Sherlock Holmes (21 page)

A look of horror crossed the
young man's face which he instantly covered with paint spattered
hands. "No! It cannot be!” After a few moments, Talbot slowly
removed his hands and looked pleadingly at Holmes, perhaps hoping
that he was mistaken. Seeing that Holmes was sincere, Talbot asked,
meekly, "How? Was it an accident? Was she taken ill?"

Holmes slowly shook his
head.

Talbot's eyes widened. "You mean
she was attacked?"

Holmes said nothing and again
shook his head and held Talbot's gaze. As I watched, Talbot slowly
realised the implication of Holmes’ silence.

With a strangled cry, he fell to
the floor. I rushed forwards and raised the unconscious figure
until he was seated and leaning against the chair. Loosening his
collar, I sought, as gently as I could, to rouse the fallen figure.
Once his eyes had fully opened, I took from my coat pocket my hip
flask and poured a good measure of brandy into the silver cup. Now
awake, I was able to force a little of the spirit between his lips.
Immediately he coughed and stared around wildly as he swallowed
some of the brandy. I placed a restraining hand upon his shoulder
until I was sure that he had regained his senses.

With a hand held beneath his
armpit, I helped raise him once more to sit in the chair. The news
of Miss Dixon’s death had overwhelmed him. Talbot sat there, asking
himself the same questions over and over. “How could she? Why?”

Holmes sat on the other chair
beside Talbot and asked, “You were at one time engaged to Miss
Dixon?”

Talbot seemed almost like a man
in a dream. He shook his head to clear it before answering, “Yes,
we had been engaged for some twelve months but she broke it off
almost a month ago. She returned the ring to me… but I pleaded with
her not to leave me and we have remained friends. The last time I
saw her was a little over a week ago. She posed for me for that
picture.” Talbot pointed towards the canvas of the classical figure
that had taken my attention.

Holmes raised an eyebrow in my
direction before asking further, “I presume that you know her
parents?”

Talbot simply nodded, saying,
“Yes, they live but a few streets away. They are fine people but
very strict and ardent church goers. Violet adored them but I felt
that they kept her in something of a straight-jacket. She only
seemed able to be free when she was here, with me.”

Again his hands went to his head
and he began to sob. Holmes took from his waistcoat his notebook
and silver pencil. “The police will need to call upon Violet’s
parents, Mr Talbot. I will pass on their address, if you would be
so kind….”

Talbot stirred and looked up.
“Yes…yes, of course. They too will be gravely worried by her
disappearance. They live in Netheravon Road… number twenty
five.”

Holmes swiftly wrote this down
and then tucked his notebook and pencil away. Standing, he briefly
rested a hand on Talbot’s shoulder, saying, “I am sorry for your
loss. As her former fiancé, you need to be aware that the police
may wish to speak to you.”

Talbot slowly nodded. He
remained seated and did not look up as Holmes and I left his rooms
and returned to our waiting cab.

Once inside the cab, Holmes
shouted up to the cabbie and directed him to return to Baker
Street. Holmes sat silent and withdrawn as we began our journey. I,
too, had been touched by the young man’s distress and looked
straight ahead whilst saying, “I feel that you were correct not to
reveal Miss Dixon’s pregnancy, Holmes. I fear it would have pushed
Talbot over the edge of reason.”

Holmes shuffled slightly in his
seat before replying, “Yes. I must convey this to Lestrade so that
he might also keep this fact hidden from her parents. Whilst it may
be concealing the truth of the matter, there is no reason to bring
further shame to an already heartbroken family.” Upon our return,
Holmes was true to his word and duly sent an explanatory telegram
to Lestrade.

We heard nothing further for
almost a week when, suddenly, there was a most strange occurrence.
It was mid-morning and Holmes had been sitting close to our front
window, enjoying a pipe of tobacco in the warmth of an unseasonably
pleasant autumn sun. A gentle tap at the door to our rooms
announced Mrs Hudson together with our tea tray. We were in the
habit of taking a cup of Darjeeling at 10 am, and, if fortunate,
one of Mrs Hudson’s freshly baked biscuits.

I joined my friend and had just
begun to pour the tea when Holmes’ hand darted out and plucked an
envelope from the corner of the tea tray.

“Have a care, Holmes!” I chided,
“You were almost scalded!”

Holmes smiled and wagged his
finger at me. His smile grew broader as he examined the envelope
that he had picked up, saying “Well, well! I appears that you have
more correspondence… Miss Jane Watson!”

Fortunately, I had replaced the
teapot and was now only holding my cup as I jolted forwards,
shouting, “What?” and slopping a sizeable quantity of hot tea into
my saucer.

Holmes held up the envelope to
the light from the window before then holding it to his nose.

A puzzled look now appeared on
Holmes’ face. “Now… this is most unexpected, Watson. I did not
foresee any further contact. I believe it to have come from the
same source as the pills for I detect the very slightest odour of
mint. Would you mind if I opened it on your behalf?”

I cradled my tea cup and
brimming saucer in my hands whilst I carefully shook my head,
saying, “Not at all Holmes, as I am a little indisposed at present…
although I too am curious!”

Holmes stood and, reaching for
his stiletto, carefully slit the envelope. Removing the contents,
Holmes began to read. As I watched, I saw his face change. The
muscles in his slender cheeks bulged and grew taut like cords of
steel as he clenched his teeth in anger.

Suddenly, Holmes cried out,
“Damnable wretches! How can they act so? It is beyond belief!”

He threw down the piece of paper
and began to pace our rooms like a man possessed, up-ending any
piece of furniture that was in his path. Seldom have I seen him so
enraged. Swiftly putting down my cup and saucer, I scrabbled on the
floor for the sheet of paper that he had so angrily tossed to one
side.

Retrieving it, I could see that
it was a partly printed and partly hand-written letter. I began to
read…

“Madame, I am in possession of a
letter written by you on the
11
^th
of October
in which you sought to purchase certain
abortifacients in order to commit or attempt to commit the heinous
crime of abortion. By their purchase, you sought to prevent
yourself giving birth to a child. Both of these actions are
criminal offences in themselves and punishable, under the law of
England, by penal servitude. It is my duty to inform you that
criminal proceedings have already begun against you and that a
warrant for your immediate arrest is to be issued unless you send
me, on or before
Friday
morning next, the sum of two
guineas.

I also require you to sign the
statement below and return this letter with your payment.

James Francis Clements, Public
Official, Queen’s Bench, London.

I,
Jane Watson
, do
solemnly swear, upon my honour, that I will never again attempt, by
any means, to prevent myself giving birth to a child.

Signed before God.”

I collapsed into my chair,
scarcely believing what I had read. Holmes was still pacing wildly
and I cried out to him, “But…but this is blackmail Holmes! How are
they able to do this to these poor creatures that they have already
so villainously deceived?”

Holmes stopped pacing and stood
directly in front of me, his eyes burning like coals. “How indeed,
Watson! But consider this, how can these women go to the
authorities without confessing to a serious crime and suffering the
shame and consequences of it? They cannot! What villainy indeed! It
is imperative that we act at once, Watson.”

With that, Holmes dived for his
notebook and began frantically scribbling a telegram. “I am asking
Lestrade to come here at once for this is something that we cannot
do alone, Watson.” When he had finished, he tore the page from his
notebook before ringing the bell madly for Mrs Hudson.

It had taken the rest of the
morning for Holmes to become sufficiently calm to allow himself to
sit and enjoy a pipe of tobacco. It was clear to me that the events
of the morning were still preying greatly upon his mind.

As we sat and waited for
Lestrade, Holmes’ mind seemed to become focussed on the details of
the deception. Taking up his pipe, he drew strongly upon it before
saying, "You know, Watson, enticing the weak and vulnerable to
purchase a useless 'cure' is commonplace. To then blackmail them
and
require them to return the blackmail note with their
payment is inspired!”

I nodded… but wondered at how
Holmes could separate the evil of the scheme from the mechanics of
the deception. Suddenly, the implication of what he had said struck
me. I shook my head in disbelief, saying, "No, Holmes! You do not
see her hand in this?"

Holmes was staring at a point
far in the distance. As he drew upon his pipe, he slowly nodded. "I
suspect Julia Moriarty to be at the centre of this intrigue,
Watson. She will distance herself from its baser workings and allow
her minions to gather in the profits."

I could barely take this in,
Julia Moriarty! The evil sister of the infamous James Moriarty. The
woman who had sworn revenge for her brother’s death and now sought
to resurrect his criminal empire. "But... but this a crime against
her own sex, Holmes! How can she exploit these women so?"

Holmes was entirely cold in his
reply. "We are all sheep to be fleeced in her eyes, Watson…" He
then paused for a moment before continuing, "Although... this need
to obtain a sworn promise, it is something that I had not
considered to be within her character. It is a weakness, Watson. A
nod, if you will, to her own latent maternal instinct."

I thought this over before
replying, "But she has sold these women a remedy which they believe
will end a life!"

Holmes drew steadily on his pipe
before raising a cautioning finger and saying, "Ah, the victims
believe it to be so... but the pills, as we now know, are quite
harmless. They could so easily have been laced with all manner of
adulterants and poisons. A criminal without a care for the mother
and unborn child would not have been so mindful of the
content.”

He paused for a few moments,
seemingly deep in thought, before continuing, “No, Watson. She has
inadvertently revealed a side to her character that she would, no
doubt, have preferred to remain hidden."

We took luncheon at noon and it
wasn’t until a little after 1pm that we heard the bell ring in the
hall below and then the steady, measured tread of a policeman upon
the stairs and then outside our rooms. Ushered in by Mrs Hudson, to
whom he gave the briefest of nods, Lestrade removed his hat and
coat and laid them on the back of our settee.

Lestrade looked across the room
towards Holmes and then, in quite a brusque tone, said, “I hope
this excursion across London is worth my time, Mr Holmes. I have a
desk full of cases that will not solve themselves and require my
attention.”

Holmes, I'm sure, was about to
make a less than complimentary comment as to the ability of the
inspector when he saw my pained look and upheld hand. Giving the
briefest of nods in my direction, Holmes bit his lip.

Inviting the inspector to be
seated, Holmes laid before Lestrade all that we had discovered. It
took him some twenty minutes to fully appraise Lestrade and, when
he had finished, Lestrade was seen to be sitting back,
open-mouthed.

Gathering himself together,
Lestrade leaned forwards and rubbed his chin. "Well, Mr Holmes, you
astound me. How are
we
to proceed?"

A wry smile now appeared on
Holmes’ face. "Well, Inspector, I think it necessary to approach
this from two different directions. Firstly, we must halt
production of these pills and also curtail their advertising."

Lestrade had taken out his
official notebook, licked his pencil, and was now seen to be making
copious notes, whilst rapidly nodding in agreement.

Holmes continued, "Secondly, a
watch must be set on the post office box to which the blackmail
payments are being sent and whoever collects them must be
detained."

Lestrade continued with his
notes whilst adding, "Yes, yes, I agree. I think that would be
best.” Lestrade paused for a moment before saying, “Given the
nature of the investigation, I believe that Scotland Yard should
now take over this case, Mr Holmes. I am, of course, most grateful
for your assistance, as always. If I could have the letters to
which you referred…?” With a glance in my direction he concluded,
“I will, of course, keep Doctor Watson's name out of any official
documents."

I nodded in gratitude whilst
Holmes gathered up the two letters and removed Violet Dixon’s
newspaper cutting from his waistcoat pocket. These three items he
handed to Lestrade whilst saying, "I am indeed happy to have been
of some service... but tell me Lestrade, when do you intend to
strike?"

Lestrade did not hesitate. "It
will be tomorrow, Mr Holmes!" With that, he swiftly put on his coat
and hat, placed the items in his coat pocket and with a final
'goodbye', he almost raced from our rooms.

I looked at Holmes in amazement.
I had expected at least some kind of protest as the case was
whisked away from him by Lestrade. Scratching my head, I said, "I
do not understand, Holmes. You have presented the facts to the man
and he has, in effect, stolen the case from you!"