The Secret Notebooks of Sherlock Holmes (5 page)

‘In contrast to them, Whitey Johnson was a small, non-descript young man only in his mid-twenties and so pale and sickly in appearance that he put me in mind of a plant which had been grown in a cellar or a dark room, deprived of sunlight. It was this excessive pallor of his complexion which earned him the sobriquet “Whitey”. There were, however, two remarkable qualities about him which marked him out as someone special. The first was his capacity not to be noticed. I have rarely known anyone who had his skill of inconspicuousness; a perfect qualification, of course, for a “stickman”. He could melt away into a crowd like a raindrop in a puddle.

‘His other talent was his quickness of movement despite his physical disability. Seeing him darting along on his crutch like a monkey swinging its way from tree to tree, one could understand why the Bartletts had recruited him into their gang. Not only could he disappear from the scene of the crime in an instant, he complemented them perfectly, their roles being, so to speak, public while his was entirely private; theirs to place themselves centre stage, his to vanish into the shadows.

‘Johnson usually called at the Bartletts’ on a Friday evening at half past seven, bringing with him a bag containing, I suspected, bottles of brown ale, for, on one occasion, I strolled past the house when he was there and saw through a gap in the curtains the three
of them playing cards at a table under a lamp, the beer decanted into glasses which stood by their sides. At half past ten, he always left, swinging his way up the street on his crutch at that surprising speed of his. Apart from these regular
soirées
, Johnson appeared to have no other connection with the Bartletts. Intrigued by this strange little man and curious to find out more about his private life, I hired Wiggins to make enquiries on my behalf. To that end, Wiggins followed him one evening to a lodging house in Battersea where he lived alone. He apparently had no family or friends apart from the Bartletts.’

At this point, Holmes paused and gazed deeply into the fire, as if searching amongst the flames for an explanation for this uncharacteristic interest of his in Whitey Johnson whom he himself had referred to as ‘inconspicuous’. But before I could remark on this unprecedented concern of his, for he rarely showed any feelings for his clients let alone any criminals who might cross his path, he roused himself from his reverie and resumed his account.

‘On the Saturday afternoon of the week following Wiggins’ little excursion to Battersea, Whitey Johnson arrived at the Bartletts’ house; an unusual time for him to visit them. As I have explained, he invariably called on them on a Friday evening. As soon as I saw him enter the house, I was immediately on the alert, for I knew something out of the ordinary was about to happen. And I was correct. Ten minutes later, all three of them left the house and set off up the street. Pausing
only to put on my shabby coat and bowler hat, part of my disguise as an out-of-work clerk, I followed them on foot to Ladbroke Grove where they hailed a cab. I did likewise, my hansom keeping a little distance from theirs on my instructions.

‘Their destination was the North End Road in Fulham, a busy thoroughfare of shops, cafés and other business premises, including, I noticed, as my cab drew to a halt not far from theirs, a small jeweller’s shop, its single window covered by a metal grille and the name Samuel Greenbaum painted on the board above it.

‘Here the three of them separated, Johnson limping ahead to survey, I assumed, any alleys and side turnings which would serve as an escape route should one be needed. Rosie Bartlett also went her own way, sauntering along, her veil lowered, pretending to look in the shop windows but also doubtlessly surveying the neighbourhood on her own behalf.

‘Bartlett, meanwhile, to my utter astonishment, entered the shop. It was a totally unexpected move on his part but one I could see the logic of when I thought about it. By doing so, he, too, could inspect for himself certain aspects of the premises in readiness for the actual crime which they planned would take place at some later date, for I was quite convinced this was not intended to be the actual robbery, merely a rehearsal for it. By this means, he could check, for example, if the proprietor worked alone in the shop or had an assistant; how agile the man might be when
it came to a pursuit; what obstacles lay between the counter and the door; and how easily the door opened on to the street.

‘I deliberately strolled past the shop and, glancing in through the glass panel in the door, saw Bartlett in animated conversation with the shopkeeper. They even shook hands on parting! It was then I realised what I was witnessing was an arrangement being made for Bartlett to call again at the shop on another day, in the company of his wife, to inspect some of the more valuable rings for her to choose from. In other words, the jeweller was unwittingly collaborating in the plan to steal his own property!

‘I was convinced of the accuracy of my theory when, stepping into the shelter of a doorway, I watched Bartlett as he left the shop and saw him at closer quarters for the first time that morning. He was normally clean-shaven and never wore spectacles but on this occasion he was wearing gold-rimmed eye-glasses and a neatly-clipped brown moustache, the disguise he evidently intended wearing on the day the planned robbery would take place. These prior inspections of the proposed scenes of the crimes were an aspect of the case which Lestrade had not mentioned to me, either because he considered them of no importance or because the shopkeepers themselves had not mentioned them, which suggested they had not been interviewed by the police with sufficient vigour.

‘I there and then resolved that whenever I had to
question witnesses I would spend as much time and effort as I could in drawing out of them even the most trivial-seeming facts to help with my investigation. Knowledge is everything, Watson. Even the smallest detail can be crucial in bringing a criminal to justice.
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‘In the meantime, Bartlett had walked to the end of the street where he met up with his sister Rosie as well as Whitey Johnson and, having conferred together briefly, the three of them parted, Johnson hailing a hansom and driving off on his own, the Bartletts taking a separate cab. The reconnaissance was over and everything was now set for the actual robbery, which I was convinced would take place the following Saturday afternoon at about half past six.’

‘What made you so sure, Holmes?’

‘That was exactly the question Inspector Lestrade asked me when I called on him at Scotland Yard on Monday morning. My answer was to refer him to the facts. It was exactly at this time that Whitey Johnson and the Bartletts had made their survey of the territory with, I believed, good reason. As well as the premises they intended robbing, they would also wish to examine the neighbourhood in general. It was a busy commercial street containing a number of shops selling provisions in addition to the lines of market stalls set up along the kerb, a significant factor, I concluded. Now, many
workmen are paid their wages on a Saturday evening, in consequence of which they and their wives have money in their pockets to spend on food for their families as well as ale for themselves in the public houses, of which there were three in the immediate vicinity of Mr Greenbaum’s shop. The pavements would therefore be crowded with people which would make Bartlett’s escape that much the easier.

‘As I have pointed out to you before, people, criminals included, are creatures of habit and all the other robberies had taken place late on a Saturday afternoon, a point which Lestrade himself made when he was discussing the cases with me. However, he failed to grasp the full significance of this fact, dismissing it as a mere whim on the part of the Bartletts, like the wearing of a lucky charm. But there was nothing superstitious in their attitude to thieving. They were professionals through and through, and therefore the choice of day and time was as deliberate as all other aspects of their strategy, from their use of disguise to the selection of their victims.

‘It took some persuasion on my part to convince Lestrade of the accuracy of my theory but at last good sense prevailed and he agreed to fall in with my plans. Therefore, the next day, I made my own tour of inspection of the area in company with Lestrade, choosing the best places where he and his officers, six of them in plain clothes, might wait upon the events to come without making their presence known.

‘I should add, in Lestrade’s defence, that, once he had grown accustomed to my plan, he joined in it with enthusiasm; too much so at first and I had to persuade him that planting one of his men outside the jeweller’s shop disguised as a blind beggar was more likely to draw attention to the man than divert it. Like the stall-holders and the street traders in general, beggars have their regular pitches and for a stranger to arrive amongst them would have immediately aroused resentment as well as suspicion.

‘By six o’clock the following Saturday afternoon, the plain-clothes officers, suitably attired, were in place in the North End Road, mingling with the ordinary folk who were about their everyday business, like them looking in windows, going in and out of the shops, buying fruit and vegetables from the stalls, always keeping on the move as I had insisted but never straying too far from Mr Greenbaum’s premises.

‘Lestrade was among them, his sharp little eyes darting here, there and everywhere, anxious that all was going to plan, for his reputation at Scotland Yard depended on the success of this particular investigation, following his recent failure over the notorious Paddington Green murder case in which the killer had got clean away.

‘I, too, sauntered to and fro, watching for cabs arriving, for I guessed the Bartletts and Whitey Johnson would not travel by omnibus, a slow method of getting about. And I was right, one cab halted a little way up
the road and I saw Johnson emerge from it, carrying his crutch. Within moments, he had disappeared among the crowds.

‘The Bartletts arrived shortly afterwards and immediately the game was set in motion. Arm in arm, the two of them strolled towards Greenbaum’s shop, looking every inch a respectable couple, Rosie with her veil down, George wearing eye-glasses and the small brown moustache, his bowler hat set at a dignified angle. Pausing only to glance in through the window to ascertain the shop was empty of other customers, Bartlett pushed open the door and the pair of them entered to the discordant jangle of the bell above the lintel.

‘I had agreed with Lestrade that, as we had no evidence against the Bartletts with which to charge them, their arrest and that of Whitey Johnson, their accomplice, would not take place until after the robbery. In the meantime, one of his men, a sergeant in plain clothes, and I would take it in turns to walk nonchalantly past the shop and, by looking in, as if casually, through the glass panel in the door, would keep watch on the progress of the crime and would flourish a pocket handkerchief at the exact moment when Bartlett had seized up the rings and was ready to make his get-away. In the event, it was I who gave the signal.

‘As I glanced in during my second promenade past the door, I caught the scene for a moment, as if frozen in time like a tableau on a stage or a waxwork display at
Madame Tussaud’s
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depicting Larceny or The Criminal Caught in the Act. There was Mr Greenbaum, an inoffensive, white-haired little man reeling back from his counter, his features conveying shock as vividly as those of a Greek theatrical mask. There was Rosie Bartlett raising one black-gloved hand dramatically to her forehead as if on the point of losing consciousness. And to complete the trio, there was George Bartlett scooping up the velvet cloth on which the rings were laid out on the counter as he prepared to make his escape.

‘Not wishing to impede him, for it was imperative to let him pass the stolen jewellery to his accomplice Whitey Johnson, so that he, too, could be gathered into our net, I walked on as if I had witnessed nothing, at the same time producing my pocket handkerchief and blowing my nose with a flourish. As I did so, I glanced rapidly about me, searching for Whitey Johnson among the passers-by. He was standing against the wall of a nearby public house, where the customers going in and out of the door would shield him from sight, his crutch under his left arm and his expression so mild and innocent that not even a hardened cynic would suspect him of loitering there with criminal intent.

‘Bartlett, too, seemed no more suspicious than any ordinary man in a hurry about his business. Walking rapidly away, he brushed past Johnson as if accidentally. It was in that brief moment of contact that the cloth containing the rings, which was now gathered up into a bundle small enough to be hidden in the hand, was passed to Johnson in one swift, covert movement which a professional magician would not have been ashamed of. The next instant, Johnson had begun to limp hurriedly away in the opposite direction to Bartlett, who passed on down the street, mingling with the shoppers thronging the pavement.

‘My target was Johnson and, accompanied by the plain-clothes sergeant, I made haste to catch up with him, for it was obvious he had to distance himself from the scene of the robbery as quickly as possible. But he had one important task still to complete and that was to conceal the stolen rings so that, should he be stopped and searched, nothing would be found on him.’

At this point in his narrative, Holmes paused and regarded me with a quizzical smile.

‘Now, Watson,’ said he, ‘where do you suppose the rings were hidden?’

‘Certainly not in his pockets,’ I replied. ‘Those would be the first places the police would search.’

‘Well reasoned, my dear fellow! But if not in his pockets, then where exactly?’

‘Somewhere on his person?’ I hazarded, hoping for a further clue.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Holmes replied in an infuriatingly casual manner.

‘In his boots then?’ I suggested, realising I was clutching at straws.

‘Oh, come now, Watson!’ he chided. ‘Surely you are capable of making a leap of the imagination? I have given you all the information you need to reach the right conclusion. No? Then allow me to give you a little assistance. What was Johnson carrying?’