The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes (2 page)

‘We were therefore left with a simple choice. We could either sell up the almost derelict house in which you now find yourselves, and give up the way of life we had both enjoyed for many years, or sell off our neglected farming estate in Yorkshire. As I am sure you now observe, we chose the latter course, with a view to reinvesting the funds that it realized, in a more lucrative commercial venture. One that, we had hoped, would be profitable enough to enable us to maintain our current life style here in London.

‘Our solicitor and adviser, approved of our proposal, although an independent appraisal of the estate in Yorkshire did indicate that under efficient management the farm could soon be returned to making a handsome profit. However, neither my husband nor I could envisage ourselves living or enjoying the life of the Northern landed gentry, and we would not be swayed from our decision.’

‘The name of your solicitors would be…?’ Holmes briefly interrupted, while Lady Beasant took a sip of her water once more.

She delicately touched her lips with a small embroidered handkerchief, before replying.

‘The firm is Collins, Brinkblatt and Collins of Cheapside, although our affairs were handled personally by the elder Nicholas Collins himself.’

Holmes indicated that I should make an entry of this in my notebook, which I duly did.

‘Thank you, madam,’ I said. ‘I presume that your husband next conducted a search for a viable alternative for your investment?’ I noticed a glance of surprised approval from Holmes at my subtle prompting of her ladyship for, although there is no indication of it, within my narrative of this interview, each and every word and sentence was laboriously slow and deliberate in its forthcoming. Raising her eyebrow suspiciously in my direction, Lady Beasant continued:

‘Yes, Dr Watson, he certainly did, although it was not until he engaged in conversation with a certain member of his club that his search bore any fruit.’ Lady Beasant paused for a moment while she conducted a barely discernible yet clearly painful struggle with the kind of emotions a lady of her class would have been most loath to expose to anyone, least of all an amateur detective and a common army surgeon. This struggle she clearly lost.

‘Oh! I curse the day that poor Edwin ever encountered the evil genius of Baron Maupertuis!’ she wailed uncontrollably. The effort had surely rendered her breathless for a moment, and I rushed to her side with a glass of her water. Regaining her composure, however, she waved this disdainfully aside and indicated that she was now well able to continue. ‘From the instant that the baron’s malevolent claws were embedded in my husband’s flesh we were surely lost. Through his various business connections, Maupertuis knew of our disposing of the estate in Yorkshire and at once suggested a method of reinvesting our funds.

‘Why Edwin should have trusted such a fellow, heaven only knows. He had only met him a few times at their club
and had lost a considerable amount of money to him at billiards, a game at which my husband had never excelled. Yet such a casual and costly acquaintance was soon entrusted with the means for our continued security and quality of life.

‘Within weeks papers were drawn up by which Edwin and Maupertuis were to be co-investors in a complex of supposedly profitable textile mills in Cumberland. Nicholas Collins, coincidentally a fellow member of the Diogenes Club, examined these papers at great length—’

‘I apologize, Madam,’ Holmes interrupted in a state of great excitement, raising himself from the windowsill. ‘You did say the Diogenes Club?’

‘Really Mr Holmes!’ Lady Beasant protested. ‘Such brusqueness is most unseemly. But yes, I did say the Diogenes Club. Do you have knowledge of this establishment?’

Holmes half-smiled to himself, for, as many of my readers might recall, his brother Mycroft was one of the club’s most exalted and long-standing members. ‘Yes, madam, a close acquaintance of mine has been a member for some little time and I am, therefore, aware of its most restrictive and exclusive membership policy. This Baron Maupertuis must be very well-connected.’

‘Of course, Mr Holmes, my husband was hardly likely to play billiards with someone who was not!’

Holmes bowed apologetically for even making that interruption, and resumed his position on the windowsill, where he lit another cigarette. By now he clearly felt the need to bring this interview to an end with all speed, and he continued Lady Beasant’s story, on her behalf, despite her obvious chagrin.

‘By now the conclusion of your tragic tale is most clear to me. Despite your husband’s own financial commitment to the Cumberland project, the baron’s investment was not to be so readily forthcoming. The mills proved to be run down, even derelict and soon your funds were disappearing into a seemingly bottomless well. No doubt the baron subsequently proved to be one of the original owners of the mills and has since disappeared to an unknown location, suitably enriched by the best part of your inheritance. I am equally certain that Nicholas Collins, the elder, is now able to enjoy a most handsome yet premature retirement. If there is any aspect of this affair that has escaped me no doubt you will now enlighten me.’ Holmes concluded hurriedly.

Clearly annoyed and somewhat, bemused by this outpouring of Holmes, Lady Beasant collected her composure before replying. ‘Mr Holmes, you are clearly a most ingenious if somewhat impudent fellow. Yet these cold facts, which you have so methodically reeled off do no justice to the very human tragedy that proved to be my husband’s last weeks in this life. The threat of financial ruin, together with the ignominious effect this would have on our social standing, was more than his weak heart could bear. His strong sense of honour made my own subsequent fate his priority and he passed away full of guilty remorse. Mr Holmes, I beseech you not to let his passing be in vain. Bring this master swindler to justice for his sake as much as for my own. Even if you cannot bring him to make restitution of my estate and I am forced to leave my home, I will accept my fate gladly knowing that this viper will be prevented from sinking his poisonous fangs into another hapless victim.’

There was something about her ladyship’s last few words
that clearly ignited a spark within Holmes’s cold scientific heart.

‘Madam,’ he solemnly announced, ‘I will use whatever limited powers and influence I might possess to bring Baron Maupertuis down. Dark rumours have been circulating throughout Europe, though nothing, thus far, has been proved. However the time for reading reports and speculating is now over.’ By now Holmes had moved over to Lady Beasant’s chair and he leant gently over her. ‘Be assured, madam, I shall not rest until the threat of Baron Maupertuis has been removed.’ With a slight bow Holmes strode purposefully from the room, leaving me to clumsily bundle up my notebook and pencil and follow in his wake.

During the course of our return journey to Baker Street Holmes was unusually forthcoming with his views upon the case so far.

‘Watson, as you are aware, my position in society as a criminologist has given me a unique advantage over, say a banker, in being able to observe the various, inherent flaws and weaknesses in the make-up of human kind. My own profession would barely exist were it not for these and, it is equally dependent on those scurrilous individuals who prey upon these weaknesses. Of all living beings we are almost unique in our desire for riches and the accumulation of property. We are the only creatures in our world, who kill when they are not hungry. We are the only ones who experience greed.

‘Had the Beasants not possessed these traits then, I am certain, the temptations held out to them by Baron Maupertuis would have been rendered impotent.’ I was shocked by this assertion of Holmes.

‘Holmes,’ I protested. ‘Surely you are not condoning the
actions of Maupertuis on the grounds of the Beasants’ own weaknesses?!’

‘Calm yourself, Watson.’ Holmes smiled. ‘In observing mankind’s frailties, I am not giving leave to the strong to take advantage over the weak. Lord Beasant’s folly should not cause his widow to be made homeless and penniless, nor should it allow this avaricious baron to line his pockets at her expense. You and I will help to put this injustice to rights.’

‘Despite the absence of Moriarty’s malevolent hand?’ I asked tentatively as we pulled up outside 221b.

‘Do not presume too much at this early stage, friend Watson,’ Holmes rejoined enigmatically as we alighted from our cab.

As we began climbing the stairs we were brought to an abrupt halt by the lyrical tones of our landlady, Mrs Hudson.

‘A moment if you please, gentlemen. This message was delivered by an official courier, shortly after your departure.’ She handed us a small white envelope, with the crest of the Foreign Office emblazoned upon it. The note within, which Holmes promptly asked me to read out aloud to him, was as brief as it was forthright. 

Holmes’s face lit up at once. ‘Ah, so brother Mycroft appears to have a problem at the office. As you might recall, Watson, a summons from my brother is not to be taken lightly and usually leads to a most stimulating problem. Of course, the conclusion of the affair of the Greek Interpreter was hardly as satisfactory as the recovery of the Bruce
Partington plans, although it did present me with its own unique set of perplexities.’

‘I recall both well,’ I replied, ‘and despite your initial reluctance, both found their way into my chronicles of your work. Your brother’s unusual position within the Government must surely indicate that this new matter is grave indeed. Yet what of the matter of Baron Maupertuis? Surely Lady Beasant’s predicament also warrants our best attention?’

‘Of course, dear fellow,’ Holmes answered, resting a placating hand upon my shoulder. ‘However, at this juncture, apart from dispatching wires to my friends in the Austrian and French police forces, there is little more to be done.

‘These I shall draft immediately whilst the ever co-operative Mrs Hudson summons a cab for us.’ As he spoke Holmes bundled the hapless woman out into the street, before tearing up the stairs to draft the wires. Within moments he was down again, thrusting the papers into Mrs Hudson’s reluctant hands, before joining me in the waiting cab. Once more we found ourselves roaring along Baker Street towards the centre of our great metropolis.

It might be recalled by my more attentive readers that the position of Mycroft Holmes within the hierarchy of Whitehall, was somewhat unusual in that he was not employed by any specific department. His office acted as an exchange house for interdepartmental information, which Mycroft first digested, then collated and lastly acted upon. Indeed, there were very few ministerial decisions made that were not first sanctioned and approved by Mycroft Holmes.

However, we were soon to discover, upon being shown to his large, austere office, deep within the bowels of Whitehall that the not inconsiderable burden of so weighty a responsibility had at last taken its toll on Holmes’s brother. It was
with some considerable difficulty that, upon our being announced, Mycroft raised himself from a deep leather fireside chair, and as he shuffled away from the flickering of the fire’s flames it became apparent that the years since our last meeting, had not been kind to him.

Mycroft’s once genial facial chubbiness was now degenerating into ungainly folds of ageing flesh and bore a decidedly unhealthy grey pallor. His hair had thinned considerably and he had acquired a stoop to his back that reduced his height by two or three inches. It was sad to see that the seven-year age gap between my friend and his brother now seemed considerably wider. Admirably, Holmes betrayed no traces of the dismay he must have felt at seeing his brother’s sorry transformation.

‘Ah, Sherlock and, of course, Doctor Watson!’ was his affable greeting, although there was a hoarseness to his voice that I had, hitherto, been unaware of. ‘Good of you both to have attended so promptly.’ Then, lowering his voice somewhat, ‘I understand you have agreed to look into Lady Beasant’s little problem, but between the three of us, I think you will find this matter a little weightier and of far greater priority. Do not look so surprised, Doctor, as my brother will confirm, there is very little that escapes me, especially in so far as the affairs of a former member of the Diogenes Club are concerned.’

‘The tone of your note was somewhat urgent,’ Holmes mentioned.

‘Indeed it was. The simple fact of the matter is that the idiot Lestrade has been put in charge of the investigation and I would prefer it if you could learn all you can from the scene of the crime, before he blunders in.’

‘So it is murder then?’ Holmes asked casually, almost
with an air of nonchalance. By now an evening mist had begun to fall and Holmes’s sharp, hawklike profile was set off in silhouette against the uncovered glass of Mycroft’s window.

‘Murder it undoubtedly is and I am afraid the tragic victim is my invaluable right-hand man, George Naismith,’ Mycroft replied sombrely.

‘Right-hand man, you say?’ Holmes asked a little anxiously, moving away from the window. ‘I do not understand. You have always been a law unto yourself within the Civil Service and the nature of your work has always precluded any assistance.’

‘That was the case until recently, but alas, I have not really been myself of late and it was felt by certain Government officials that some help would prove to be of benefit. I must admit that, despite my early misgivings, Naismith had become almost indispensable to me. As you are already aware, I work for no individual department and Naismith’s previous experience had helped to lubricate liaison between the various ministries.’

‘Where exactly did the murder take place?’ Holmes asked.

‘In my office, next door, and that is the most singular aspect of the whole confounded business!’ Mycroft replied. He moved over to a set of large mahogany doors.

‘I am sorry, sir, but I understood this room to be your office,’ I mentioned whilst still writing in my notebook.

‘Oh no, dear boy,’ Mycroft boomed. ‘This is merely my waiting room. Do not be too easily impressed by size and grandeur. In my exalted position it is more important to impress people before they actually meet you.’ Mycroft finished his remarks with a touch of amused irony. Then he
flung open the large doors and showed us into his inner sanctum.