The Misadventure of Shelrock Holmes (15 page)

"As soon as it's dark — "

"We shall see -

"What we shall see."

Tommy took his turn at watching the house whilst Tuppence went to the village and had some food.

Then she returned and they took up the vigil together. At nine o'clock, they decided that it was dark enough to commence operations. They were now able to circle round the house in perfect freedom. Suddenly Tuppence clutched Tommy by the arm.

"Listen."

The sound she had heard came again, borne faintly on the night air. It was the moan of a woman in pain. Tuppence pointed upward to a window on the first floor.

"It came from that room," she whispered.

Again that low moan rent the stillness of the night.

The two listeners decided to put their original plan into action. Tuppence led the way to where she had seen the gardener put the ladder. Between them they carried it to the side of the house from which they had heard the moaning. All the blinds of the ground-floor rooms were drawn, but this particular window upstairs was unshuttered.

Tommy put the ladder as noiselessly as possible against the side

of the house.

"I'll go up," whispered Tuppence. "You stay below. I don't mind climbing ladders and you can steady it better than I could. And in case the doctor should come round the corner you'd be able to deal with him and I shouldn't."

Nimbly Tuppence hurried up the ladder, and raised her head cautiously to look in at the window. Then she ducked it swiftly, but after a minute or two brought it very slowly up again. She stayed there for about five minutes. Then she came down quickly.

"It's her," she said breathlessly and ungrammatically. "But oh, Tommy, it's horrible. She's lying there in bed, moaning, and turning to and fro — and just as I got there a woman dressed as a nurse came

in. She bent over her and injected something in her arm and then went away again. What shall we do?"

"Is she conscious?"

"I think so. I'm almost sure she is. I fancy she may be strapped to the bed. I'm going up again, and if I can, I'm going to get into that

room."

"I say, Tuppence — "

"If I'm in any sort of danger I'll yell for you. So long."

Avoiding further argument Tuppence hurried up the ladder again. Tommy saw her try the window, then noiselessly push up the sash. Another second, and she had disappeared inside.

And now an agonizing time came for Tommy. He could hear nothing at first. Tuppence and Mrs. Leigh Gordon must be talking in whispers if they were talking at all. Presently he did hear a low murmur of voices and drew a breath of relief. But suddenly the voices stopped. Dead silence.

Tommy strained his ears. Nothing. What could they be doing?

Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Come on," said Tuppence's voice out of the darkness.

"Tuppence! How did you get here?"

"Through the front door. Let's get out of this."

"Get out of this?"

"That's what I said."

"But —Mrs. Leigh Gordon?"

In a tone of indescribable bitterness Tuppence replied:

"Getting thin!"

Tommy looked at her, suspecting irony.

"What do you mean?"

"What I say. Getting thin. Slinkiness. Reduction of weight. Didn't you hear Stavansson say he hated fat women? In the two years he's been away, his Hermy has put on weight. Got a panic when she knew he was coming back, and rushed off to do this new treatment of Dr. Horriston's. It's injections of some sort, and he makes a deadly secret of it, and charges through the nose. I daresay he is a quack — but he's a damned successful one! Stavansson comes home a fortnight too soon, when she's only beginning the treatment. Lady Susan has been sworn to secrecy, and plays up. And we come down here and make blithering idiots of ourselves!"

Tommy drew a deep breath.

"I believe, Watson," he said with dignity, "that there is a very good concert at the Queen's Hall tomorrow. We shall be in plenty of time for it. And you will oblige me by not placing this case upon your records. It has absolutely no distinctive features."

Detective: SHERLOCK HOLMES

THE ADVENTURE OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS IMPOSTOR

by ANTHONY BOUCHER

Anthony Boucher, creator of Fergus O'Breen, Nicf{ Noble, and Sister Ursula — a stellar triumvirate of fictional detectives — focuses the microscope of Sherloc\ Holmes's analytical mind on the problem of Rudolf Hess, the sensational one-man invasion of Great Britain. History alone will confirm or shatter the truth of Holmes's startling solution.

It is interesting to note in passing the cognominal affinity between Anthony Boucher and Sherloc^ Holmes. Is it sheer coincidence that Anthony Boucher's alter-pseudonym is H. H. Holmes? 1

This stimulating pastiche has never before appeared in print.

T

JL-H

.HE LEAN old man on the Sussex bee farm looked up from the newspapers spread before him and announced, "The most interesting man in the world at this moment, this May of 1941, is a hitherto obscure German named Horn."

His friend stirred his tea testily. "Hang it, old man, have you found some obscurely fascinating personal again? I thought all the interest in the papers was centered on this chap Hess."

The lean old man smiled. "Precisely, my dear fellow. All the interest is centered on this chap Hess, and no one has bothered to notice that Rudolf Hess must have been murdered a month ago."

X A whimsy: the pseudonym actually derives from that of die infamous American murderer, Dr. H. H. Holmes, ne Herman Mudgett (1860-1895), who eventually confessed to averaging two murders per year over a period of fourteen years.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS IMPOSTOR 85

"Murdered?" His friend's eyes held for a moment the gleam of a retired hunting dog who hears the horns. Then the gleam faded. "Only another Jerry . . ." he said dully.

"Ah, but what a Jerry! Some call him a Trojan Horse, some a traitor — a dove of peace, a spy. While we know that he must be ... But here: Read these two paragraphs from the official statement

dated May 12." The aged doctor fumbled with his glasses and read from the paper:

He was taken to a hospital in Glasgow, where he first gave his name as Horn but later on he declared he was Rudolf Hess.

He brought with him various photographs of himself at different ages, apparently in order to establish his identity.

He read the paragraphs twice, then looked up vacuously.

"Come, come!" the lean old man snapped. "You know my methods. Can you not see how clearly those sentences tell us that this 'Hess' is an impostor?" His temper faded, and he looked at his friend with pity and sympathy. "Well, well; the years glide by, Postumus —and I even find myself quoting Horace rather than Hafiz. I no longer have the right to be so harsh with your dullness. But listen, and you shall understand."

His thumb crammed shag from the Persian slipper into the blackened clay. "Those photographs have been accepted as providing absolute proof of his identity. In fact, they disprove it completely.

"Say that he was coming on a mission to the Duke of Hamilton. The men have met. They have exchanged correspondence in which a signal could have been arranged. And yet we are expected to believe that Hess would walk in on the Duke and present him with a photograph as identification. Patent nonsense!

"Or say that his mission was to the people of England. Our intelligence service is not all dolts. Scotland Yard with men like Wilson and French and Alleyn is not what it was in the days of Lestrade. They have the minutest descriptions and pictures of every enemy leader. And yet he brings his own pictures!

"The real Hess would never have carried pictures. But anyone not Hess, but resembling him, would have had the strongest motive for carrying just those pictures which most stressed the resemblance."

86 THE ADVENTURE OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS IMPOSTOR

He paused for a moment, and his friend said, "Amazing!"

"Elementary," he retorted. It was like ritual antiphon and response. "But the episode of the name is even more revealing.

"This 'Hess' was in Britain deliberately; his Messerschmitt could not have made the round flight, so that he must have intended to land. He was distinctively dressed: fine uniform, gold watch, gold wrist compass. Whatever his purpose, he could carry it out only by virtue of being Hess.

"Nevertheless, even with those curious photos on him, when he is first questioned he states that his name is Horn.

"Again nonsense ... if he is Hess. But if he were Herr Horn, nervous, confused, his wrenched leg aching, what more natural than that in that first tense moment he should automatically reply with his true name?"

Dense clouds of shag smoke filled the room as the lean old man eagerly went on: "Realize that, and see how much else falls into place:

"Hess is described in an early dispatch as a strict vegetarian; Herr Horn is fussy about his salmon and chicken.

"Hess has lung lesions from the war, a scalp wound from 1919, and tuberculosis of the bone from a skiing injury; the Glasgow hospital report on Herr Horn mentions only heart trouble and gallstones.

"Hess is reputedly a devoted father; Herr Horn has abandoned the Hess child to a man not noted for mercy.

"Hess is a soldier, a flyer, and presumably not a fool; Herr Horn arrives in Scotland in an unarmed plane, totally defenseless against the RAF, who might reasonably be slow to understand the motive of a Messerschmitt's visit."

His friend roused himself. "But I say, old man, why should even your Herr Horn venture against the RAF unarmed?"

"It is obvious enough: Because he was meant to die. Because his death, as Hess, was essential to the murderers of Hess."

"Oh. Some dastardly plot of that devil Von Bork, no doubt."

The lean old man smiled. "Von Bork has been dead these twenty-five years. But there are still devils in his land, and one of them murdered Rudolf Hess. Why, I shall let the political experts explain.

"But it is obvious that Hess's murder was dangerous; it might

THE ADVENTURE OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS IMPOSTOR 87

cause serious disaffection among his followers, even revolt. So he must be given a brave new death, glorious in battle. You will recall the curious episode of the martial death of Werner von Fritsch?

"Horn was probably Bess's habitual double. Say he was told that Hess was ill, that he must keep a secret tryst for him. He was provided with identification and with the map marking the Hamilton estate, chosen doubtless because of the Duke's dubious prewar connections. His instructions would be to lie low after the appointment (hence the concentrated foods which he carried) until he could be smuggled out.

"Instead, of course, he was to be shot down by the RAF or, if that failed, by the German plane which he thought was his escort. (The newspaper reports are still doubtful as to whether the bullet holes in his plane came from the RAF.) But by some trick of our ever ironic Providence, his plane escaped. He landed ... and wrenched his

ankle.

"That, my dear fellow, if you will forgive a pawky wit worthy of your own, was the turning point. Helpless because of his leg, he was captured and haled before the authorities. He mumbled his real name; but that would not be believed for a moment once his "identification' was seen. And then-

"I admire the poor worm. This nonentity, this weakling double — in one moment he achieved a stroke of daring that Moran or Moriarty might have envied. He calmly said, 'Yes. I am Hess.' And who was there to deny him?"

"Who but you?" his friend marveled. "The only man in the British

Empire who — "

"It was nothing. You know my tenet: Eliminate the impossible. And here nothing can remain but the murder of Hess and the inspired masquerade of Herr Horn, while Goebbels and Duff-Cooper go mad contradicting each other and themselves in every fresh dispatch."

A smile of triumph lingered on his thin lips, then gave way to gravity. "But when I think of the future, this is more than an amusing

little problem.

"For the moment, the capture of Hess seems a great British triumph. But when we have kept him for years, learning nothing from

88 THE ADVENTURE OF THE .ILLUSTRIOUS IMPOSTOR

him, profiting nothing by this stroke, when some few have guessed the truth but are afraid to reveal it lest we lose face ... It may prove serious.

"Suppose that our allies, and we are bound to have more allies as this devilish war drags on, demand to see and use our prisoner. Suppose that our enemy conceives the ingenious notion of sending Frau Hess to join her husband; she would know the double Horn and at once upset the applecart.

"No, this comedy may yet prove deadly earnest. And when it does . . . There may be work for us yet, Watson."

His friend was asleep. The lean old man smiled, took down his violin, and began to play softly.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MR. JAMES PHILLIMORE

by ELLERY QUEEN

Dear Mr. Holmes:

For many years, in company with the legion of your devoted followers, I have been fascinated by the numerous references of Dr. Watson to your unrecorded cases.

By an understandable perversity of the mind, my imagination has seized with special zest upon those unrecorded cases of yours which, as Watson points out so jorthrightly, you failed to solve.

I can well imagine your irritation at reading the good doctor's blunt statement in "The Problem of Thor Bridge" l that you had fizzled a number of cases, among them the singular affair of Mr. James Phillimore who, "stepping bac\ into his own house to get his umbrella, was never more seen in this world."

No one likes to be reminded of his failures. 1 would not do so now, if not for my certainty that you will be professionally interested in my remarkable experience recently.

Imagine my astonishment when, early in the year of 1943, my father, Inspector Richard Queen of the New Yor{ Police Department, brought to my attention the case of Mr. James Phillimore of New Yorf(, who stepped bac\ into his own house as if to get his umbrella (after anxiously studying the sky for signs of rain} and to all intents and purposes vanished from this world!