Holmes nodded thoughtfully. ‘I will need to examine the items even so, assuming they are still in his jacket. I take it he spent the night in shirtsleeves and socks?’
‘He took off his socks as well,’ said Rhyne. ‘I didn’t see him do it, but he was certainly meditating barefoot by the time I came on watch.’
‘You said that one reason for pairing observers together was to prevent collusion,’ Holmes said to Speight. ‘But it is surely conceivable that two men might collude together with a third.’
‘I said it reduced the risk,’ Sir Newnham corrected him. ‘It is impossible to rule it out altogether. We do our best to avoid pairing together relatives, business partners or close friends. In this instance, of course, Major Bradbury was unexpectedly also present at the time of the disappearance. Of course many of our members come to know one another through the Society itself, but I know of no particular connection between Bradbury and Garforth, and I most certainly trust Anderton. He has been with me for nearly thirty years, first as my manservant and then as my butler, and is an intelligent man of shrewd judgement and great loyalty.’
‘And Garforth and Bradbury? What can you tell us of them?’
‘Both good men, as far as my knowledge goes,’ Speight said. ‘Major Bradbury I have known since he retired from service in India, seven years ago. He’s quite the enthusiast for Eastern religion, but keeps a level head in everyday matters, though I believe he was quite charmed by Kellway. Garforth has been with the Society for a year or so. I don’t know him as well as the others, but I believe he’s a friend of Rhyne’s family.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve known Garforth since I was a boy,’ Rhyne confirmed, in his boyish tones. ‘I called him Uncle Freddie as a lad. He’s a very sound fellow.’
‘You stood Major Bradbury’s own watch with him, Mr Rhyne,’ Holmes said. ‘Did he strike you as especially interested in Kellway at the time?’
‘Well, not especially,’ the young secretary said. ‘He takes an interest in all our subjects – he seems to have seen a lot of mystical stuff that impressed him out in India, and he lives in hopes of seeing the same thing reproduced scientifically here. I’m not surprised he was interested in how things were proceeding, come the morning.’
‘And what did you make of Kellway?’ I asked him. Rhyne hesitated.
‘You may as well tell them, Rhyne,’ Sir Newnham said with a sigh. ‘You know I can’t stand intellectual dishonesty.’
‘Well.’ Rhyne shrugged. ‘He’s a remarkable fellow, forceful and charismatic. I’m not so fond of his esoteric cosmology; as Sir Newnham says, it’s more like some superstitious hangover from medieval astrology than anything scientific. But it’s not so hard to believe that, if anyone had extraordinary mental powers, it would be a man like Kellway. And… well, look, a chap doesn’t just disappear, not in the natural course of events. As you say, it’s not so very important whether he went to Venus, just that he went somewhere – and, to be frank, I believe he did. He might be waiting for the right conditions for his return, or… well, he might not even have survived the journey. Or the destination, if it were the South Pole or the bottom of the ocean. He might not have had control of the process, you see.’
Sir Newnham sighed expressively. ‘And there you have it – Rhyne is a rational man, or I would never have employed him as my secretary, and he is convinced. Oh, don’t fret, Rhyne, I don’t take it personally. Mr Holmes, I don’t care at all about the money – ten thousand’s nothing to me. But if we hand Kellway the reward and he turns out to be a fraud, the Society will become a laughing-stock and my reputation will be ruined. I am not just an inventor, Mr Holmes, I am a scientist, and I rely on my standing among others of that profession. It would be a grave blow to me, a grave blow indeed.’
Holmes said, ‘If Kellway should reappear to claim the reward, how will the matter be decided?’
‘The Society Committee must agree it. That’s myself, Dr Kingsley as Vice-Chairman, Professor Scaverson, the Reverend Small, the Honourable Gerald Floke and the Countess Irina Brusilova – and Mr Gideon Beech, who is our Treasurer. Rhyne acts as secretary to the Committee but does not have a vote.’
‘Gideon Beech?’ I asked in surprise. ‘The playwright?’ The author of a number of scandalous plays that had outraged the morals of society, Beech was considered an enfant terrible of the theatre; but he had also been canny enough to write The Man for Wisdom, a popular light comedy that had won him financial success and acclaim from the masses of less highbrow theatregoers who remained untroubled by his more challenging works. Beech was forever penning articles and letters to the press, their primary subject, whatever their ostensible topic, always seeming to be himself. From them I knew that he was a ferocious Fabian, a teetotaller, an advocate of spelling reform and numerous other enthusiasms, but this was the first I had heard of his having more esoteric leanings.
Speight nodded. ‘He was one of our earliest members, as a matter of fact. As I was saying, I would call an extraordinary meeting of the Committee and there would be a vote on the matter. As Chairman, I would only cast my own vote in the event of a tie. In the current situation, I’m not sure I would get the chance. Floke is young and rather impressionable, and admires Kellway greatly. The Countess is an inveterate advocate of outlandish phenomena of all kinds, so I fear she would take little persuasion to go along with him. And Kellway’s cosmic mumbo-jumbo has a very particular appeal to Beech, as it supports his own idiosyncratic views on evolution. Beech won’t hear a word against him, in fact. Since this morning he’s been quite convinced the wretched man has been spirited away to Venus.’
‘Much, then, would depend on the votes of Professor Scaverson, the Reverend Small and Dr Kingsley,’ Holmes observed.
‘Indeed,’ agreed Speight. ‘Kingsley and Scaverson are men of science, and reliable. But Mr Small is not only a believer in the supernatural by profession, but a man of a rather… individual bent. I understand some of his own parishioners view him as a troublemaker, in fact. I fear that Small might vote to endorse Kellway purely for his own amusement, and that would be the Committee won over.’
‘Well, I shall hope to speak to them all in due course,’ said Holmes. ‘In the meantime you may perhaps take comfort in the fact that Kellway has not yet reappeared to cash in on his remarkable coup de théâtre. Sir Newnham, if I accept this case, it will be with one stipulation. My primary interest will be in establishing how this person vanished, and you may decide about the reward accordingly. His current whereabouts, unless they prove germane to his method, will be of lesser importance to me.’
‘Well, I won’t object to that,’ Sir Newnham said. ‘I hope the fellow’s safe, of course, but I admit it would spare us some trouble if we never saw him again. My hope, though, is that you will uncover the truth, whatever it may be.’
‘What’s your view of the case, Mr Holmes?’ Talbot Rhyne asked.
‘I always try to avoid theorising without sufficient data, Mr Rhyne. I hope to have a clearer picture once I have inspected the scene of the disappearance itself. I fear I have some business to attend to this evening which cannot wait, but if you are agreeable, Sir Newnham, Watson and I will call upon you in the morning.’
‘Of course, Mr Holmes,’ said Speight. ‘But, like Rhyne, I’d appreciate hearing any thoughts you may have at this point, however unformed.’
Holmes sighed. ‘At present I have little beyond the obvious. You tell me that Kellway was visible in the room at five o’clock, and visibly absent five minutes later, and that in the meantime he could neither have hidden himself in the room nor left it by natural means. As it is unlikely that Kellway has performed a feat that all prior scientific thought tells us is impossible, my first hypothesis must be that you are mistaken in some aspect of the story you have presented to me.
‘I hope to make my own assessment of the escapability of the room when I inspect it tomorrow, but if what you have told me holds then I shall be left with the likelihood that you have been lied to. S
everal witnesses including yourself saw Kellway enter the room and stay there; multiple pairs of observers testify to his presence throughout the night; and you affirm that you found him absent from the locked room at ten past five. Since I have no choice but to trust your own account, the point where the story is weakest is at the time when Garforth, Bradbury and Anderton attest that the vanishing took place, and you have their word alone for what happened.
‘The case thus becomes a question of conspiracy to defraud, involving a mere picked lock or copied key, rather than anything supernatural. Our working hypothesis must be that these three witnesses colluded to let Kellway escape, and all of them have lied to you about it.’
But the great inventor had been shaking his head for some time. Now he said, ‘I’ve read Dr Watson’s case-studies, sir, and I’m familiar with your maxim about eliminating the truly impossible and accepting any remaining improbabilities. But to apply it, one must first draw the line between the impossible and the improbable, and where that line lies can be partly a matter of personal judgement. I don’t know Garforth well, and I could perhaps believe that Bradbury had somehow been compromised, but Anderton is as loyal to me as my right arm. I have known him since we were boys. If he needed money, or were being blackmailed, or compelled in any way, I am certain he would have come to me at once.
‘It seems to me, Mr Holmes, that your dictum fails to account for different types of impossibility. I might well be persuaded that the continuum of phenomena allowed for by our current science is incomplete, but I could never believe that William Anderton would conspire to defraud me.’
Holmes nodded. ‘I had rather supposed that you might say that. It certainly serves to make the case more interesting,’ he said. ‘Good evening, gentlemen, and I look forward to furthering our acquaintance on the morrow.’
The Chiswick Weekly Parish Examiner
Friday 7th August 1896
IT MUST BE APPREHENDED that the Editors of this Organ have no truck with anti-clerical sentiment with which our Mighty and Venerable Nation, built upon the Piety of those simple souls who make up the greatest portion of Her Majesty’s subjects, has of late been plagued. The English Church is a Pillar of our Nation, and in its awful Majesty, the indispensable foundation of Her Majesty’s own.
It is for this very reason that the Church’s peerless Reputation among the general populace must be safeguarded, at All Costs, and that those Individuals who bring this Holy Institution into vile Disrepute must not be acquiesced to, even when they hide their wolfish Predilections in a Shepherd’s Garb, but must instead stand Challenged with all the forcefulness that a humble yet locally respected Publication such as our own may bring to bear.
It has been made known to us, by some with some reasons for Concern, that one in a Position of Authority in this Parish has sanctioned with his presence a body going by the ungodly name of The Society for the Scientific Investiture of Psychic Phenomenon. This nice Gathering unites Devil-Worshippers, Hindoos and other Cursed Heathens with the most Atheistical and Nihilistic of our Nation’s Scientific Unbelievers, with the aim of creating Marvels without the intercession of Our LORD.
The Editors understand that these purported Prodigies include the Tricks of knowing the Thoughts of Others, of Moving Objects without touching them, of Foretelling the Future and of Flying through the Air. We need not inflict upon your ears, tender Reader, the name to which such Vile Practices would have been given in simpler Times (Exod. Ch. 22 v. 18).
We have had Cause to complain before of how this same Pernicious Individual has written in his learned books for Atheistical Professors in Universities and Libraries up and down our fair land, denying the Divinity of our Saviour and the reality of the Hereafter (wherein, as its reality will never be questioned by the Faithful, he can surely look for a Warm Welcome indeed! (Matt. Ch. 25 v. 46), but we feel it our Godly duty now to make the Reader aware, having been ignorant ourselves before, that such Company is being kept, by one into whose Hands those, doubtless Deceived by his Wiles, have Misguidedly placed the cure of the Souls of this parish.
As to the name of this person, let it merely be said that, though we are Greatly Distressed by this news, yet our Concern is SMALL.
‘He who has ears, let him hear’ – Matt. Ch. 11 v. 15.
CHAPTER THREE
The following day dawned fine and fresh, as bright as the latter days of summer had been, but cooler. When I awoke I learned, to my surprise, that Holmes had spent half the night watching out for the housebreaker whom he had spotted lurking in the street the previous day, eventually apprehending the man with the help of a passing constable as he scaled the wall of Number 213 Baker Street at half-past two in the morning.
‘In such a trivial matter I hardly had need of your assistance, Watson,’ he told me cheerfully, apparently invigorated by his night’s work. ‘Given your sluggishness of yesterday, I hoped you might appreciate the chance to refresh yourself fully.’
Rhyne had told us the night before that he and his employer had travelled from Richmond to Baker Street on the underground. It seemed that Sir Newnham had created a prototype, now nearly ready for factory production, for a form of motorised transport which might navigate ordinary city and country roads rather than requiring a system of rails, and that in the meantime he scorned cabs and carriages as outdated. Holmes and I did not share the inventor’s scruples, and followed our usual custom of travelling by hansom cab.
By ten o’clock in the morning, when the cabman deposited us at Sir Newnham’s house in Richmond, the only signs of the previous day’s downpour were diminishing puddles lurking in the shade of walls and trees.
An odd encounter occurred as we arrived. Just as I finished paying our cabman, a stranger rushed from a leafy recess in the hedge surrounding Sir Newnham’s property, and ran around to the other side of the hansom. Climbing aboard, he shouted some urgent directions to the driver, and the cabman cracked his whip and drove away at speed. The moment’s glimpse I had of the man left me with the impression of a quantity of flowing silver hair over a dark-grey cape, and the glint of a monocle.
‘Someone is in a hurry,’ I observed to Holmes.
‘And there is a story behind it, no doubt,’ he said, ‘though perhaps it is nothing more interesting than an urgent appointment. In any case, while we have no means of pursuing the man, we know his destination. He asked the cabby to take him to an address in Camden.’
We turned our attention to Sir Newnham Speight’s house. Some years before, what was now Parapluvium House must have been a handsome Georgian mansion set in a large acreage of garden, but in recent times it had acquired so many excrescences, extensions and annexes in a more modern style that it reminded me of those zoological hybrids showmen display at vulgar fairs, monsters sewn together by taxidermic Frankensteins from the anatomies of diverse species. Sir Newnham’s view of architecture was evidently a purely utilitarian one. Holmes was delighted by the place.
We were met by Anderton the butler, a man only a little younger than Speight whose accent suggested a similar background unrefined by his master’s education, and whose contented demeanour and generous girth attested to the millionaire’s indulgent treatment of his servants. He showed us first to Sir Newnham’s study, a well-appointed modern room on the first floor of the main house, with a view over the grounds crowded with their occupying structures.
Sir Newnham and Rhyne were in attendance, and greeted us warmly. At Holmes’s suggestion they took us on a tour of the facilities, many of them manned by technicians or other staff in Speight’s employ. We were shown a large, well-fitted workshop with a forge and a glassblower’s kiln; a photographic studio and darkroom; a room housing a mathematical calculating engine of Speight’s own devising; a huge storeroom where his larger prototypes were housed; a heated greenhouse where he was experimenting with growing tropical fruit; a large glass tank for testing prototype boat-hulls; a rooftop eyrie containing an astronomical observatory, a weather observatory and a camera obscura
commanding a fine view over the grounds; a tall and echoingly empty tower for testing the dynamics of falling objects; a substantial technical library; a generator-house supplying the electrical needs of the mansion and all its satellites; and an extravagantly appointed chemistry lab, which Holmes particularly coveted.
From this last location, a short passage led us to where our business lay, in the Psychic Experimental Annexe. We found it laid out exactly as Sir Newnham had described the night before. To our right as we entered were the cupboards; to our left, the doors to the three Experiment Rooms stood open for our inspection, each with its glass panel and a brass plaque bearing a large capital A, B or C. At the far end a further door gave directly onto the grounds, although for all I knew Sir Newnham had plans to build an experimental cinematograph theatre or dentist’s surgery the other side of it.
The anteroom was comfortably carpeted, wooden-panelled to waist height and wallpapered above, and furnished with armchairs and a low round table for the comfort of the observers. This had a shelf beneath, holding some books and magazines, a chess-set and a deck of playing cards. By contrast the Experiment Rooms were stark: their floors were tiled, and their walls whitewashed, but otherwise bare.
‘There’s no fireplace in any of these rooms,’ I noted. ‘Kellway must have been rather chilly, sitting on a tiled floor.’
‘And yet I find myself feeling perfectly comfortable,’ Holmes noted, bending to press a palm against the floor. ‘Indeed, the tiles are pleasantly warm. Your doing, I suppose, Sir Newnham?’
Speight explained proudly that the Annexe, like much of the rest of the house’s labyrinthine addenda, was heated from beneath using a system of his own devising, based on the Roman hypocaust. Holmes’s ears pricked up at learning that there was a space a mere few feet beneath us that was large enough for a man to crawl through, but Speight assured us that there was no way of entering it from the Annexe without first taking a sledgehammer to the floor.
Sherlock Holmes--The Vanishing Man Page 3
