Sherlock Holmes (17 page)

Holmes’ eyes glinted. “No my Lord... although
it is strange, but perhaps pertinent, that you should mention
blackmail.”

I looked towards the Bishop. It was as if all
the air had suddenly spilled from a sail. He visibly collapsed in
his chair and looked unwell. Clearly, Holmes’ thrust had gone to
the heart. The Bishop's hands went to either side of his head and
he started to rock in his chair and sob quietly.

I saw on a side table a decanter and I poured
a good measure of brandy into a glass, placing it in the Bishop’s
hand. He took a sip and I heard him say "Oh Lord, what have I
done...what have I done?"

Holmes’ tone softened. "We are here to help
you, my Lord, not to accuse...but, in order to help, we must know
every detail. You cannot conceal anything from us or all will be
lost."

The Bishop looked at Holmes and saw that he
was sincere in what he said. Holmes continued, "You have a good
friend in the Bishop of Westfield and it is he who has asked us to
help you."

The
Bishop's head shot up. "Oh Lord! He
knows?"

Holmes slowly nodded. "Come Bishop, tell
all."

The Bishop took another sip of the brandy and
began his story. "It was in October when I first visited Mrs
Withers. I had had a fall and fearfully damaged my knee. I had
visited my doctor but had an idea that some medical rubbing might
relieve the inflammation. I was not aware, at the time, of the
reputation the establishment. In faith, the baths and manipulation
were beneficial. I was somewhat concerned when on one occasion I
misplaced my wallet, it appeared to have happened as I was
undressing. Mrs Withers searched diligently and returned it to me
at the end of my treatment, I am happy to say that nothing was
missing–”

Holmes interrupted at this point, asking,
“Was there anything of value in your wallet?”

The bishop thought for a moment. “No, I think
not. Perhaps a letter or two; a receipted bill from my tailor;
nothing of importance.” The Bishop paused and took a large sip of
brandy. “However, perhaps two weeks later, I seemingly misplaced a
very distinctive tie pin and... and that led to my undoing."

Holmes sat back a little. “I believe, my
Lord, that the first time you 'lost' your wallet it was plainly a
ruse to discover your identity. I would imagine many clients lost
their wallets and then had them returned to them after any useful
information had been extracted. Once your identity was established,
I would imagine Mrs Withers passed this information directly to her
masters.”

The Bishop gave Holmes a quizzical look,
saying, “Her masters?”

Holmes nodded. “Yes my, Lord. I am of the
opinion that there is a direct link from Mrs Withers to the German
embassy.”

There was a crash as the brandy balloon fell
from the Bishop’s limp grasp, smashing to a myriad of pieces on the
oak flooring. The Bishop hid his face in his hands and sobbed, “Oh
dear God! I...I am not only a weak man, but also a traitor! Mrs
Withers told me George's papers contained only commercial
information. She said she could sell it to rival companies who were
submitting tenders for building ships. She had my tie pin you
see... and... she would not return it. On one occasion, whilst
naked and with a nurse, she secretly took my photograph. She
threatened to expose me to the Archbishop and tell the newspapers
about my visits. What was I to do? I would have been ruined.”

I could see that Holmes had a little sympathy
for the Bishop who was clearly a man of weak character. “My Lord, I
fear all is not lost if you co-operate with us fully. I need to
know how you obtained the documents from your brother.”

The Bishop looked up and sighed. “It was
easily done. George often travels down here at the weekends. There
is a fine golf club a few miles away of which he is a member. He
often makes a day of playing a round or two of golf and then
spending the evening at the club before returning quite late at
night. This was a regular pattern as my brother is a creature of
habit. After he left in the early morning for the golf club, I took
his bag with me up to town and to Mrs Withers. I believe she must
have photographed the contents as she returned the bag to me within
half an hour. I then immediately caught the train back to Sandbury
and was back by tea time.”

Holmes was silent for a moment. “I will have
to confer with the authorities to see what can be done. In the
meantime, do nothing. I will send a telegram requesting your
presence at Baker Street in the next few days.” Holmes stood and we
prepared to leave.

The Bishop looked up at Holmes, asking, “Do
you think there is a chance a scandal can truly be avoided?”

Holmes’ face was grim as he replied, “It is a
possibility, nothing more.” Giving the Bishop a brief nod, we
left.

As we travelled back on the train, I enquired
of Holmes’ knowledge of German spies in London. Holmes smiled. “You
really need to look back to the war between Austria and Prussia for
the background to modern German spying, Watson. A man of great
talent set up a huge network of agents in the areas which were to
be invaded, his name was Karl Stieber. Born in 1818 in Saxony, he
became the head of the German secret police; his legacy is the
network of spies we see today. It pervades Western Europe, seeking
intelligence wherever it can.”

I was a little shocked by this. “Surely there
cannot be many here in London? The authorities must be aware?”
asked I.

Holmes spread his hands in reply. “The
authorities are aware of their presence but, for the most part,
their identities remain hidden. Grave concerns have been raised
regarding the openness of our borders, Watson. A sharp contrast to
the other countries of Europe. This has drawn spies and anarchists
to London, they see it as a safe haven from which to operate. This
affair with the Bishop is one that, I believe, brother Mycroft will
want to exploit.”

On our return, Holmes had despatched a
telegram to Mycroft outlining our meeting with the Bishop. The
result of this was an unexpected visit the following morning.

We had just finished a fine breakfast of a
pair of smoked kippers when in swept Mycroft. “Ah, Sherlock! I
require your counsel. I have a need to turn this debacle to our
advantage.”

Holmes’ face bore a thin smile. “Yes, I
thought this situation might be of interest to you, Mycroft. I see
a way for you to influence the thinking in the German capital.”

Mycroft nodded. “Yes, it must be done subtly,
Sherlock. We need the Bishop's co-operation. Will he be
willing?”

Holmes nodded slowly. “I believe he would do
anything to avoid a scandal and a charge of treason.”

Mycroft's face bore a grim smile. “It is as I
had hoped. I have prepared some papers which I want the Bishop to
take to Mrs Withers. They contain some unimportant information
which is true but also some important misinformation regarding the
loyalty of one of their top submarine designers, a certain Johann
Friedmann. We have also arranged for a payment to be made into Herr
Friedmann's bank account. With a little effort, the money can be
traced back to an English bank which is known to the Germans for
handling government payments.”

Holmes smiled. “Ah, you intend to use this
contact to muddy the waters a little within the Kaiserliche
Marine?”

Mycroft nodded. “Indeed so. A seed of doubt
regarding the loyalty of this fellow may well bear fruit. You will
need to send the telegram to the Bishop requesting him to come
here. I have obtained a case identical to the one used by Captain
Mapleton. If he does as requested, I will try and persuade the
government not to take action against him.”

Holmes nodded. “I will see to it,
Mycroft.”

The telegram was duly sent that afternoon and
the following morning there was a ring at our front door which
announced the arrival of the Bishop of Sandbury. I must confess
that he did not look a deal better than when we had seen him
before. It was indeed clear that his transgressions were weighing
heavily upon him.

Holmes welcomed the Bishop and as he sat
before us, I could see him trembling. “Good morning, my Lord. I
have spoken to my brother, Mycroft, who has some influence within
the Government. There is a chance that you may not be prosecuted
and a scandal averted.”

The Bishop looked up a Holmes, there was now
a spark of hope in his eyes. “What must I do, Mr Holmes?”

Holmes stood and paced a little. “It is
necessary for you to visit Mrs Withers again with a document case
identical to that of your brother. I have it here, ready, and it is
imperative that you behave as before. Nothing must change.”

The Bishop looked shocked. “But...but the
government papers...”

Holmes smiled. “Do not fear, my Lord, all is
in order. You are not committing any act of treason.”

There was some relief on the face of the
Bishop… but it was clear that he was still gravely concerned. “What
of my tie pin and the photograph?”

Holmes rubbed his chin, saying, “Yes, I have
been giving that some thought. It may require me also to visit Old
Burlington Street. Tell me, my Lord. When Mrs Withers showed you
the tie pin and your photograph, where were you?”

The Bishop thought for a moment before
answering. “She showed me into her office and asked me to sit down.
It was then that she unlocked a drawer in her desk and took from it
the two items.”

Holmes nodded. “Well, my Lord, here is the
case with the papers. I must stress again that you act as you have
done on your previous visits. It is imperative that you do not
raise her suspicions.” The Bishop looked quite unwell but nodded
silently. Holmes held out the case and walked towards the Bishop.
“We must not delay you any further, my Lord. Mrs Withers awaits!”
and with that, he handed him the case and ushered the Bishop out of
the door.

The Bishop had left us somewhat reluctantly
and, from our rooms, we saw him hail a cab in the street below. We
could only hope that he would play his part in this grand
deception.

We sat for a while, each in our own thoughts
and smoked a pipe of tobacco. Holmes sat back in his favourite
leather armchair and it was clear from his countenance that he was
considering what options were open to him. “Describe to me, if you
will Watson, the locations of the rooms at Old Burlington
Street.”

I sat and thought for a moment, trying to
visualise the rooms that I had visited. “Well, as you enter the
establishment, you find yourself in the waiting room. To the left
is the office from where Mrs Withers appeared. To the right there
are two other rooms which appear to be identical, 'treatment'
rooms. It was into one of these I was shown. I believe, from my
conversation with Nurse Susan, that there are similar rooms
upstairs.”

Holmes pursed his lips. “It is the office of
Mrs Withers that is of interest to me. I'm afraid you may be
required to put on a bit of a show, old chap... nothing
spectacular, but sufficient to attract and hold the attention of
Mrs Withers.”

I held my tongue but the thought of returning
to Mrs Withers’ establishment was one I did not relish.

We waited until the following day before
venturing out towards Old Burlington Street. Holmes had selected
several items from his collection of burglar's tools and had placed
them in his coat pockets.

We hailed a Hansom and once again I asked the
cabbie to stop in Saville Row and, together, we walked the last few
yards. “This is it Holmes. Mrs Withers’ establishment is on the
first floor.”

Just as we were climbing the steps, a tall,
distinguished figure swept past us. I looked at Holmes and was
about to ask him to confirm the identity of the person I had
recognised when Holmes held up his hand. I realised then that
discretion in this matter was everything.

Climbing the stairs to the first floor we
approached the door. As I reached out to knock, Holmes caught my
sleeve, saying, “I shall follow in three or four minutes, giving
you time to discuss your needs and for Mrs Withers to take you into
the treatment room.”

I saw the smile on Holmes’ face. I was sure
that he was gaining enormous pleasure from my discomfort in this
matter. I knocked and waited. A few moments later the door was once
again opened by the maid and I was invited inside.

Mrs Withers was already in the waiting room
and it was plain that she was most pleased to see that I had
returned. “Good morning, sir. How pleasant to see you again. Is the
shoulder still bothering you?”

I touched my hat saying “Yes, Mrs Withers. I
would like to consult you about it and have the 'Bain de Luxe', if
I may?”

Once again Mrs Withers beamed at my request.
“Of course, sir… and would you be requiring Nurse Susan?” she
enquired.

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I found her
massage most beneficial during my last visit.”

Leading the way, Mrs Withers took me into the
treatment room and, once there, she entered the bathroom. Clouds of
steam again rolled from the bathroom bringing the scent of pine
which filled the air as she ran my bath. It was at that moment that
I panicked. I had forgotten to relate, in my narrative to Holmes,
that Mrs Withers had left for a few minutes whilst I undressed and
climbed into the bath. I heard the water stop running and she
entered the treatment room saying, “Right then, sir. I will leave
you for a few moments whilst you undress.”

She had her hand on the door and was opening
it as I cried, “Wait!” She turned towards me and I saw, to my
horror, through the opening door, the figure of Holmes entering the
waiting room. “I...I...err...I'm having some difficulty undressing,
due to my shoulder. I wonder if you would mind helping me, Mrs
Withers.”