by John Hall
‘Go ahead, Mr Holmes. I am entirely at your disposal.’
‘Well, then, I can see that if the parsons are correct in their somewhat gloomy prognostications the late Lord Hammerford might well be satisfied with the outcome of his experiment, one way or the other, as he gazes down from the clouds. But I cannot see that it matters very much to the present Lord Hammerford that his grandfather suspected some irregularity as to that grandson’s birth. The money I can understand, for I am not quite so unworldly as to think that wealth is of no importance, but the other matter? You seem to attach some weight to it?’
‘Ah, you must understand that if I were the only one to know the background to the will, there would be not the least difficulty, none at all,’ said Sir James, a hint of his native brogue creeping into his voice. ‘But the late Lord Hammerford told others, not quite so discreet as I. In fact, they are confounded gossips, sir! And they will spread the tale, should Sir George find the treasure first. On the other hand, if the present Lord Hammerford gets the money, well, there may be one or two whispers, but they will soon die down.’
Holmes frowned again, as if he were still not entirely convinced, but said merely, ‘I understand. Now, how come you to be involved in all this?’
Sir James looked as close to being embarrassed as was possible for him. ‘I have said that the late Lord Hammerford was a good friend. But the other person concerned, a gentleman whom I have the honour to serve as a loyal subject, has also been gracious enough to call me “friend”, and I would spare him any unpleasantness, if I possibly can.’
‘Well, that is honest enough,’ said Holmes. ‘But perhaps I phrased my question badly. I meant to ask rather, why is it that the present Lord Hammerford so doubts his wit, native, inherited, or otherwise, that he shies away from an honest attempt to solve the puzzle himself ? And, having done so in the first instance and sought an expert opinion on the matter, why does he permit you to act for him? Why, in a word, has he not seen fit to consult me himself ?’
Sir James’s face flushed, but he kept his voice level as he answered. ‘As to acting himself,’ he told Holmes, ‘he cannot, and there’s an end to it. As to his not coming here in person, he has. In fact, he is downstairs, and I’ll have him brought up to see you.’
Holmes looked puzzled. ‘Oh?’
Sir James went on, ‘I have perhaps inadvertently misled you as to the chronology of all this, Mr Holmes. It is true that I have referred to “old” Lord Hammerford, but that was by way of what the doctor here, and his literary colleagues, would perhaps label “elegant variation”, and I meant “the late” Lord Hammerford rather than “the aged” Lord Hammerford. The man was no older than I am myself. It is equally true that the late Lord Hammerford drew up this very curious will as soon as he knew of the expected arrival of his grandson. But he evidently believed, and quite reasonably so, that the grandson would have reached his majority by the time the old Lord Hammerford himself died. He was wrong, in the event, for the illness which killed him came upon him quite suddenly and unexpectedly. The will was actually made comparatively recently, less than five years ago now. The present Lord Hammerford is only four years old!’
Before Holmes or I could properly take this statement in, Sir James had risen from his seat and pulled at the bell rope. When Billy appeared, Sir James gave a few instructions, and a moment later a pretty young nursemaid arrived to brighten our little sitting room. She brought with her a little golden-haired lad, who stared at the strangers with wide eyes.
‘This,’ Sir James told us, ‘is Lord Hammerford.’ He bent down and faced the lad squarely. ‘Now, young man, this is your Uncle Sherlock, and that is your Uncle John. What they want to know is just this: do you wish them to act for you in the matter of your grandfather’s treasure?’
The boy thought a moment, said, ‘Yes, Uncle Jimmy,’ then put his thumb in his mouth.
Sir James stood up, and nodded to the young nursemaid. ‘Take him to the kitchen,’ he told her, ‘and give him some cocoa, or whatever it is that he drinks. When you’re finished there, you can take him home in the carriage. I don’t think I’ll have finished my business with these gentlemen by the time you leave, but you might look in to say that you’re going, and if I’m not done then, I’ll walk home when I have, so you need not bother to wait. Well, gentlemen,’ he went on as the door closed, ‘what do you say? Will you act for young Lord Hammerford, and for me, and for the gentleman whose name we’ll not mention?’
I have seen Mr Sherlock Holmes in some tight corners. I have seen him quite literally fight for his life, and maintain a dignified composure throughout. I have even seen him, though only once or twice, at a temporary loss for words. But never have I seen him flounder quite so helplessly as he did then. He waved a limp hand at Sir James, sank into an armchair, and groped weakly for the nearest briar pipe.
‘It’s evidently something of a shock,’ I told Sir James.
‘Indeed. Well, Mr Holmes?’
Holmes packed tobacco into his pipe, and looked at me. ‘Watson?’
‘Holmes has covered much of the ground,’ I told Sir James, ‘and I’m sure he will have many more questions should we decide to take your case. But he has omitted to get an answer on one of the most significant points, so I will just ask you this. We have spoken lightly of a “treasure”, as if we all knew its value, but in point of fact you have not told us just what it may be worth. Would it be in order to ask how much we are actually talking about?’
Sir James drew a memorandum book from his pocket. ‘I have only the figures at which the various stones were originally purchased, of course,’ he told me, ‘but I think it will serve for our purposes. The actual total is a whisker short of half a million pounds.’
Two
‘Half a million pounds!’ I fairly gasped it out, and felt obliged to sit down when I had said it, realizing how Holmes must have felt a moment earlier.
‘Just a trifle less,’ Sir James Damery repeated. ‘As I have said, the late Lord Hammerford was a very wealthy man.’
‘You did say so,’ said Holmes, ‘but you failed to mention that he was quite that wealthy.’
‘Why,’ I added, ‘if the present Lord Hammerford finds the treasure, he will be one of the richest men in England. Richest boys, rather.’
‘In the world, Doctor,’ Sir James corrected me calmly. ‘In the world. And of course,’ he added, ‘the same applies to Sir George Lewis.’
‘It occurs to me that this “treasure” of yours must occupy a quite considerable space,’ said Holmes thoughtfully.
Sir James laughed. ‘You evidently have no notion as to what the jewellers charge these days, Mr Holmes! Were you married, you would know differently, I assure you. And then the late Lord Hammerford was selective, he bought antique carved gems, first quality diamonds, the very best, and most expensive, of everything. A decent- sized hatbox, I fancy, would hold the whole lot. Two hatboxes, perhaps.’ He looked from Holmes to me. ‘Well, gentlemen? How say you, will you take the case?’
I would not have believed that Holmes could, or would, hesitate for a moment, but he did. ‘I am not sure,’ he told Sir James.
‘You disappoint me, Mr Holmes.’
‘And me,’ I added, with some astonishment.
Holmes laughed. ‘We have all been, and are being, very frank,’ he said, ‘and so I will not prevaricate now. Had you come to me, Sir James, with the proposition that I should help this lad solve a puzzle, a cipher, to find his inheritance, I should not have hesitated for a moment. But this other business, trying to find a fortune to establish one’s legitimacy? And in the process to clear a great man of some suspected illicit liaison? It is outside my usual purview, to speak plainly. The whole scheme has about it a hint of dubiousness, of chicanery. And moreover, having once accepted the challenge, the employment of an agent has more than a hint of cheating, if not downright fraud.’
‘And yet you have acted in some delicate personal matters before now,’ Sir James reminded him
. ‘The Kings of Bohemia and Scandinavia might testify as to that.’
Holmes remained unconvinced. ‘Quite different, Sir James, I assure you. Why, suppose for one moment that the late Lord Hammerford’s wretched suspicions were justified? Should I in my turn be justified in perpetuating a lie by finding this treasure for the boy and having all the gossips believe that which is untrue?’
By this time I could scarcely contain myself. Before Sir James could speak, I answered for him. ‘As to that, Holmes, what on earth does it matter? Some of the most respected coats of arms in the land bear the bend sinister, and some of the noblest houses could not in all conscience swear that there were no branches missing from the family tree. Or that there were no cuckoos nesting amongst those branches which remain.’
‘True enough,’ said Sir James. ‘My own family has its share of rascals and rapparees. More than its share, if truth be told. And it is always the biggest rogues whose names are longest remembered.’
‘Indeed,’ I went on, warming to my task, ‘a pride in the little quirks of one’s ancestry is the mark of the true Englishman. Do you yourself not boast of an ancestor who was related to Vernet, the French painter?’
‘Not boast. Hardly “boast”, Doctor,’ murmured Holmes. ‘But a quiet pride, perhaps that is the right phrase, yes. And when you bring the matter up,’ he added, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye, ‘I have frequently heard tales of a navy surgeon called Watson, who fought at Trafalgar, and named his son “Horatio”, a name which passed down to both grandsons. Yes, I am all but convinced. But I ask you again, Sir James,’ he added in a more serious tone, ‘does your conscience not trouble you that you have called me in? As I understand you, the will specifies that the two heirs presumptive, if it be accurate so to call them, are to use their wits to find the gems. How does that sit with consulting a third party, an independent expert?’
‘Why, the lad’s only four! He can hardly be expected to run about London looking for the gems himself,’ said Sir James. ‘Sir George Lewis will not scruple to use fair means or foul in his search, I assure you. What say you, friend Watson?’
‘Delightful little chap,’ said I. ‘ “Uncle John”, indeed. Well, I wouldn’t mind being —’ I broke off as I caught Holmes’s cold and cynical eye. ‘No need to stare at me like a dead cod, Holmes. This pretence of indifference to the finer emotions is all very well, but it was only last week that I saw the children of your relative, young Doctor Verner, riding on your back. As I recall it they told me that you were a helephant, and the hearth rug was the Sarah Desert.’
Holmes looked as if he were about to make some scathing reply to this, when he could think of one, but he was saved the trouble by the young nursemaid, who tapped on the door and looked in to say that she was about to leave with young Lord Hammerford.
‘Ah, I’ve not quite finished here,’ said Sir James. ‘You take the carriage, and I’ll walk back later.’ As the nursemaid nodded and turned, he added, ‘Wait a moment, though. I’ll see you to the carriage, for I think Mr Holmes would appreciate being left alone with his thoughts for a while.’
‘I’ll go too,’ said I. ‘Let Holmes stew in his own juice for a time.’ This was, I assure you, my only motive. I was, to speak plainly, disappointed that Holmes’s reaction had been lukewarm at best, and genuinely thought that a moment’s private reflection might induce him to change his mind. Should any sour old cynic think that I had some sentimental wish to see a bit more of the young lad — or, for the matter of that, the young nursemaid — then that is a matter for the cynic concerned.
Sir James and I accompanied the girl to the bottom of the stairs, where Mrs Hudson, looking positively motherly, was trying to induce young Lord Hammerford to repeat some nursery rhyme after her. She looked up as we reached them, coughed to hide her embarrassment, and mumbled something about having things to do in the kitchen.
I said a last farewell to the young aristocrat, and he gravely held up his hand for me to shake it. The nursemaid took Lord Hammerford out to the carriage, and Sir James went with them, while I stood in the doorway.
Sir James was just about to hand Lord Hammerford in when a large, rough-looking man who had been lounging nearby suddenly pushed Sir James aside, and made as if to snatch the boy. As I have indicated, Sir James was not the languid and effete aristocrat of popular imagination, but an old soldier, a man of action. He was thrown off balance for a second, then recovered himself and raised his stick in a threatening fashion.
Meanwhile, having recovered from my own surprise, I had rushed from the doorway to give what assistance I might. At the same time the coachman, who had the appearance of a former prize-fighter, was climbing down from his seat with a purposeful look on his face, and a salty phrase or two of reproof on his tongue. The rough-looking man, seeing Sir James’s stick descending towards him, and reinforcements on the way, so to speak, quickly concluded that discretion was the proverbially better part of valour and took to his heels.
The nursemaid hugged young Lord Hammerford, who had burst into tears. I looked at Sir James, and Sir James looked at me. ‘Shall I go after him?’ I asked.
The coachman, who had started off after the rough and chased him for a few paces, returned and shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir, can’t catch him,’ said he. ‘He’s at the end of the road now.’
It was true. For a big man, the would-be kidnapper had moved remarkably fast. I glanced around for a policeman. I could not see one, but a man in a commissionaire’s uniform had seen the commotion and was making his way towards us, and I recognized him. ‘Look here, Peterson,’ I told him, ‘some villain has just attempted to make off with this young chap. Would you be a good fellow and ride along with them, just to be on the safe side?’
Peterson readily agreed, and with him and the coachman on the alert I had few fears for the safety of the little party. Sir James and I watched the carriage until it turned the corner, then looked at one another. ‘Holmes should be told of this,’ said I. ‘It may have some bearing on this other business.’
‘I think you are right, Doctor. And I think I might venture to hazard a guess as to just what that bearing is.’ Sir James led the way up to our sitting room, where Holmes was sunk in an armchair, his pipe emitting great clouds of smoke.
He glanced up as we entered the room, all badly suppressed excitement. ‘I — hello! What’s the matter, then?’
‘Holmes, an attempt has just been made to kidnap young Lord Hammerford,’ I told him.
‘What?’ He fairly roared it out.
‘Yes,’ said Sir James, ‘and I think I know who was behind it.’
Holmes waved a hand for silence, then asked me for an account of what had happened, which I gave him in a few words. He was silent for a moment, then looked at me gravely. ‘You are satisfied that the boy is safe?’
‘I am, Holmes. Peterson is with them, and the coachman looks as if he’d be pretty handy in a scrap. But I think you will agree that this alters things slightly.’
He nodded. ‘It does indeed, Watson.’
I went on, ‘Of course we must take his case. As you yourself said, if it had been a mere abstract problem, there would not have been a moment’s hesitation on your part. Then this kidnap attempt shows that he is in serious danger, and there can be no doubt in anyone’s mind that the inheritance is somehow at the back of it. And as a final point, if you’re still concerned about this nonsense of his relying on his own wits, I should have thought that by asking you to take the matter in hand on his behalf the lad showed first-class judgement. Nothing wrong with his mind there, Holmes. If that isn’t using his wits, then what is, pray? By my way of thinking, that circumstance alone is proof enough, not that proof were needed, that the lad is a true Hammerford.’
Holmes shrugged his shoulders in mock resignation. ‘Vox Watsoni, vox Dei est,’ he told Sir James. ‘We accept the case, thanks to the would-be kidnapper, and not to you, Sir James. And I note, where Watson evidently does not, the fact that you had clearly
put the lad up to replying as he did.’
‘Why, of course I did! What the devil does such a young boy know of the wicked world, or yet of you, Mr Holmes? But what of the kidnapper?’
‘The rough ran off at a fair speed, Holmes,’ I added. ‘We did not think it worth pursuing him.’
‘But I can tell you who put him up to it!’ cried Sir James.
‘Indeed?’
‘Indeed. It must have been Sir George.’
‘Sir George Lewis, the relative by marriage and rival claimant under the terms of the will?’
‘None other. Who else would have any reason to harm the lad?’
Holmes shook his head. ‘These are deep waters, Sir James. Deeper than you had led me to believe.’ He sat up. ‘But that is all to the good, from your point of view, for it gives me a reason to take an interest in the matter.’
‘I am gratified to hear it, Mr Holmes. Good has come out of evil, which is a rare thing in this wicked world. But I was sure you would take the case, sir.’ Sir James rubbed his hands with delight. ‘And Mycroft agreed with me.’
‘Oh? You have spoken to my brother, then?’
‘He is an old friend,’ Sir James told him, ‘and I consulted him before ever I thought of you. He solved the riddle, by the way, but was disinclined to take the matter further, muttering something about “trouble in the Balkans”, for all the world as if there were ever anything else there. “If Sherlock cannot help”, he told me, “you may call upon me again a week on Tuesday, when things are quieter, and I shall explain it all to you”, and he waved me away. He did not even tell me what the riddle meant, but I could tell by his face that he had solved it. Or the first one, I should say, for I suspect there will be a considerable trail to follow before we find the treasure.’
‘Ah, the riddle, yes,’ said Holmes, evidently nettled that Sir James had only considered him as a second choice. ‘We had best take a look at that.’
