Read Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In Online

Authors: Lyn McConchie

Tags: #mystery, #detective, #sherlock, #holmes, #sleuth

Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In (8 page)

BOOK: Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In
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“If it comes to that, Watson, I may call on your assistance.”

I arrived at our front door devoutly hoping that such would not be the case. In the Metcalf tenements, safety is relative.

* * * *

The next day I saw nothing of Holmes until luncheon. Again we were interrupted by a lad bearing the ivory cat. I sprang up, but Holmes waved me back to my seat.

“No, no, Watson. Western will have dispatched the token as soon as he reached the café. Let us finish our meal.”

We did so and walked the three streets to the café to find it was as Holmes had said. Western was in the process of finishing his own meal, and indicated the bench across from him while continuing to eat. We sat, called for a pot of tea, and waited until Western was done. He sat back, drank half the cup of tea I had poured him, and nodded amiably at us.

“Good news. I have the address where Northgate is being held. One problem, though.”

Holmes stirred. “Yes, if we bring in the police, the whole area will turn out against them and in the uproar Northgate is likely to be spirited away. If we want our man in one piece we have to go in ourselves, quickly and quietly.”

“And that won't be easy,” Western commented. “Nor can you spare much time, for my information is that Northgate is to be moved out tomorrow early. Then too, the whole area is run by a gang. They're smart and don't go for violence unless they have to, but when they do, they don't hold back.” He went on to give us chapter and verse on these scoundrels, and something he said caught my attention. I asked a question and the reply interested me. I considered choices and spoke.

“It is possible—I do not promise anything definite—but it may be that I can gain us entry to the area,” I said, to the clear astonishment of Western and the amused regard of Holmes.

“A patient, Watson?”

I shook my head, for to say any such thing would be to break a confidence. “There is a man I may be able to approach,” I said vaguely. “Wait here and leave it to me.” With that I left the café, hailed a cab, and went to an address where I found my quarry and was extremely frank with him.

“Whatever your decision, I shall say nothing of this to anyone. It's a matter of patient confidentiality,” I assured the man I addressed. “But I would put two points to you. One is that if this is not done quietly, then a hundred police will storm the area, and you know the police, while they're there they'll investigate anything and everything, for bloodhounds have nothing on them. They'll dig through every room, every attic and cupboard. They'll seize items and people, and ask questions of everyone. And people will fight back, so the police will pour more of their men into the search.”

He nodded, a look of anger and concern on his face.

“And there is this, too. They seek a man of power and influence; if he is hurt in this disturbance he has the ability to persuade the police to further efforts. Should he be seriously injured or killed, his powerful family will see the area razed to the ground. Nor is that all of it. The man behind those who hold Lord Northgate is a foreign spy, seeking to begin a war with England.”

I saw the look in his eyes change. “You swear?”

“I do. If we fail in this, war will very possibly come, and that swiftly. Nor is it likely that it will be only the two countries, as others may be dragged in until there is a great war, one that will see tens of thousands slaughtered. You may not be called up, but are there none in your family who are younger and able-bodied?”

“Yes.” And he continued, pre-empting my next question. “Nor do I wish to see them forced into the Army, as would happen. All right, Doctor, I'm convinced. I know the building you mention. There'll be a clear passage to it from six this evening. You and no more than three others can pass though. If there's any fighting, that'll be for you to do. We'll just see that you can come and go without interference, and I want no coppers.” He grinned. “Leastways none in uniform, and no one making any arrests or shouting about being the police, understand?”

I did, and I said so. I was grateful and I said that as well.

“Ah well, me too, Doctor, me too. And it won't do me harm to have it known that I prevented—well—what would have otherwise happened. You go along now, Doctor, and I'll see you at six on the corner of…” He named two streets at the edge of the Metcalf tenements, and we went our different ways with goodwill.

I returned to the café, and to Western's complete astonishment informed Holmes and him that at six that evening we could walk unimpeded to the address where Northgate was held. Holmes and I would of course be involved, and we were permitted to bring another two men with us.

“I'll go,” Western said decisively. “If you can't find another man, I could make a suggestion or two from those I know.”

I chuckled. “I rather think that Lestrade will want to be in on this.”

Holmes considered. “Yes, and he is less likely to lose his head. Harrison is a good man, but if he sees something he thinks should be investigated, zeal might run away with him. No, let us go at once to see Lestrade and make the arrangements.”

That we did, and while also incredulous, the Inspector agreed to meet us just outside the area, and in plain clothes. “I'll mind my own business as you ask, Mr. Holmes. You're right. We're there to get Northgate out alive and not to chase crooks, although that could go against the grain if I see anything blatantly illegal. However, as you say, better we get our man out in one piece and see if we can find the papers too, than we start a riot and lose either or both.”

We met at five minutes short of the hour that evening—Holmes, Lestrade, Western, and I—and as I had been instructed, I led the way down a back alley behind the building we sought. We saw no one, heard not a voice or a sound. Lestrade picked the lock very neatly and we entered, making our way to the cellar door where I knocked quietly.

“Who's there?”

“Dr. MacIntosh,” I announced. “I need to see my patient.”

There was a baffled silence. There was no Dr. Macintosh to my knowledge, but we thought the caretaker would be loath to be rude to a doctor and would open the door lest I begin to make a fuss at being kept from a patient. That he did after a minute, and was starting to ask my exact business when a coat was tossed over his head and he was bundled away from the door.

He gave a muffled shout and Western promptly tapped him over the head. Not sufficient a blow to cause harm, but enough to give a warning—which was taken. Thereafter the caretaker was silent. Lestrade looked about the rooms.

“Here, this way.” He affected an accent that seemed genuinely of the district that lay beside this one and I grinned at him. He tipped his hat to me with an answering grin and pointed to where a wardrobe stood against the wall. We moved that to reveal a small door, which I forced open. On a cot on the room's far side lay a disheveled man, grimy, shoeless, and with his hands bound behind him. He stared at us, unsure, I think, as to whether we were a rescue or further trouble.

Lestrade reached him in a rush. “Hush. We can get you out of here safely, but only if you do as we say. If you bring down the people here, there'll be a riot and you'll be lost.”

Lord Northgate stared at Holmes. “I know you, sir. You're…” I put my hand over his mouth quickly, nodding to the form of the caretaker enveloped in Lestrade's coat. “Oh, ah, yes.”

He writhed until his hands were presented to us and I slashed his bonds. He stood, staggered, and all but fell. “I'm sorry, they've had me tied for some time.” Lestrade took his arm and helped him walk to and fro for some minutes until he was steadier. While this was done Holmes, Western, and I searched the rooms but found nothing, to my great disappointment. I had hoped we would find the papers, but there was no sign of them. Finally, motioning for the silence to continue, Holmes went to our prisoner and removed his shoes, handing them to Lord Northgate.

“Wear these.”

“Thank you,” was the response as they were donned.

We made for the door, until Northgate turned back and spoke very quietly to Holmes. “Have you money, sir?”

Holmes produced his notecase and displayed the contents. Northgate took a five pound note and, walking across the room, he placed it in the caretaker's pocket. “For your shoes, Gil, and other considerations.”

And to us he said, as we left the rooms and turned towards the back door. “He treated me as well as he could. Left me my dignity, fed me better than they'd have allowed, and at his expense. He isn't a bad man, just frightened not to do as he is told.”

I saw a man standing in the shadows as we passed out of the door. Holmes and the others headed off along the street to safely, while I hesitated and turned back. I made it clear I was not looking into the watcher's face but spoke carefully, my gaze on the pavement. “The caretaker, he treated his captive well. I hope no one will blame him.”

“No, Doctor.”

“Thank you.”

I followed my friends, and once we were away from the lowering buildings Lestrade hailed a cab and we were driven direct to Mayfair and Lord Northgate's town house there. He was received by his servants with cries of joy, and led the way into the library where, in a few minutes food and drink was placed before him.

With that done he ordered us to be left alone and at once addressed Lestrade. “Did you find the papers?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Damn, I'd hoped they hadn't been taken away. Von Stowen was clever; if he separated us, he was likely to lose one or the other but not both.”

“You knew him, my Lord?” Lestrade asked sharply.

“He was an acquaintance of my friend Tony Risingham. Von Stowen claimed an interest in our hobby and it seems that Tony told him all about my own project. Indeed he must have described it minutely because Von Stowen believed my project would bring him reinstatement, recognition, and a large sum from his masters. He talked freely enough once he had me. But that's not important; we need to get my papers back.”

“Yes,” Holmes agreed. “To that end, if you will answer questions, my Lord?”

Northgate indicated he was willing, and by degrees we discovered that he had thought of the consequences if we did not retrieve his property, and was in full agreement that he had been perhaps a little careless, and should have taken more notice of the dangers Lestrade had described to him. He was deeply distressed at Len Rogers's injuries, and in short, was a chastened man.

Lestrade asked questions, now and again Holmes interpolated another query, and once even Western thought of something to ask. At that Lord Northgate stared. “I don't wish to be rude, but who are you, sir?”

Holmes looked up. “This is Mr. Frederick Western, although I suppose,” he said, turning to Western,” now that your grandfather is dead and his son before him, you are Sir Frederick?”

“I don't use the title,” Western said shortly. No doubt all of us were reflecting on the difficultly of being both a fence and a titled man. Western grinned. “Yes, I can guess what you're thinking. You're right. But if my estate is returned I'll live there and be a landowner again. London can go hang, for all I care.”

Lestrade had no intention of allowing any diversion. He returned to Northgate with another question and the answer electrified us.

“Yes, Von Stowen had the papers, though I thought he left them in the rooms beyond mine. A man visited him some hours before you came. I listened at the door and heard him say something about the situation being about to change and that he'd be able to get away tomorrow.”

“Did he say anything more about that?” Lestrade reminded me of a terrier on the trail of a large rat.

“I couldn't hear it all. Something about his family taking charge and making his way out by Black Clocks.”

Lestrade stiffened. “Could it have been Blackly Docks?”

“That's possible. As I have said, his voice was indistinct at that point.”

Holmes nodded. “Blackly Docks would be a good place from which to leave the country, as the docks there are used only during the day and mostly by men of substance who have their own yachts. Lord Northgate, did he indicate his plans for you?”

“Indeed. I was to be his prisoner. He intended to send for me early tomorrow morning and have me taken straight to whatever boat he had waiting. I was to be removed overseas to a place he had prepared.”

“Did he say why?”

Lord Northgate's face reddened with fury. “He did. He claimed that a man as clever as me could draw up other campaigns, and that it was always useful to have alternatives. They'd fetch good money, too. I said I'd be damned if I did. He said I'd be damned if I didn't, and there were ways of persuading me that I would not appreciate. I'd have said more, but he walked out of the room. Damn the man, did he believe he could make me turn traitor?”

Holmes gaze met mine and we said nothing. I had seen things in Afghanistan of which I do not speak, but both of us knew that almost any man could be broken in time. Von Stowen might be of the old nobility, but looking at Holmes I had no doubt that the spy would use any means to attain his ends.

Once Northgate had recovered somewhat from his rage, Lestrade asked. “Do you think that to be his only reason for kidnapping you?”

His Lordship looked thoughtful. “No, I think to start with he took me by mistake, in a way. Tony Risingham said to me that Von Stowen was the only man with whom he had discussed my campaign, and he had Von Stowen's address. I went there, showed—very carelessly—that I knew him and knew him to have been told of my campaign, and he understood that so long as I was free, he was in danger. I think that originally he merely meant to keep me captive and have me released once he was safely away.”

He snorted. “Then he lost a portion of my project. He'd ordered someone to bring him the envelope, forgetting that there were two: one smaller, concerning fortifications. When the papers were brought to him the second envelope was left behind, and before he could recover it, you had taken the house. It was then he demanded that I recreate that section of my work, and when I refused, he said that he would take me instead, that once he had me elsewhere I'd be glad enough to obey. He'd make certain of that.”

BOOK: Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In
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