Sherlock Holmes (9 page)

“Chiswick!” I cried, “That’s where…” I
stopped as I was silenced by a glance and a raised finger from
Holmes.

Holmes nodded. “Indeed, Watson. That’s where
we must search further."

Holmes thanked the inspector and then
enquired the time of the next train back to London. The inspector
consulted his watch and told us that we could catch the half past
two express. This then gave us sufficient time to partake of a
light luncheon, pack our bags and catch the train.

Holmes, I could see, was appreciative when
Inspector Thomas himself collected us from ‘The Swan’ and drove us
to the station. Shaking hands, we bade him farewell and promised to
send word of the results of our enquiries.

The train journey back to London was
uneventful except, perhaps, when Holmes, who had been propped in a
corner, seemingly asleep, suddenly addressed me. “Watson, in the
light of what we discovered in Truro. What can we now deduce from
the communications we have received from this villain? I am seeking
any further information that we might garner, now that our minds
are not clouded by the imperative of finding his modus
operandi.”

I sat for a few moments, thinking back to the
letter we had both seen at Baker Street. “Well, I can see the
reason why the gum on the envelope remained unused and why it was
sealed with wax. Clearly he did not want to fall foul of his own
poison."

“Yes, quite so... but sending a poisoned
envelope was clearly a mistake on his part. I think he may also
have made a further error by revealing more about himself than he
would like.” Holmes now paused for a moment before asking, “Do you
recall the wording for the insertion into ‘The Times’ personal
column?”

I thought for a moment before replying, “Yes.
I thought it a little contrived.”

Holmes smiled
and nodded. “Let us
look closely at this
sentence. 'Mr J. Bull agrees and wishes to settle his debt.' I
think it conveys more than a simple message”.

Holmes leaned
forwards slightly, saying, “J. Bull obviously refers to Great
Britain… but why does he see this attempt at extortion as a
repayment of a debt? Reparation, perhaps? It is as though he feels
he has been cheated and, is indeed, rightfully owed this money by
the government.”

I shook my head and once more Holmes sank
back into the corner of the train compartment, deep in thought.

It was early evening when we arrived back at
Paddington and we quickly hailed a Hansom. Holmes had dispatched a
telegram to Mycroft from the station telegraph office, asking him
to come to Baker Street at 10 a.m. the following morning.

I was somewhat fatigued from our travels and
bade my friend goodnight. Holmes grunted and remained sitting in
his leather armchair, drawing steadily on his pipe, deep in his own
thoughts.

When I arose and appeared for breakfast at
8:30 a.m. the following morning, Holmes had already left. About an
hour later, I heard Holmes’ familiar tread on the stairs and
feeling refreshed, I asked, “Good morning, Holmes. An early
stroll?”

Holmes shook his head. “Hardly, Watson. I
have been to Companies House and to see other contacts in The City
to gather information regarding Messrs. Arthur Birchwood and
Sons.”

“Did you find anything of interest?” I
enquired.

Holmes sat down and began to fill his
favourite Meerschaum. “Yes, very much so. It would appear that the
company was set up some fifty years ago to make the folding paper
templates for envelopes. The company was successful and moved
forward, embracing the new system of producing gummed envelopes.
Apparently, the process required the purchase of a large amount of
new machinery and, because of a series of unwise investments, the
company almost went bankrupt.”

I nodded, asking, “I take it there is no
longer an Arthur Birchwood?"

Holmes lit his pipe and, between long draws
upon it, said, “Alas, no. Mr Arthur Birchwood died quite recently.
It was seemingly due to the stress caused by the disastrous
investments he made in the Argentine. The company is now run by one
of his sons, a Mr George Birchwood.”

“Ah, yes.” said I. “I remember the severe
problems Barings endured due to overexposure to Argentine and
Uruguayan debt."

“Quite!” puffed Holmes. “Perhaps the
government and the Bank of England might have shown more support in
these matters. We were in grave danger of seeing the whole banking
system in London collapse had Barings failed."

The clock in our sitting room struck ten and
we sat, enjoying a pipe of tobacco as we waited for Mycroft.
Hearing a Hansom pull up in the street below, it was but a few
moments before Mycroft climbed the stairs and swept into our
rooms.

Mycroft’s complexion had improved as he
announced, “Good morning, Sherlock, Watson. Encouraging news from
Truro!"

Sherlock nodded to Mycroft and then rose from
his armchair and began to pace in front of the fire. “I have a
request to make, Mycroft. I need a letter of introduction from Her
Majesty's Stationery Office addressed to a Mr George Birchwood of
Messrs. Arthur Birchwood and Sons of Chiswick. As you know, from my
telegram, however cryptic, this is the source of the poison. I need
to get a look at this fellow and obtain a sample of his
handwriting."

Mycroft rubbed his chin. “It can be arranged…
but time is short, Sherlock. We need to effect the payment of the
funds by noon tomorrow.”

Holmes paused in his pacing. “How is payment
to be made?” asked Holmes.

“By bearer bonds to the value of one million
pounds sterling and deposited into a numbered Swiss bank account.”
Mycroft replied.

Holmes’ face was now grim. “From there they
would be untraceable, easily transferred and accepted the World
over. With regard to the letter of introduction, I wish to pose as
a commissioning official, offering a very lucrative contract. I
have given this some considerable thought. The commission will be
for the design and printing of a commemorative envelope for the new
telephone line from London to Paris which is to be officially
connected on the 1st of April next year.”

Mycroft looked thoughtful, his forefinger
resting against his upper lip. “Yes... that's plausible enough.
Much has been made of this venture already in the press. I will
send a courier round to you with the letter and send another to the
company offices of Birchwood's telling them to expect you at 9 a.m.
tomorrow, if that is agreeable?"

“Splendid!” cried Holmes and bounded to the
door to speed brother Mycroft's departure.

Once Mycroft had gone, Holmes once again sat
in his leather chair and looked thoughtful. “We must be most
careful here, Watson, and not show our hand until we are sure that
we have our man. You and I are to observe this George Birchwood
most closely. He is undoubtedly a most meticulous and ruthless
fellow. The slightest slip on our part and the game will be up. If
he becomes suspicious, I believe that he will not hesitate to
unleash mayhem on any one of our great cities.”

I looked at Holmes, open mouthed. “But… but
surely we could stop delivery of the envelopes?” I cried.

Holmes nodded slowly. “Perhaps, Watson,
perhaps... but the poisoned stock may already have been despatched
and only needs a signal to an accomplice for them be delivered far
and wide. We must be most cautious."

It was a little after mid-day when the bell
at the front door sounded. A few moments later Mrs Hudson knocked
on our door and brought in a large envelope, saying, “This has just
arrived for you sir, by hand, from a government messenger."

Holmes sprang from his chair. “Thank you, Mrs
Hudson.” Taking the envelope from her, Holmes could see from the
seal that it had indeed come from Mycroft. He took a fine, thin
bladed Italian stiletto from his desk and slit open the envelope.
The stiletto was, I noted, the memento from the Cagliari
affair.

Holmes’ face showed a grim smile as he read
the letter of introduction. “Ah, I am to be Mr Henry Billings of
Her Majesty's Stationery Office and... yes, to be accompanied by my
secretary, Mr John Potts! Ha! Capital.” and he threw himself into
his chair.

For the rest of the afternoon we talked no
further of the case. Holmes, I believe, was mentally preparing
himself for his role and I had some notes to complete regarding the
case so far.

At supper, Holmes was again thoughtful.
“Tomorrow, Watson, I would like you to fully play the part of being
my secretary. As such, you will need to furnish yourself with a
notebook and record the meeting with this George Birchwood
fellow.”

“Should I take my service revolver, Holmes?”
I asked.

“I think not, on this occasion,
Watson...although that time may well come.”

 In the morning we had arisen by half
past seven. We each had dressed in clothes which were appropriate
for the city. Whilst smart, it was clear that they were well worn,
attire suitable for clerks of the Civil Service. Holmes, being the
senior partner in this, also carried a silver topped cane. After a
brief breakfast, we descended to the street below and quickly
hailed a Hansom to take us to Chiswick.

The offices
of Messrs. Arthur Birchwood & Sons were located in a red brick
building which appeared to have factory premises to the rear. On
arrival, we were ushered
into a small
waiting room by the receptionist. We were there but a few moments
when a side door opened and from the noise and the smell that
entered the room, it led directly into the factory.

Before us stood a middle aged man who
introduced himself as Stephen Birchwood, the factory manager. “Good
morning, gentlemen. It is always a pleasure to greet the
representatives of Her Majesty's Stationery Office.” said he,
proffering his hand to us both.

“Good morning.” said Holmes. “I am Henry
Billings and this is my secretary, Mr John Potts.”

Stephen Birchwood nodded to each of us in
turn, saying, “Please, come this way gentlemen."

We followed him along a wood paneled
passageway to an office door. The gleaming brass name plate upon it
was engraved with the name, 'Mr George Birchwood'. The office
itself was quite soberly decorated with dark wood furniture and
having just one large window to the rear that looked out upon the
factory buildings below. Framed examples of the company’s products
were displayed upon the walls and a single mahogany desk dominated
the area in front of the window.

Stephen Birchwood smiled, saying, “Please, be
seated. My brother George is expecting you and will be here
presently."

Waiting for George Birchwood gave us time to
examine the man before us. Stephen Birchwood was, I would say, in
his early forties, of medium build with greying hair slicked back
with pomade. He was dressed impeccably and wore a small carnation
in his button hole. This I thought to be somewhat incongruous for a
working environment.

As we sat, a lean, black cat suddenly
appeared on the office desk. It yawned widely, jumped down from the
desk and rubbed itself against Holmes’ leg, purring loudly. Stephen
Birchwood reached down and gathered up the cat. “Ah, enjoying the
sun, Lucien? He is our factory mouser but prefers to sit and warm
himself on George's chair.” said Birchwood. He cradled the cat with
one arm whilst the cat looked up at him, round eyed. He bent down
again, gently putting the cat through the office door. Then, as we
watched, Stephen Birchwood stood and painstakingly removed every
visible cat hair from his jacket, quite oblivious to our
presence.

“Tell me, Mr Birchwood, do you have an
interest in horticulture?” asked Holmes. “I could not fail but to
admire your buttonhole.”

Birchwood positively beamed, saying, “Why
yes, Mr Billings. I have a small garden with a glasshouse at the
rear of my property in Hammersmith. My gardener tends it for me but
I have a passion for growing different varieties of carnation.”

Holmes nodded. “Do you find that you have
problems with the 'rust fungus'? I have a friend who grows
carnations and he had some difficulty a few years back.” asked
Holmes with a slight smile on his lips.

Stephen Birchwood nodded. “Ah, I too have had
similar problems but I found spraying with Bordeaux mixture has a
beneficial effect, although it is only the older varieties that
seem most affected. Ensuring a drier atmosphere and good
ventilation in the glasshouse is the best way to prevent rust.”

Holmes nodded. “May I also ask if you find
Aphis a problem?” Holmes asked, innocently.

Birchwood frowned. “Allowing your carnations
to become infested with Aphis is, in my opinion, inexcusable. Their
attacks result in the greatest harm to the plants. I have found
tobacco smoke to be very beneficial in reducing their numbers.” He
paused for a moment and then continued. “Yes, burning tobacco dust
and diluted nicotine sprayed on the plants are all effective in
keeping down the Aphis.”

Holmes again nodded, saying, “Thank you. I
shall pass on your wisdom to my friend."

A moment later, the office door opened and in
came a florid man, blotting his forehead with a handkerchief. He
was quite the antipathies of Stephen Birchwood. This man, whilst
again smartly dressed, had his necktie askew and a stained cuff
protruded from the sleeve of his jacket. “Forgive me, gentlemen. I
have been busy in our printing works. Some problem with an
engraving. I am George Birchwood." Holmes introduced us and we
shook hands. In fulfilment of my role, I took out my notebook in
readiness.

George Birchwood sat down behind his desk and
hunted for a paper amongst the drawers. “Your letter of
introduction says that you are looking to commission a
commemorative telegram envelope” said he, at last finding the
letter from Mycroft.