The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part II

by David Marcum

  Holmes blew out a cloud of blue smoke and laughed heartily. “After seeing him approach, it was clear that he was right-handed and lame in his left leg. From his slightly restricted movement in his right arm, he also suffers from arthritis. Now, a cavalry officer may carry a sword into battle, but as there have been none of late, it is much more likely that the damage to his shoulder is from the repeated use of a polo mallet.”

  I nodded, although in truth, I was still unconvinced. Holmes, of course, observed my troubled expression and added, “However, the Major’s cufflinks which bore the distinctive crest of the Marylebone Polo Club did, to some extent, support my deduction.”

  On hearing this, I burst out laughing and then asked, “And the item in his jacket pocket?”

  Holmes now grew more serious. “Now that is an interesting object, Watson. I managed to grasp it briefly when I engineered to collide with the Major. I have an idea as to what it is, but I need to return to Bairstow’s early in the morning to confirm my suspicions.”

  Upon this, Holmes would say no more. We retired, and early the next morning, after a hearty breakfast of a pair of Scottish kippers, coffee, toast and some rather fine Seville marmalade, we made our way downstairs and out onto Baker Street. Holmes hailed a cab, and I was perplexed when he directed the cabbie to take us to Westminster Bridge. During our ride, Holmes looked straight ahead and purposefully avoided my eye. It was clear that he wished not to be questioned as to what was afoot.

  Arriving at the bridge, Holmes directed the cabbie to drive towards the centre span, almost at the point where we had saved Anthony Stewart. Here, he called out, requesting the driver to stop. Getting down from the cab, Holmes moved to the stone balustrade of the bridge and then withdrew from his jacket pocket a pair of field glasses. Raising them to his eyes, he used them to sweep, and then carefully examine, the buildings that abutted the bank of the Thames. As I watched, he paused in his observations. Looking towards one particular building, a thin smile appeared upon his lips. Replacing the field glasses, he leapt back into the cab, calling out to direct the driver to take us once more to Bairstow’s.

  Our cab ride was but brief, and before long we were once again within the atrium of Bairstow’s. As we stood for a moment, we were approached by a tall, grey haired, slim gentleman, dressed very formally. His waistcoat was a delicate shade of dove grey, and it was adorned with a heavy gold Belcher chain and fob. His face was oval and sported a fine moustache. His eyes were bright, almost piercing - no, enquiring - and he spoke in a precise way.

  Nodding briefly to us, he extended his hand and began thus, “Good morning, Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson. I am Sir Terence Walters, the Chairman of the club. Your brother and I have already had conversations regarding your assistance in this matter, and I am at your complete disposal.”

  Holmes and I shook Sir Terence’s hand and allowed him to guide us towards a more private area of the atrium. Holmes, I could see, was at complete ease with Sir Terence, and it took me but moments to recall that Sir Terence had, until but a few years past, been a senior figure at the bar.

  Gesturing us to be seated, Sir Terence sat forward on his chair, seemingly eager for Holmes to begin.

  Holmes paused for a moment and then asked, “What do you know of this Major Cooke, Sir Terence?”

  Sir Terence pursed his lips slightly. “Well, I know something of his military career, as all our members are scrutinised before being allowed to join the club. However, the business regarding his retirement from the regiment was obscured from us and only came to light, thanks to your brother. He is from an honourable family that has a country seat in Lancashire. His father bred racehorses, I believe, so I would imagine the Major’s penchant for a wager stems from there.”

  Holmes nodded and from his expression, he seemed quite satisfied with this new information. “Yesterday afternoon when we were here, Sir Terence, Major Cooke took his leave from his companions and ascended the staircase to the first floor, disappearing into a room with an unmarked door. I was reluctant to follow, you understand, and I would be grateful if you might show me the room.”

  Sir Terence nodded and his face bore a slight smile as he led the way. Crossing the atrium, we passed through the lounge, where I could see the fine mahogany staircase with its scarlet Wilton carpet runner and brass stair rods ascending to the next floor. At the top of the stairs, Holmes pointed across the landing to a plain mahogany door. As I watched, Sir Terence’s smile broadened, saying, “This way, gentlemen.”

  Passing through the doorway, we found ourselves in a panelled anti-room. Along one wall were arranged a row of dull, brass coat hooks. On the opposite wall was a large, mahogany-framed, bevel-edged mirror. Below the mirror were three wash basins which were furnished with a glass soap dish, together with a collection of colognes and lavender water. The third wall comprised a waist-high Travertine marble-topped counter. Behind the counter stood a liveried attendant with a small pile of freshly laundered towels. The final wall was simply panelled and contained a further door, behind which I was sure that I knew what I might find.

  Sir Terence smiled broadly, saying, “You see, gentlemen, we all, at some time, must answer the call of nature. The outer door bears no name for our ‘facilities,’ as all the members know of its purpose and where it leads.”

  Holmes’s face showed no humour. “I wonder, Sir Terence, if I might venture a little further and then, if you will allow, I would like to question your attendant?”

  Sir Terence nodded and held out his hand with his palm to one side as a sign of his agreement. Holmes nodded politely and disappeared from our view through the second door. Within a minute he returned and walked over to where the attendant stood waiting. The attendant offered Holmes a towel but he declined, saying, “Thank you, but there is no need. I would, however, like to ask if you were on duty here yesterday afternoon.”

  The attendant looked towards Sir Terence for permission. Sir Terence nodded, saying, “These gentlemen are my guests, Wilson. You may speak freely and honestly to them as though you were answering to me.”

  The attendant looked relieved and answered Holmes. “Yes sir, I was here from one o’clock until late evening. I am employed here for six days per week.”

  Holmes smiled. “You, of course, know all the members here?”

  Wilson nodded, saying proudly, “Oh yes, sir, I have been here these many years. I know them all.”

  Holmes smiled again, asking, “I was here at the club at a little after four o’clock yesterday, and I happened to pass a gentleman on the stairs whom I thought I recognised: Major Cooke?”

  The attendant’s smile became positively radiant. “Why, yes sir. You are correct. It was Major Cooke. I think of him as one of my regulars. You can almost set your watch by him, sir. He uses the facilities a few minutes past the hour or the half hour of an afternoon.”

  Holmes looked towards me with a knowing smile. Thanking the attendant, we left and returned downstairs with a rather bemused Sir Terence.

  Once more in the atrium, I looked towards Sir Terence and noticed him rubbing his chin. He looked at Holmes, saying, “As a barrister, I am unsure as to what your questions might have revealed, Mr. Holmes.”

  Holmes replied, “Not a great deal in themselves, Sir Terence, but they are another piece of the puzzle which has dropped neatly into place. Tell me, if you would, which telegraph office provides the results for the races?”

  Sir Terence thought for a moment before replying, “I believe it is the office on the corner of Bridge Street, a few paces from Westminster Bridge.”

  Holmes now had a grim smile on his face. “Thank you, Sir Terence. Doctor Watson and Mycroft will be joining the gentlemen who gamble tomorrow. I would be grateful if you might make yourself available at a little after half past three... just in case there is any unpleasantness.”

  Sir Terence looked a little bemused but
he readily agreed. Taking our leave, Holmes rushed out into the street, hailed a hansom, and tossed the cabbie a florin to race us back to Baker Street.

  V - A Job for Wiggins

  The journey was swift and uneventful, and barely had we reached our rooms when Holmes dashed to the window, opened it and shouted “Wiggins!” at the top of his voice. Barely two minutes passed before there was knock at our door and a lanky street urchin, accompanied by a clearly disapproving Mrs. Hudson, entered our rooms.

  Mrs. Hudson looked Wiggins up and down before saying, “This person said you had shouted for him, Mr. Holmes. Shall I send him away?” I watched as she began to roll up her sleeves.

  Holmes smiled and then cried out, “No, no, Mrs. Hudson. Wiggins is quite correct, I did summon him. Thank you.”

  Wiggins curled his lip and Mrs. Hudson gave him a look which, had it been in Biblical times might, I believe, have turned him to stone.

  Wiggins smiled at Holmes, saying, “Alright, Mister ‘Olmes, what d’yer need?”

  Holmes sat in his armchair and began to fill his pipe whilst saying, “A little detective work, Wiggins. I want you to go and keep a watch on the telegraph office on the corner of Bridge Street, just across the road from Big Ben. Be there by half past three.”

  Wiggins nodded and with rising excitement asked, “What you expectin’? A robbery? A murder?”

  Holmes’s face had a wry smile upon it. “Not quite. Something a little more comical, perhaps. I want you to watch for anyone acting strangely, follow them to wherever they go next, and then send me word.”

  Wiggins nodded. “Usual rates, Mr. ‘Olmes?”

  Holmes again smiled and tossed Wiggins a shilling. With a touch of his cap, Wiggins was off, clattering down our stairs two at a time. I am certain that this display of bravado was only done to spite Mrs. Hudson!

  After a delightful light luncheon of cold meats, pork pie, and pickles, we sat replete. I was eager for there to be developments in the case and, after half an hour, I began to pace irritably. Holmes, however, was the picture of serenity, sitting back in his armchair reading The Times and puffing contentedly upon his pipe.

  Looking up from his paper and seeing my agitation, he gently rebuked me, saying, “Calm yourself, Watson. We will hear nothing until, I believe, four o’clock.”

  I consulted my pocket watch, and as this was some two hours hence, I forced myself to sit and read. I must have dozed off somewhat, as the next thing I knew was our door bell ringing wildly and the clock in our sitting room now showed five minutes past four. The copy of The Lancet that I had been reading had fallen from my lap, and the thunder on the stairs announced the imminent arrival of young Wiggins.

  Within seconds, Wiggins had burst through our door, his face wreathed in smiles. “You won’t believe what I’ve seen, Mister ‘Olmes!”

  Holmes held up his hand to silence Wiggins and he turned to me, asking, “Be a good fellow, Watson, and go out and buy me a copy of the evening paper.”

  I looked at Holmes in shock. I was as keen as he to know what Wiggins had observed. Holmes inclined his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. Sighing, I took this to be a signal that he wanted to hear from Wiggins in private. “Very well, Holmes, I will be but a few minutes.”

  Having purchased the newspaper, I returned from my errand to find that Wiggins had completed his report and left. Holmes was now playing furiously upon his beloved Stradivarius. “What is that, Holmes?” I shouted above the tumult of sound that engulfed me.

  Holmes smiled and paused briefly, saying, “What? You do not recognise it? Beethoven’s “Battle Symphony”, Opus 91. It celebrates Wellington’s victory. I thought it quite apt for Major Cooke!” Holmes continued for perhaps two further minutes before sitting down, exhausted from his frantic bowing.

  I must confess that I was relieved when he stopped. “Do I take it, then, that Wiggins provided some valuable intelligence?” I asked.

  Holmes smiled and slapped the arm of his armchair, saying, “We have him, Watson! We have him! It is now down to you, old fellow, for tomorrow you must play your part as the innocent and inept gambler if we are to succeed.”

  I was now extremely concerned. It seemed that the whole case rested upon my shoulders. I frowned, saying, “You will have to coach me in this, Holmes, for I have no experience in these matters.”

  Holmes leant forwards and patted me on my forearm. “There is nothing to learn, Watson, all you must do is be confident. Watch as the Major leaves the room, as he surely will, and on his return, listen to him. I expect him to make an outrageous wager. You must then engineer, in some way, to raise the wager against him to twenty thousand guineas.”

  On hearing this, my mouth fell open. “Good Lord, Holmes! That is a fortune. He will never accept such a wager!”

  Holmes wagged his finger in my direction, saying, “On the contrary, Watson. He will leap at the chance. Mycroft and Sir Terence will be present to see that all is proper, have no fear.”

  Although I was still unsure, I was comforted by the thought of their presence, given the Major’s reputation for violence.

  The following morning, Holmes and I breakfasted, and I watched as he sent off a telegram to Lestrade. He then excused himself, saying only that he would meet me at Bairstow’s at four o’clock. I watched, bemused, as he placed a pair of white, opera gloves into his jacket pocket before leaving. I have to say that I was nervous for the entire morning. I could not settle and could barely manage a bite at luncheon before dressing for Bairstow’s.

  The cab ride was uneventful, and on entering the club, I was greeted warmly by Mycroft. Smiling, he held out his hand in greeting, saying, “Ah, Watson. A sherry, perhaps?”

  I shook my head, replying, “Thank you, no, Mycroft. I would prefer a large brandy.”

  A wry smile crossed Mycroft’s face as he said “Ah, I see you are getting into role.”

  I looked at him in a querying way. I imagined, from this comment, that he must already have had some communication with his brother, something to which I was not privy.

  VI - Placing a Wager

  At twenty minutes past three, Sir Terence joined us, shortly followed by Major Cooke. On spying me, the Major cried, “Ah, Doctor Watson! I am so pleased to see that you have been able to join us. Come this way.” I was a little concerned when he took my arm and led me towards the small private room used by the group.

  Once inside, the door was closed. The other four members that I had seen earlier were already assembled... plus another figure that at first I did not recognise. Looking more closely, I saw that towards the back of the group stood Anthony Stewart. I was about to greet him when a hand touched my sleeve. Looking towards its owner, I saw that Mycroft was very slightly shaking his head.

  The room itself was expensively furnished with velvet covered chairs and rich, red velvet drapes. In the centre of the room there stood a large, oval mahogany table with eight dining chairs. To one side stood a drinks table, upon which there stood a silver tray and an array of bottles of spirits from which the group helped themselves. I felt the need for some Dutch courage and poured myself a large brandy. It was as I replaced the brandy decanter that I saw a sly grin form on the Major’s face.

  The members of the group all sat around the table and I joined them, unsure as to what was to happen next. I introduced myself to the gentlemen either side of me and nodded to the others.

  Beside each person was a small pad of paper and a pencil. I took it that this was rather like a marker, showing the amount that you had wagered and to whom. Mycroft and Sir Terence stood some little distance apart, against the rear wall so that they could clearly observe the proceedings.

  The clock in the room struck the half hour and the Major stood and addressed the group. “Gentlemen, today we are wagering on the half past three race at York. The race has begun. Who will place a wager?”


  There then began some small wagers among the members: wagers of, perhaps, fifty or a hundred guineas. Slips of paper were passed between them as the wagers were made. I made a small wager of twenty guineas on horse number four with a gentleman sitting to my right.

  It was then that the Major suddenly gripped his stomach, made an excuse and walked swiftly from the room. I looked about me and I was about to rise to see if I could be of some assistance when the gentleman to my right put his hand on my forearm, saying, “Do not concern yourself, Doctor. I have been told that the Major has some slight intestinal problem, apparently from his service overseas. The excitement of the moment aggravates it, but he will return shortly.”

  As predicted, the Major returned within four or five minutes. Apologising, he sat and then again addressed the group, saying, “I feel that good fortune is smiling upon me today, gentlemen, and although the horse has little form, I wager one thousand guineas on number seven. Are there any takers?”

  I looked around at the incredulous faces of the group. A single voice spoke out... one that I immediately recognised as that of Anthony Stewart. “I fear it stands little chance today, Major. I am willing to wager five thousand guineas that it is not the winner.”

  The Major’s smile was now like that of a wolf. “I thought you might have had enough, Stewart, betting against me. If you are so confident, will you not wager ten thousand?”

  There was a gasp from the other members around the table as they waited for Stewart’s reply. After a few seconds Stewart nodded, saying, “Very well, here is my marker.” Stewart quickly wrote the amount of ten thousand guineas and signed it, passing it to the Major.”

  I felt it was now time to follow Holmes’s instructions. I raised my brandy glass in salute to Stewart, took a hefty swallow from it and holding the glass aloft, cried, “This is an opportunity I cannot let slip. I will double that amount. I wager twenty thousand guineas that number seven is not the winner. I feel the young gentleman has luck on his side today.”