is to count the money and balance the petty cash book.”
“Let us look at your office door, then,” replied Holmes, rising, and subjecting the door lock to the same scrutiny as he had previously done with the desk drawer lock. “Yes, this has also suffered the same fate. A picklock has been used at some time to gain entry. Is there any time when this could have been done without attracting attention?”
“I would say that it could have happened at any time while I was working in the kitchen. This passage is not in frequent use.”
Holmes appeared to be lost in thought as he pondered the matter. After a few seconds, he broke the silence with, “I have a few other questions regarding Gérard. Have you ever noticed whether M. Gérard is left-handed?”
“Oh yes, most certainly he is. When we worked together in the kitchens in Paris, we had to arrange our mises en place to accommodate that.”
“That is most interesting. One more question. Does he have an interest in older furniture?”
“I did notice one or two fine pieces – tables, chairs, and the like – on the occasions when I visited his house in Gilbert Place. I never enquired about the interest, though. He was possessed of a certain taste in such things, I suppose.”
“I suppose that you would have no knowledge regarding this man?” asked Holmes, giving a description of the dead man whom we had left in the room in Dean Street.
“From your description, it sounds as though you might have encountered Jules Navier, who used to work for me here as a patissier, in charge of preparing desserts and the like, before moving to the G— Hotel to work for Gérard. I must confess that he and I parted on somewhat less than cordial terms. Did you happen to notice a tattoo inside his left wrist?”
“A small bird, a swallow or some such?” I asked.
“Yes, indeed. Then almost without a doubt, you encountered Navier. A skilled worker, but a man with a violent temper, and to be frank, I suspected him of some dishonesty with regard to the pantry.”
“This is all gratifying,” replied Holmes, rubbing his hands together. “It means that the police are on entirely the wrong track.”
“Maybe this business is gratifying for you, but not for me, since you say that I am to be arrested in the morning. What should I do? I must fly the country!” replied the stricken chef.
Holmes shook his head once more. “No, you must not do that. Believe me, that is the worst thing you could possibly do, and would only serve to confirm your guilt in the eyes of the police. Trust me, and do what I tell you.” Holmes’ manner was impressive, and his presence commanding as he said these words. Lefevre nodded wordlessly. “When the police come for you, they will probably be headed by a blockhead named Lanner. This Inspector does not care to have his opinions contradicted, so my strong advice to you is to hold your peace, no matter what he says to you. Neither confirm nor deny his accusations, no matter how preposterous they may seem. Do you comprehend me?”
“I understand what you are saying, and I will endeavour to follow your instructions.”
“Good. Have you a lawyer? No? I will ensure that you are provided with a good lawyer who will be able to advise you in your dealings with the police. Indeed, I will ensure that he is with you from tomorrow morning. May I have the address of your lodgings?”
“I have a room here at the Club.”
“I will send him here the first thing in the morning so that he may be with you when the police arrive. I repeat that you have nothing to fear if you are innocent.”
“May I ask why you are doing this for me?” asked Lefevre. “I must warn you, I am unsure of my ability to pay your fees, or those of the lawyer.”
“You requested my assistance, did you not?” replied Holmes. “There is a mystery here that I intend to clear up, and I will not see the lumbering boots of the police trample over the truth of the matter, which is more complex than they would like to admit. As far as fees are concerned, I think we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Believe me, the question of money in this case will be a relatively minor one as far as you are concerned. Do not worry about this, or indeed, about anything connected with this case. I can give you my word that you will emerge from this with your reputation unscathed.”
“That is good to hear.”
“At what time shall I arrange for the lawyer to call?”
“Eight will be convenient.”
“Very good, then. Believe me, your case has my full attention.”
-oOo-
“We must act, and act fast,” said Holmes. “My first task is to engage the lawyer whom I promised to poor Lefevre.” So saying, we proceeded to Chancery Lane, where Holmes called at the offices of Joskin & Fitch, and engaged the services of Mr Hubert Joskin, with whom he had done business in the past, assuring him that he, Holmes, would meet all the expenses incurred.
“And now back to the Portobello Road. With luck, we will discover Mr Oliphaunt’s shop is still open, and he will be willing to speak with us.”
; At the shop, Holmes was able to confirm that the furniture bought by “Phillimore” had been dispatched to the Gilbert Square house mentioned by Lefevre.
“To Baker Street,” commanded Holmes. “There is little else we can do today. Congratulations on your observation of the tattoo. That is the little detail that clinches the business.” Holmes appeared to be in high good humour as we rattled through the London streets. “Not only will that fool of an Inspector arrest the wrong man, but he will arrest him for the wrong crime.”
“Meaning that Phillimore and Gérard are one and the same person, and that the dead man is not Gérard?”
“Precisely. Now, the questions we must ask ourselves are the following. First, why does Gérard appear to be leading a double life, in two establishments, with two names? Obviously he has something to hide as Phillimore, since Gérard qua Gérard would appear to be completely without any secrets. And it is as Phillimore that he purchases this furniture. Therefore, we may conclude that the furniture is the key to the mystery.”
“That seems clear enough,” said I.
“If you remember, ‘Phillimore’ mentioned that he was sending the furniture to France. That may indeed be the truth of the matter. But why? It would seem an odd way for him to supplement his income, and would hardly, if legitimate, seem to justify the duplicity of a second address and a second name.”
“The apartment in Soho was hardly large enough to act as a furniture store,” I pointed out.
“Then why does he trouble to maintain it at all? Why not conduct all his business from Bloomsbury?” objected Holmes. “No, there is something distinctly queer about this whole business that makes me believe that the furniture is a pretext for some other nefarious purpose.”
“Perhaps the crates containing the furniture are also packed with whatever it is that he is exporting?” I suggested.
“Hardly that. The Customs authorities in both countries would be sure to examine them, and any such attempt at smuggling would be doomed to failure on that account.”
We rode in silence back to Baker Street, and I commenced writing the report on the corpse that I had promised Lanner.
“Omit nothing in the report,” Holmes told me. “I do not wish it said that I was in any way responsible, either directly or through you, for withholding any information that could lead the police to an erroneous conclusion.”
I soon discovered that my concentration was broken by the sound of Holmes’ violin, which he had balanced across his knees, and was scraping away abstractedly as he sat, seemingly lost in thought.
“Holmes, the noise you are making is intolerable and is preventing me from working. I am tempted to fill your wretched instrument with stones in order to prevent your scratchings.”
“I apologise, my dear fellow,” he replied, putting aside the fiddle. “I was totally unconscious of the fact that I might be causing you some distress.” He paused. “Watson!” he fairly shouted. “You have solved the problem for me. What it is to have a friend such as you!”
I was completely baffled by this outburst, and said as much.
“It all fits, Watson, it all fits! You must be aware of the jewel thefts that have taken place over the past year. The booty has never turned up for sale in this country. Not a single stone has been recovered. However, several of the pieces have been offered for sale in the south of France and in northern Spain. Where were we told that Phillimore sends his furniture? Toulouse, was it not?” answering his own question.
“But how...?”
“You said it yourself, Watson. You threatened to commit sacrilege by filling my Stradivarius with stones, an act which I would have found hard to forgive, I assure you, had you carried it out in reality. But what if stones of a different type were introduced into the furniture being dispatched to France? You remember the carpenter’s bradawl and tools and the pile of sawdust? It is my considered opinion that the legs and so on of the furniture have been hollowed out and the cavities filled with the stolen jewellery before being re-sealed.”
“It would account for the secrecy and the false names,” I agreed.
“I would guess that the Soho location is the place where the jewels are delivered to Gérard, and where he actually does the work. It also serves as his official residence as far as his employers are concerned. I would guess that he leads a perfectly respectable life in his Bloomsbury house, maybe as Gérard, or quite conceivably as Phillimore.”
“And the stolen recipe and the dead man Navier?”
“They are important, I admit, but I think they are less so the gems being taken out of this country in this way. There may well be a connection, I admit it, but the common element of this puzzle we have here is the man Gérard. Maybe we can pay a visit to Gilbert Square tonight and discover a little more.”
He rose to his feet and was actually in the act of reaching for his coat when there was a knock on the door, and Inspector Lestrade entered.
“What brings you here at this hour of the evening?” asked Holmes.
Lestrade appeared grave. “Mr Holmes, you know that I am grateful to you for your assistance in the past, and I know that you have given generously of your time and energy to assisting us and providing hints for us.”
“Yes?” replied Holmes. “I sense a ‘however’ coming. Am I correct?”
“I fear so,” replied Lestrade. “Young Lanner is quite upset by your treatment of him in this Gérard murder case. He was actually asking me to arrest you on charges related to the obstruction of justice.”
Holmes laughed. “My dear Lestrade, I trust that is not why you are here?”
“Naturally I refused his request,” replied Lestrade. “However, I have to say to you that if you continue to exhibit this attitude toward senior police officers, any cooperation we may have extended toward you in the past will no longer be forthcoming.”
“I see,” replied Holmes, thoughtfully. “Sit you down there, Inspector, and have the goodness to accept a glass of something – a dry sherry, perhaps? – while I proceed to inform you of my discoveries in the case, and lay my theory before you.”
“There can be no harm in my doing that,” replied Lestrade, “and I accept your offer of a sherry with pleasure. Thank you, Doctor,” he added, as I handed a glass to him.
Holmes outlined the discoveries of the day, and added his supposition that the furniture was being used to smuggle stolen gems out of the country. Lestrade listened in silence, and at the end of Holmes’ recital, placed his glass on the table beside him.
“It is a fine set of facts you have discovered, Mr Holmes, and Lanning would indeed appear a fool, if that is not too strong a term, were he to arrest the wrong man for the murder of a supposed victim who is in all probability still alive. I appreciate your frankness in letting me know these things.”
“They would have been presented to Lanning along with the report of Doctor Watson here,” Holmes replied.
“That would have been after Lanning had made the arrest,” Lestrade pointed out.
“I had hoped to sow sufficient seeds of doubt in his mind to delay that eventuality, but no matter.”
“The question now arises as to how we now proceed,” Lestrade ruminated.
“You say ‘we’, Lestrade?” asked Holmes, smiling.
“Yes, I do. I shall remove Lanner from the case, and take charge personally,” replied Lestrade. “And despite any differences of opinion that you and we of the official police may have had in the past, I sincerely hope that you will be of assistance in helping to solve this mystery.”
It was an offer graciously made, and Sherlock Holmes accepted it in the spirit in which it had been extended. “It will be my pleasure and privilege to work with you,” he replied. “Another sherry, Inspector, while we discuss tactics?”
-oOo-
Sherlock Holmes was awake and out of the house the next morning, before I had even opened my eyes. I had broken my fast and was settling down by the fireside (for it was a dismal, damp day), when my friend retu
rned.
“A good start to the day,” he remarked to me. “Lestrade has called off his dogs, and the imbecile Lanner is now a person of merely historical interest, at least as far as this particular case is concerned. My opinion of Lestrade is somewhat improved from what it has been. I see you have eaten, so if you are ready, we will depart for Bloomsbury.”
“As you fixed with Lestrade yesterday?”
“Indeed. We agreed, did we not, that the sight of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson would probably arouse fewer suspicions in the neighbourhood than would a uniformed policeman, or even the plain-clothes detectives of the Metropolitan Police? We are to spy out the land and determine more about our friend Gérard before Lestrade pounces.”
“One moment, Holmes. There is something here in the newspaper, unlikely as it may seem, that may have a bearing on this matter.” My acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes had taught me to scan the agony columns of the newspapers in search of subjects of interest. “See here. ‘Commode now safe to move from 10GP. 1:30pm today. G.’ ”
“By Jove, Watson, I think you have it! Excellent work. Maybe there is something to be said for staying in bed for an extra hour, after all. Yes, we may take G to be our friend Gérard, do you not think? 10GP to be number 10, Gilbert Place, and the commode is now safe to move, perhaps since he feels that the murder in Soho, since it has not been reported in the newspapers, has as yet remained undiscovered. Let us look in the papers of the days before and see if there are any other such messages.”
He seized the untidy stack of paper that comprised the previous week’s journals and scanned them hastily. “Yes, we have it, Watson. Here we are, on the day following the day on which we may guess the murder to have been committed. ‘Commode cannot be moved at this time. Watch here for further messages. G.’ I am certain that G, should we take the trouble to look, will have placed many messages over the past few months. We are running out of time. Watson, may I impose on your good nature? I must go and relieve Lefevre’s mind, and assure him that he now runs no further risk of arrest and that he is in no danger, other than being called as a possible witness at some future date. At the same time I will inform Joskin that he no longer need shoulder the burden of standing guard over Lefevre. Now we know what we are looking for, may I trouble you to go to the offices of the Daily Chronicle and scan the agony columns over the past few months, working backwards from the present. You will do that? Good man. I will join you there in an hour or so. Let us move fast. The game is afoot, Watson. The game is afoot,” he repeated with relish.
