Sherlock Holmes and the Hammerford Will

by John Hall

  ‘No, that’s a fact, too. The — what d’you call ’em? The cisterns, that’s it, they have glass sides, and the chap who looks after the place thought they look like fish tanks, which is quite right, they do, and so he had the rather odd notion of putting goldfish in ’em! Of course, every time the things are flushed, the poor fish go down in the world, until the tide rises again! Ever hear of such a thing? Mind you, I recall one time in Buda-Pesth —’

  But I fear that his tale, interesting though I had no doubt it would be, had to wait, for I was already on my feet and halfway to the door. ‘Thanks,’ I called back to him, ‘I’ll buy you a drink next time I see you. Got to rush now.’

  I fairly ran to Holborn, and quickly found the edifice which Thurston had mentioned. I could not, of course, know just what dispositions the late Lord Hammerford had made for the safe-keeping and collection of the next clue, but I had no doubt that it would be similar to the arrangement at his club. Accordingly, I wandered into the place as if there on business. An elderly gentleman, evidently under some degree of strain, brushed past me as I hesitated in the entrance. ‘Going in, or not?’ he demanded.

  ‘If you must know, sir, I have come to look at the goldfish,’ I told him, feeling rather foolish.

  ‘Well, as long as that’s all you want to gawp at.’

  ‘Really, sir!’

  The attendant, who had evidently overheard this exchange, walked up to me. ‘Lots of gentlemen come to look at my fish, by personal recommendation, as it were, sir,’ he told me.

  ‘Indeed? I was told of them by a friend, just as you say, but I confess I half thought he was joking.’

  ‘No joke, sir.’ The fellow waved towards the ceiling, and I saw that the glass-sided tanks were indeed full of goldfish. ‘Remarkable!’ I said, and handed him a couple of shillings. ‘They must be good for business.’

  He laughed. ‘Quite a tourist attraction, as you might say, sir. It’s just a pity the ladies can’t see them.’

  ‘Indeed.’ I glanced round. ‘Tell me, you don’t happen to recall a certain Lord Hammerford coming here to admire the fish?’

  His expression changed. ‘Lord Hammerford, sir?’ he asked woodenly.

  ‘Yes. I have an idea he may possibly have left something with you, to be called for.’

  His good humour returned at once. ‘This way, sir, if you please.’ He led me into a little room away from the main current of humanity that thronged the place. It was as comfortably furnished as many a bachelor’s flat that I have seen. ‘If you’ll wait a moment, sir,’ and he disappeared, leaving me to admire the decor. A moment later he returned, bearing the now familiar envelope.

  ‘Ah, that’s it,’ said I, handing him a sovereign.

  ‘Thank you, sir. Though that’s been taken care of, as you might say. Well, sir, if that’s all? I have to get back to my work.’

  I thanked him again, and turned to go. Then I stopped, and did some thinking. It was not outside the bounds of possibility that I had been followed here, although the place was one which I might have visited for innocent enough reasons. Having done rather well, or so I flattered myself, it would be idiotic of me to lose this valuable clue by inattention to detail. Accordingly, I removed my hat and lodged the envelope securely therein. I returned my hat to my head, then took from my pocketbook an envelope of broadly similar appearance which happened to be in there, and with this second envelope clutched firmly in my hand, I emerged once more into the daylight.

  I do not think that Holmes himself could have reasoned more acutely, or taken better precautions. That those precautions were justified was proved almost immediately I stepped into the street, blinking at the sunlight after the cool, dark marble interior I had just left. That same large rough whom I had encountered earlier, who was now well on his way to becoming an old acquaintance, suddenly sprang at me from the stream of passers-by, knocked me down, snatched the envelope from my unresisting hand, and made off down the street. A few of the pedestrians gazed curiously at this little drama, but in the way of a London crowd there was little general movement either to help me to my feet or to pursue my attacker.

  One man, though, did bend over me and offer his hand. ‘A little trouble, eh, Doctor?’ I recognized the cynical tones of Sir George Lewis.

  ‘Oh, nothing serious. Thank you, Sir George,’ I said as I got to my feet and dusted myself down.

  ‘Take anything valuable, did he?’ Sir George asked with a nod down the road in the direction in which my assailant had vanished. ‘Seemed to me to snatch an envelope, or something of that kind.’

  ‘Not at all. It was merely a tailor’s bill which I had been intending to pay some time.’

  Sir George threw back his head and laughed, to the astonishment of several ladies and gentlemen on the pavement. ‘It’s the devil himself would be needing a long spoon to sup with Doctor Watson!’ said he. ‘So, it was nothing more than that, was it? For a moment, you know, I thought you might have found the next clue back there,’ and he nodded to the temple of Cloacina from which I had recently emerged.

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ I said, with what conviction I could manage.

  ‘H’mm. Well, you’ll not be offended if I take a look in there myself ?’ Before I could answer, he had entered the building, to emerge in triumph a moment later. ‘Very interesting fish,’ he said. ‘Was that what that code nonsense was all about, then? Damned if I’d ever have solved it. I’m just pleased I decided to follow you!’

  I should have been angry at this, but I found I could not. Despite the fact that Sir George was, for the moment at least, the rival, perhaps even the enemy, of Holmes, and thus of myself, I could not dislike the man. ‘But why me?’ I asked. ‘Holmes would have been a better bet.’

  ‘Ah, but he didn’t shift from the house. Though I thought at first that it might be an elaborate hoax. Still, better to be born lucky than rich, eh?’

  ‘Well, we’re even,’ I said with a laugh. ‘I owe you my thanks for your helping hand, and you owe me yours for the clue.’ As he had done earlier, I looked down the road which my assailant had taken. ‘Look here, Sir George, that fellow had evidently followed me, and I have no doubt that you, too, are being shadowed at the moment. Things seem to be hotting up a bit too much for my taste, I confess. We may both of us be in considerable danger at the moment, particularly when these rogues discover my substitution trick. What do you say to a temporary truce, at least until we reach the cab-stand and can get safely to our respective homes?’

  ‘I’d be all for it,’ said he, ‘but I’ll not be taking a cab today,’ and he tapped his pockets as if to indicate that they were empty.

  ‘Oh, as to that,’ I said, ‘I can manage a small loan,’ and I handed him a few shillings. ‘Pay me back when you can.’

  ‘I’m exceedingly grateful,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘I’ll repay you when this is all over, eh? We’ll sit down and have a drink, and a cigar.’

  ‘And a laugh about all our misadventures?’

  ‘Well,’ said Sir George with a grin, ‘whoever finds the dibs will be laughing, I have no doubt!’

  ‘By the by, how is Peterson?’

  ‘Oh, he’s settled in. I’m very grateful to Mr Holmes, and of course to you, Doctor.’ Sir George seemed positively embarrassed.

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ I told him. ‘We may be thrown into a sort of passing rivalry by this nonsense over the will, but there’s no animosity in it. Merely a professional case for us. And even if it were not so, we could not and would not permit these ruffians to threaten women and children.’

  Sir George stopped, turned to me, and shook my hand vigorously without speaking. We found a couple of cabs, and went our separate ways without more ado.

  Sir James’s carriage was standing at our door when I got back to Baker Street, and the coachman, who was now becoming something of a regular acquaintance, just like the rough, gave me a cynical smile as he touched his hat. When I reached the sitting room, I found Holmes was poring once more over hi
s bits of paper, while Sir James sat silent and morose in a corner, smoking a cigar.

  ‘No luck, eh?’ I asked sympathetically.

  ‘I fear not. I can really see no hope for it but to walk the route yet again, and hope that something suggests itself. Indeed,’ he added with a hint of reprobation, ‘we have been awaiting your return so that we might go together.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know that I can be bothered,’ I said with an exaggerated yawn. The other two stared at me in some astonishment. I went on, ‘It really does not strike me as worthwhile, all this chasing about. Still, if you do find the answer, it might be as well to keep it under your hat,’ and I laid my hat upside down on the table before Holmes.

  Holmes continued to look at me in astonishment for a moment, then he looked at my hat, then finally he picked the hat up and took the envelope from inside it. ‘How on earth did you find this, Watson?’ he asked admiringly.

  ‘It’s a rather curious story, Holmes —’

  ‘Never mind, the important thing is you have it. Well done, Watson!’ and he ripped the envelope open.

  Five

  ‘You have really surpassed yourself this time, Watson,’ said Holmes as he opened the envelope. ‘You must tell us the whole story, but not just at the moment, for time is of the essence. The thing now is to continue the hunt. Do you know if Sir George has also found this particular clue?’

  ‘I fear he has.’

  ‘H’mm. Well, let us see what we have.’ He read the paper, then handed it to me.

  ‘ “The keeper of the graven images holds what you seek”. Sounds almost biblical, Holmes.’

  ‘I fancy it may be quite near at hand, though. Just round the corner, in fact.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Why, Madame Tussaud’s, of course.’ Holmes stood up, and sought his coat and hat.

  ‘You know, Holmes,’ I said as we walked along Baker Street, ‘one flaw in this whole scheme of old Lord Hammerford’s has struck me.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘It is all so very dependent upon the goodwill of individuals. The attendant at the club, another at the — the place where I found this last clue, and presumably yet another whither we now going. Suppose that any one of these various men had died, or moved away? We should never have found the clue they once held. Or suppose that they had grown curious as to what had been entrusted to them? Any one of them might have opened the envelopes, searched for the treasure, and simply denied any knowledge of old Lord Hammerford.’

  Holmes shook his head. ‘You raise some very interesting points, but I think I can answer them. Old Lord Hammerford would not have told them what the envelopes meant, of course, but simply asked them to be kept until called for. Those entrusted with the clues would thus not know that Lord Hammerford himself would not return to collect them, and so they would not dare to open them, or otherwise tamper with them. There was a slight danger, I allow, that they might be tempted to pry once they heard the news of old Lord Hammerford’s death, but then they would surely imagine that the solicitors, or heirs, would enquire after the envelopes — as is indeed the case. Besides, what would a blank sheet of paper, or a curious code, mean to a casual reader? Without the background history, it is meaningless. I presume that they were well paid to be faithful, perhaps they even received a regular fee; whereas on the other hand they had little or nothing to gain by betraying Lord Hammerford’s trust. But there is another point, closely allied to yours, which does cause me concern.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘That the gang which I fear might somehow intimidate or bribe one of the guardians of the clues, and put up an obstacle that way. Or Sir George himself might do something along those lines.’

  ‘I hardly think a gentleman would act in such a fashion, Holmes.’

  ‘Possibly not, under normal circumstances, but half a million might overcome a good many gentlemanly scruples.’ He frowned. ‘And now that I come to think of it, I may have dismissed your other suggestions too lightly. Now that the will has been published, the thought of this vast fortune may arouse idle curiosity and might weaken even an honest servant’s resolve. In that instance it is less their solving the riddles that I fear, but more the fact that they might destroy or withhold them, so they are lost to us.’ And his stride lengthened at the thought.

  Madame Tussaud’s world-famous establishment is, of course, at no great distance from our rooms in 221B, and in a couple of minutes we were there, to find the usual horde of trippers thronged around the entrance. Holmes showed a touch of impatience, and when the crowd had thinned out temporarily, he approached the attendant.

  ‘Shilling each, sixpence extra for the Chamber of ’Orrors and the relics of Napoleon,’ said the man.

  ‘Ah, no, you misunderstand. We do not wish to see the exhibits,’ said Holmes. He took out a half-sovereign, and weighed it in his hand. ‘I believe you have a message of some sort, an envelope, perhaps, to be called for, by friends of Lord Hammerford? We should be most grateful —’

  ‘I’m sure you would, but I haven’t the least notion of what you’re talking about.’ Had there not been a window between them, I am sure that the fellow would have shoved Holmes aside bodily to allow the next batch of sightseers access to the show.

  ‘H’mm. This is not what I was expecting,’ said Holmes, springing nimbly aside as a large lady prodded him in the ribs with her umbrella by way of encouraging him to relocate himself. ‘No need to push, madam, I shall happily get out of your way as soon as I can.’

  ‘What did I tell you?’ I asked, as we moved out of the stream. ‘This fellow has been somehow enticed or bullied into betraying his trust.’

  Holmes shook his head. ‘If he is dissembling, then he is a very good actor,’ he told me. He waited again until the rush had fallen off somewhat, then approached the man again, this time with a whole sovereign prominently displayed. ‘Perhaps I phrased my question badly,’ Holmes began, ‘but are you sure the name “Hammerford” really means nothing to you?’

  ‘I wish it did, sir,’ said the man, eyeing the little glittering disc, ‘but you see, I’ve only been in this job a couple of days, so I’m just learning the ropes, as you might say.’

  ‘Ah!’ Holmes handed the coin over the counter. ‘What was the name of the man who had the post before you, do you know?’

  ‘Can’t say as I do, sir. He’d gone, you see, when I started.’

  ‘Retired, was it? Or —?’

  ‘No, sir, retired. The manager would be able to tell you more, if you was to ask him. In the office, sir, down the corridor there.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Holmes led the way down a short corridor, and tapped at the door labelled ‘Manager’.

  ‘Yes?’ came from within.

  Holmes opened the door and led us inside. The manager, a short, dark man, rose from his desk as we entered, and looked a question at Holmes.

  ‘My name is Sherlock Homes, this is Doctor Watson, and Sir James Damery.’

  ‘Indeed? I have heard your name, of course, Mr Holmes. And you, Doctor. And Sir James! You honour me, gentlemen. Please, sit down, and tell me how I may be of service. You are not here,’ he glanced round and lowered his voice, ‘officially, as it were?’

  ‘We shall not disturb you,’ said Holmes. ‘We are engaged upon a small investigation, and you are in a position to assist us greatly, if you will.’

  ‘Of course, of course! Anything, Mr Holmes. You have but to name it.’

  ‘We are looking for the gentleman who worked in the ticket office until quite recently.’

  ‘Oh.’ The manager seemed disappointed that it was so simple, but soon recovered his composure. ‘His name was Wetherspoon,’ he said. ‘Nice old chap. He retired a week or so back. I have his address here,’ and he rummaged amongst some papers, found what he sought, and gave us the address, which proved to be in Bow. Holmes thanked him, and we made our way into the street.

  ‘No need of a cab, we can take my carriage,’ said Sir James, and we
headed back to our rooms, and were very soon on our way, going towards the East End.

  As the carriage moved along at a smart pace, I could not help telling Holmes, ‘This rather seems to vindicate my theory, does it not? Of course, if old Lord Hammerford had still been alive, he could simply have made new arrangements with the new man, but as it was, the previous ticket man could not possibly know what should be done with the letters entrusted to him.’

  ‘H’mm. You may well be right,’ said Holmes, who always hated to acknowledge that he was wrong.

  Feeling considerably more complacent than was good for my soul, I sank back in my seat and maintained a self-satisfied silence for the remainder of the short journey.

  We pulled up in an ordinary enough street at no great distance from Victoria Park, and Holmes knocked upon the door of a house which was no different from any of its neighbours. After a lengthy interval, the door was opened by an elderly man in his shirt sleeves.

  ‘Mr Wetherspoon?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘That I am, sir.’

  ‘You worked until quite recently in the ticket office at Madame Tussaud’s, I believe?’

  ‘I did, sir. Nothing wrong, is there?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘No, no, nothing of that kind,’ said Holmes. He took yet another half-sovereign from his waistcoat pocket, and toyed idly with it. ‘I merely wished to ask if the name “Lord Hammerford” meant anything to you?’

  Old Mr Wetherspoon frowned. ‘Can’t say as I recollect the name, sir,’ he said at last, with some disappointment in his voice.

  ‘No-one ever left anything with you, to be called for? A couple of envelopes, or anything of that sort?’

  Mr Wetherspoon shook his head. ‘Folk sometimes asked me to give a message to someone they expected to meet, and that kind of thing, of course. But never envelopes, sir, no.’

  ‘I see. Well, thank you for your trouble, and I’m sorry to have disturbed you like this.’ Holmes handed the coin over, but I could tell he was nonplussed.

  As the door closed, I said, ‘You think he is telling the truth, Holmes?’