Sherlock Holmes & The Master Engraver (Sherlock Holmes Revival) (11 page)

“This cheered me considerably, as the folk who live thereabouts are in the main a well-heeled lot, but when we went straight past the Royal Botanic Gardens I realised we must be headed for Richmond, and indeed, so it proved to be.

“And now, something very funny occurred; he told me to pull over on a smart suburban street and wait,

where he sat in perfect silence, watching a large villa a short ways along the road most intently. I will confess I was starting to feel a mite uneasy about this whole outlandish business, but as I said, I much needed the money, and so held my peace.

“We waited for perhaps half an hour in silence, when at a little past nine o’clock, the front door of the villa that so occupied his attention opened, and out stepped a tall, elderly, bespectacled man, very well dressed and distinguished-looking; he set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the railway station and as he passed us on the far side of the road I noticed that the poor fellow seemed rather agitated, muttering and frowning and shaking his head.

“For some reason this appeared to suit my strange companion very well, for as soon as the old gentleman vanished around the corner, Mr Bormanstein directed me to drive to the small lane at the rear of the villa, and wait there while he confirmed the arrangements with the owner of the residence.

“With that he sprang down and walked over to the front door, where I observed him in conversation with the lady of the house; I directed old Noah around to the back as instructed. There, from the seat on the wagon, I could see a large, most ornate hot-house with all manner of strange flowers within, but there appeared to be numerous missing or broken panes, and I perceived what looked like old sheets and blankets fixed over them. I also noticed that the white garden palings were broken down, and several shrubs seemed to have been uprooted and left on the lawn.”

Holmes nodded in satisfaction.

“Anyway, a little time after this my odd companion emerged from the rear door of the villa and summoned me over to the hot-house. He required me to replace all the broken panes, while he would repair the palings and gate, and replant the shrubs; this we did and the work was completed comfortably by two o’clock, when Mrs Petch came over to inspect all, and most happy with our work she seemed too. At this point she said to us something much like ‘Excellent gentlemen, my husband will be quite delighted; I believe, Mr Bormanstein, the sum we agreed upon was seven pounds five shillings was it not?’ ”

“Well gentlemen, you might well imagine, that set me right back on my heels; my materials amounted to more than five pounds on their own, let alone my time, extra feed for Noah and all the travelling!

“I was about to protest when Bormanstein gave me a very dark hard look; I don’t mind telling you Mr Watson, I was chilled by his expression at that moment; he did not appear to me to be a man to cross lightly.

“When we mounted the wagon, I was yet again much startled when he very cheerfully passed me ten pounds, which was more than enough for my trouble.

“I made to remonstrate with him but he appeared to take this as dissatisfaction, and upon the instant pressed another tenner on me. You can be sure that with that, I piped down pretty smartly, and privately blessed him for a gentleman! So, strange affair or not, that day’s work meant that the missus got the brooch she had set her heart on, and the little ones got their rocking-horse after all, with enough over for a fat goose, a fine ham, and this excellent wine we’re enjoying.”

Holmes took a polite but minute sip of the abominable brew, pondered, and then raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I wish to be wholly clear on this point Mr Madgwick – you say that this Mr Bormanstein paid almost three times the disbursement he had received from Mrs Petch?”

“That is so Mr Watson.”

“Remarkably generous do you not think?” The rotund builder shifted uneasily in his chair but made no reply. Holmes smiled lightly. “Well, no matter; all things considered it was a pleasant Christmas surprise for you and your family, and I wish you joy of it” and with this he made to rise. “Did Mr Bormanstein give you his card, by any chance?”

“No Mr Watson; he said he had neglected to bring them with him, but he did refer to interests east of the City near the docks – somewhere around Rotherhithe and The Isle of Dogs, I recollect. However, I understood that you came to speak to me about some work for your friend?”

“Ah yes, of course; if you will kindly give me your calling card I shall be sure to pass it to my friend, along

with a hearty recommendation – on that you may depend; I expect you will hear from him in due course.” And so with thanks and further earnest assurances, we departed the house of Mr Nathan Madgwick, builder, of Clerkenwell Road, and presently, hailed a cab for the lengthy drive to Richmond – as cabmen call it, a clock-and-a-half. Consequently we had some little time to ponder...

*        *       *

From the look of quiet satisfaction on his pale, lean countenance, I felt that Holmes was content, pleased even, with what he had learned thus far; indeed, I sensed that the facts we had gathered fitted most satisfactorily to support whatever theory he was pursuing with that remarkable intellect he possessed. For me, however, this welter of diverse new intelligence served for the most part, only to further confuse the mystery. I recalled the exigent question Holmes had put to Petch after listing the players in the puzzle:
‘Can you name one, or a union of several, who would not stand to profit from the illicit possession of authentic Bank of England printing plates and paper to match?’
And in truth this, too, was my quandary.

That a key, or keys, had been used in the perpetration of the theft seemed eminently clear, which undeniably tended towards the notion that one or more of the partners were involved, or either or both of the watchmen.

I could give little credence to the involvement of Petch, appearing as he did to have no conceivable motive to jeopardise his own comfortable station, his reputation, that of his business and its, no doubt, lucrative association with The Bank. But what of the two curiously, coincidentally missing and unreachable partners? And did they indeed, even leave the country at all? I recollected that Perkins was said to feel some ambivalence about his prosperity, and ardently laboured to raise a very substantial sum for his mission work... and Bacon certainly seemed to live a lavish, perhaps costly, social life; might he, through indebtedness or some indiscreet liaison with an inappropriate partner, have made himself vulnerable to coercion or blackmail?

As we passed by The Ritz Hotel, I considered what we had learned of the two watchmen, the hook-handed Gunton and the simple Jeremiah Shadwell. While I could not immediately envision any possible motive they might harbour, beyond simple avarice and opportunism, the inescapable fact remained that while they probably lacked the wit or the resources to effect such a crime, between the two of them they surely had unfettered access to the entire premises, both day and night – and more sinisterly I suddenly realised, ever since the complete factory closure for Christmas; they certainly did not lack for opportunity.

But if they were not themselves directly responsible, surely one of them would have had to be complicit to facilitate so audacious a theft? I recalled von Huntziger’s unsettling words:

‘...or of co-opting, how do you say it – an inside man? This is not unusual in large robberies...’

Then, too, had appeared this curious, chameleon-like character Mr Asa Bormanstein; a smartly-dressed gentleman one day, a mean labourer the next; and possibly with a slight German inflection – von Huntziger? Or might he perhaps be the shadowy, moustachioed and unaccountable figure I had briefly glimpsed during my troubled night in Bedlam?

But then, as a professional man, trained to the exacting disciplines of medicine and surgery, I could scarcely venture such a fanciful and wholly irrational trope to Holmes, who functions in every respect by means of the application of rigorous observation, scientific deduction and adamantine logic.

I put the thought once more from my mind. Diffidently I ventured: “Holmes, I suspect you have learned much, and yet to me you have clarified very little!” My companion smiled insouciantly. “Oh, I would not say that; on the contrary my dear Watson, I believe we have clarified a very great deal.

“A few exemplars for you – I have certainly established the day, and most likely the time of the robbery to within a few hours; too, I am almost certain of the criminals’ modus operandi; and incidentally, I am perfectly assured in my mind that Mr Nathan Madgwick, though a decent man, is sadly the gullible and unwitting dupe of a villain infinitely more cunning than he.”

Presently we arrived at Richmond; all was as one might expect of a man of Mr Petch’s station; a fine big Georgian sandstone villa in large lawned grounds, set back from the road and a good distance from its neighbours. Mrs Petch appeared to be a pleasant woman, moderately educated and refined, but in her answers to Holmes’ questions, she was as woolly as her husband was pedantic.

It was evident that Petch had wisely not apprised her of the facts of the theft, and so we confined ourselves to hearing her account of the interval when her husband was absent on his fruitless search for a glazier. Holmes indulged her enthusiastic and lengthy account of her short encounter with Madgwick and his generous sponsor, and their apparently matchless work, and also of her unexpected caller – the lady whose husband had taken a turn in the street, all of which corresponded precisely with Petch’s account of events.

But her protracted portrayal – indeed, it was a positive paean – of the virtues of their new maid, proved quite extraordinary in its fervour; if Mrs Petch was to be believed, this paragon of domestic service ironed, cleaned and cooked to utter perfection, and served tea as if to the noble Highness herself! I began to wonder if Mrs Petch had some private and undisclosed reason for being so singularly determined to bring Dulcie Hobbs into her household, or she may have been of that aspiring type of only tolerable education and moderate breeding, who seek to augment their social standing by appointing domestic staff referred by persons of noble title.

Only too frequently chided by my wife for the several shortcomings of our present clumsy maid, I wryly thought if only to quiet my own household, enjoy my breakfast toast somewhat less than incinerated, and have my boots correctly cleaned, I reflected that I too would immediately employ this paragon of domesticity! Mrs Petch rang a small brass bell and shortly after, Dulcie Hobbs entered the drawing room.

She was a moderately attractive dark-haired woman of around five and twenty years and of short, slim stature, tidily presented and well-spoken in the self-conscious manner of the self-taught. Holmes smiled briefly and blandly at her. “Please be seated Miss Hobbs. I wish to ask you a few simple questions in connection with the damage to Mr Petch’s orchid-house.”

A look of alarm passed over her face. Holmes raised a hand to calm her. “Do not agitate yourself Miss Hobbs; I merely want to know a little of your past history with the Baroness Amanti, and what you observed of the two workmen who repaired the damage. I assure you that you are under no suspicion whatever in the matter of the vandalism to the hot-house.”

Under Holmes’ gentle but persistent prompting she recited at some length the story of her past career, her time in service with the Baroness, first at her grand house on the Sussex Downs, and later for a short while at Milady’s estate at Obânes St-Amarin in France where she received Barons and Dukes at her mistress’ soirées, directed the house in style, and even accompanied Milady Amanti as her lady-in-waiting in her
barouche
to the monthly ball.

In support of her story, she produced the letter of reference from her purse and handed it to my colleague.

Holmes nodded, apparently impressed, while Mrs Petch beamed with pride at her new household addition. Abruptly Holmes murmured in a low tone
“Madame Amanti – quel âge a-t-elle? Elle vieillit?”
Madame Amanti – what age is she, is she old? – At which the maid appeared puzzled, flustered and blushed deeply. I was about to offer an attempt at interpretation when I realised that Holmes must have had sound reasons for his odd interjection.

With a small dismissive gesture he moved smoothly on;
“Ca ne fait rien”
– It matters not; “tell me Miss Hobbs, what you recall of the two men who repaired the damage...” He checked his notepad “...Mr Bernstein and Mr Sedgwick, I believe?”

“I only saw them from afar and, begging your pardon, I think it’s
Bormanstein
, Sir.”

“Ah, of course I see that now – I really should make my notes in a clearer hand.” It occurred to me that it was most out of character for Holmes, renowned for his encyclopaedic memory for detail, to mis-remember so important and recently-learned a name. Hobbs proceeded to describe Madgwick reasonably accurately, and Bormanstein exactly as Madgwick had portrayed him to us.

“And this was the first time you have ever seen these men, Miss Hobbs? You have not encountered either of them previously?” A small hesitation – then “No Sir, I never seen neither of them in me life.” I put the momentary lapse in grammar down to the strain of being quizzed by a man as daunting as Sherlock Holmes must surely appear to one of her station. After a swift examination of the ground-floor rooms of the elegant villa, when Holmes paid particular attention to Petch’s study and bureau, and to the soil in the flower-border immediately beneath the study window, we departed Richmond.

It was not until we had progressed well along the Cromwell Road into London that Holmes broke our silence. “Well Watson, what have we learned from that little encounter, do you suppose?”

“In my estimation, very little that is new, save that both Mrs Petch and her maid seem to confirm everything Mr Petch has so far related.”

“Then you do not think it odd that Dulcie Hobbs managed the Baroness Amanti’s French household to perfection, yet does not comprehend the simplest phrase of schoolboy French? And does it not further strike you as strange that when I – apparently in error – referred to Mr
Bernstein
and Mr
Sedgwick
, she – without thinking – swiftly corrected me only in regard of Bormanstein’s name, a man she claimed a second earlier never to have met, nor even seen, before the day he and Madgwick visited?