17Once the most complete of the numerous British railway guides. Bradshaw’s Monthly Railway Guide (originally Bradshaw’s Railway Time-Tables, first published in 1839) ceased publication in 1961. Its first publisher was George Bradshaw, a Quaker engraver and printer.
18Acetones are an apparently useless byproduct of fat metabolism, often found in the blood, breath, or urine. Donald A. Redmond suggests (“Some Chemical Problems in the Canon”) that Holmes was “investigating the acetone bodies in blood—we know his intense interest in blood.”
19Winchester became the capital of the Saxon kingdom of Wessex in 519 and the capital of England (under Alfred the Great) in 827, serving as the seat of government for Alfred, Canute the Dane, and William the Conqueror; even after the Norman Conquest and the political ascendancy of London, Winchester remained an important commercial centre but eventually lost its preeminence, especially after a serious fire ravaged the city in 1141.
20Aldershot, to be visited by Holmes and Watson in the adventure of “The Crooked Man,” once housed Britain’s largest military training centre, which was established in 1854.
21Ian McQueen sees this remark as evidence of Watson’s eagerness to see Violet Hunter and of his estrangement from his wife.
22“Holmes’s reaction was decidedly un-English,” Clarke Olney comments bemusedly of this atypically dark soliloquy. “French, perhaps, even, one is tempted to say, Russian.” Conversely, Gordon Speck, in “Sherlock Holmes: An Augustan in a Romantic World,” describes Holmes’s seemingly dire attitude as “neo-classicism” instead; the detective in his logic sees only those things that pertain to his investigative work. (Watson is then Holmes’s “Romantic foil,” whose more emotional nature provides a necessary complement.) Such single-mindedness seems the only explanation for Holmes’s characterisation of the countryside, Speck goes on, for “How else could Holmes describe rural England as the scene of ‘a more dreadful record of sin’ than ‘the lowest and vilest alleys of London’ with Jack the Ripper busy in London carving his niche in history?”
23Note that in “The Missing Three-Quarter,” Holmes remarks to Watson: “I had seven different schemes for getting a glimpse of that telegram”; in “The Naval Treaty,” he tells Percy Phelps that he has furnished him with seven different clues.
24Curiously, Watson did not disguise the name of this hotel, for Baedeker’s Great Britain lists it as a hotel in Winchester.
25A woollen fabric, undyed. Mary Morstan (The Sign of Four) shared this fashion with Violet Hunter.
26Victorian “funny stories” proliferated in Tit-Bits, a magazine published by George Newnes, publisher of the Strand Magazine. The magazine mixed longer humourous pieces with one-paragraph jokes. A sample from the February 7, 1885, issue: “Two tradesmen met recently. Said one to the other, ‘How is business?’ ‘Poor,’ was the reply. ‘I met with a little accident. Night before last burglars broke into my shop, but left without taking anything. Everything was marked so low they came around next morning and made purchases.’ ”
27The spaniel in “The Sussex Vampire” was also named Carlo.
28The mastiff breed dates back more than 2,000 years, when the powerful canine was developed in England as a fighting dog and guard dog. Julius Caesar’s account of the Roman invasion of Britain in 55 B.C. cites the courage and fighting ability of the mastiff, and in fact mastiffs were later sent to Rome to fight in arenas. In England, the dogs were used in competitions such as bear-baiting and dogfights until the banning of such blood sports in 1835. Yet as a guardian of homes, the mastiff has been bred to be calm, affectionate, and gentle with children. The purest breed of mastiff, the Old English Mastiff (which Carlo presumably was), became largely extinct after World War II, but various descendant breeds exist around the world today.
29Feeling that she has exhausted her efforts to attract Holmes as a man, suggests Isaac George, Violet Hunter now must tell Holmes of those qualities “that will appeal to him as a great detective.” She emphasizes her sleuthing prowess and her resourcefulness in investigating the house. However, her first impression of Rucastle as “fascinating” and “thoughtful” undercuts this effort.
30These two sentences—“I found myself lying on my bed trembling . . . I thought of you”—are highly suggestive when read in the light of the “long consultation.” See note 16.
31As a mastiff, Eleanor S. Cole points out, in “Holmes, Watson and the K-9’s,” Carlo could not have “bayed,” but instead would have roared or growled. In addition, of course, hounds are completely different dogs from mastiffs. Cole names the Irish wolfhound and the Scottish deerhound, “which both exceed the mastiff in height, but not in substance.”
32Ray Betzner, in “Whatever Happened to Baby Rucastle?,” suggests that Edward Rucastle (he of the abnormally large head) and Carlo (he of the projecting bones) were the same person, a boy werewolf. In fact, after the shooting of Carlo, it is as if Edward had vanished . . .
33Seven patients in the Canon are mentioned as having the disease “brain fever,” which, Alvin E. Rodin and Jack D. Key write in Medical Casebook of Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle, “we can characterize . . . as one which follows quickly on a severe emotional shock, which exhibits weight loss, weakness, pallor, and high fever, and which has a protracted course. Most patients recover, but insanity or death is possible. . . .” Watson seems to have frequently reported a vague affliction, to be sure, but one that was recorded by other nineteenth-century writers as well: Rodin and Key single out Catherine Linton in Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights (1847), Emma Bovary in Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (1857), and Lucy Feverel in George Meredith’s The Ordeal of Richard Feverel (1859). Such preponderance of brain fever in the literature of the day would seem to validate it as a medical diagnosis; Rodin and Key further cite an 1892 medical textbook that lists “fever” as a manifestation of an hysterical reaction, as well as a modern dictionary that equates brain fever with meningitis.
34On what basis did Holmes identify Fowler as a sailor?
35Note that Holmes’s earlier deduction about the ladder is wrong and makes no sense in any event. Why would Rucastle have needed to remove her through the skylight? Holmes often makes incorrect deductions (see, for example, “The Second Stain,” in which he vehemently argues against coincidence) but seems to follow a policy of not admitting error unless someone calls attention to his mistake. “The Yellow Face,” in which Holmes’s theory of the case is proven completely wrong, records the most famous instance of Holmes’s admission of error.
36A legal term, meaning the right to be heard by a court, now expressed as “legal standing.”
37A British colony since 1810, Mauritius was an important way station on the route to India. The many sugar plantations on the island were worked by African slaves until Britain abolished slavery in 1835 and imported labourers from India (whose descendants make up much of the population today). The colony gained its independence in 1968.
38Christopher Morley elaborates on Watson’s disappointment (and his hopes for Holmes) in “Dr. Watson’s Secret”: “. . . how delightful, the Doctor thought naively, if he and Holmes should both marry governesses—and alumnae of the same agency, for undoubtedly Mary, too, had been a client of Westaway’s.”
39For a woman of such talents, perhaps there is more to Miss Hunter’s future than meets the eye. Lord Donegall is of the view that Violet Hunter, upon Holmes’s recommendation, became a special agent, with her position as “head of a private school” serving as a mere cover provided by an operative such as Holmes’s brother Mycroft. “It would also explain,” Lord Donegall posits, “why we hear no more of this gifted young lady’s remarkable skills; not forgetting her French and German.”
SILVER BLAZE1
“Silver Blaze,” the first case of the Memoirs stories (a series that commenced five months after conclusion of the Adventures), is one of the most famous sporting mysteries ever penned. Watson presents the case, set in racing circles, as another “fair-play” murder mystery
, with the villain concealed in plain view. Holmes’s well-known remark about “the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime” has been widely repeated in many contexts and has become a catch-phrase for a “negative inference.” Although many question the accuracy of Watson’s reporting of the sporting details of the adventure, few would dispute that Holmes’s powers are here at their peak. His computation of the speed of the train has been amply demonstrated to be accurate, and his careful observation of sheep leads to the capture of an unlikely killer. The only blemish on the tale is the evidence that Holmes placed an unethical bet on the race.
I AM AFRAID, Watson, that I shall have to go,” said Holmes, as we sat down together to our breakfast one morning.
“Go! Where to?”
“To Dartmoor2—to King’s Pyland.”
I was not surprised. Indeed, my only wonder was that he had not already been mixed up in this extraordinary case, which was the one topic of conversation through the length and breadth of England. For a whole day my companion had rambled about the room with his chin upon his chest and his brows knitted, charging and re-charging his pipe with the strongest black tobacco, and absolutely deaf to any of my questions or remarks. Fresh editions of every paper had been sent up by our news agent only to be glanced over and tossed down into a corner. Yet, silent as he was, I knew perfectly well what it was over which he was brooding. There was but one problem before the public which could challenge his powers of analysis, and that was the singular disappearance of the favourite for the Wessex Cup and the tragic murder of its trainer. When, therefore, he suddenly announced his intention of setting out for the scene of the drama, it was only what I had both expected and hoped for.
“I should be most happy to go down with you if I should not be in the way,” said I.
“My dear Watson, you would confer a great favour upon me by coming. And I think that your time will not be mis-spent, for there are points about the case which promise to make it an absolutely unique one. We have, I think, just time to catch our train at Paddington, and I will go further into the matter upon our journey. You would oblige me by bringing with you your very excellent field-glass.”
And so it happened that an hour or so later I found myself in the corner of a first-class carriage, flying along, en route for Exeter, while Sherlock Holmes, with his sharp, eager face framed in his ear-flapped traveling cap,3 dipped rapidly into the bundle of fresh papers which he had procured at Paddington. We had left Reading far behind us before he thrust the last of them under the seat, and offered me his cigar-case.
“We are going well,” said he, looking out of the window, and glancing at his watch. “Our rate at present is fifty-three and a half miles an hour.”4
“I have not observed the quarter-mile posts,” said I.
“Nor have I. But the telegraph posts upon this line are sixty yards apart, and the calculation is a simple one.5 I presume that you have already looked into this matter of the murder of John Straker and the disappearance of Silver Blaze?”
“I have seen what the Telegraph and the Chronicle have to say.”
“It is one of those cases where the art of the reasoner should be used rather for the sifting of details than for the acquiring of fresh evidence. The tragedy has been so uncommon, so complete, and of such personal importance to so many people, that we are suffering from a plethora of surmise, conjecture, and hypothesis. The difficulty is to detach the framework of fact—of absolute, undeniable fact—from the embellishments of theorists and reporters. Then, having established ourselves upon this sound basis, it is our duty to see what inferences may be drawn, and what are the special points upon which the whole mystery turns. On Tuesday evening I received telegrams from both Colonel Ross, the owner of the horse, and from Inspector Gregory, who is looking after the case, inviting my co-operation.”
“Tuesday evening!” I exclaimed. “And this is Thursday morning. Why did you not go down yesterday?”
“Because I made a blunder, my dear Watson—which is, I am afraid, a more common occurrence than anyone would think who only knew me through your memoirs. The fact is, that I could not believe it possible that the most remarkable horse in England could long remain concealed, especially in so sparsely inhabited a place as the north of Dartmoor. From hour to hour yesterday I expected to hear that he had been found, and that his abductor was the murderer of John Straker. When, however, another morning had come and I found that, beyond the arrest of young Fitzroy Simpson, nothing had been done, I felt that it was time for me to take action. Yet in some ways I feel that yesterday has not been wasted.”
“You have formed a theory then?”
“At least I have got a grip of the essential facts of the case. I shall enumerate them to you, for nothing clears up a case so much as stating it to another person, and I can hardly expect your co-operation if I do not show you the position from which we start.”
I lay back against the cushions, puffing at my cigar, while Holmes, leaning forward with his long, thin forefinger checking off the points upon the palm of his left hand, gave me a sketch of the events which had led to our journey.
“Silver Blaze,” said he, “is from the Isonomy6 stock and holds as brilliant a record as his famous ancestor. He is now in his fifth year, and has brought in turn each of the prizes of the turf to Colonel Ross, his fortunate owner. Up to the time of the catastrophe he was the first favourite for the Wessex Cup, the betting being three to one on. He has always, however, been a prime favourite with the racing public, and has never yet disappointed them, so that even at those odds enormous sums of money have been laid upon him. It is obvious, therefore, that there were many people who had the strongest interest in preventing Silver Blaze from being there at the fall of the flag, next Tuesday.
“The fact was, of course, appreciated at King’s Pyland, where the Colonel’s training stable is situated. Every precaution was taken to guard the favourite. The trainer, John Straker, is a retired jockey, who rode in Colonel Ross’s colours before he became too heavy for the weighing chair. He has served the Colonel for five years as jockey and for seven as trainer, and has always shown himself to be a zealous and honest servant. Under him were three lads, for the establishment was a small one, containing only four horses in all. One of these lads sat up each night in the stable, while the others slept in the loft. All three bore excellent characters. John Straker, who is a married man, lived in a small villa about two hundred yards from the stables. He has no children, keeps one maid-servant, and is comfortably off. The country round is very lonely, but about half a mile to the north there is a small cluster of villas which have been built by a Tavistock contractor for the use of invalids and others who may wish to enjoy the pure Dartmoor air. Tavistock itself lies two miles to the west, while across the moor, also about two miles distant, is the larger training establishment of Capleton,7 which belongs to Lord Backwater8 and is managed by Silas Brown. In every other direction the moor is a complete wilderness, inhabited only by a few roaming gipsies. Such was the general situation last Monday night when the catastrophe occurred.
“Holmes gave me a sketch of the events.”
Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1892
“On that evening the horses had been exercised and watered as usual, and the stables were locked up at nine o’clock. Two of the lads walked up to the trainer’s house, where they had supper in the kitchen, while the third, Ned Hunter, remained on guard. At a few minutes after nine the maid, Edith Baxter, carried down to the stables his supper, which consisted of a dish of curried mutton. She took no liquid, as there was a water-tap in the stables, and it was the rule that the lad on duty should drink nothing else. The maid carried a lantern with her, as it was very dark, and the path ran across the open moor.
“Edith Baxter was within thirty yards of the stables when a man appeared out of the darkness and called to her to stop. As he stepped into the circle of yellow light thrown by the lantern she saw that he was a person of gentlemanly bearing, dressed in a gra
y suit of tweeds, with a cloth cap. He wore gaiters, and carried a heavy stick with a knob to it. She was most impressed, however, by the extreme pallor of his face and by the nervousness of his manner. His age, she thought, would be rather over thirty than under it.
The maid carried his supper to the stables.”
W. W. Hyde, Harper’s Weekly, 1893
“ ‘Can you tell me where I am?’ he asked. ‘I had almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor when I saw the light of your lantern.’
“A man appeared out of the darkness.”
Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1892
“ ‘You are close to the King’s Pyland training stables,’ said she.
“ ‘Oh, indeed! What a stroke of luck!’ he cried. ‘I understand that a stable boy sleeps there alone every night. Perhaps that is his supper which you are carrying to him. Now I am sure that you would not be too proud to earn the price of a new dress, would you?’ He took a piece of white paper folded up out of his waistcoat pocket. ‘See that the boy has this to-night, and you shall have the prettiest frock that money can buy.’
“She was frightened by the earnestness of his manner, and ran past him to the window through which she was accustomed to hand the meals. It was already opened, and Hunter was seated at the small table inside. She had begun to tell him of what had happened when the stranger came up again.
“ ‘Good evening,’ said he, looking through the window. ‘I wanted to have a word with you.’ The girl has sworn that as he spoke she noticed the corner of the little paper packet protruding from his closed hand.
“ ‘What business have you here?’ asked the lad.
“ ‘It’s business that may put something into your pocket,’ said the other. ‘You’ve two horses in for the Wessex Cup—Silver Blaze and Bayard. Let me have the straight tip, and you won’t be a loser. Is it a fact that at the weights Bayard could give the other a hundred yards in five furlongs, and that the stable have put their money on him?’
The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Short Stories: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (Non-slipcased edition) (Vol. 1) (The Annotated Books) Page 54
