Notes From the Dispatch Box of John H Watson, MD

by Ashton, Hugh

  It struck me that although there was no immediate need for action, when the time did come, it would be necessary for me to move fast, and to have everything in preparation ready for the event. I said this to her, and she appeared pleased. “ You are obviously the right man for the job,” she remarked approvingly.

  “ I hope that I can make plans which will come to fruition along with the best of them,” I said, more than a little flattered by this appraisal.

  She looked at me speculatively. “ In the shorter scheme of things, what are your plans for this evening, John ? ”

  “ I have nothing on hand.”

  “ Excellent. In which case, let me order a bottle of champagne and a dozen of oysters for each of us, and we can enjoy a private evening together.”

  A few hours later I left her hotel room. “ You know, I do not believe in the aphrodisiac properties of oysters any more,” she said to me.

  “ What do you mean ? ” I replied, a little chagrined. I believed that I had given sufficient satisfaction.

  “ You consumed the full dozen of your oysters, but only five of them had an effect,” she answered with a straight face, but almost immediately burst out laughing. “ Oh, John, you should have seen your own face just then. The vanity of men ! ” She returned to seriousness. “ I probably will not see you again until all this is completed, but I want you to know that I am delighted that it is you, and not some complete stranger, who is carrying out this errand for me.” She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. “ Now go, John. Go, and do this for me, and I will be waiting for you when it is all over.”

  I walked back to my lodgings in a kind of daze. As I had said to Elizabeth, it would be necessary for me to make plans in advance so that when the day came all would be ready. I was under no illusions regarding her affection, though. I had more than sufficient knowledge of her behaviour in the past, and I had no reason to believe that it had in any way changed. Be that as it may, the memory of her soft skin and pliant limbs was pleasant, and carried me through the next few weeks as I laid my plans, making a journey up to Northumberland, and several to the West Country.

  Some three months after my conversation with Elizabeth, I received word that the time was near and that I was to deliver a healthy male baby to Hareby Hall.

  I began to make enquiries to start putting my plans in motion. By now I had access to many of the sources of information that fed Moriarty’s network. My spies informed me that the gypsy encampment that I sought was presently somewhere outside Norwich, and I made my way there.

  To my delight, my erstwhile companion, Mary, was still with the band, and professed herself delighted to be in my company once again. To my further satisfaction, she had recently given birth to a daughter, to whom she was still giving suck. This was an unexpected advantage to me in my plans. With the aid of a few sovereigns, I was able to persuade Mary’s husband that she should accompany me, together with her baby, for a few days, and whatever I may have been to her in the past, this was now a matter of ancient history. I swore this to him by all that he and I held holy. I am of the opinion, though, that the golden coins I passed to him were stronger proof of my good faith than all the oaths that I swore.

  Taking Mary with me, together with her babe, I travelled to Devon, where I had previously befriended the overseer of an orphanage in Taunton. You may smile to think of a smartly dressed gentlemen such as myself travelling in company with a gypsy woman, but I was prepared for this, and while I myself was dressed as a respectable working man, Mary and her baby were clad in garments which I had supplied, matching my own apparent status. Naturally, we were not travelling first-class on the trains, and I am confident that we aroused no suspicion or curiosity in the minds of our fellow travellers.

  Not trusting my own judgement in the matter of selecting babies—a procedure in which I had no experience whatsoever—I requested that Mary should select a fine healthy male baby not more than two weeks old. Happily, such an infant was available, and its little hand clung to Mary’s finger as if it were that of its own mother. I paid the overseer the amount that we had previously agreed, and we departed Taunton. In the train compartment that we shared, with no other passengers to disturb our privacy, Mary fed both infants, and even I, who do not consider myself in any way to being domestically inclined, was touched by the sight.

  “ What’s going to happen to him, then ? ” Mary asked me.

  “ It’s all the toss of a coin,” I told her. “ If another woman has a girl, this little fellow will end up being a Lord’s son. If she has a boy, he will grow up in a cottage.”

  “ And if it’s a girl, what’s going to happen to that girl ? ” Mary persisted.

  “ She’ll be well looked after,” I assured her. I had, indeed, made arrangements for another child to be cared for, no matter whether it was a boy or a girl of which Elizabeth was delivered.

  “ That’s good to know.” Mary seemed to be reassured by this news.

  The train journey to the North was a long one, and we stopped at a hotel in the Midlands. True to the word that I had given to Mary’s husband, we slept in separate beds. Indeed, I would have gone further and slept in a separate room, but Mary insisted that she had never slept alone in her life, and the prospect frightened her. Breakfast at the hotel was obviously an unfamiliar experience, but I was proud of her as she watched my movements and copied them. It occurred to me once more that were I to give up my present way of life, life with a group which included women such as Mary would be far from the worst choice I could make.

  Eventually we reached Berwick-upon-Tweed, and I lodged Mary and her baby in an inn close to the station, taking the baby boy with me in a hired trap that I drove myself to the cottage where I was to deliver him. The door was opened to me by an old woman, whom I confirmed was the midwife who would be present at the confinement of Lady Elizabeth. She exclaimed over the infant, and I handed him over, together with some money. I had previously made arrangements with her for a certain sum of money, but she demanded guineas rather than pounds, and I was in little position to refuse her demands.

  I was more than a little sad to leave the baby with her, having become slightly attached to it during the journey from Taunton, much to my surprise, as I had never fancied myself to be susceptible to that kind of sentiment. I drove the trap back to Berwick, and met Mary at the hotel.

  “ Is he safe ? ” she asked me anxiously. Obviously she too had taken a fancy to the little boy.

  “ I think so,” I said to her. On reflection, I now know that I would never have left the baby in the care of the old woman had I not instinctively trusted her to care for him. If I have felt that he was in any way in danger of being maltreated or neglected, I am convinced that I would never have left him there. How I would have accomplished my mission, though, I do not know. Maybe I would simply have gone back to the gypsies with Mary and started a new life as a traveller.

  In any event, my job as I saw it now was to return Mary and her baby back to her husband. Again we travelled as man and wife, passing the night in Lincoln as we had the previous night, in separate beds. I felt some sense of loss when I parted from Mary at her encampment, but I was happy to see her back in the life where she belonged among her own folk.

  When I returned to London, I sent a message reporting my actions, and a few days later received another visit, again unannounced, from Colonel Moran.

  “ We have received word from Hareby Hall,” he began. “ Lady Elizabeth was delivered of a girl a few days ago, and the substitution of the boy that you took up there was successfully accomplished. As far as the family is concerned, she was delivered of a boy.”

  I could not contain my curiosity. “ What happened to her baby girl ? ” I asked.

  “ I had heard that you had made arrangements for the unwanted child to be lodged with the family in the neighbourhood, but it appears that these were not needed. Lady Elizabeth found it impossible to part completely with her child, and has secreted it, with a wet nurse,
in a hidden chamber in a remote part of the Hall. Naturally,” he added, anticipating my next question, “ I have no idea of its eventual fate.”

  “ I take it we may regard this operation as having been a success, then ? ”

  “ Yes. We are very pleased with the work you have done. The professor asked me to congratulate you, and to let you know that there will be a bonus payment made to you for the efficient way in which carried out the work.” He dug in his coat pocket and withdrew a small leather pouch which he extended to me. I took it in my hand, feeling the weight of the many sovereigns that it contained.

  “ I do not wish it,” I protested, returning the bag to him. “ I would prefer to regard this as having been a favour performed for a friend, rather than work performed for hire.”

  Moran lifted his eyebrows. “ A strange point of view,” he commented. “ Most in our organisation would be grateful for the professor’s offer and generosity.” Though no threat was explicitly stated, there was a certain menace in his voice which led me to believe that there might be adverse consequences should I fail to accept the money which was being offered to me.

  “ Very good, I will accept the professor’s generosity. Please convey my gratitude to him.” I took the bag in my hand, once again feeling the comforting weight of the coins within.

  “ Good man,” he smiled, rising and resting his hand heavily on my shoulder. “ Remember, we always expect you to agree with the professor. You do understand this, being an intelligent man, I am sure.” His hand gripped my shoulder painfully. “ By the by, we have a new crop of cheques for your attention. Please try to be a little more careful with the liquid in the future.” His finger flicked the white spot on my forehead where I had touched the brush to it some months before. He bade me farewell, and left.

  You may be wondering why I was hesitant to take the money. You may also wonder why I took the money at the last. As to the first, my answer was at least partly true. Though I was one of many to Lady Elizabeth, and I had no illusions regarding this, I was vain enough to believe that there was still some kind of special relationship between us. What I had done was, to some extent at any rate, performed as an act of friendship. There was also some kind of morality at work within me, a revulsion against trafficking in children, which this seemed to be. But as Moran talked to me, threatening me with the professor, it occurred to me that the money could be put to good use. I had a plan in mind.

  About two weeks later I was told that Sherlock Holmes had visited Hareby Hall in Northumberland, some weeks earlier and he, or his companion Dr Watson, had been responsible for saving the life of Elizabeth’s husband. I had no definite information as to whether Elizabeth had in any way been involved in the incident, but knowing her as I did, I had a very strong suspicion that that she had had a hand in this.

  It struck me that it would be of some advantage for me to learn more about this Sherlock Holmes, and I spent a little time outside his rooms in Baker Street, and one day followed a man whom I believed at the time to be Holmes himself, but I later discovered to be John Watson, into Hyde Park. I fear I must have been rather careless in my scrutiny of the man, for he noticed my observation of him, and started away.[8] I was, however, unable to catch a glimpse of Sherlock Holmes himself. despite my best efforts in that direction. Indeed, my first face-to-face encounter with Holmes, whom I did not recognise at the time, was immediately prior to my arrest following the little game of the Red-Headed League.

  I was anxious to see Lady Elizabeth on her return to London from Northumberland, but this was not to be the case. I, along with all other readers of the London newspapers, was horrified to learn of her death on the railway in the suburbs of London, following the tragic death by drowning of her husband at the Hall and the unmasking of a scandal involving the substitution of a new-born infant. I could not believe for a minute that her death had been an accident, but a veil of silence appeared to have been drawn around the incident, and I could discover almost nothing about the circumstances.

  I made discreet enquiries about the infants at Hareby, and discovered that the substitution had been uncovered by no less a personage than Sherlock Holmes. The little girl, Elizabeth’s natural child, had been taken into the family, and was apparently loved and cared for. As for the baby boy, for whom I continued to feel some affection, I was pleased to learn that he was being brought up within the household as a companion to his foster-sister, and would lack for nothing in his life. Even though the operation may therefore be regarded overall as a failure, in that Elizabeth Hareby failed to inherit the Darlington estate, the blame for the failure was not laid at my door, and I continued to enjoy the high regard of Professor Moriarty and his henchmen.

  z

  John Clay speaks 5: The orphanage

  I

  have read John Watson’s account of the Red-Headed League, and there is one part in it of which I am particularly proud. It is the point where Inspector Jones tells his audience that he never knows where I will be at any one time.

  He says to them, “ He’ll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next”. His implication, though, is that my activities with regard to the orphanage were fraudulent—that I was collecting money under false pretences. Nothing, I wish to state most clearly, could be further from the truth.

  I mentioned that I was rather taken with the baby I took to Hareby Hall. I had never thought of myself as a family man, but there was something in that small pink crumpled face that touched something inside me. I’ve never been one of those who feel it necessary to hide all their softer feelings, in case they should be thought of as being less than “ real men”. Colonel Moran was one whom I would put in that category. Almost never did I see him exhibit traces of humanity, or the gentler emotions. And yet, I flatter myself that I am no less a man than he. Many ladies of my acquaintance have been able to verify this from their personal experience. Whatever the reasons that men like Moran may have for their bluster and swagger, they are not mine.

  While I am on the subject of Jones, I would like to add a few words to the comments made by him at that time. He made the extraordinary claim that “ I’ve been on his track for years, and have never set eyes on him yet”. This was simply an absurd statement on the part of the police agent. For once I find myself in full agreement with Sherlock Holmes, who told Watson, who repeated this opinion in writing, that he believed Jones to be an “ absolute imbecile”. There is no way that Inspector Jones, had he wished to see me, or even to speak with me, could have found any reason not to do so. I lived in London under my own name, and I was tolerably well known in Society. Jones would merely have had to ring the bell on my front door to be admitted to my presence. However, had he wished to take me into custody or to charge me with offences, he would have found this to be a much more onerous proposition.

  Among the other benefits of working for Moriarty’s organisation, we enjoyed the services of some of the country’s top legal experts in criminal defence. Any attempt to bring charges, or even to bring me to the station for questioning, would have met with spirited opposition, and possible counter-charges for wrongful arrest and detention and so on. I doubt Jones was fully aware of this, but if he had attempted such a move, all this would have been brought to his attention very rapidly. On the other hand, Sherlock Holmes, from everything I could gather from Moran and others, was well aware of the extent and the powers of the organisation for which I was working. In addition, being a private agent and not one of the official police, he had to take great care not to overstep the bounds set by the law. You will remember that my arrest came as the result of being caught red-handed, even though Holmes had made a series of deductions which might have been considered to constitute sufficient grounds for arrest had he been a member of the Metropolitan police force.

  As I say, I was moved by the baby, and sometimes even considered going to Hareby to look in on him, but dismissed the idea, simply on the grounds that it would draw undue atte
ntion to myself. I did, however, consider the orphanage from which I had brought the infant. Though it was clean, and the children appeared to be adequately cared for, the overseer had told me that it was incapable of taking in all the children presented to it. The reason as it was explained to me was that there was an insufficient number of such institutions in that part of the country, and as a result, the one from which I took the baby was overflowing.

  I made some enquiries as to how much it would cost to set up and endow an orphanage capable of meeting the needs of some twenty children, and was surprised how little money was actually needed. I had supposed that such an enterprise could only be carried out by a wealthy landowner or industrialist, but it turned out that I actually had half the necessary money saved away already. As I mentioned, I lived well within my means, and my everyday needs were being met by Moriarty.

  I therefore set my goal—to found such an orphanage in Cornwall, where I had been informed there was a particular shortage of such institutions, and to ensure that it continued to receive money for its support, even without my help.

  I knew it was useless to ask Moriarty to contribute towards this aim, but I had devised a way which would allow me to start my work without further delay. I therefore sent a message via the usual route, asking for a meeting with the head of the organisation. I was almost certain that my request would be granted, and was therefore unsurprised when a carriage drew up outside my residence, and the driver announced that he was to take me to “ meet the Chief”, as he put it.

  “ You don’t mind, guv, if we pull the blinds, do you ? ” he said, suiting the action to his words. This had never occurred before, and it came to me that I was possibly being taken to Moriarty’s actual residence, the location of which was known to very few in the organisation.

  Though I have a good knowledge of the streets of London, possibly as good as that of Mr. Holmes as described by Dr. Watson, I could not tell where we were, other than that we had crossed the river at some point and were now on the Surrey side. After some thirty-five minutes by my watch, the carriage stopped, and the driver opened the door. “ Straight in, if you would, sir,” he said. It was more in the nature of an order than a request, and I stepped out of the carriage almost straight into the hallway of what appeared to be a comfortable suburban villa.