Sherlock Holmes and the Boulevard Assassin (11 page)

I confess that I was now very worried. I have no doubt whatsoever that Jean-Paul was a rogue who would cut the throat of his proverbial grandmother for the equally proverbial couple of shillings, but by his own lights he was decent enough, and the fact that he had been sent out leaving us alone with these strangers seemed to me to bode no good.

‘You had no difficulty impersonating Mr Sherlock Holmes?’ said the man whose face we could not see.

‘None whatsoever,’ said Holmes calmly.

‘No. But then, why should you? After all, there is no difficulty about impersonating oneself – is there, Mr Sherlock Holmes!’

Holmes tensed himself to spring forward, but he was seized by two or three of the ruffians surrounding him. I, too, felt my arms grabbed from behind.

The mysterious “chief” went on, ‘I had you fooled from the start, Holmes! I recognized you at once, of course!’

‘Of course you did,’ said Holmes calmly enough. ‘I had hopes that you would! For how otherwise could I get to meet you so quickly?’

The other man seemed taken aback by this for a moment, then he said with a sneer, ‘Sheer bluff, Holmes! Your plans have gone wrong – why not simply admit as much?’

‘Dubuque knows everything,’ said Holmes as calmly as before.

‘Dubuque? But – ah, I see! Yes, that was clever. But, even though he is still alive, I rather fancy – ’ and he looked at Constantine for confirmation.

Constantine shook his head. ‘They have had no opportunity to tell Dubuque anything,’ said he. ‘Oh, the police watch this place – we have known that all along – but that is all, and the watchers are easily eluded. They have never yet spotted me, for instance!’

The ‘chief’ laughed. ‘I thought as much!’ To Holmes he said, ‘You have spoiled my plans – for I know this nonsense about Jupin is a lie! I should kill you now – but I shall keep you alive – for a time only, you understand, a very short time – for I see another use for you yet.’ He walked over, and studied me intently. ‘However, I regret most deeply that I cannot say the same for you, Doctor Watson.’ He stepped back, and nodded to the men who held my arms.

I felt a sudden, searing pain in my head, and then there was only blackness.

TEN

‘Doctor Watson! Doctor Watson!’

I stirred, and groaned, conscious only of a terrible pain in my head. Then I believe I must have passed out again, and it seemed an age before I once again heard, ‘Doctor Watson!’

I sensed, rather than saw, someone bending over me, and fearing that they intended me some further harm I struck out blindly and feebly. My arms were gripped, but not in any rough or unfriendly manner, and I finally recognized Dubuque’s voice, although it was strained and anxious.

‘Doctor Watson! Are you hurt?’

I opened my eyes, to shut them again quickly. ‘Damned silly question, if ever I heard one!’ I protested querulously.

‘Ah, but then you cannot be too badly damaged!’

‘No, I – ouch!’ I rubbed my head ruefully. ‘No blood, though,’ I added, looking at my hand. I glanced around. We were in a narrow court or alley, which I judged – correctly in the event – must be behind the
bistro
. From the light, I could tell that the evening was drawing in. ‘What on earth is the time?’ I asked Dubuque.

‘Eight o’clock.’

‘Good Lord! I must have been unconscious for some four or five hours, then! I say, Dubuque, how came you to find me here? I’m glad you did, of course, but how?’

‘All in good time,
mon
vieux
. I am still troubled as to whether or not you are badly injured.’

‘Not a bit of it!’

Dubuque bent down and retrieved a battered object, which he handed to me. ‘Your beautiful hat – it is ruined, I think.’

‘I think you are right,’ said I. ‘Poor old bowler! It evidently took the worst of the blow, and incidentally saved my life. I shall keep it as a souvenir, though I shall never dare sport it in Jermyn Street again.’

Dubuque dusted down my coat, which betrayed the fact that I had spent some time lying in the none too clean gutter. ‘And you are well enough to travel?’

‘Fine, fine!’ I essayed a few steps, and stumbled against Dubuque. ‘That is – perhaps it might be as well if I were to sit down for a moment?’

Dubuque led me inside the little
bistro
, which was now quite deserted – oddly enough, considering the hour. I looked round, puzzled. ‘Where is everyone, then? More to the point, Dubuque – where is Holmes?’

‘Ah, that I cannot say – I had hopes that you might tell me, for it was partly Monsieur Holmes that I was seeking when I came here. Mostly, of course, I came to find you.’

‘I see.’ I confess that I did not; but I was having difficulty seeing anything for the moment, and did not feel inclined to engage in academic discussion. ‘I wonder, Dubuque – would there be a bottle of wine handy, think you?’

‘We can, perhaps, do a little better than that,’ and Dubuque passed me his silver flask.

‘Cognac! Excellent!’ I took a long pull, and handed the flask back to Dubuque, who regarded it with some sadness. ‘Some people criticise me for prescribing brandy so freely, you know,’ I told him.

‘Ridiculous!’

‘Absurd! I wonder – ’

‘Of course!’ He passed the flask back to me, and I drained it. ‘I shall, of course, refill it for you at the earliest opportunity,’ I assured him. ‘Now, you were telling me that you came here looking for Holmes?’

‘It is true.’ Dubuque coughed, embarrassed. ‘In connection with the jewel theft, you understand?’

‘Jewel theft?’ The blow on the head had caused me to forget the events of the day for a moment. ‘Ah, yes. That can all be explained, of course. It was part of the plan.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes. Holmes will explain it all – ’ then, as my head began to clear, I suddenly realized the significance of what Dubuque had said. ‘Good Lord, Dubuque! Have you not found Holmes, then? And the villains?’

Dubuque shook his head. ‘I shall explain. The jeweller in the Place Vendôme – he found a
gendarme
– a real
gendarme
,
bien
entendu
, not a fake – and made a complaint. Monsieur Holmes, he is identified – why, he even left his card!’

‘That can all be explained – ’

‘Assuredly! But the examining magistrate – you understand – and then Monsieur Holmes was here under my aegis, so to speak, acting with my knowledge and my assistance, after all – well, it is awkward,
mon
ami
, there is no doubt of that. So I look for Monsieur Holmes at the
pension
, but no, he is not there. Then I ask my man – I have had a man watching this place, you understand – and he says yes, Monsieur Holmes and the good Doctor, they have gone in, and not come out. But my man speaks also of a great crowd of men he cannot recognize – they enter in the early afternoon, then Monsieur Holmes and Doctor Watson also enter, then the other men come out, very cheerful – ’

‘Very cheerful?’

‘Well, to speak plainly, a little drunk, you understand! Some are singing, some staggering – one poor fellow has passed out, and the others are obliged to carry him!’

‘The villains!’ I cried. ‘That was poor Holmes! They have drugged him, or knocked him unconscious, and that is how they got him out!’

‘I did not know that, of course,’ said Dubuque. ‘But I knew that something must have gone horribly wrong. And then I received a note, delivered to my office.’ He held a piece of paper out to me, and I read – ‘If M. Dubuque wishes to speak to Dr Watson, he will find him in the alley behind a certain
bistro
.’ There was no signature, merely the initials ‘AJ.’

‘AJ?’ said I. ‘Arsène Jupin!’

Dubuque nodded. ‘That is what I tell myself! Jupin, then, is somehow involved in this affair! And so I come here and search the place, but we found nobody inside, apart from the owner and a couple of customers with little money and less gastronomic scholarship. Then I look out here – and sure enough I find you! I tell you frankly,
mon
ami
, that by now I have not the least idea as to what is going on! But at least I found you, and you are well! Well enough,’ he amended.

‘You say you found the proprietor and a couple of customers?’

‘Nobody else was here. They are under arrest in the other room – would you care to see them?’

I followed him next door, and took a good look at the men Dubuque had found; but I did not recognize either of the customers. The proprietor protested his innocence volubly, claiming that the hire of the back room was a business matter, nothing more or less, that he knew nothing of what went on in there, and so forth, and I was inclined to sympathize with his predicament. ‘He is probably telling the truth,’ I told Dubuque. ‘Indubitably he knew they were rogues who had hired his room, but so long as they paid, and did not disturb the legitimate customers – ’

‘Monsieur is absolutely correct!’ the proprietor broke in eagerly.

‘Very well,’ said Dubuque. ‘There will probably be no charges – yet! But I think we shall keep you safe for the time being, all of you.’

And, despite some vigorous objections from the trio, they were duly taken off into police custody. ‘It is as well,’ Dubuque told me. ‘They very likely are innocent, and know nothing of this gang, but on the other hand, there may be a spy among them, left to watch and report back what happens. We shall keep them until this affair is concluded. One way or the other,’ he added rather gloomily.

‘You do not sound overly optimistic,’ said I.

Dubuque shrugged. ‘What would you have me say? One must be realistic, Doctor, and the plain fact is that we still do not have a single clue.’

‘What of Constantine?’

‘That proved a dead end, did it not? I have no more information on this mysterious Constantine than I had earlier. But come, old friend – you are still faint from the blow. We must see that you get a decent night’s sleep, first of all.’

‘But – Holmes!’ I protested.

‘It will do Monsieur Holmes no good at all if Doctor Watson collapses and must go to the hospital,
n’est
-
ce
pas
? No, a decent night’s rest is what you need. We cannot take you back to the
pension
, for I am certain that they will be keeping watch there – and besides, it is not a very nice place. No, you must come with me. I have an apartment – only a bachelor’s apartment,
bien
entendu
, homely, Spartan even, but there is a spare room which has a comfortable bed, with silk sheets – ’

‘Oh?’

‘I told you,’ said Dubuque carelessly, ‘it is a bachelor’s apartment.’

‘Ah. Just so.’

I cannot remember just how I got to Dubuque’s ‘Spartan’ apartment; the next thing I recollect is curling up in that comfortable bed between those silk sheets. I cannot say if it was the blow on the head, or the brandy, or the overall excitement of the day which did it – all three taken together, perhaps – but, although my conscience told me that I should be out and about looking for Holmes, my weary body gave up the struggle, and I knew nothing more until I awoke next day to find daylight streaming in at the windows, and Dubuque standing over me, regarding me anxiously.

‘You have slept well indeed,’ he said.

‘Is it late, then?’

‘Nine in the morning, no more. How do you feel?’

‘A good deal better,’ said I, feeling my head. ‘Head’s still a bit sore, but no sign of concussion, or anything serious.’

‘Can you face some breakfast?’

‘I believe I could.’ I joined Dubuque in the tiny kitchen, and he helped me to coffee and rolls. ‘I am delighted that I did not sleep too long,’ said I, ‘for we may have a long day ahead of us.’

Dubuque shrugged his shoulders. ‘I am with you, of course, but – where do you propose to begin? This Constantine is our only clue, and we have not the slightest notion as to where he may live – indeed, we do not even think that Constantine is his surname.’

‘It may be a forename, though. We might start with the police registers, or the electoral roll – ’

‘A mammoth task, I assure you!’

‘I know, only too well. But I cannot sit here enjoying your generous hospitality, knowing all the while that Holmes – ’

‘Calm yourself,’ said Dubuque. ‘We shall act, I assure you. Only, where to begin?’ he added in a troubled voice. He looked at me. ‘For one thing, my friend, we must face the fact that Monsieur Holmes may already be – well, you understand?’

‘No,’ said I, ‘Holmes is not dead – although the gang must think that I am! Their “chief” made a great point of that, he said he wanted Holmes alive, for the time being.’ And I repeated, slowly, ‘For the time being, Dubuque! Yes, he made a great point of that, too! We must act quickly!’

‘But I must ask again – what can we do? Where can we begin?’ Dubuque shrugged, then shook himself, as if to aid his thought processes. ‘But I am forgetting my manners – more coffee, perhaps? Another roll?’

‘No, thank you. But I would thank you for a match,’ and I patted my pockets to find a cigarette. With mixed success: I did not find a cigarette but I did find a solid object – the book I had found in Constantine’s house!

‘Here!’ I cried, taking the thing out and handing it to Dubuque. ‘I had quite forgotten this! It may help us – I found it in a drawer in the room in Constantine’s mansion, when Holmes and I were first locked up there. The only thing approaching a clue that I did find.’

Dubuque took the little volume, and opened it at random. ‘It is interesting, indeed,’ he said, looking at one of the illustrations, ‘although one might think it very far from anatomically accurate.’ He turned the book on its side, the better to judge, and looked at me. You are a doctor,
mon
ami
– tell me, did ever you see a man – ’

‘Not the damned book!’ I cried. ‘There is a piece of paper in there, to mark the place – ’

‘Ah, yes.’ Dubuque took the half-sheet of paper out, and regarded it carefully. ‘It is curious, too, this – listen! “Five silk shirts, eleven collars” – ’

‘You are looking at the wrong side!’ I told him. ‘Turn it over – there is a crest, you see?’

Dubuque turned the paper over, glanced at the top of the page, and shrugged again.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘It can have nothing to do with the gang, I assure you,’ said Dubuque.

‘How can you be so sure of that? It seems to me to be a most important clue!’

‘But this crest – there is no mystery there, my friend! Why, I know it well enough without referring to any textbook. It is the crest of Monsieur Huret!’

‘Huret? You know the crest, then?’

‘Just so. He is well known, rich – I assure you that he could not – ’

‘And he has an attractive niece,’ said I. ‘A niece who just happened – oh, quite by chance! – to bump into me, and spent an hour or so questioning me, asking was I English, was I a doctor – oh, Lord! How stupid I have been! Holmes, Holmes, never was your contempt more deserved! Well, I can at least attempt to retrieve the situation now that I have at long last managed to see what has been staring me in the face all along!’