Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In (7 page)

“Well, I'll leave you in good hands, Mr. Abernathy. You take care, and I'll call again in a few days.” I glanced back as I left the room, seeing Alfred bending over his father, persuading him to sip a little more of the cough mixture. Yes, bad man or not, he was a son who loved his father, and I was pleased that it be so. It is a fallacy promulgated by the rich that the poor do not care for their families. I have often seen more affection in a humble cottage or single room where a family resides, than in mansions.

* * * *

The next morning a constable arrived on our doorstep with a note from Harrison to say that we should go at once to the hospital. We hailed a cab as soon as Holmes finished reading. On our arrival, Harrison met us in the waiting room.

“Len's waking up,” he said briefly. “Come this way.”

We followed him to the ward and stood by the door of the lad's room. Lestrade was in there, along with a nurse and doctor. Someone was mumbling, and the doctor spoke now and again to Lestrade or gave instructions to the nurse. That continued for some time, until a young man's voice firmed into clarity.

“What's to do?” Then, “Oh, sir! Please excuse…”

“Lie down, lad, no need to stand on ceremony,” said Lestrade. “You're in hospital. You were struck down and injured. You're recovering, and you did your duty, no need to fret. Now, start with the last thing you remember clearly and go back from there. Don't fuss and don't try to force anything, let it come as it will, even if it sounds a bit confused. No need to put it into official language either, just tell it as it happened.”

We moved closer to the door. Len Rogers remembered that he had been detailed to work as a footman in Northgate's home. However, his primary job was to watch over Northgate, since his superiors had heard some whisper that His Lordship could be in danger. Northgate knew Rogers for what he was and had been always carelessly kind to the boy. In consequence, Rogers, who liked the man, had several times, and without His Lordship knowing, followed him in the city as Northgate went about his affairs. His Lordship disbelieved the warnings, Rogers said, and took no security precautions at all, so that Rogers was worried for him.

“His Lordship told the butler as he was going out. He got into a cab and I followed on foot, as traffic were bad so it weren't going fast and I could keep up by cutting through some alleys. Lord Northgate got out of the cab after a while and went into a house, After a couple of minutes he came to the front door again and I thought he was leaving. There was movement behind His Lordship and he turned back inside seeming to hear someone speaking to him. Two men stood at the door with him. They took hold of His Lordship, tried to drag him back inside and there was a scuffle, so I ran up calling that they should release him at once, and that's all I can recall, sir.”

Holmes stepped into the doorway. “Do you remember a cat?” he asked. “A brown cat, very friendly? You gave him something.”

Rogers's pale face lit with a smile. “The cat, he was licking my face. He had a fancy collar on so I guessed he was a pet. I gave him my dad's watch and he played with it, then he went off carrying it.”

Holmes spoke in a soft, even voice. “And he came back, so you gave him…”

“I gave him one of my gloves. Seemed like years after that and no one came. Lord Northgate was gone when next I came to. I found his handkerchief by me, spotted with blood, and I thought that might make someone notice. I gave that to the cat next time and he didn't come back.”

“No, he took the handkerchief to his owner who knows me, and who came to ask my advice. Inspector Lestrade and I returned, and with the cat's help we tracked down where you were held captive and freed you.”

“A good cat,” Len said, his voice trailing off into silence as his eyes closed.

The doctor made the usual checks and looked at us. “He's weak and he'll fall asleep like that for days. He mustn't be tired out more than you can help, and I think it unlikely he'll remember much more. The initial blows were to the back of the head and he would not have seen his attacker. Someone beat him badly after that; he has cracked ribs, a broken arm, and considerable bruising.”

Harrison followed us to the waiting room and spoke quietly. “The doctor thinks Len will recover completely. I'm glad of that, for I like the boy; he's honest, hard-working, sensible, and he'll be a good detective, in time.”

I looked at him. “Isn't he a detective now?”

Harrison grinned. “Well, he started as a constable, however he's got some education has Len, and ambition. He was promoted to detective last year, just after he turned twenty-eight. I've been bringing him along and letting him shadow me on some cases. If he stays with us he could go far, but he has a lot to learn as yet.”

Holmes stared thoughtfully out of the window. “It's clear the kidnappers planned to take Northgate. Rogers was an accident; they had to take him before he drew attention, but they dumped him as soon as they could. At some point, Northgate's handkerchief fell from his pocket.”

“Do you think Northgate is injured?”

“I think they likely knocked him on the head,” Holmes told him. “But there were four of them, and they could easily have held Northgate without doing him real damage.”

“Four?” I asked.

Harrison spoke, ticking the numbers off on his fingers. “The cab driver. He must have been involved or why would he not have raised the alarm? He would have seen some at least of what occurred, but instead he appears to have simply driven away. He may have circled the block and returned to the house by the rear entrance. Then there were two men Rogers saw at the house, and a fourth man, the one who hit Rogers from behind.” I had overlooked that one.

“Could he not have been struck by one of the two men with Northgate?”

“Unlikely,” Holmes broke in. “From what Rogers said, he had barely reached the house when he was hit. Northgate is not an elderly man; on the contrary, although in his fifties he is a sportsman and fit, and it would take at least two strong men to contain and silence him. It is my suggestion that they took both Rogers and Northgate into the Siddons house initially. There they were bound, gagged, and dumped in that shed where we found the boy. Northgate, distressed by Rogers's head wound, and perhaps blaming himself that he had not listened to Lestrade, wiped the blood away with his handkerchief, and when the kidnappers returned for Northgate, he purposely left the handkerchief—easily identifiable as his—behind.”

Harrison stiffened. “I see. And if he did that, it indicates he was both conscious and in his own mind. You are right; they constrained him by force but without damaging the—merchandise.”

“So I think,” Holmes agreed. “It is still puzzling as to why they are so determined to hold him. They have the papers, so why do they also require Northgate? If they did not have the papers it might make sense. But they do not need both. However, I have a theory. Brand reported that Lord Northgate thought he recognized Liebowitcz. Maximillian Liebowitcz—his current pseudonym—comes of an old Prussian family who are minor nobility. As such he was very well educated, his final schooling taking place here in England, so that he speaks impeccable English. What if he managed an introduction to one of those who share Northgate's hobby? By the by, when about his criminal activities, he uses the name of servants on the family's estate.”

I drew in a deep breath. “So Northgate would not know him as Liebowitcz, and perhaps Northgate saw him with that friend once or twice in passing. How dangerous would it be if Northgate talked and it was known by our agents that Liebowitcz was the cause of a war between us and…”

On that question and our discussion of it we adjourned for lunch, returning to Baker Street where we enjoyed a cold collation of salad, bread and butter, and an excellent pot of tea. We had just finished when Mrs. Hudson entered the room and laid the ivory cat on the table in front of Holmes.

“Lad from the café brought this, Mr. Holmes.”

I was on my feet at once. “Quickly! Western must have discovered something.”

My friend snatched up the cat and together we strode out the front door. Within a short space of time we entered the building three blocks away, where Western sat at a table in a back corner. We joined him at once and he smiled.

“I have some good news, my friends, and information to go with it. Would you care for tea before we talk?”

I glared at his easy manner, unable to repress my simmering impatience, although Holmes accepted a cup, took a sip, and put the cup down again.

Western grinned. “Not the quality you're used to, I'll be bound. Never mind, I can maybe put a bit of sugar in it for you. I passed word that I'd be interested in any man being held, and also if anyone heard of any holdup on people coming or going between England, and, well, the country you mentioned. Those who didn't want any official notice, so to say. I got nibbles on both lines, gentlemen.”

I leaned forward. “You know where Northgate is?”

“Not exactly, but I know the general area. Let me tell it in order. That was a difficult inquiry, for at any time there may be a dozen men being held somewhere.”

“Why?” I asked baldly.

Western eyed me with some amusement. “Debtors being held under threat of unpleasantness until their family pay what's owed. Sailors being held, no…” as I would have spoken. “Not pressed men, just those who have stayed on leave too long, decided to be hung for a sheep instead of a lamb, and aren't intending to go back. Ships will often pay a sum to have them returned. Then there are those held for personal reasons. While I was looking about, I found one lad being held for a wedding he wasn't keen to attend, and another who was trying to escape his apprenticeship and was kept in a cellar until his family bought him out from his master.”

“You said…”

“I said I
think
I have a direction for Northgate. There's word that a toff is being held over Metcalf tenements way. I'm told that he's with a caretaker in a cellar, and that he's not badly treated, but he isn't going anywhere. There are several streets of tenements there, and a friend is trying to narrow it down to a single building. Now, there's the other matter.” He leaned his elbows on the table.

“Seems that Customs ran into trouble last week. They hit on a shipment of something nasty, and those who owned it got rough and two officers were hurt. Customs didn't approve, and to make that clear they're putting every ship to or from that country through the mincer for a while. It's all unofficial and their own officers would know, but because it isn't on the police sheet, the coppers mightn't have heard. However, if I were trying to smuggle a man overseas I wouldn't be doing it until the heat's off, which should be in another day or two but not before. By then I should know the address where your man is being held.”

I let out a long slow breath. “And once we know that we can rescue Northgate, retrieve the papers…” A thought occurred. “Mr. Western, what about the papers?”

He shrugged. “I haven't heard anything about them at all. They could be with Northgate, as it would be more convenient to keep them together. Still, it isn't impossible they're already been sent on. Customs might not recognize their value if they saw them, and the papers aren't contraband.”

Holmes shook his head. “No, I think that if they'd reached someone who knew their value we'd have heard. I believe them to be still in England. And Liebowitcz has a weakness: he likes recognition. He wouldn't part with the most important half of his achievement and let someone else reap the praise and rewards. No, he'll hold both until he can get them away, himself with them. If you're right, Western, we have a day or even two. I'll alert the police to be ready, and let us know the moment you hear from your friend. Here is the ivory cat. Do you require—anything else?”

That last word was uttered in a politely diffident tone, and Western flushed. “No, you provided ample.”

He held out his hand and we shook it, and gratification showed in his gaze. In treating him as the gentleman he'd been born, I thought that we had bound him to our service, and I hoped that if a time came when he was asked to betray us, he would not.

* * * *

We went immediately to see Lestrade and he was doubtful. “You think Western is honest? The man's a fence, and a good one. He's made a lot of money over the past fifteen or so years, although he doesn't live extravagantly. Still, I've never heard that he's vicious either, yet why would he help? That's a dangerous game to play if his friends find out he's assisting the police.”

“Do you know his background?”

“Some of it.”

“Like most men, there is more than one reason behind his actions.” Here Holmes explained the lawsuit and Western's aspirations to return to his old home and his place in society.

When he was done, both Lestrade and Harrison, who had come in and stood listening, nodded. Harrison frowned. “Still, I don't know I'd trust him too far. You keep an eye on him, Mr. Holmes.”

“I intend to,” Holmes assured him. “And so will Watson—like any old soldier, he can sleep with one eye open.”

On which jest we parted, and when we were on the street again I asked, “Where do we go now?”

“Home. That's where Western will look for us if he discovers more information. Best we are where he expects to find us.”

“And if he uncovers nothing?”

“We will give him the remainder of this day. If he has given us nothing more by tomorrow, I'll see what I can find out.”

“That's a very tight-knit area, Holmes.” The Metcalf tenements were some eight blocks of the worst slums in London. I knew police did not patrol, and those who lived there knew each other by sight. “I'd be safer, as most would not harm a doctor.”