“Unlikely,” Holmes broke in. “From what Rogers said, he had barely reached the house when he was hit. Northgate is not an elderly man; on the contrary, although in his fifties he is a sportsman and fit, and it would take at least two strong men to contain and silence him. It is my suggestion that they took both Rogers and Northgate into the Siddons house initially. There they were bound, gagged, and dumped in that shed where we found the boy. Northgate, distressed by Rogers’s head wound, and perhaps blaming himself that he had not listened to Lestrade, wiped the blood away with his handkerchief, and when the kidnappers returned for Northgate, he purposely left the handkerchief—easily identifiable as his—behind.”
Harrison stiffened. “I see. And if he did that, it indicates he was both conscious and in his own mind. You are right; they constrained him by force but without damaging the—merchandise.”
“So I think,” Holmes agreed. “It is still puzzling as to why they are so determined to hold him. They have the papers, so why do they also require Northgate? If they did not have the papers it might make sense. But they do not need both. However, I have a theory. Brand reported that Lord Northgate thought he recognized Liebowitcz. Maximillian Liebowitcz—his current pseudonym—comes of an old Prussian family who are minor nobility. As such he was very well educated, his final schooling taking place here in England, so that he speaks impeccable English. What if he managed an introduction to one of those who share Northgate’s hobby? By the by, when about his criminal activities, he uses the name of servants on the family’s estate.”
I drew in a deep breath. “So Northgate would not know him as Liebowitcz, and perhaps Northgate saw him with that friend once or twice in passing. How dangerous would it be if Northgate talked and it was known by our agents that Liebowitcz was the cause of a war between us and…”
On that question and our discussion of it we adjourned for lunch, returning to Baker Street where we enjoyed a cold collation of salad, bread and butter, and an excellent pot of tea. We had just finished when Mrs. Hudson entered the room and laid the ivory cat on the table in front of Holmes.
“Lad from the café brought this, Mr. Holmes.”
I was on my feet at once. “Quickly! Western must have discovered something.”
My friend snatched up the cat and together we strode out the front door. Within a short space of time we entered the building three blocks away, where Western sat at a table in a back corner. We joined him at once and he smiled.
“I have some good news, my friends, and information to go with it. Would you care for tea before we talk?”
I glared at his easy manner, unable to repress my simmering impatience, although Holmes accepted a cup, took a sip, and put the cup down again.
Western grinned. “Not the quality you’re used to, I’ll be bound. Never mind, I can maybe put a bit of sugar in it for you. I passed word that I’d be interested in any man being held, and also if anyone heard of any holdup on people coming or going between England, and, well, the country you mentioned. Those who didn’t want any official notice, so to say. I got nibbles on both lines, gentlemen.”
I leaned forward. “You know where Northgate is?”
“Not exactly, but I know the general area. Let me tell it in order. That was a difficult inquiry, for at any time there may be a dozen men being held somewhere.”
“Why?” I asked baldly.
Western eyed me with some amusement. “Debtors being held under threat of unpleasantness until their family pay what’s owed. Sailors being held, no…” as I would have spoken. “Not pressed men, just those who have stayed on leave too long, decided to be hung for a sheep instead of a lamb, and aren’t intending to go back. Ships will often pay a sum to have them returned. Then there are those held for personal reasons. While I was looking about, I found one lad being held for a wedding he wasn’t keen to attend, and another who was trying to escape his apprenticeship and was kept in a cellar until his family bought him out from his master.”
“You said…”
“I said I think I have a direction for Northgate. There’s word that a toff is being held over Metcalf tenements way. I’m told that he’s with a caretaker in a cellar, and that he’s not badly treated, but he isn’t going anywhere. There are several streets of tenements there, and a friend is trying to narrow it down to a single building. Now, there’s the other matter.” He leaned his elbows on the table.
“Seems that Customs ran into trouble last week. They hit on a shipment of something nasty, and those who owned it got rough and two officers were hurt. Customs didn’t approve, and to make that clear they’re putting every ship to or from that country through the mincer for a while. It’s all unofficial and their own officers would know, but because it isn’t on the police sheet, the coppers mightn’t have heard. However, if I were trying to smuggle a man overseas I wouldn’t be doing it until the heat’s off, which should be in another day or two but not before. By then I should know the address where your man is being held.”
I let out a long slow breath. “And once we know that we can rescue Northgate, retrieve the papers…” A thought occurred. “Mr. Western, what about the papers?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything about them at all. They could be with Northgate, as it would be more convenient to keep them together. Still, it isn’t impossible they’re already been sent on. Customs might not recognize their value if they saw them, and the papers aren’t contraband.”
Holmes shook his head. “No, I think that if they’d reached someone who knew their value we’d have heard. I believe them to be still in England. And Liebowitcz has a weakness: he likes recognition. He wouldn’t part with the most important half of his achievement and let someone else reap the praise and rewards. No, he’ll hold both until he can get them away, himself with them. If you’re right, Western, we have a day or even two. I’ll alert the police to be ready, and let us know the moment you hear from your friend. Here is the ivory cat. Do you require—anything else?”
That last word was uttered in a politely diffident tone, and Western flushed. “No, you provided ample.”
He held out his hand and we shook it, and gratification showed in his gaze. In treating him as the gentleman he’d been born, I thought that we had bound him to our service, and I hoped that if a time came when he was asked to betray us, he would not.
We went immediately to see Lestrade and he was doubtful. “You think Western is honest? The man’s a fence, and a good one. He’s made a lot of money over the past fifteen or so years, although he doesn’t live extravagantly. Still, I’ve never heard that he’s vicious either, yet why would he help? That’s a dangerous game to play if his friends find out he’s assisting the police.”
“Do you know his background?”
“Some of it.”
“Like most men, there is more than one reason behind his actions.” Here Holmes explained the lawsuit and Western’s aspirations to return to his old home and his place in society.
When he was done, both Lestrade and Harrison, who had come in and stood listening, nodded. Harrison frowned. “Still, I don’t know I’d trust him too far. You keep an eye on him, Mr. Holmes.”
“I intend to,” Holmes assured him. “And so will Watson—like any old soldier, he can sleep with one eye open.”
On which jest we parted, and when we were on the street again I asked, “Where do we go now?”
“Home. That’s where Western will look for us if he discovers more information. Best we are where he expects to find us.”
“And if he uncovers nothing?”
“We will give him the remainder of this day. If he has given us nothing more by tomorrow, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“That’s a very tight-knit area, Holmes.” The Metcalf tenements were some eight blocks of the worst slums in London. I knew police did not patrol, and those who lived there knew each other by sight. “I’d be safer, as most would not harm a doctor.”
“If it comes to that, Watson, I
may call on your assistance.”
I arrived at our front door devoutly hoping that such would not be the case. In the Metcalf tenements, safety is relative.
The next day I saw nothing of Holmes until luncheon. Again we were interrupted by a lad bearing the ivory cat. I sprang up, but Holmes waved me back to my seat.
“No, no, Watson. Western will have dispatched the token as soon as he reached the café. Let us finish our meal.”
We did so and walked the three streets to the café to find it was as Holmes had said. Western was in the process of finishing his own meal, and indicated the bench across from him while continuing to eat. We sat, called for a pot of tea, and waited until Western was done. He sat back, drank half the cup of tea I had poured him, and nodded amiably at us.
“Good news. I have the address where Northgate is being held. One problem, though.”
Holmes stirred. “Yes, if we bring in the police, the whole area will turn out against them and in the uproar Northgate is likely to be spirited away. If we want our man in one piece we have to go in ourselves, quickly and quietly.”
“And that won’t be easy,” Western commented. “Nor can you spare much time, for my information is that Northgate is to be moved out tomorrow early. Then too, the whole area is run by a gang. They’re smart and don’t go for violence unless they have to, but when they do, they don’t hold back.” He went on to give us chapter and verse on these scoundrels, and something he said caught my attention. I asked a question and the reply interested me. I considered choices and spoke.
“It is possible—I do not promise anything definite—but it may be that I can gain us entry to the area,” I said, to the clear astonishment of Western and the amused regard of Holmes.
“A patient, Watson?”
I shook my head, for to say any such thing would be to break a confidence. “There is a man I may be able to approach,” I said vaguely. “Wait here and leave it to me.” With that I left the café, hailed a cab, and went to an address where I found my quarry and was extremely frank with him.
“Whatever your decision, I shall say nothing of this to anyone. It’s a matter of patient confidentiality,” I assured the man I addressed. “But I would put two points to you. One is that if this is not done quietly, then a hundred police will storm the area, and you know the police, while they’re there they’ll investigate anything and everything, for bloodhounds have nothing on them. They’ll dig through every room, every attic and cupboard. They’ll seize items and people, and ask questions of everyone. And people will fight back, so the police will pour more of their men into the search.”
He nodded, a look of anger and concern on his face.
“And there is this, too. They seek a man of power and influence; if he is hurt in this disturbance he has the ability to persuade the police to further efforts. Should he be seriously injured or killed, his powerful family will see the area razed to the ground. Nor is that all of it. The man behind those who hold Lord Northgate is a foreign spy, seeking to begin a war with England.”
I saw the look in his eyes change. “You swear?”
“I do. If we fail in this, war will very possibly come, and that swiftly. Nor is it likely that it will be only the two countries, as others may be dragged in until there is a great war, one that will see tens of thousands slaughtered. You may not be called up, but are there none in your family who are younger and able-bodied?”
“Yes.” And he continued, preempting my next question. “Nor do I wish to see them forced into the Army, as would happen. All right, Doctor, I’m convinced. I know the building you mention. There’ll be a clear passage to it from six this evening. You and no more than three others can pass though. If there’s any fighting, that’ll be for you to do. We’ll just see that you can come and go without interference, and I want no coppers.” He grinned. “Leastways none in uniform, and no one making any arrests or shouting about being the police, understand?”
I did, and I said so. I was grateful and I said that as well.
“Ah well, me too, Doctor, me too. And it won’t do me harm to have it known that I prevented—well—what would have otherwise happened. You go along now, Doctor, and I’ll see you at six on the corner of…” He named two streets at the edge of the Metcalf tenements, and we went our different ways with goodwill.
I returned to the café, and to Western’s complete astonishment informed Holmes and him that at six that evening we could walk unimpeded to the address where Northgate was held. Holmes and I would of course be involved, and we were permitted to bring another two men with us.
“I’ll go,” Western said decisively. “If you can’t find another man, I could make a suggestion or two from those I know.”
I chuckled. “I rather think that Lestrade will want to be in on this.”
Holmes considered. “Yes, and he is less likely to lose his head. Harrison is a good man, but if he sees something he thinks should be investigated, zeal might run away with him. No, let us go at once to see Lestrade and make the arrangements.”
That we did, and while also incredulous, the Inspector agreed to meet us just outside the area, and in plain clothes. “I’ll mind my own business as you ask, Mr. Holmes. You’re right. We’re there to get Northgate out alive and not to chase crooks, although that could go against the grain if I see anything blatantly illegal. However, as you say, better we get our man out in one piece and see if we can find the papers too, than we start a riot and lose either or both.”
We met at five minutes short of the hour that evening—Holmes, Lestrade, Western, and I—and as I had been instructed, I led the way down a back alley behind the building we sought. We saw no one, heard not a voice or a sound. Lestrade picked the lock very neatly and we entered, making our way to the cellar door where I knocked quietly.
“Who’s there?”
“Dr. MacIntosh,” I announced. “I need to see my patient.”
There was a baffled silence. There was no Dr. Macintosh to my knowledge, but we thought the caretaker would be loath to be rude to a doctor and would open the door lest I begin to make a fuss at being kept from a patient. That he did after a minute, and was starting to ask my exact business when a coat was tossed over his head and he was bundled away from the door.
He gave a muffled shout and Western promptly tapped him over the head. Not sufficient a blow to cause harm, but enough to give a warning—which was taken. Thereafter the caretaker was silent. Lestrade looked about the rooms.
“Here, this way.” He affected an accent that seemed genuinely of the district that lay beside this one and I grinned at him. He tipped his hat to me with an answering grin and pointed to where a wardrobe stood against the wall. We moved that to reveal a small door, which I forced open. On a cot on the room’s far side lay a disheveled man, grimy, shoeless, and with his hands bound behind him. He stared at us, unsure, I think, as to whether we were a rescue or further trouble.
Lestrade reached him in a rush. “Hush. We can get you out of here safely, but only if you do as we say. If you bring down the people here, there’ll be a riot and you’ll be lost.”
Lord Northgate stared at Holmes. “I know you, sir. You’re…” I put my hand over his mouth quickly, nodding to the form of the caretaker enveloped in Lestrade’s coat. “Oh, ah, yes.”
He writhed until his hands were presented to us and I slashed his bonds. He stood, staggered, and all but fell. “I’m sorry, they’ve had me tied for some time.” Lestrade took his arm and helped him walk to and fro for some minutes until he was steadier. While this was done Holmes, Western, and I searched the rooms but found nothing, to my great disappointment. I had hoped we would find the papers, but there was no sign of them. Finally, motioning for the silence to continue, Holmes went to our prisoner and removed his shoes, handing them to Lord Northgate.
“Wear these.”
“Thank you,” was the response as they were donned.
We made for the door, until Northgate turned back and spoke very quietl
y to Holmes. “Have you money, sir?”
Holmes produced his notecase and displayed the contents. Northgate took a five pound note and, walking across the room, he placed it in the caretaker’s pocket. “For your shoes, Gil, and other considerations.”
And to us he said, as we left the rooms and turned towards the back door. “He treated me as well as he could. Left me my dignity, fed me better than they’d have allowed, and at his expense. He isn’t a bad man, just frightened not to do as he is told.”
I saw a man standing in the shadows as we passed out of the door. Holmes and the others headed off along the street to safely, while I hesitated and turned back. I made it clear I was not looking into the watcher’s face but spoke carefully, my gaze on the pavement. “The caretaker, he treated his captive well. I hope no one will blame him.”
“No, Doctor.”
“Thank you.”
I followed my friends, and once we were away from the lowering buildings Lestrade hailed a cab and we were driven direct to Mayfair and Lord Northgate’s town house there. He was received by his servants with cries of joy, and led the way into the library where, in a few minutes food and drink was placed before him.
With that done he ordered us to be left alone and at once addressed Lestrade. “Did you find the papers?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Damn, I’d hoped they hadn’t been taken away. Von Stowen was clever; if he separated us, he was likely to lose one or the other but not both.”
“You knew him, my Lord?” Lestrade asked sharply.
“He was an acquaintance of my friend Tony Risingham. Von Stowen claimed an interest in our hobby and it seems that Tony told him all about my own project. Indeed he must have described it minutely because Von Stowen believed my project would bring him reinstatement, recognition, and a large sum from his masters. He talked freely enough once he had me. But that’s not important; we need to get my papers back.”
“Yes,” Holmes agreed. “To that end, if you will answer questions, my Lord?”
Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In Page 6
