The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes (17 page)

‘I could see that Tom had never been maltreated or humiliated; indeed he even regarded the carnival as a form of refuge from the somewhat harsher treatment he might have expected from the world outside. Therefore I resolved to accept the offer that I had received from the Smythes. The arrangement suited both parties; for a time. I was content with my modest accommodation and keep and the “Red Leech” was proving to be a popular and profitable attraction for the Smythes, which pleased me also. It all ended somewhat abruptly, however, when I chanced upon a week-old copy of the
Times
.

‘Therein, gentlemen, almost hidden in a column listing recent deaths was the first intimation that I had received of my parent’s untimely passing. They had always been keen explorers and, as a consequence, were aboard a small steam transport, which had been wrecked but a few miles off the East African coast. No trace of them or their belongings were ever recovered.

‘I decided to return to London at once, there to seek out my brother for more information than the newspaper afforded and to discuss any family arrangements that might concern me. Ben, the old animal keeper, kindly accompanied me, as he knew of a small basement room in a run-down old building near Brick Lane. He offered to run any urgent errands that could only be accomplished in
daylight. I had no great difficulty in finding my brother, as he had yet to vacate the family home, and I found his welcome somewhat warmer than I might have expected. However, he reluctantly informed me at the outset, that my parents had been so convinced either of my death or my inability ever to return to them, that no provision had been made for me in their final will.

‘To his credit, Nathaniel was not insensitive to my reaction to this news, nor could he have failed to observe the very obvious physical effects of my present situation. There and then he resolved to make me a small monthly allowance. He explained that his imminent wedding was proving to be a most costly affair and that our parents’ estate had proved in the end to be a surprisingly modest one, probably eaten away by the costs of their insatiable lust for travel. The amount was barely sufficient to keep body and soul together, but I was grateful even for that.

‘I did not wish to embarrass my brother by revealing my address to him, so it was agreed that he would deposit the money at a large newsagent’s on the Commercial Road on the first Monday of every month. My friend Ben collected it regularly and this meagre sum was supplemented by my night cleaning job and any small errands that Ben was able to run for the local traders. By these means we were somehow able to survive.

‘You may therefore understand my consternation when upon one Monday, now two months ago, Ben returned from our friend the newsagent empty-handed. I have implicit trust in old Ben and he, in turn, trusts the newsagent, so I had to assume that my brother had withheld the money for his own reasons. I decided to visit my family home once more, in the hope that the missing money was nothing more
than an oversight. I was distraught to discover that the place had been boarded up and was on offer for sale, whilst the only information that I could glean from the neighbours was that my brother had been married and had moved away.

‘For reasons that I have now explained to you, I am not able to conduct any enquiries into Nathaniel’s whereabouts on my own account and the police would be aghast at the thought of granting me an interview. Although, I am sure, you will have far loftier matters that demand your attention, I turn to you, Mr Holmes, as the only recourse I have of restoring what scant means of subsistence remains to me.’ Crosby drained the last of his brandy and extinguished his cigar as he concluded his moving and remarkable story.

For a moment Holmes sat silent and still. He then jumped up and strode to the window, through which he gazed wistfully, strumming his bony fingers against its glass.

Holmes’s voice was barely audible when he next spoke.

‘You must understand, Mr Crosby, that this is not the kind of routine inquiry with which I normally involve myself. However,’ he added quickly so as not to lower Crosby’s spirits still further, ‘I am curious to discover the true reason behind the withholding of the money and you have surely suffered much already. If you give the address of your newsagent to Dr Watson here, I promise to leave word of your brother’s whereabouts there within a week.’ With a dismissive wave of the hand, Holmes turned his gaze towards Baker Street once more.

As he slowly rose to take his leave Crosby added: ‘Your reputation for cleverness has been well documented by Dr Watson, but your kindness and compassion should be
lauded equally.’ Holmes responded with only the briefest of nods, but maintained his vigil by the window until Crosby had shuffled out of sight towards the Marylebone Road.

For a moment after Crosby had disappeared from view Holmes and I remained both silent and still, Holmes continuing to linger by the window and myself leaning against the door that I had just closed behind our long-suffering client.

‘So, Watson, what are we to make of all this, then?’ Holmes asked, turning away from the window and lighting a cigarette.

‘Well, I suppose the story itself is a simple enough one and its conclusion is that the size of the parents’ estate precluded the newly married, Nathaniel Crosby from continuing to live in the family home. I presume that he has now moved to a somewhat less salubrious area and has decided that his brother’s meagre allowance was an expense that he could ill afford.’

Holmes eyed me quizzically for a moment and then grunted absent-mindedly as he extinguished his cigarette in a half-empty coffee cup.

‘Yours does seem to be the likeliest of explanations, yet such action would appear to be out of character. Remember how Randell described the warmth of the greeting that he received from his brother? Besides which, he was not coerced into granting his brother an allowance; it was his own idea, no matter how inadequate it proved to be. No, I am convinced that there is another reason for the money’s being withheld,’ Holmes quietly concluded.

‘Perhaps some form of ill-fortune has overtaken him,’ I suggested whilst gathering my things together.

Holmes barely acknowledged me as I bade him a goodnight. ‘Perhaps I shall see you once my enquiries into this
matter have gathered pace?’ he called, as I was halfway down the stairs.

I spent the following morning making my peace with Mary and then found, over the next few days, that my practice was being overburdened by the victims of a quite virulent strain of influenza. This minor outbreak lasted but a short while, however, and my thoughts returned once more to the plight of Randell Crosby. It was not that my heart had been indifferent to his cause, rather that I had absolute confidence in Holmes’s ability to find Nathaniel without any great difficulty.

I was proved correct in making this assumption, to the extent that Holmes was already deeply immersed in his subsequent problem by the time I next visited my old rooms. I found Holmes hunched over a glass jar, in the centre of the dining-table, studying its contents with such an intensity that he scarcely acknowledged my entrance. According to Mrs Hudson, who showed some concern, he had been thus engaged for a number of hours.

‘A junior scientist such as yourself might find the contents of this jar of some passing interest,’ he uttered mischievously as I quietly approached the table.

Vainly trying to stifle my indignation, I exclaimed: ‘Well, I am certainly enough of a scientist to recognize that this is nothing more remarkable than a worm!’

‘Watson, you must not allow yourself to be so affected by my little jibes. If you can control your nerves for a moment and observe our small friend with a little more attention you will come to realize that this is, indeed, a most remarkable worm and one completely unknown to science!’

‘How did you come to be in possession of so remarkable a creature?’ I asked mockingly. ‘Does it form the basis of your latest case?’

Indignantly, Holmes hastily covered the jar with a napkin and led me towards our chairs and the Persian slipper. ‘This is a matter that can wait for another time, for I am certain that you wish to know the outcome of the Randell Crosby affair.’

‘Well of course I do … but that worm—’

Holmes stopped me in my tracks. ‘Desist!’ Obediently I sat down and lit my pipe.

‘As you might well imagine, the searching out of Nathaniel Crosby was a routine matter that presented me with no great difficulties. Posing as a potential buyer of Crosby’s vacant house, I was soon able to extract his present address from the agent handling the sale. Then, masquerading as a cockney hawker, I was able to fall into conversation with a senior member of Crosby’s household. From this loquacious individual I discovered that Crosby was now in the employ of Kyle and Onstott’s, a small yet most influential bank in Cheapside, where Crosby is expected to do very well.

‘Of more interest to me, however, was this individual’s opinion of the lady of the house.’ Holmes paused for a moment to relight his old clay pipe.

‘Really, Holmes!’ I interrupted. ‘It is not like you to have any truck with idle household gossip.’

‘Have I not told you, Watson, on more than one occasion, that a trained student of human nature can glean more relevant information over a pint of ale with the clientele at a saloon bar, than he can from a thousand police reports!’ Holmes retorted, hurling his still lighted match to the floor with a flourish as he spoke.

I mumbled apologetically as I fell to the floor to douse the offending flame.

Having composed himself with a long draw upon his pipe, Holmes resumed.

‘Upon learning that the woman was both vain and cold-hearted in her meanness, I decided that a visit to the newsagent on the Commercial Road might be in order if I was to present a complete picture of the situation to brother Randell. My suspicions were soon borne out as the newsagent recognized at once my description of the banker’s wife of ill-repute. It was she who demanded that the money should now be passed to her and not to old Ben. He was to inform Ben that the money had simply not arrived and to make no mention of her visit.’

‘How do you suppose that she discovered her husband’s little deception?’ I asked, as Holmes paused to re-light his pipe.

‘The servant, whose evidence you valued so contemptuously, thinks that she observed her husband handing the footman an envelope, in a most strange and cautious manner. Interestingly enough this individual was dismissed but a few days ago. I have informed Crosby of this in a brief note and I now fully expect him to arrange a clandestine meeting with his brother. As to its results, I am sure Crosby will inform us of them at some future date,’ Holmes concluded quietly.

Any further thoughts that we might have had on the subject were suddenly dispelled by a disturbance in the passageway below. Even before we could take steps to investigate its cause, an awkward-looking, red-faced young constable burst into our rooms, with an apologetic Mrs Hudson in close attendance.

‘I am so sorry, Mr Holmes …’ she began, before Holmes dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

‘Now, Constable,’ Holmes spoke quietly and with a smile, ‘calm yourself for a moment and then explain the reason behind your clumsy intrusion.’

‘Yes sir. Sorry sir. You see, Inspector Lestrade was most insistent that you come at once. I have never seen him so put out before,’ the lad replied.

‘Where are we to come and with what purpose?’ I asked.

‘To the Kyle and Onstott bank, of Cheapside, although the inspector would rather inform you himself of the reason for the visit once you have arrived. I have a hansom waiting outside,’ he added hopefully.

Holmes gestured for me not to express my astonishment at the mention of the name of the bank.

‘We shall join you outside shortly,’ Holmes informed the relieved young policeman. Then quietly to me he added: ‘We shall learn a lot more from Lestrade for so long as he remains ignorant of our earlier involvement in this matter.’ I nodded my agreement and a moment later we were racing down the stairs to the waiting cab.

We were fortunate in that the driver was none other than an old acquaintance of Holmes. George had assisted Holmes in his enquiries on more than one occasion, most notably during the affair of the Naval Treaty, and his intimate knowledge of London enabled us to answer Lestrade’s request for urgency most promptly.

We made our way through a veritable labyrinth of security systems before we reached the small but very deep main vault. I have seen Lestrade, many times at the scene of a dreadful crime, but never before have I seen his small weaselly face so etched with distress and confusion. Nor have I seen him so pleased upon Holmes’s arrival at the scene.

‘Good of you to come, Mr Holmes. This really is something right up your alley,’ Lestrade said slowly, trying to calm himself.

Holmes paid scant regard to this dubious greeting and was immediately engaged in his initial survey of the room, whilst gesturing to me to examine the bloodied, lifeless form that lay prostrate in the centre of the vault floor. My examination was as brief as it was futile. The police surgeon would be able to supply a far more detailed report than I was capable of providing in these circumstances. However I was able to confirm that the poor fellow had suffered an almighty blow, to the back of the head, and that a large blunt object, evidently removed at the time of the murder, had been the tool of the man’s destruction.

As I gradually stood away from the body I became aware of Holmes slithering across the floor, as if he were a black mamba stalking its prey, with a small magnifying glass protruding from the stalk-like fingers of his left hand. From time to time he would emit a grunt of disappointment. Then he might put a certain object which was invisible to the rest of us under closer examination by raising it to his eye. At last he sprang up from the floor and dusted himself down with a flourish.

‘Any clues?’ Lestrade asked, a note of hope in his voice, quite unlike his usual cynicism.

‘Only three of any real relevance, although I am certain that there would have been considerably more had you and your men not stampeded all over them!’ Holmes glared towards two embarrassed constables who were standing to attention by the door, as he spat out these words.