by John Hall
‘I expected nothing else,’ said Sir George. ‘And, that being the case, I’ll take my leave, with many thanks for your consideration.’
‘Very well. But shall we agree to leave the discussions open?’ suggested Holmes. ‘We may find that pooling our efforts looks more tempting as time goes on.’
Sir George shrugged. ‘I’m game if you are. It’s Sir James you must convince.’ And with that, he took his leave.
When he had gone, Holmes looked angrily at Sir James. ‘I can scarcely believe that you have acquired so shining a reputation as a diplomat, Sir James. I would have treated with him,’ he said.
‘Fifty-fifty? Come, Mr Holmes!’
‘A quarter of a million is better than nothing at all, Sir James. And besides, if this Sir George is as desperate for cash as you seem to think, and as he himself suggests, it might not have taken quite that much to ensure his co-operation. A few thousand might be money well spent to safeguard the bulk of the treasure. Although I myself would have opened the bidding at a more modest level, five hundred, shall we say?’
Sir James laughed at this. ‘The rascal would never have settled for that.’
‘No, but he might have settled for ten times that, which would still have been a modest finder’s fee, should one choose to consider it in that light. Now, you must excuse me. I shall be back as soon as may be, and you will please stay here until I return.’ And, before either Sir James or I could speak, Holmes was out of his chair and away.
‘Well!’ said a surprised Sir James, looking at the door. ‘And what’s he up to, d’you think?’
‘I suspect he’s following Sir George,’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine what else he’d be doing. You mustn’t mind Holmes, Sir James, he ignores some of the conventional pretensions of society, but that’s just his way. His methods may not be to everyone’s taste, but they get results. By the way, we have a little commission for Peterson, if you are sure the boy will be safe with you.’
‘Oh, yes, he’ll be safe enough once he’s back at my house. In my line of business, I have to make make certain the house is secure, you understand.’
‘Of course.’
‘So you can have Peterson whenever you want him.’ Sir James stretched, and looked at his watch. ‘Well, since we’re to stay here, what do you say to a spot of lunch? I see the General is stirring, so evidently he feels it must be nearly the hour.’
I agreed readily enough, for the club had an excellent reputation for its food. As we moved to the dining room, Sir James asked me, ‘By the way, Watson, what do you think to our Sir George?’
‘Headstrong, I should say. But by no means unlikeable, under the right circumstances. A bad enemy, but a good friend, or I miss my guess.’
Sir James nodded. ‘So I think, too.’
‘He’s a good talker,’ I added.
‘Ah, that’s the Irish in him!’ said Sir James. He reflected a moment. ‘He has a way with him, as my old mother would have said, there’s no denying it. Under the right circumstances, we might have been friends. Still, you can’t change things that easily.’
We had our lunch, and a couple of cigars. Sir James was a good talker, and we exchanged a few yarns about our military service, our travels, and the like. Still, as time wore on I fear we both became a little restive. Sir James had looked at his watch a dozen times before Holmes eventually strolled into the room as if nothing had happened. ‘Ah, Mr Holmes, at last!’ said Sir James. ‘We were hoping you would return ere long.’
Holmes laughed. ‘My apologies, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘but I had urgent business. However, I am now quite at your disposal.’
Sir James nodded at the envelope which still lay, unopened, upon the table. ‘Is it not time we were getting on, Mr Holmes?’
Holmes nodded. ‘Before I agree to continue, though, I must insist that you leave any future discussions, whether with Sir George or anyone else, to me.’
Sir James frowned, then nodded. ‘Agreed. Now, let us see what the next clue may be.’
Holmes slit open the envelope, and took out the sheet of paper it contained.
Four
Sherlock Holmes took out the sheet of paper, and studied it intently for a time before placing it upon the table. I read —
‘EMHMNQ OBPSLBEHJ KG KAD KAEDD IDQQDH CBED, JDD QGIHFMJA QGMNQ VT BNH HGLN.’
It was, of course, quite wrong of me, but as so often on these occasions I fear that I could not resist the temptation. ‘A code of some sort, perhaps, Holmes?’
‘Remarkable, Watson!’ he laughed. ‘From your alertness of mind no less than your liveliness of demeanour, I venture to deduce a bottle, if not two, of Beaune at lunch. Yes, my boy, a simple transposition, I fancy. What do you make of it?’
‘Well, I know that “e” is the most frequent letter, as a rule, and we have seven, no, eight occurrences of the letter “d” here, and no other letter occurs more often, so take that as a first step.’ I scratched my head, metaphorically speaking. ‘Perhaps I had best leave the rest to you, Holmes.’
He laughed. ‘We have “jdd” here, Watson. If your “d” equals “e” is correct, then, despite the tempting theory that there is an apiarist or a golfer involved, the logical word is “see” something or another. H’mm! Unfortunately, “j” does not occur as frequently as one might wish. Still, if we then go on to assume that “kad” is “the”, which is a logical assumption for a three-letter group ending in “e”, then where does that take us?’ He produced a piece of paper and a pencil, and began scribbling away.
Fired by Holmes’s enthusiasm, I picked up a piece of paper myself. ‘If “k” is “t”, “a” is “h” and “d” is “e”, then “e” must be “r”, surely? The fifth word must be “three” something,’ I pointed out. ‘And “kg” must be “to”, if “kad” is “the”, for nothing else makes sense.’
‘Well done!’ Yes, so let us take as a first theory that “a” in the code is “h”, and “d” is “e”, “e” is “r”, “g” is “o” —’
‘ “Hero”! Oh, no, for there are some gaps.’
‘But not so many as to be inexplicable,’ said Holmes in a kindly tone. ‘Try “Hammerford”, Watson.’ He scribbled away again, frowned, then laughed. ‘Yes, his own name, “Hammerford”, ignoring any duplication of the letters, then “last will and —” and “testament” would come next, of course, only the letters had all been used. Then, I fancy, the rest of the alphabet in its regular order, although that is less important. Only instead of using “h” for “a”, as you or I might have done, he has reversed it, so to speak, used the regular alphabet as the code, if I make it clear.’
He did not, but I had the gist of it, and you can readily imagine that I would not give him the satisfaction of explaining further. ‘Oh, absolutely. As crystal, Holmes.’
Sir James, who had been looking on in some evident bewilderment, cleared his throat. ‘You are, of course, used to this sort of thing, Mr Holmes, and Doctor Watson here is clearly not much less expert than yourself, but I am afraid —’
‘Ah. I beg your pardon, Sir James. Lord Hammerford wrote down his own name, “Hammerford”, then the phrase “last will and testament”, which seemed appropriate to him under the circumstances. Then those letters, in their order, correspond to the letters of the conventional “abc”. Some letters occur twice, but duplication is simply ignored. Then the rest of the alphabet follows in its normal order. You follow?’
‘Not entirely, but I am sure that you are correct,’ Sir James told him.
Holmes frowned at his piece of paper.
‘Well?’ asked Sir James.
‘Well, I fear that after all that, it does not immediately mean a great deal.’ Holmes passed the sheet to me.
‘ “Riding backwards to the three-legged mare, see goldfish going up and down”,’ I read aloud. ‘Oh, well, Holmes, the best of us can make the occasional mistake. Just have to think again, won’t we?’
He shook his head impatiently. ‘There is no mistake, Watson.
Why, you yourself derived much of the code. No, my boy, this is another little puzzle for us.’
I frowned. ‘The “three-legged mare” was the gallows at Tyburn, of course,’ I ventured. ‘And criminals condemned to hang were driven there seated backwards. Popular superstition claims that it was to add to the ignominy, but most authorities agree that in actual fact it was done that way so that the sight of the gallows might not unnerve them too much, so that they caused no fuss towards the end.’
‘A most interesting aside on criminal history, Watson. More to our immediate purpose, the processional route led up Holborn, if memory serves me correctly?’
‘It does, Holmes. We are to look in Holborn, then, for these — goldfish, was it?’
‘Yes, and going up and down. H’mm.’
‘I cannot recall any suppliers of tropical fish in Holborn,’ said I, doubtfully. ‘What about a taxidermist, though?’
‘Even the most enthusiastic and dedicated of anglers would scarcely have a goldfish stuffed and set in a case!’ said Holmes, laughing. ‘No, my boy, a supplier of aquaria is, as you say, the likely meaning, but I cannot recollect seeing such a shop there either. H’mm. Perhaps one of the side roads is meant? Anyway, we have our location, so it might be as well to take a stroll up Holborn, and see what we may see.’
That we did, and in the most literal sense possible. We strolled from St Paul’s up Newgate Street, Holborn Viaduct, Holborn Circus, Holborn, High Holborn, St Giles, Oxford Street, to Marble Arch. And down. And up again, with an increasing confusion and frustration that eventually came close to despair.
By the time we had made our third circuit it was getting towards the hour of dinner, and still none of us had the slightest idea as to where we should look next. There was no sign of any shop selling aquarium supplies, or anything of that kind, no hint of a goldfish. We did find a seller of singing canaries, and so desperate were we that we even enquired there. ‘Goldfish?’ said the owner, puzzled. ‘No, sorry, gents. I can get you one, though, if you’d like?’
Personally, I was growing increasingly convinced that Holmes had simply read the code wrongly, and hinted as much more than once, but the thunderous expression on his face prevented my elaborating upon this theory. Whether the reading of the code were right or wrong, Holmes was none the less at as much of a loss as I was myself. I had some fears that he was about to suggest a fourth perambulation of the road, but he caught the look in my eye, and laughed aloud. ‘No, Watson,’ he told me, shaking his head, ‘I scarcely think that another walk will tell us more than we have learned already.’
‘Which is precisely nothing.’
‘I would not say that. We have added to our knowledge of London, have we not? And the more alert members of our little group cannot have failed to notice that Sir George Lewis has been keeping a close eye on us from handy doorways and similar lurking spots.’
‘Has he? I had not seen him,’ I exclaimed.
‘Perhaps not, but he is there,’ said Holmes. ‘It is interesting, and perhaps also instructive, for if he had any more idea than we ourselves have, he would surely have gone straight to the position indicated. Indeed, I rather suspect that he has not actually solved the code, but that he is simply following us.’
‘And this mysterious gang of yours? Are they here too?’ I asked, with some disbelief.
‘Oh, yes. There is one of them not a dozen yards behind us now, another on the far side of the road, though I suspect that one is shadowing Sir George. They must be even more puzzled than we are!’ he added with a laugh. He stretched. ‘Well, gentlemen, you may have lunched heartily, but I ate nothing, so if you are agreeable, I suggest we leave it for today, and investigate what Mrs Hudson has prepared for dinner. Who knows, the answer may come if we sleep on it?’ His words were light-hearted enough, and his tone matched them, but I could tell he was bitterly disappointed with our lack of success.
Sir James refused Holmes’s suggestion that we should dine together, saying that it would be as well to ensure that all was well with young Lord Hammerford, following the day’s excitement. ‘Very well,’ Holmes told him, ‘but I must repeat my injunction that you exercise the greatest care not only for the safety of the boy but also that of the rest of your family, including yourself.’
Sir James nodded. ‘I’ll do that, you may be sure. Well, gentlemen, I’ll take my leave now, and call upon you again tomorrow, if that’s satisfactory.’ We saw him safely into a cab, and walked back to Baker Street.
Our ancestors were wont to refer to one who had been flogged at the cart’s tail as having had ‘air and exercise,’ and my own air and exercise in our tracing of the condemned felon’s route back and forth had given me an excellent appetite for my dinner. But Holmes, despite his remarks as to having missed his lunch, did no more than toy with his food. I remonstrated with him, but all in vain, and before I had half finished my own meal he had risen from the table with a mumbled apology, lit his pipe, and started to examine the coded message again. ‘It is right!’ he muttered, more than once, ‘It is right, and yet it makes no sort of sense.’ He was still at it when I said good night and went to bed.
When I came down to breakfast next morning, Holmes was still sitting in his armchair, looking for all the world as if he had never moved all night. ‘Have you been to bed, Holmes?’ I demanded angrily.
He dismissed this ridiculous suggestion with a wave of the hand. ‘There are three possibilities,’ he told me. ‘First, the clue refers to some temporary object or phenomenon, which we could not find because it is no longer there.’
‘Improbable,’ I said, handing him a full plate. ‘Old Lord Hammerford could not know just when he would die and the will would be read. It must be of a more permanent nature.’
Holmes nodded, and began to tackle the food before him. ‘Quite right. Well, then, second, the clue is so very obscure that we have not yet been able to solve it. That is surely the true explanation.’ And he poured himself coffee, and began to eat in earnest, to my great delight, for he often starves himself too much for his own good when engaged on a case.
‘And your third possibility?’ I enquired after a reasonable interval.
He waved his hand again. ‘Oh, that we have indeed made a mistake with the code, but I discount that.’
‘ “We” have made a mistake?’
Holmes laughed, and stood up. ‘That was an excellent breakfast,’ he said. ‘I think I shall take my doctor’s advice, and have a couple of hours’ sleep. The answer may come unbidden to the rested mind.’ And off he went to his room.
I was now at something of a loose end myself. I glanced at the great heap of rough notes and jottings which Holmes had produced in his efforts to find an alternative reading of the code, but could make little of them, beyond the fact that our original interpretation had been correct. ‘Goldfish going up and down, indeed!’ I muttered to myself. And I echoed Holmes’s own comment, ‘Makes no sense at all.’ I gave it up, and decided to take a walk to try to clear my head.
My footsteps took me involuntarily towards Oxford Street, and the memory of last night’s five or six miles’ fruitless walking made me shudder. I hastily crossed the road, and determined to spend the rest of the morning in my club, which is not so large, or so grand, as the one which we had visited on the previous day, but none the less it suits me.
The club was pretty well deserted at that ungodly hour, but on entering the smoking room about the first man I set eyes upon was old Thurston. I was pleased to see him, for Thurston is one of the few men, apart from Holmes, with whom I can claim any sort of friendship. If he has a fault, it is that he is forever trying to make his fortune by speculating in all kinds of strange ventures. He once tried to induce me to go into partnership with him to buy a farm in South Africa, but I thought better of it. Thurston bore me no ill-will for that refusal, saying merely that ‘It was probably just as well, for we’d have failed at it.’ More to my immediate purpose, he has a vast fund of knowledge and stories about the w
orld in general, and London in particular. Indeed, it was Thurston who told me an interesting and most amusing fact about Nelson’s Column, which unfortunately I cannot set down in a publication intended for the general reader. I hailed him, therefore, with some delight, and lost no time in asking what he knew about goldfish.
Thurston shook his head. ‘You mean those sort of tropical whitebait things? Can’t say I know anything, old boy. Oh, they give them away as prizes at fairs. I know that because my nephews are forever taking them home. Drives my sister mad, because the damned things die almost immediately. Still, keeps the cat happy, doesn’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’ I tried one last time. ‘So, if I were to ask you whereabouts in London I could see goldfish going up and down, I suppose you’d have no idea?’
‘Holborn, old chap. The “Queen Victoria” there.’
‘The what? Pub, is it? I didn’t notice —’
Thurston shook his head. ‘New gentlemen’s convenience. I don’t really mean “new gentlemen”, of course, but rather a new convenience for the — ah, well, the convenience of gentlemen,’ he explained. ‘Been built a couple of years, now.’
‘You’re pulling my leg?’
Thurston shook his head. ‘Fact. ’Ninety-eight, if I remember correctly.’
‘No, I mean about the goldfish. And why “Queen Victoria”, pray?’
‘Oh, I see what you mean. I don’t know why they call ’em “Queen Victorias”, unless it refers to the Act which established them early on in her reign. Better than some names I’ve heard for them, of course.’
‘And the goldfish, man?’ I snarled.
