He looked down at the pavement and spoke in a hushed tone. “I do. Mother made sure I had one and that I knew how to use it. But it is a Webley Bulldog. I am terrified that if I admit to owning it, suspicions could be cast upon me for shooting Jerry.”
“Not a chance,” I assured him. “I own one too and will have it with me tomorrow as well as my Eley’s Number Two. See you tomorrow, Victor. As Holmes would say, the game is afoot.”
The hotel had kindly dried out my clothes and I dressed and dined alone. I saw nothing of Holmes all evening and in the morning knocked on his door to find it open. The bed had not been slept in although there was evidence of his having been in the room briefly to bathe and dress. I left the hotel and came out into yet another miserable cold summer morning and walked to The Eagle. Holmes was already sitting at the table with a sack of books by his side. Lestrade, Jones, and Hatherley soon followed me into the pub.
“Out with it Holmes,” Lestrade demanded. “What are you hiding up your sleeve? None of your games now. Out with it.”
Holmes smiled in response. “My dear Inspector Lestrade, we are off to rescue Miss Ring and apprehend some nasty murderers, and, if all goes well, prevent a monstrous and treasonous crime. That is all.”
“You know where my mother is?” said Victor.
“Most certainly I know.”
“How is that possible?” Victor said.
“Because she told us, almost to the exact spot. Awfully considerate of the old girl, wouldn’t you agree, Inspector?”
Lestrade gave Holmes a raised eyebrow and said, “And just where might that be?”
“Unfortunately, it is a bit of a hike from here,” Holmes said. “To be frank, it is a very long hike. I do wish the old girl could have arranged to have been held closer, but she did not oblige us.”
“Out with it Holmes,” snapped Lestrade. “Where are we off to?”
“Miss Gertrude Ring is being held captive in Cornwall.”
“Cornwall?” exploded Jones. “It’s at least six hours from here to Plymouth.”
“Oh dear,” said Holmes. “Then we shall have to go to Falmouth instead.”
“Madness. That’s even farther.”
“As I said, I do wish the lady had been a little more considerate, but it cannot be avoided. That is where she is.”
Lestrade was still glaring at Holmes but said, “Very well then, there is a train leaving for King’s Cross in half an hour. If we hurry with breakfast, we can catch it.”
“You might want to send a wire off to your office,” said Holmes, “so that a couple of your stalwart constables can join us. Preferably armed and fleet of foot.”
Lestrade did not reply but started to devour his eggs and sausages even more rapidly.
The five of us shared a cabin in the Great Eastern’s train back to London. We had hardly pulled out of the Cambridge Station when Lestrade produced Gertrude Ring’s note to her son and demanded of Holmes an explanation.
“You are asking us to spend an entire day, Holmes, running right across the south of England. I need something more than your brilliant intuition and imagination to keep me on a train past London. How do you deduce Falmouth from this chatty little note from Gerty-Mommy?”
Holmes sighed. “Oh very well, inspector. If you insist. Miss Gertrude Ring has not been able to live the life she has by forgetting to keep her wits about her in dangerous situations. She has told us almost to the block where she may be found. All you have to do is look at what she is telling us.”
“Really, Holmes,” I said. “A little more clarity would not be the end of the world. Obviously none of us are seeing what you did in the note.”
“Do you recall,” he asked me, “a day shortly after you and I had met when you took a strip off of me for not knowing the Copernican Theory of the Solar System?”
“Well, of course, I recall it,” I said. “I was stunned that any civilized human being living near the end of the nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth traveled around the sun.”
“And do you recall my response?”
“You said, and I believe I remember your shocking words exactly, ‘What the deuce is it to me?’ You believed that your brain, like an attic, had only so much room for furniture, and you only permitted those matters of importance to your work to be stored there and it mattered not a pennyworth if the earth went around the moon. I believe those were your words.”
“Ah, your memory is excellent. And yesterday afternoon the movements of the solar system, along with other aspects of Nature began to matter. I have spent, in years past, some considerable time in the libraries of Cambridge. Not as a student but as one determined to learn those things I needed to know to properly implement the science of deduction. So, I returned last night to the University Library and sought out one of the ancient librarians, who remembered me a bit fondly, and through until the small hours of this morning together we deciphered the clues Miss Ring had so generously supplied to us. I may have to forget all this information again by next week along with the basics of hydraulic engineering, but today it has become important.”
“Keep going Holmes,” said Lestrade. “Your babbling on about the sun and the moon is nothing more than your showing off, and I have no patience for it.”
“Ah yes,” said Holmes. “I confess that at times I may be a bit inclined to that weakness when dealing with my dear friends at the Yard. Very well then, what was the first piece of information Miss Ring imparted to her son? She said that she had ‘slept poorly even though the night was completely silent and no noise disturbed me.’ Is that correct?”
Lestrade had the note in front of him, looked at it and confirmed Holmes’s assertion.
“I have, as you know no great knowledge of Nature, but even I know that during the summertime I have to listen to those blasted nightingales chirping and singing all night long. There is not a night goes past without them. So how could it be that she, who is obviously a crack ornithologist, did not hear one? Hmm? That could only happen if she were in a part of England in which there are no nightingales.”
“I assume that could only be Cornwall,” I offered.
“Precisely,” said Holmes.
“I did not know that,” I acknowledged.
“Neither did I before yesterday, but Miss Ring did and gave it to us. Then, for her next clue, what did she tell us? She said that the sun rose at just after six o’clock.”
“She did, yes.”
“A few days ago, Watson, you were up and about to take your morning walk when young Victor appeared at your door. What time was it?”
“It was at five thirty.”
“And had the sun already risen?”
“It had just. It was shimmering across the waters of Little Venice.”
“And how could it have already been up in London well before six o’clock and only appearing to Miss Ring after six o’clock? The answer lies in the Copernican Theory of the Solar System, does it not? The farther west you are in England, the later the sun comes over the horizon. The only part of the country in which the sunrise is that far behind London is in the far Southwest. If we were too dull to catch the first clue, she gave it to us again. She could only be somewhere in Cornwall.”
“Cornwall is a rather large county,” said Lestrade. “Finding one woman there will be like looking for the needle in the haystack.”
“Exactly,” said Holmes. “And so, she has further delineated her whereabouts by the birds she notes. All of them are, with one exception, birds that are found primarily along the coast and not inland. And if that was not enough she refers to ‘those obnoxious crows with the red beaks and legs.’ Those were her words, were they not?”
Again, Lestrade consulted the note and harrumphed his agreement.
“Now then,” said Holmes, “yet again I profess no depth of knowledge concerning England’s birds and notwithstanding Our Lord’s admonition to ‘consider the fowl’ I consider watching birds a supreme waste of time. But even I k
now that crows do not have red beaks and legs. I assume you do as well.”
“Enough of playing schoolmaster,” said Lestrade. “Get on with it.”
“There is only one member of the crow family, I learned last night, who fits this description. That is the Cornish Chough. It is common in much of the Continent but only is ever spotted in one small part of Cornwall, and that is the southern most part of the country.”
“The Lizard,” said Lestrade.
“Precisely. By the end of the afternoon, we shall be there and shall find our dear Miss Ring.”
Victor involuntarily clapped his hands together and was obviously beaming with pride over his redoubtable mother. I had not the heart to point out to him that he had missed every one of her clues, as had the rest of us.
“Except,” said Lestrade, “that there are only five of us and even if I recruit the local constable there will be too few to search every house in the village.”
“Ah, but how many of them have windows that face out on a wide expanse of lawns and copses of trees. It is not a wealthy village and the number of manor houses could be counted on the fingers of one hand. I can promise you, gentlemen, that within an hour of arriving at The Lizard, we will have found our engineer’s mom.”
There was no more to say. Victor put his head back and fell off to sleep. Lestrade, Jones and I each took a book from Holmes’s sack and tried to redeem the time by reading. Holmes closed his eyes and retreated into his private world, evidenced only by the occasional moving of his lips as he carried on an argument with himself inside his unique mind.
At King’s Cross, we got off and caught a local city train across to Paddington. Three more of Lestrade’s men were waiting for us there and joined the long train ride to Falmouth. All of the police officers sat in one cabin, leaving Holmes, Victor and I to ourselves. When we were about a half of an hour out from our destination, Lestrade entered our cabin and sat down.
“Holmes,” he began, “I was not born yesterday. You and I know perfectly well that whoever is behind this kidnapping and murder it is not two thugs from Cornwall. They are acting for someone. Now who is it?”
Holmes nodded. “You are indeed correct, Inspector. Two days ago, there were five people who could have contracted for the kidnapping and the theft of the plans of the Admiralty project. Today that number has been reduced to three.”
“If by that you mean that one of them is dead, then you are stating the obvious,” said Lestrade.
“It is obvious now,” said Holmes. “It appears that Mr. Hayling-Kynynmound somehow managed to discover what had taken place and who was behind it and was foolishly arrogant enough to think he could use it for his benefit. It is a pity. He had some promise as both a scientist and an athlete. But you have noted correctly, he is dead and therefore stricken from the list.”
“Who else did you knock off the roster?” said Lestrade.
“I have learned the hard way that even the most cherubic of women can commit the most vile of crimes, and, for that reason, I had left Miss Fawcett on until last night when I struck her off.”
“I never met the woman,” said Lestrade. “Why did you eliminate her?”
“Try as I might I could not imagine a motive,” replied Holmes. “Her family is wealthy, enough so that her mother established a new college at Cambridge for women at a cost of thousands of pounds. The circle of women she moves in are all quite a furious group of suffragettes who may be ready to do battle royal with the men sitting in Westminster, but they are nonetheless every bit as furiously loyal to the Queen. The thought of treason could never cross their minds. Miss Fawcett herself quite adores Miss Ring and I cannot imagine her ever wishing to do her harm, and beyond that, she gives undeniable evidence of being in love with her son.”
For the next several seconds no one spoke. Then Victor looked at Holmes as if he had witnessed the Second Coming. “Sir?” he said in a quivering tone. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Unless there is something wrong with your ears then you most certainly did.”
“Sir, that is impossible.”
“Why? Women are far superior to men in their ability to look beyond the exterior layer and into the far more important matter of a man’s character. In addition, to having a good one, you also have a very superior brain, which some equally intelligent women tend to find irresistibly attractive. Her face, her body, and her words, whenever she referred to you, all spoke volumes. You are loved, young man, by more than your mother.”
Victor said nothing and the look on his face said that his mind had moved into that sacred place that is only visited by young men who have fallen in love and are loved in return. I worried that he would not come back in time to be of any use in rescuing his mother.
“So that leaves only three. Two of whom are almost certainly acting in concert with each other.”
“The Germans, you mean?” said Lestrade.
“Yes, and rather than speculate before having conclusive data, I suggest we concentrate now on rescuing our engineer’s mom and I suspect that soon afterward we will be able to determine our villain or villains.”
Chapter Eight
Liberation at The Lizard
BY MID-AFTERNOON WE HAD REACHED FALMOUTH, the farthest we could travel on the train. We got off and were met, courtesy of Lestrade, with not one but two police wagons and six policemen. The horses, harnesses, and wagons were all gleaming and the constables were perfectly dressed in pressed uniforms and polished buttons.
“It has been,” muttered Lestrade, “a miserable cold summer. There has hardly been a single visitor to the coast since last year. The chaps here are bored to tears and a visit from the Yard and Mr. Famous Consulting Detective is the biggest thing that’s happened. Even the boys who were off duty have shown up just in case we have to call in reinforcements.”
To his credit, Lestrade personally said hello and shook the hands of every one of the local constables. Holmes and I did likewise and then we set off south to The Lizard. The roads were good and the horses rested, and we made excellent time, pulling into the village administrative and telegraph office an hour later. Holmes hurried inside and returned some fifteen minutes later. He was smiling.
“There are only three manor houses in the village, two are on the north edge and one by the coast.”
“How will you know which one the lady is in?” queried Lestrade.
“Victor will tell us,” responded Holmes.
Victor was not listening. He was present in body, but his mind was still in outer space.
“Victor!” snapped Holmes.
“Oh, yes sir. Sorry, sir.”
“I said that you will decide for us which house your mother is in.”
“Sir, I have no idea. How could I possibly do that?”
“How is that ankle of yours?”
“My ankle? Why it is fine, Mr. Holmes. Better than ever. I’ve been running every morning.”
“Excellent. Then you will walk into each of the houses and in a loud voice call for your mother. If you are met by the maid or the lady of the house and they are looking at you as if you escaped from Bedlam, then you will say that you are so sorry and leave. On the other hand, if you are met by men with guns and they come running for you then you will turn and run very quickly down the drive and into the nearest group of trees you can reach. The constables will all be waiting there to arrest the villains and we shall enter the house and release your mother. Unless, Inspector Lestrade, you can suggest a different plan.”
“No. That sounds like the best way to make sure the mother is not put in harm’s way. As long as the lad can run, he should be fine. They want him alive or he is of no use to them. Which house do we start with?”
“I think the one by the coast. Housel House is its name. Built recently and large and isolated enough to hold a captive and her guards and not arouse suspicion from the locals.”
Our entourage drove south from the center of the village toward the coast. The stately house sa
t up on a rise with a magnificent view of the ocean. We circled around it, descended to the water’s edge and climbed up through the trees and bushes until we were directly opposite the front of it. A path led from the property east along the coast, and it was agreed that that would be where the constables would lie in wait.
Holmes, Lestrade, Victor and I had crawled up the embankment until we were directly in front of the large veranda and main door.
“Are you ready, Victor?” asked Holmes.
“Yes, sir.”
“And no heroics,” said Lestrade. “Just get in there and shout for your mom and if they come after you then get out of there and over to the copse and laneway as fast as you can. Do you understand that, young man?”
“Yes, sir.”
Victor leapt up over the edge of the bank and ran directly into the house. We could hear his shouts of “Mom! Mommm-eeee!”
Immediately we heard a woman’s voice shouting back, “Victor!” and then shouting “Victor, get out of here. They have guns.”
Victor came bounding out of the front door and descended the veranda stairs in one long leap. Behind him were two tall men and both were moving quickly. Their guns were drawn and they were agile runners. Victor slowed his pace until they were almost on top of him and then burst into full speed toward the copse of trees. The men followed him and were immediately swarmed by a host of constables who had them pinned to the ground in a few seconds.
Lestrade let out a small whoop of joy and we walked into the house.
“Miss Ring!” I shouted. There was no answer.
“Miss Ring! It is safe. Scotland Yard has arrived. Victor is safe. You have no need to hide.”
There was still no answer.
I could see a look of worry pass across the faces of both Holmes and Lestrade.
We looked into each of the many rooms. When we entered the gabled bedroom on the second floor, we stopped and froze. Miss Ring was standing in front of us. Behind her with one hand over her mouth and another holding a revolver to her head was the man we had watched yesterday as he put a bullet into Jerry’s heart.
Sherlock Holmes Never Dies - Collection Three: New Sherlock Holmes Mysteries - Second Edition (Boxed Sets Book 3) Page 7
