Sherlock Holmes (22 page)

Holmes laughed and reached for
his pipe. "Did you hear him thank us for our '
assistance'
,
Watson? I have never seen him so eager to leave and get back to
Scotland Yard!"

I was now confused. "Are you not
concerned that he will simply arrest those responsible and take the
credit?"

Holmes replied, sternly, "I do
not do this for the glory, as you well know.” I felt a little
rebuked by this but his face then took on an impish expression as
he asked, “Tell me, Watson, you have hunted in the Highlands. How
does a hunter flush out the game?"

I thought this an odd question
and considered it for a moment before replying, "Well, a Setter is
used to indicate the location of the game and then a Springer is
sent in to flush them out...Ha! Lestrade is the Springer!"

Holmes laughed, patting me on
the back. "And you made a very fine Setter, Watson!"

We both laughed and, when once
more we were seated, Holmes began to explain his plan. "Lestrade is
able enough to locate and close down the manufacture of the pills,
I have no doubt. It is the blackmailers who are our quarry, Watson.
Lestrade will lie in wait and arrest some poor lackey whose role it
is to empty the post office box each day, not knowing the contents.
This arrest will satisfy Lestrade. We, meanwhile, will be watching
for the bigger game who will be nearby but evade Lestrade’s
trap."

I nodded and then asked, "Do you
think they will lead us to Moriarty?"

Holmes’ expression became
thoughtful. He drew steadily upon his pipe before replying, "I am
unsure, but it is a possibility, Watson. I would be grateful if you
could bring your service revolver with you tomorrow, just as a
precaution."

Holmes turned and looked at our
wall clock. "Are you agreeable to a little exercise, Watson? As I
recall from the letter, the payment was to be sent to the General
Post Office at St Martin's Le Grand. I think we might take a stroll
there and see the lie of the land."

I readily agreed and within ten
minutes, we had dressed warmly, hailed a passing cab and were on
our way to Aldersgate Street. Our arrival brought us to the front
of an impressive, Grecian-styled stone building which stretched
some two hundred feet either side of a colonnaded, Grecian, peaked
portico. Stepping down from the cab, we made our way up the central
steps and through the columns to the entrance to the building
proper.

As we passed through the most
impressive cast bronze, entrance doors, Holmes caught my arm,
saying, "This must be a casual visit, Watson. We do not want to
spring the birds ourselves simply by our presence."

I nodded and, as we walked, ever
watchful, Holmes used his cane to ostensibly point out to me the
architectural features of this fine building. Moving further into
the foyer, there could be seen counters where customers could make
enquiries and purchases. Above one small area of a counter there
hung a sign saying, 'Post Restante'. Holmes touched my sleeve
briefly but we walked on without a further glance. To the sides of
the public area were benches and we took the opportunity to sit and
rest for a moment.

Holmes bent slightly towards me,
saying, "Here, Watson. This is an ideal location to observe both
the counter and the comings and goings from the building."

I nodded but asked, "How will we
know when the letters from that particular box are being
collected?"

Holmes smiled. "I am sure that
friend Lestrade will make a very public display of arresting
whoever collects from the box. We however, must watch and see who
takes flight and follow immediately... but discreetly. I require
you to wait in the street, ready with a cab, whilst I observe
here." I agreed and we returned to Baker Street, cheered and braced
by our afternoon stroll.

As we sat and smoked that
evening, I wondered about the timing of our visit to the post
office. "Tell me, Holmes," I asked. "At what time do you envisage
our next visit to Aldersgate Street to be?"

Holmes was sitting back in his
leather armchair. He took his pipe from his mouth, saying, "This is
something that I have considered, Watson. Whoever collects the
letters will, no doubt, wait until almost the end of the day to
ensure that all the mail for that day has been placed in the box. I
have made enquiries and the ‘Post Restante’ counter closes at
4:30pm; therefore, I suggest we begin our watch from an hour
before."

I must confess that I was most
eager to see who collected the letters, and, more importantly, who
would flee from the scene.

Little occurred during the
following morning, I cleaned and loaded my service revolver and I
saw, by the soiled cleaning cloth and the open box of ammunition
left on our dining table, that Holmes had been similarly occupied.
If Julia Moriarty were at the heart of this villainy, then Holmes
would be taking no chances.

By three o'clock we were ready
and Holmes was now pacing, eager to travel to Aldersgate Street.
"Come along, Watson, make haste! We do not want to miss Lestrade's
triumph! Holmes laughed, leaving our rooms almost at the gallop. I
hurried after him down the stairs and into Baker Street where
Holmes stood with his gloved hand raised, waving, to summon a
cab.

As we neared the General Post
Office, Holmes turned to me, saying, "You have a most important
role, Watson. As soon as Lestrade springs his trap, I fully expect
someone to leave the post office in haste and take a cab. You must
be ever watchful. I will follow swiftly at a safe distance but you
must keep your eye on whoever leaves until I can join you."

Holmes directed the driver to
take his cab to the rear of a line of cabs waiting at the stand
opposite the post office. I remained in the cab whilst Holmes
wandered nonchalantly towards the post office, stopping briefly to
buy a newspaper.

After having watched the ebb and
flow of the tide of humanity in the street for some ten minutes,
there was suddenly the shrill sound of a police whistle followed by
a commotion on the steps of the post office. A struggling figure
was being manhandled by two burly constables towards a closed
police van that was quickly approaching from a side street.

As I watched, a figure slid from
the small group that had formed to see what was happening. I
noticed that he walked just a little too briskly towards the cab at
the head of the queue at the stand. Fortunately for Holmes, the
cabbie had taken the opportunity, whilst he had no customers, to
feed his horse. It took a minute or so for him to remove the nose
bag from around the horse’s head, much to the annoyance of his
impatient fare. This short delay was sufficient to allow Holmes to
walk unhurriedly from the post office to our cab without attracting
any undue attention.

Looking behind me, I saw Holmes
step up to where our cabbie was seated and press a coin into his
hand before exchanging a few words. Holmes joined me mere moments
before our cab began to move forwards towards the head of the
queue. The first cab moved off when we were but ten yards from it
and I could see an anxious, moustached face at the rear window of
the cab, looking to see if anyone were setting off to give chase.
As our cab was already in motion before his set off, he seemed
untroubled by our presence.

After about a mile, the cab in
front of us stopped. The man inside leapt from the cab and, after
throwing a coin to the driver, ran to the front door of a house and
disappeared inside. Our cab continued on its way and only stopped
once we had rounded a corner, some fifty yards further on.

Holmes sprang from the cab and
immediately headed for an alleyway that ran parallel to the houses.
"This way, Watson!" cried Holmes, "We must see who is at home!"

Charging along the alleyway,
Holmes ran full tilt until he was within ten yards of the house of
interest. He then slowed and approached with caution. Looking
around me, I could see that each house had a rear yard with an
attached wash house within it. We both had removed our hats and
Holmes carefully peered around the corner of the wall that divided
the yard from that of the house next door. With his gloved hand, he
motioned for me to follow. We flattened ourselves against the
grimy, brick wall as we crept towards the rear window of the house.
Thankfully, the back yard was ill-lit by the watery, autumn sun and
the gaslights in the house had been lit.

As we inched closer, we could
see that he room was clearly the kitchen. Raised voices could be
heard from within and two men could be seen engaged in a heated
discussion. I crouched beside Holmes and I could see that upon the
kitchen table were open ledgers and piles of letters, together with
neat stacks of gold coins. From my position a little way behind
Holmes, my view was somewhat restricted. As I watched, I saw him
suddenly stiffen whilst whispering, "Moriarty!"

On hearing her name, I edged
forwards to get a better view. In doing so, my knee inadvertently
caught the handle of a galvanised bucket causing it to fall
noisily. Faces inside the room instantly turned towards the window.
I had the briefest glimpse of an auburn haired woman plunging a
hand into her bag and then a flash of bright metal before my head
was roughly pushed down below the window ledge.

Instantly, my shoulders and bare
head were showered with a cascade of broken glass as two shots were
fired, shattering the kitchen window. Holmes had sprung to one side
and I now crouched even lower, seeking the protection of the
brickwork. I saw that he had drawn his revolver and I fumbled for
mine. As I did so, I found that my vision in one eye was suddenly
obscured by a steady flow of blood from the top of my head. Putting
away my revolver, I took out my handkerchief and pressed it firmly
to my scalp in an attempt to staunch the heavy flow of blood.

Holmes risked a quick glance
into the kitchen and saw that it was now empty. As he did so, we
heard the front door of the house slam. Holmes turned to give chase
along the alleyway but, as he did so, he saw the blood streaming
down my face and now soaking my clothes.

"Watson, you are injured!"
gasped Holmes and quickly replaced his revolver. He tried the back
door of the house but, as expected, found it to be locked. However,
after a well-placed kick to the lock from Holmes, we were soon
inside.

"I am all right, Holmes!" I
cried and steadied myself by resting a bloodied hand upon the
kitchen table. "You must go after them!

Holmes shook his head, saying,
"No, Watson, you are infinitely more important. There will be
another day for Moriarty."

Gently, he manoeuvred me closer
to the gas light and removed my blood-soaked handkerchief.
Immediately I could feel a fresh flow of warm blood down the side
of my head. Holmes looked around and snatched up a kitchen towel,
pressing it firmly to my scalp. Holmes patted me on the shoulder
with his free hand, saying, "You will live, old fellow, I have no
doubt, but I fear that you will need a stitch or two to close that
wound."

And so it was. Holmes left me
for a few moments whilst he went to the front door and blew three
sharp blasts on his police whistle. Within but a few minutes, two
constables were at the door. Holmes explained our presence and
asked that Inspector Lestrade be informed. With the house now
secured, a cab was hailed and I was conveyed to a local hospital
where my wounds were promptly stitched and dressed.

Arriving back at Baker Street, I
washed and, after having changed my bloodied clothes, I collapsed
into my chair, exhausted. At dinner, Mrs Hudson was heard to 'tut'
several times as she served the meal, observing the dressing on my
head from different angles as she moved around the table. However,
the gentle squeeze to my arm as she passed Holmes the gravy boat
did not go unnoticed... by either of us.

It was during the afternoon, a
full two days later, that we received a visit from Lestrade. He
arrived in our rooms in particularly high spirits, rubbing his
hands and saying, "Well, Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, I think we have done
our country a great service. Not only has Scotland Yard broken up a
ring of drug pedlars but we have also caught a blackmailer who has
preyed upon so many vulnerable women."

I looked across at Holmes who, I
could see, was maintaining his composure with great difficulty. He
had taken up his pipe and appeared to be biting down hard on the
stem in an attempt to hold his tongue.

Finally, he seemed compelled to
speak. "So, Lestrade, the wretch that you captured at the post
office was the mastermind behind this villainous blackmail?" asked
Holmes, his voice having an edge like that of a cut-throat
razor.

Lestrade shuffled slightly
before saying, "Well... no, I cannot say that, Mr Holmes, but he
was clearly one of ringleaders!"

I stifled a chuckle as Holmes
drove home the point, saying, "Rather like our postman collecting
the mail is not far removed from the position of the Postmaster
General?"

Lestrade again shuffled before
saying proudly, "We do have information regarding those who fled
from the house you discovered. They took a cab to Cheapside."

Holmes took his pipe from his
mouth, asking, "Really? And then…?"

Lestrade seemed to shrink
visibly before my eyes and a deafening silence filled the room. I
looked at the rather deflated figure and decided to encourage him
by asking, "The letters and the ledgers at the house, they were of
use to your investigation Inspector?"

Lestrade instantly brightened,
saying, "Indeed they were, Dr Watson. Over the last three days
alone, more than six hundred pounds has been received from further
blackmail victims. The ledgers listed all the receipts and were
neatly cross-referenced against the sale of the pills. You will not
believe this, gentlemen, for I did not, but it would appear that
some five thousand women throughout Great Britain have bought the
pills over the last twelve months!"