The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case (8 page)

I went out to the front hall and paced up and down in expectation. After five or so minutes I walked over to the one window which faced my neighbour’s and peered out. The view was partially obscured at the best of times and I could see nothing.

Where was she? Had something happened? Mary had at times been of assistance to me in my surgery, was she now perhaps helping my neighbour with a patient who had come in following the conclusion of his normal surgery hours?

I went outside into the warm summer air, and lighting a cigarette I strolled leisurely down the front walk towards the Anstruther house. Light shone from within as I rang the bell.

There was no answer.

I knew that my neighbour kept at least one domestic, who should now be answering my ring. I went around to the dining room and looked in the window. Everything appeared to be normal. The table had been laid for three and I could see that a fire was burning in the fireplace. As both of the Anstruthers were elderly I was aware that they kept a fire burning during the evening meal no matter the season but the room was empty. I was quickly becoming apprehensive.

I continued my circumnavigation of the house until I came to the drawing room. I tried the window and to my surprise it was unlocked. I entered the room. All was silent save for the relentless and in the circumstances ominous ticking of the grandfather clock standing in the corner.

I called out. There was no reply.

Feeling no better than a common
cracksman
I began a search of the remaining ground floor rooms, beginning with the surgery. It was then that I heard a muffled cry from upstairs. I took the steps two at a time and stopped at the top to listen. From one of the bedrooms I again heard sounds.

I rapped on the door and without waiting for a reply I went inside.

What I saw made the blood freeze in my veins.

Three persons lay prostrate on the bed, secured hand and foot. Mrs. Anstruther, her maid and Mary Jane were each bound with rope and lay motionless together. The ropes not withstanding it appeared as if they were asleep. My wife and Dr. Anstruther were nowhere to be seen.

I rushed over to Mrs. Anstruther and untied the ropes binding her. I vigorously rubbed her wrists to restore circulation and from a pitcher on the night table I splashed some water onto the elderly lady’s forehead. She began to stir.

It was then that I not
iced a familiar and not unpleasant odor coming from the night table. I picked up a cloth and took a cautious sniff. It smelled of chloroform. I examined the old woman’s face and saw the tell-tale blistering which is characteristic of the drug’s contact with the skin.

“What has happened, Margaret?” I cried
as I gently patted her cheeks. She moaned quietly but otherwise did not respond. Leaving her for the moment I went around the bed to release the other two women. I splashed some water upon their foreheads and propped their feet up upon the pillows.

Suddenly I heard Mrs. Anstruther’s faint voice whisper, “Mortimer.” I looked up but she had passed out again.

I ran downstairs and grabbed a decanter of brandy from the sideboard in the dining room and my neighbour’s medical bag from his surgery, although I knew there was little I could do except let the drug take it’s course. I hurried back up the stairs and administered some of the spirits to each of the women.

Slowly my neighbour’s wife came out of her stupor and I pressed her for more details of the evening’s events. In a halting and disjointed manner she told me of what had happened.

“It was as your wife was putting on your maid’s cloak and
bonnet,” she began “and saying her good byes that the bell rang. Thinking that it may indicate the late arrival of a patient Mortimer asked Mrs. Dobson, our own maid, to send away the visitor unless it was an emergency. We could hear voices in the hallway and a moment later Mrs. Dobson called to us. The four of us went into the passage only to see two strange men at the top of the staircase. My husband went up the stairs to confront them only to find the business end of a revolver pointed at his head. The rest of us were then marched up the stairs and into the bedroom.

“‘What is
it you want, you scoundrels?’ My husband asked bravely, pushing us behind him.

“‘Calm yourself, old timer. We have no intention of hurting no one as long as you do what you’re told,’ the one said in a most ungentlemanly manner.

“‘Which of you is Mary Watson?’ the other asked with more civility than his friend. Without a moment’s hesitation your wife stepped forward and said that she was the one that they were looking for. They roughly pulled her aside and pushed her down onto a chair......”

“The villains!” I spat.

She took another sip of brandy, “Your maid screamed and fainted and it was while their attention was diverted that Mortimer decided to go for help; one of the men ran after him and there was a shot,” her body shook ever so slightly and she sobbed quietly.

After a few moments she continued and her voice was steady. “The second man took your wife by the arm and ushered her from the room. Soon the first man returned and placed a cloth over my face and the next thing I knew you were leaning over me.
”

“How is my husband, Doctor?”

“I do not know Margaret, I saw no one else in the house.”

“We must find him John, h
e may be badly hurt,” she replied calmly. Mrs. Anstruther was quite elderly and she took most such setbacks in stride. It was a characteristic I found most appealing although a trifle unnerving.

“Possibly he has managed to make good his escape,”
she said, as I helped her to her feet.

“Maybe so,” I replied gently “but I’m sure that if Dr. Anstruther had eluded his pursuers the police would have been here by now.”

“I must find him John,” the old lady said with determination and walked slowly towards the door.

“A moment
, Margaret. With the assistance of these two ladies the search would go much faster. If they feel up to it,” I added. Even though I wanted nothing more than to go after Mary I could not abandon my neighbour in her time of need.

The brandy had done
its intended work and both of the servants readily assented to join in our quest. We began a search of the premises and it was Mary Jane who first called out.

“Doctor Watson, sir, come and look at this.”

I rushed from out of another of the upstairs bedrooms to see my maid peering down at something near the top of the stairs.

“Look here, sir. This is blood is it not?” she whispered pointing to a small pool of red on the gleaming wooden floor.

I knelt down and examined the dark stain, which did indeed appear to be blood. In my initial haste I must have passed right by the spot.

The other two women joined us. Mrs. Anstruther let out an exclamation of dismay at the sight of the dark, wet stain and the faithful Mrs. Dobson put a comfo
rting arm around her. Leaving the two women for the moment I observed several additional blood stains upon the stairs but the trail quickly vanished and I could find no further signs of a struggle. I hoped that the absence of a large amount of blood meant that my neighbour had suffered from no more than a superficial wound.

With the maid in charge of the situation I advised Mrs. Anstruther that I was going to Baker Street to get help. I nervously paced up and down the front walk, smoking feverishly, waiting for a hansom to arrive. Giving the cabby the address we made our way slowly through the evening streets towards my former abode. The tedious journey gave me the opportunity, welcome or not, to reflect upon the events of the evening.

Why had the two men intruded upon my neighbour’s quiet evening? What was the explanation of the shot which was heard and why had the trail of blood, which was found upon the stairs, suddenly vanished? And more importantly of all what had become of my wife and Dr. Anstruther? In all the turmoil which followed my arrival at my neighbour’s house I had neglected to even get a description of the men involved. Was one of them the lame man who had been observing the inhabitants of my household?

The thick fog which had rolled in cut me off from the rest of mankind and I felt completely isolated save for the occasional diffuse glow from the street lights and the vague shadows of other vehicles.

The cabby pulled his nag to a halt and I assumed we had arrived at Baker Street. The gas was on in Holmes’ rooms and I could just make out his hawk like silhouette as it passed in front of the window. Perhaps he already had a client but never the less I must consult with him. I was just about to ring the bell when I was almost bowled over by a gigantic and wild eyed young man hurrying out the front door.

“Come in Watson, and sit by the fire,” my friend called out in a high strident voice.

The invitation was a most welcome one as the evening had turned unseasonably cold.

“It always amazes me that you can differentiate my step from the multitude of others that must ascend those stairs,” I said breathlessly, closing the door behind me.

“Actually Doctor, I observed you alighting from your cab,” he replied laconically.

“A dissatisfied client
, Holmes?” I asked helping him right the overturned settee.

“Mr. Challenger approached me with some cock and bull nonsense of his concerning the dinosaurs. He did not take it kindly when I
disagreed with him.”

He poured me a brandy as I seated myself in front of the cheery blaze.

“So tell me Watson, what brings you out on such an abysmal evening?” he asked his steely eyes boring into mine.

“Two men broke into my neighbor’s house and abducted my wife and for all
I know murdered Dr. Anstruther,” I blurted out before downing my brandy in one gulp.

“So it has come to that then,” he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. There was a faraway look in his eyes.

“You knew something like this would occur?”

“I only surmised that something untoward had ha
ppened but I did not fathom its nature.”

“How could you know that there was something amiss?” I asked. “The incidence occurred only within the last hour.”

“It is simplicity itself. Your wife’s well being may be in jeopardy, and you have taken what you believe to be elaborate precautions to keep her safe, precautions which I may add included taking her from my safekeeping. Yet at a time when you should be together you have traveled halfway across the metropolis on this dreary night to come here.

“That you are not visiting a patient is indicated by the absence of your medical bag. The smear of blood on your right index finger indicates that some violence may be involved. As a dutiful physician you would of course not neglect to wash your hands once your consulting hours were concluded at five o’clock. This indicates that you came into contact with the blood after you saw your final patient.

“You have also neglected to wear a hat or overcoat despite the rain or to carry the walking stick which you favour and which was a Christmas gift from a grateful patient. This indicates that your trip was unexpected and that you probably did not leave from your own comfortable home.

“So now Watson if my parlour tricks have impressed you enough would you kindly enlighten me as to the facts,” he said severely.

“I am sorry to bother you Holmes, perhaps you have something more important to do,” I said beginning to rise.

“Forgive me old friend,” he said not unkindly, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You are the one with the charming bed-side manner, not I. Pray tell me what has happened.”

Holmes poured me another brandy and lit the old black pipe which was his favourite muse when he was in a contemplative mood. He sat staring into the fire and drawing on his pipe as I narrated the events of the evening.

“Really, Watson. You have bungled the affair quite badly,” he said when I had finished my story.

“You are of course entitled to your opinion, Holmes but I did what I thought was best. What else could I have done?”

“You should have left her in my safekeeping to begin with,” he said.

“It is easy enough to say now Holmes, but when the time comes for you to be blessed with your own wife you will understand,” I said.

“Touché,
Watson. Your point is well taken.”

“Are there any other mistakes which I have neglected to make?” I asked him sarcastically.

“An unfortunate few, Watson.”

“Such as....?” I asked.

“You should not have left the women alone in the house as they will no doubt obliterate any clues which may prove vital in an investigation. And although it means only a slight delay you should have obtained a description of the two men. I may have been able to begin an investigation at once instead of going to Kensington.”

“I am sorry Holmes my thoughts were elsewhere.”

“Undoubtedly. Well let us forget about it old fellow. What’s past is past and hopefully there is no harm done.”

“Whistle for a cab Watson
, while I change,” he said disappearing into his bedroom.

In a few moments Holmes joined me outside, minus his dressing gown and wearing his frock coat.

The drizzle had stopped but the thick fog was still in evidence. As we climbed into the hansom Holmes gave the driver my address in Kensington. The poisonous yellow fog enveloped us and the trip back was a gloomy one. Holmes as was his custom remained aloof and uncommunicative and I knew better than to bother him with idle prattle. Once in a while the dark form of another conveyance would be outlined against the street lights. The smell of bread baking in one of the large bakeries wafted into the cab reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the afternoon. At least it served to take my mind off of the evening’s events if only temporarily.

We traveled
in silence and time stood as still as one of the statues in Trafalgar Square. It was not a moment too soon that we arrived at my modest home in Kensington. I was puzzled by the fact that there was as yet no sign of the police.

Holmes jumped from the cab, before it rolled to a stop, leaving me to pay the bemused driver. As I hur
ried to catch up I could see Holmes on all fours examining the ground. I have remarked before how my friend resembled a bloodhound in action if not in actual appearance, and never before was the comparison more exact.

“You have found something, Holmes?”

“Later, Watson,” he replied putting his magnifying lens back into his pocket.

He rang the bell and paced impatiently before his summons was answered.

“Doctor Watson, I am glad you are back,” said a visibly shaken Mrs. Dobson.

“I have returned as quickly as possible.”

“Mrs. Dobson,” my friend said soothingly before introductions could be made, “my name is Sherlock Holmes; I am a friend of Doctor Watson. What can you tell me of the events which transpired this evening?” As with most of the lower class she seemed uncomfortable in the face of authority. Holmes, who could have an ingratiating way with women, soon put her at ease.

“What it is you wish to know, Mr. Holmes?” she replied.

“Anything which you can tell me, would I am sure, be of importance.”

“Well sir, I was just about to serve dinner when there came a ring at the front door. Upon opening it I found two gentlemen on the front step.”

“Can you describe these men, Mrs. Dobson?”

“I call them gentlemen but they were no more than ruffians,” she sniffed. “The one man, an Irishman I think, had blue eyes and long black hair. He appeared to be unconscious or nearly so and injured as he had a blood soaked rag wrapped around his hand.”

“Which hand was it, dear lady?”

“It was his left hand I believe.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes sir. I remember that he was standing on the right side of the doorway with his injured hand away from the other man.”

“Aside from his hand did this man have any other distinguishing features?”

She furrowed her brow for a moment. “He did have a small m
oustache and one of his ears was pierced for an earring.”

“Most interesting,” Holmes replied. “What of the other man?”