“Let me try to draw all these strands together now. This is indeed a singular affair, Lestrade, and a very clever murderer. There is a passage leading to the Alexander Club from the top floor of the Diogenes. A bloodied tea towel was found in Reception. So were fragments of a set of cufflinks. This is what my brother would have described as the improbable sequence of events.”
Mycroft popped another Turkish Delight and chewed in silence for a moment or two, collecting his thoughts for the final piece of deduction.
“The killer, let us call him K for the moment in the manner of Sexton Blake or one of those penny dreadfuls, makes his way from the Alexander to the Diogenes along the roof passageway shortly before half past three. He has an appointment with William St John Plunkett at half past three, by the lift on the fifth floor. Sure enough, Plunkett departs from the library just before the rendezvous. He takes the lift to the fifth floor. K leads him somehow to the centre of the hall by the iron banisters. He punches Plunkett very hard. Perhaps he knocks him out. He stuffs the tea towel as hard as he can into Plunkett’s mouth. Then he tips him over the banisters. In the struggle two of K’s cufflinks are damaged and the pieces fall to the floor below. You will remember, Inspector, that nobody reported a scream or a shout or a yell from the falling man. This was because he was gagged by the tea towel and there was no noise as he hurtled towards those deadly marble squares below. Now K takes the lift down to the ground floor to check his victim is dead. He comes back up to the fifth floor, again in the lift. The he presses the button for the ground floor and hops out of the elevator before it descends back to the Reception Area. The elevator has performed its four missions. K hops out through the window, along the passage and is back in the Alexander after an absence that could have been ten minutes at most, maybe less. When you have found the member of the Alexander Club, Lestrade, a tall, strong man, a former pupil of Ampleforth with damaged cuff links and, maybe, bruises on his hands and lower arms, the Case of Murder in the Diogenes Club will have been solved.”
“But what of the motive, Mr Holmes? Why did he do it?”
“I suggest, Lestrade, that you bend your efforts towards the Alexander and the movements of its members. That is how. When you have apprehended the fellow, you can discover why.”
Mycroft sank back into his chair. He looked worn out once again as if the effort of exposition had exhausted his powers.
“Very good, Mr Holmes. But I’m not letting any of the suspects here go home just yet. My men and I will take the hunt further down Pall Mall.”
Three days later Tobias was sitting alone in Mycroft’s enormous office in Great George Street. The bowls for the Turkish Delight were full, but untouched. The ashtrays, strategically placed around the room for Mycroft’s strong Virginia cigarettes, were empty. Mycroft Holmes had taken to his bed on the evening of his unmasking of the Diogenes Club murderer and had stayed there ever since. Mrs Hudson was in attendance, reduced now to bringing him regular effusions of beef tea.
Inspector Lestrade had called on Great George Street in triumph the day before, disappointed that Mycroft was not there to hear his news and even more disappointed to hear that Mycroft was not, for the moment, entertaining any company in his Pall Mall apartment. “Octavius Barnett, that’s our man, Tobias. Strangest thing I ever saw, he began crossing himself and then sank to his knees to say a few more prayers when we challenged him. Seems likely he’s never got over that bloody school. The Rule of St Benedict indeed! Apparently the murder had something to do with a family feud. Barnett’s under lock and key in the Scrubs now. He says he’ll tell all after he’s been to confession.” And after a few words of sympathy for the invalid Mycroft, Lestrade departed.
Jaikie had been in that morning. Jaikie was a ragamuffin street urchin who belonged to the Du Cane Road Irregulars gang next to Wormwood Scrubs in Hammersmith. He had been involved with Mycroft and Tobias in a number of previous adventures and now ran errands and despatched messages a couple of afternoons a week. Tobias had initially entertained high hopes of reforming Jaikie from his criminal ways, but his efforts so far had not been successful.
“So the old yin’s not well?” he said to Tobias, looking rather serious for a change.
“I’m afraid so,” said Tobias, wondering if he should slip Jaikie ten shillings for new clothes. Then he reflected that there was no guarantee the money would be spent on shirts and trousers at all.
“Is he going to be alright? I really don’t like it when people fall sick, Tobias. It doesn’t agree with me. Mr Holmes ain’t going to go Brown Bread, is he?”
“Brown Bread, Jaikie?”
“Brown Bread dead, Tobias. Why does nobody teach you people round to speak proper English? He’s not going to pop off like my Auntie, is he?”
“Whatever happened to your Auntie?” The ragamuffin looked sad. “It was like Solomon Grundy,” he said, “only quicker.
Took ill on Thursday,
Went dead on Friday,
Buried on Saturday.’
“It’s not going to be like that with Mr Mycroft, is it?”
“We hope not,” said Tobias, but he could see Jaikie was not convinced.
“You tell him, you make sure to tell him,” Jaikie was brushing a tear from his left eye now, “that the Du Cane Road Irregulars send him the very best. I tell you what, Tobias, we’ll all go and steal some of the best chocolate for him tomorrow morning down Bond Street way.”
Jaikie saw himself out. If he was going to cry he was going to cry on his own.
Tobias stared at the pile of correspondence on his desk. He had opened them all, as usual, except for the ones addressed to Mycroft personally. There was a tentative knock at the door. It was Mrs Hudson, dressed for the occasion in her finest coat and a new hat.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Tobias, I know you must be extra busy being here on your own. I just wonder if you could come and see Mr Holmes. I’m very worried about him. He seems to be getting worse.”
“Of course I’ll come, Mrs Hudson. I’ll come back with you now.”
“Are you sure? You see, I want to ask your advice, Tobias. It’s easier here than in the apartment where he might hear us talking. The thing is, I’m thinking of taking him away for a change of air. Maybe the sea would do him good, or somewhere peaceful in the depths of the country. Has Mr Holmes ever mentioned to you any place he would especially like to go?”
Tobias thought for a moment. “I’m afraid my suggestion isn’t going to be very helpful, Mrs Hudson. He’s often said he would like to see those Reichenbach Falls where his brother fought with Professor Moriarty before he died.”
Mrs Hudson snorted. “If we set out for that place, Tobias, he’d be dead long before we got there. He’s not going to no Reichenbach Falls. He could hardly make it to Reigate.”
They set off to Mycroft’s apartment, Mrs Hudson running through a list of possible places on the way. “Brighton, too many criminals, Bournemouth too boring, Bognor, full of children this time of year, Weymouth too far, Sidmouth, what about Sidmouth, Tobias? My sister tells me the hotels are right on the sea.”
They had reached Mycroft’s apartment by now. Mrs Hudson showed Tobias into the bedroom, where Mycroft was sitting up in a pair of light blue pyjamas looking pale and growing thin.
“Tobias, how good to see you. Any news from the office? I’m so glad Lestrade has picked up that murderer. What a strange business.”
“There’s nothing important at the office, sir. Nothing to worry about at all. Jaikie and his gang send their best wishes, sir.”
“How very kind of them. Maybe I should leave them something in my will to help with their redemption. I feel I may not have long to go, Tobias. You must have seen how I have been fading these last months. So far I have managed to avoid seeing any doctors, thank God. Sherlock and I have never had any faith in them, none whatsoever. I loathe doctors. But Mrs Hudson is very persistent.”
Mycroft lay back on his pillows. He closed his eyes. “How strange it
would be if the Death at the Diogenes Club was my last case, Tobias.”
“You mustn’t say that, sir, you really mustn’t.”
Looking at the pale, gaunt face of the man who had taken him into Government employment and looked after him so well, with hardly a harsh word in eighteen months of service, Tobias felt that he too might burst into tears at any moment.
“Then tell me, Tobias, in my hour of trial, what is there for me to live for? I feel I have been too long shackled in this mortal coil.”
Tobias walked over to the window and stared out at the passing traffic and the crowds thick on the pavement. He knew that his answer would be one of the most important statements he had ever made.
“You must live for many things, sir. You must live for your position as Auditor of all Government Departments. You are irreplaceable. Nobody knows what perils may lie ahead. You must live, sir, for the exercise of your remarkable powers which have never shone brighter than in this last case. You must live, sir, for your friends and all those who care for you like me and Mrs Hudson. You must live above all for your native land, sir. You must live for your country. You must live for England. England needs you. That is elementary, sir, elementary!”
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Why not read Book Six in The Mycroft Holmes series next?
Mycroft Holmes: The Case of the Romanovs Pearls
Also in The Mycroft Holmes series:
Mycroft Holmes and The Adventure of the Silver Birches
Mycroft Holmes and The Adventure of the Naval Engineer
Mycroft Holmes and The Case of the Missing Popes
Mycroft Holmes and The Bankers’ Conclave
Mycroft Holmes and Murder at the Diogenes Club
Mycroft Holmes: The Case of the Romanovs Pearls
Mycroft Holmes and Murder at the Diogenes Club (The Mycroft Holmes Adventure series Book 5) Page 5
