"Your Grace,” said Holmes, “is most kind to accommodate us. I wonder if you could give us your account of the disappearance of your diamonds."
"I told everything to the police inspector who came in answer to James's summons, but I have no objection to repeating myself. I have wanted to contact my dear husband for some months now, and have made several attempts to do so, using different mediums. Last Thursday night was the first time I had success, and I bless Madam Spinarossa for her very special powers. George, my husband, came through quite clearly. I swear it was him, Mr. Holmes, and he spoke to me so kindly of our life together and his happiness in paradise. But during the seance, he took a small revenge upon me by removing all the diamonds from my tiara. He had a perfect right. He gave them to me with his own hand, and with the same hand took them back."
"Then you are not of the opinion that the stones were stolen?"
"Indeed no. I am quite sure that I will never see them again in this world. I have forfeited the right to them."
"When you heard the voice of the duke, was it possible to say where in the room it appeared to emanate from?"
"Oh, from the air, Mr. Holmes, from the air."
"But did it seem to come from one particular direction more than another?"
"I suppose it came from over there.” She indicated the curtained window. Holmes inspected the casement and the small table which stood beside it, picking up with his fingertip and sniffing at a little dust which he found there.
While he worked, he asked the duchess, “Did you converse with the duke?"
"Oh yes, I asked him several questions, which he answered greatly to my satisfaction and pleasure."
"While you spoke with him, did his voice appear to move about the room?"
"No, it came always from the air around the window. But the voice of Madam Spinarossa came from elsewhere, of course, from beside me where she was seated."
"Throughout the seance you and she held hands?"
"Quite so. And I held dear James's hand upon the other side."
"And did you feel or hear any disturbance about your head when the duke removed the diamonds?"
"None. But the fingers of a ghost are as gossamer, Mr. Holmes, and I would hardly expect to have felt anything."
"Indeed. I understand there was some shaking of the table once the seance had begun."
"Poor Madam Spinarossa knocked against it in the dark before she had even sat down, but after that it was still until my husband appeared. Then there were some tremblings of the board, mostly I think when Spinarossa was having trouble maintaining the contact with George."
"Once the seance was over, and the disappearance of the diamonds was noticed, how did Madam Spinarossa seem?"
"Much shaken, I fear. She had generated ectoplasm during her trance, and seemed barely alive when James relit the gas. When the police arrived, she recovered a little, but I was much concerned for her. James and Vincent both insisted upon being searched for the diamonds, and so did dear Mattie; I too offered to allow the policemen to search my person, and they did so in a most respectful manner. Madam Spinarossa was treated shamefully, however, and searched while unfit to understand what had happened, let alone give her consent. Of course, the police found nothing. How could they? At length they allowed my friends, and the medium, to leave."
Holmes mused for a moment. “I believe Your Grace may be mistaken in your interpretation of what took place that evening."
"How so, Mr. Holmes?"
"It may be true that your late husband's spirit abstracted the stones, and that they will never again be seen by mortal eyes. But I ask you to reconsider your belief that their removal was a punishment or revenge upon you. True, your husband took back the jewels he had once given you. But were they not insured?"
The duchess nodded. I confess I was taken aback by my friend's words, as I knew what little respect he had for the deceit of mediums and the popular belief in spiritualism. But I knew Holmes well enough to hold my tongue, and smiled indulgently at the duchess.
"Perhaps,” said my friend, “the late duke took the diamonds as a kindness to you, rather than a punishment."
She flushed and raised a gloved hand to her mouth. Holmes nodded kindly. They understood one another, although I confess I was baffled.
Holmes bade the duchess farewell and we left the hotel, catching a hansom in Dover Street. When we were on our way I asked Holmes what he meant by encouraging the foolishness of an old lady.
"Sometimes,” he replied, “it is kinder to compound a deception, and Her Grace is right on one point, I am sure. She will never see her diamonds again. We, on the other hand, may be more fortunate. Now my friend, I must continue alone and ask you to wait for me at Baker Street while I pursue certain theories."
I felt a little hurt by this suggestion, but knew there was little sense in arguing. I spent the remainder of the day in our rooms trying to write a coherent account of all that had occurred and reviewing the evidence we had so far gathered. I formed for myself a small theory which accounted for some, at least, of the curious features of the case. I reasoned that Madam Spinarossa must have been responsible for the theft of the diamonds, and that she had achieved it by the use of an ingenious device consisting of two false hands, made perhaps of India rubber, separated by a stiff rod, perhaps of telescopic construction. This she had concealed beneath her robes until the lights were doused, when she took out her device and laid it upon the table between the duchess and Matilda Grayson, each of whom took one of the false hands in her own, believing it to be that of the medium. This left Spinarossa's own hands free to remove the tiara and prise out the diamonds, covering the noise with groans and sighs, while a confederate hidden behind the window curtain spoke with the voice of the duke.
Although I could see some flaws in this theory, and it did not cover all the facts, yet I felt sure Holmes would be impressed by my deductions when he returned. When he finally appeared, at a little after eight, however, my suggestions caused him amusement.
"I congratulate you, Watson. You have hit upon the answer!” said he. “The medium must have owned a set of rubber hands. But wait! What became of those hands? How did she conceal them from a police search? And how did her confederate at the window gain entry and exit without being seen, when the window had clearly not been opened for many years? No, I fear we must seek both a simpler and a more radical explanation for what went on in that small dark room. You are, however, quite right in your basic deduction that the medium took the diamonds. Only the story does not end there and, I fear, we will uncover further crimes committed in pursuit of those stones. Even now, friend Lestrade is waiting for us in Bruton Street to take the matter to its conclusion. I should be most grateful for your help in that conclusion. Will you join me?"
I smiled and nodded, though I felt crushed by Holmes's summary rejection of my deductions.
"Good man. You have your revolver? Excellent."
We caught another cab and made the short journey to the end of Bruton Street, where we alighted beside Lestrade and four constables. Holmes had obviously indicated to the inspector that something was afoot, for Lestrade's face was grimmer than usual as we set off along the pavement.
As we walked I whispered to Holmes, “Is this the solution to the diamond theft, or to the mystery of Hartshorne's front door?"
"Why, to both, old friend, to both."
We stopped before a dark house bearing the number 38A. Holmes raised a hand for us to wait, and approached the door. He produced a dark lantern and by the narrowest blade of light examined the entrance. Then he put out a hand and tried the handle. The door opened and I heard his intake of breath. He beckoned us to follow, and we entered a dark hall. There was a slaughterhouse smell in the air, and I prepared myself for the worst. Holmes led the way, cutting through the blackness with a thin beam from his lantern. At the end of the passage were two doors, both standing open. Holmes illuminated the space beyond first one, then the other.
"Lestrade
,” he said, “please keep your men back until I have examined this room.” The inspector sighed and accompanied Holmes and myself through one of the doors.
"No need for silence now,” said Holmes, “we are too late to change the course of events."
He lit the gas, and a ghastly scene met our eyes. The room was unfurnished save for two chairs, a small table, and two makeshift beds upon the floor. Lying beside them, upon the bare boards, were two bodies. They were both young men with dark hair and skin, and both had deep wounds in their throats. A dark brown puddle surrounded the two figures. Their limbs were contorted and their faces racked with exertion and fear. Holmes asked us to remain by the door while he examined the bodies and the contents of the room. Some objects on the table caught his particular interest and he inspected them with his glass for some minutes. Then he gestured for us to join him. I examined the bodies, though there was clearly nothing that could be done for them. Then I joined Holmes at the table. Laid out there was a singular array of objects. There were the separate parts of a large old-fashioned door lock with a brass facade, a pile of brass screws, a leather bag containing tools, a small metal lantern, a pile of grey powder, a revolver, the remains of a simple meal, and an array of human body parts, laid out neatly like specimens in a museum. There were eight fingers, two toes, two ears, a fleshy lump which was probably a nose, and several other pieces which I could not identify. These grim trophies were not bloody, but had evidently been washed and made presentable, which somehow made their appearance still more horrific. I glanced over at the two bodies. Clearly the specimens on the table had not originated there.
"What is all this, Holmes?” I asked.
The great detective said nothing, but pointed to the wall beside the door. Here a large mark or cipher had been drawn in blood upon the bare plaster. At first I thought it was a cross, but the lower tip was pointed and I realised that it represented a sword or dagger.
"What is it?” said Lestrade.
"That,” said Holmes, “is the Scarlet Thorn."
* * * *
We were, I think, too affected by the contents of that room to discuss the matter there. Lestrade left his constables to record the details and remove the bodies while he and I returned with Holmes to Baker Street, where a full explanation was promised. Once settled in familiar surroundings our spirits lifted and, having lit my pipe, I pressed Holmes to illuminate the darkness.
'First of all,” he said, “I must tell you that a very great man has died. Indeed, he has been murdered, and in the most unpleasant circumstances. But I am getting ahead of my story. What we have just witnessed was the final scene of what began as a simple drama, planned by a group of ruthless criminals as a means of raising money. I am speaking of a particularly brutal Italian secret society known as the Spina Rossa, or Scarlet Thorn, which hired a clever thief to abstract the diamonds of the duchess of Caradoc. Some of the details of the case remain obscure, but I suspect they anticipated a burglary, or some other simple robbery. However, the man they had hired was none other than Salvatore Barozzi, who had perhaps the third or fourth most subtle criminal mind I have ever encountered. I knew him many years ago when I was myself considering a career on the stage. He was an actor, and an uncommonly good one. But his talents were put to evil ends, and latterly he made his living by assuming some pious, trustworthy, or harmless character and tricking his way into the houses of the rich. He was that most dangerous specimen, the criminal who loves his crime, the impostor who relishes each new imposture. When the Spina Rossa commissioned him to seize the Caradoc diamonds, he began to research the life and mind of the duchess, and conceived a meticulous plan based upon her natural weaknesses. He assumed the character of an elderly medium."
"You mean Madam Spinarossa was a man?” I asked.
"Quite so. I would give a hundred pounds to have seen him play the part. He must have acted quite brilliantly. Having convinced the duchess that he was a spiritualist and could contact her late husband, he arranged a seance in the lady's sitting room, carefully positioning the participants round a small table before turning out the lights. Then he knocked against the table and repositioned it in the dark, to confuse the geography of the situation, before asking everyone to hold hands. You may imagine how each groped for the nearest hand and, taking it, assumed they were holding on to the person next to them. And so they were. But Barozzi had silently removed himself and his chair from the circle, so that the duchess held her niece's hand, while both ladies believed themselves linked to the medium. Thus, Doctor, the possession of additional rubber hands was quite unnecessary round such a small table."
I did my best to smile.
"The actor made appropriate noises with his head placed between that of the duchess and her niece—just where they would expect such noises to emanate from. Then he fell silent, lifted the tiara from the duchess's head, and moved to the table by the window."
"But would the duchess not have felt the removal of her tiara?” I asked.
"No. For two reasons. Firstly, she was concentrating upon the seance and anticipating, no doubt with suppressed excitement, communication with her late husband. Secondly, her very splendid head of silver hair is, in fact, entirely false. I observed this during our interview, and Barozzi must have made the same discovery while researching his subject. It was a simple matter for him to unclip the tiara from Her Grace's hairpiece without detection. Once at the side table by the window he made further sounds and began to impersonate the duke. This was, perhaps, the cleverest part of his deception, since he had evidently discovered something of the manner of His Grace's speech and the tone of his voice, probably through contact with one or more of the duke's former servants. In any case, the duchess was all too ready to believe that the voice was that of her beloved George. While he spoke, Barozzi prised the diamonds from the tiara and, I deduce, placed them in a small pocket specially sewn into the front of his gown. At several points during the seance, to maintain the illusion, and no doubt to increase his pleasure at the deception, he returned to the table, shook it about, and again assumed the person of the medium. When all the diamonds were safe in his pocket he returned once more to the table, clipped the tiara back into Her Grace's hair, and made further groaning and gasping noises, finally inducing himself to vomit, probably by the simple expedient of inserting a finger into his esophagus. He had previously consumed a large meal of some whitish substance, perhaps tapioca or porridge, in order to give an impressive appearance to the result. This regurgitation had a very explicit purpose, which I will shortly come to. Then Barozzi took up his chair, screamed, and, in the voice of Madam Spinarossa, demanded that the circle be broken. Everyone released the hands they were holding and, after a few moments, Colonel Hind stood up and lit the gas. While he did so, Barozzi replaced his chair where it had formerly been and sat down upon it, assuming the appearance of one in a swoon. The rest of that scene you know. The police were called and you, Lestrade, arrived to question those present. No doubt you suspected Madam Spinarossa, but a search of her seemingly unconscious body produced no results. I suggest, Lestrade, that your constable was a little less thorough than he might have been. He naturally did not wish to touch the ejecta which covered the front of the old lady's dress, so missed the special pocket which was concealed there.
"After a while Barozzi feigned a small recovery, and mumbled something about ectoplasm. Believing him to be a sick, perhaps deranged, old woman, you released him into the care of a constable. Tell me, Lestrade, what became of that constable?"
"Well, Mr. Holmes, he claims that when he and the old lady got down into the hotel lobby she seemed much recovered and asked him to leave her there, saying she would request the manager to call her a cab. He was, I imagine, rather keener to be back on the case with me than to play nursemaid to a filthy old woman."
"That was just as Barozzi planned. What he had not reckoned on, however, was the involvement of a second gang. Somehow his plan had become known to a rival Italian secret society, kn
own as the Fratelli; this was probably an unwanted effect of the meticulous research which Barozzi had undertaken, and which had aroused the curiosity of someone connected with the Fratelli. Perhaps Barozzi saw someone he recognised as he left the hotel, or perhaps he did not know precisely who was following him; but it is clear to me that he knew he was pursued as he fled into Grafton Street and thence into the alley which leads to Barlow Place. He did not wish to be found in possession of the diamonds, so cast round for somewhere to hide them. He had only a minute. But at that moment a brilliant inspiration struck him. He ran to the nearest door and fed the diamonds into the keyhole, where they fell down inside the mechanism of the large lock. Then he ran on, knowing at least that if he was overhauled he could claim innocence; perhaps, in this event, he intended to assume some other character. We shall never know, for he seems to have got clean away. However, his good fortune was spent and, despite his great talent for changing his face and voice, the Fratelli hunted him down.
"What happened next was, I am afraid, most uncivilised. The agents who found Barozzi forced him to reveal what he had done with the precious stones. We may assume that he resisted them as best he could, but the gradual removal of certain pieces of his body was, no doubt, sufficient inducement for him to admit the truth."
"You mean those fingers and other pieces we found in Bruton Street belonged to this Barozzi?"
"I believe so. His torturers took them away as trophies, and as proof for their criminal masters that they had done their duty by the brotherhood."
"But where is Barozzi? Is he still alive?"
"I regret, Watson, I cannot yet answer your first question. As for your second, I believe no man could survive the torment Barozzi suffered and, in any case, the agents of the Fratelli would hardly have considered their duty done if they had allowed him to live. It was his death, the death of a great actor, which I lamented when I began my tale."
EQMM, February 2010 Page 6
