PINNACLE BOOKS NEW YORK (17 page)

Finally
he spoke and I imagined a trace of
approval
in his tone, as though his analysis had withstood the tests he placed
upon it.
"Ramsey Michael on several
occasions has flitted
on the periphery
of investigations that came our
way.
There was the Bishopegate Jewel Case, for
one.
^*
But no matter. The point is that he main
tained
a considerable establishment, was able to
gather
a collection of costly objects, and enjoyed a
certain
reputation as an art critic, an occupation
not
noteworthy for its direct remuneration."

^*
Spelling
used by Watson. Was there another
Bishopgate
case?

"You
suspect that he had a concealed source of
income?"

"Especially
since I took the trouble to establish
that
he was not blessed with inherited wealth.
Michael
could well have been a member of a small
and
clandestine group known as expediters."

Holmes
shot a quick glance at me but received a
blank
stare for his trouble, so he continued.
"A
necessary strut in the framework of illegal activities. A man who can
grease the machinery
and,
on occasion, set up a certain situation."

"A
go-between. As, for instance, one who ar
ranges
for the disposition of stolen property. Some
times
before the theft is committed," I added, my
mind
going back to the Bishopegate case and how
Holmes
had lectured the force upon it.

"Stout
fellow," said Holmes approvingly.

"But
now new vistas beckon," I stated with some
excitement.
"If Ramsey Michael had a shadowy
background,
his murder could well have stemmed
from
it. You did rather hold out on MacDonald,
Holmes."

"Not
at all," was his swift reply. "The matter of
Cedric
Folks has to be explored. If the former
soldier
turned artist is indeed the culprit, my
thought
does not pass muster."

Holmes
seemed about to continue and then his
lips
compressed in a thin line and his eyes reverted
to
the fireplace, taking on an opaque look they
sometimes
did when his mind was churning with a
new
thought.

"That
is an interesting statement I just made," he
continued
after a moment.

Of
a sudden, I felt in tune with his thinking.
"Ledger
is a former soldier," I exclaimed.

"So
was Trelawney," said the sleuth, as though
talking
to himself. "Though of much older vintage.
It
crosses my mind that the late Ramsey Michael
was
reputed to have served in the Crimea as well."

"Ah
hah. You have established a possible connec
tion
between Michael and Ezariah Trelawney."

Holmes'
predatory features swiveled in my direction. "Michael and
Ezariah, you say, Watson? Not for the first time, you have come up
with a
seemingly commonplace remark that
suggests fas
cinating overtones."

I
was pleased to have been of help but completely
at
sea as to what he was thinking of.

"Shadrach,"
he murmured in a tone so soft that I
was
pressed to distinguish the single word.

Then
Holmes was out of his chair making for the
bookcase.
"Research is called for, old fellow, and
we have an excellent file on the train robbery as well as the
material Mycroft so kindly placed at our
disposal." Holmes took the
M
volume from the row of file
volumes
and had the wick of the desk lamp raised
in
but a moment. I assumed the late Ramsey
Michael
had first call on his attention and I noted
that
the material he had received from his brother
was
already on the desk surface.

Suddenly
I ceased to exist as far as my intimate
friend
was concerned. He was leafing through
pages
and, from experience, I knew he would be
referring
to his commonplace book before too long.
The
walls of our familiar habitat and the intimates within had faded into
a nothingness for Holmes, who, with rapid steps, was traversing the
wonder
land of his mental world and
completely absorbed
in his journey.

His
abrupt preoccupation, not uncommon dur
ing
our years together, was irritating nonetheless.
But
a moment before we had been discussing
possibilities
in a case that was certainly producing added complexities. Now I was
shunted off, discarded, and this produced annoyance that led to a
testy remark as I prepared to make my
way
upstairs to my waiting bed.

"I
am reminded, Holmes, of your frequent cau
tionary
statements about the premature accept
ance
of a theory. Do you not contend that it risks
the
adjusting of facts to fit it?"

My
words produced no reaction from Holmes
whatsoever.
I had risen from my chair and extin
guished
my cigar before his noble head rose and he
turned
toward me.

"Good,
loyal, Watson. I can only say,
touch
é
,
old
comrade.
However, do recall that I have a kind of intuition based on special
knowledge gathered through the years. But your warning does not go
unrecorded."

I
must say I felt considerably better as I made my
way
up the backstairs toward the waiting arms of
Morpheus.

Chapter
9

To
Fenley in Gloucester

IT
WAS somewhat late the following morning when
I
literally staggered down to our sitting room and
alerted
Mrs. Hudson to my needs. The great silver
coffee
urn was suitably hot, and I made free of its
contents
in an effort to dissipate my torpid condi
tion.
When I heard Holmes' footfalls on the stairs outside, I shook my head
vigorously in an effort to
deny the
lassitude that plagued me. Keeping up
with
the mercurial mind of my intimate friend was
a
losing game for my plodding intellect. This
particular
morning I felt as though the task would
prove
insurmountable.

To
my disgust, Holmes came through our outer
door
in a smart tweed suit looking for all the world
like
he had slept the clock around. I knew it was quite possible that he
had not been to bed at all,
since one
could never tell by his appearance. Especially when he felt the need
to bustle about
and view things with his
own eyes. Surely he was
nearing the
zenith of his career and his sources
of
information were enormous. But, as in those early days when he was
making his name known
throughout the
civilized world, nothing pleased
him
more than to be on the move and doing things
directly.
With a cheery good morning, he hung his Inverness on a peg behind our
door and deposited
his tweed flapped cap
in a convenient chair.

"Delighted
to see that you are with us, old fellow.
The
early morning has proven profitable and we'd
best
get to Liverpool Station straightaway. If you
care
to pursue this matter further with me?" he
added
quickly.

His
final remark had been so much twaddle as I
well
knew and Holmes knew I knew it. The thought
of
my abandoning a matter involving the robbery
of
the treasure train and possibly two murders as
well
was inconceivable.

"Where
are we off to?" I asked, disposing of a
final
rasher of bacon.

"The
city of Fenley," he responded. "You do recall
that
certain west coast banks were involved with
the
missing gold shipment."

"Then
the matter of Ramsey Michael is aban
doned?"

"Scotland
Yard, in the person of MacDonald, can follow up on that for the
moment. The half-million
pounds' worth
of gold is our principal concern."

I
became somewhat nettled and posed my next
question
more abruptly than usual.
"All
right. What in Gloucester relates to the gold
shipment?"

"Burton
Hananish, financier, lives there."

"The
name means nothing to me."

"It
would had you gone through the dossier
Mycroft
placed at our disposal. Hananish was
instrumental
in creating the cartel that gathered
the
gold. He has had considerable dealings in the
international
world of finance. The original idea of
the
loan to the Credit Lyonnais might have been
his."

"I
thought Ezariah Trelawney was the key man
there."

"Actually,
I rather fancy another man com
pletely."

"Michael?
The idea man."

"Correct,
old fellow," he said, accepting the cup
of
coffee I had poured for him. A few moments with
Holmes
and my morning fogginess had evaporated.
I
had a sudden thought. "A number of bankers
must
have been involved. What made you settle on
this
Hananish chap?"

"He's
the only one who is a veteran of the Crimea
campaign."

That
was all I could get out of Holmes for a while.
Fenley
was a modest-sized city in Gloucester,
north
of Bristol on the Severn River. We were able
to
travel a through train of the Bristol and Western
Railroad,
a convenience on our considerable jour
ney.
During the trip, Holmes seemed intent on
avoiding
discussion of the matter that took us
toward
the west coast. Rather, he spent a lengthy
period
of time with his long legs stretched out in
our
first-class compartment, his chin on his chest
and
his hat lowered over his forehead. I could not
tell
whether his eyes were closed or not. He might
have
been sleeping or possibly idly regarding the
toes
of his shoes with his mind elsewhere. We were
approaching
Swindon when he roused himself and
relieved
my boredom with reminiscences regard
ing
the matter of the Netherlands-Sumatra Com
pany
and the colossal schemes of Baron Maupertuis
.
I thought at first that the sleuth was merely
whiling
away the time in a manner calculated to
keep
me from posing insane questions. But then the
thought
of the involvement of the Credit Lyonnais
in
the Netherlands-Sumatra scandal came to mind.
Holmes
contended that there was a strong family
resemblance
about misdeeds. Certainly his knowl
edge
of the history of crime was unequaled, for he
had
the details of a thousand cases at his fingertips.
Was
there something in common between the Netherlands-Sumatra matter and
the stolen gold? I
listened with added
attention to his recapitulation
and even
posed some questions relative to points still unclear in my mind.
Since I hope to present a
complete
account of this matter in a future publica
tion,
I shall not dwell further on our discussion,
which
lasted until our arrival in Fenley.