Sherlock Holmes & The Master Engraver (Sherlock Holmes Revival) (16 page)

“With a few words I might easily set Lestrade upon the right trail, but as yet I dare not, because such intelligence would alert him to our quarry, and hence directly to this most sensitive investigation.”

I protested “But surely Holmes, the fragments of the suicide note, the cheery letter so soon rescinded by her decision to end her life, the door being locked from within, there is no sign of forced entry, this must...”

Holmes raised his hand to still my remonstrance. “Swiftly now, Watson, we have little time, for Lestrade will certainly return shortly. Allow me to present you with proof positive that this is no suicide, but a cold-blooded execution!

“Estimate for me if you will the height of the wretched young lady yonder.”

“Quite short – perhaps around five feet and an inch or perhaps two inches at most?”

“Just so – I estimate five feet plus two inches. Now approximate the distance between the soles of her shoes and the floor below.”

“I judge it to be a shade over three feet three inches.”

“Excellent; I would guess about the same. Now assess the height from the beam to the floor.”

I glanced up. “A shade under eleven feet I imagine?” He nodded. “And the length of the rope?” “I should say two and a half feet?”

“Splendid Watson! You appear to have an assured eye for dimension. Quickly now; the overturned chair and stationery box we may assume to have been the step which she ascended, then put her head in the noose, and finally kicked over the improvised gallows platform – you would agree? Yes?

“Then do me the goodness of placing the box upon the upright chair, and the whole beneath the feet.” In a low murmur he added
“Res ipsa loquitur.”

Even as I complied, my entire being reeled in horrified disbelief.

It was manifestly and shockingly plain that the woman, had she climbed upon the makeshift gallows platform, could never have put her head in the noose unaided; the mathematics lacked a full eighteen inches!

No more could she have tied the rope to the beam, for there was no sign of a set of steps in the rooms. As Holmes had told me so many times:

“When you have eliminated the impossible then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
Yet the inevitable, the only remaining alternative was surely too appalling to contemplate... she could only have been forcibly lifted up by other hands and hanged, murdered – by the late-night visitors? I looked at holmes, aghast.

“I see you now perceive the problem inherent in your suicide theory, Watson. You see for yourself the diminutive stature of the woman. To commit self-murder she would have to reach up for the noose and by main strength, lift herself up, at which point her feet would be perhaps one and a half feet off the gallows platform. Having hanged herself, are we to believe that the chair and stationery box then obligingly fell over?” I acknowledged the irrefutable logic of his words.

“Now work swiftly if you please Watson. Do me the service of copying these fragments and phrases here upon the table into your pocket book, along with these which Lestrade inexplicably missed in the fire-grate, that we may leave the evidence as we found it for the police, though I doubt much they will derive any benefit from it. Oh, observe here this slightly charred length of slim wooden dowel; he sniffed one end of it. “Gum Arabic I believe” then made no further comment.

“Now Watson, before we quit this dismal scene, you might perhaps perceive some small significance in the lengths of charred and knotted twine in the grate, the odd circumstance of the key being found on the floor in the entrance hall, the red woollen scarf incongruously and carelessly thrown in that dark corner, so far from both the door, the coat-hook and the wardrobe, further the new position of the table on the rug, and finally the faint cindery footmarks on the table-top. I believe that is all that we may remark here; small details to be sure, but together, they speak to me as eloquently of what occurred here last night just as surely as I had in my hand a detailed, confession from the killers, lacking only their signatures!

“And now let us step outside and speak with the landlady, for it was she who first discovered and reported the crime.”

We encountered the lady in question, a small, neat, fidgety middle-aged woman with greying hair drawn back in a severe bun, pacing nervously up and down the entrance hall, restlessly twisting and untwisting her pinafore ties. Holmes greeted her with a disarming smile.

“I imagine you would be the landlady of this fine establishment Mrs...?”

“Mrs Rose Smith sir and you are...?”

“Ah yes, I am Sherlock Holmes madam and this is my associate, Doctor John Watson.” At this her eyes widened in amazement. “The same Sherlock Holmes whose thrilling adventures I read in The Strand Magazine? My goodness, I shall love to see the look on my Bert’s face when I tell him I have met the great Sherlock Holmes!”

I swear that she made as if to curtsey. Holmes flashed a tiny, impatient smile. “You are very kind madam; as you may know, I have some small experience in these doleful matters. I am present today with the full approval of the very able Inspector Lestrade outside. Please be good enough to tell me how you came to discover the sad circumstances we now find?”

“Well it was this way Mr Holmes. About ten this morning I took some scraps out for the cat, Mr Dickens, as I do each day. I feed him in the little side alleyway on account of him being so nervous and it’s always quiet along there. One side of it is bounded by a plain brick wall and the other is the side of this house, and Miss Hobbs’ rooms; there are no curtains in her window, as passers-by can’t see in anyway.

“As I returned to the back door I glanced in – Miss Hobbs often gives me a cheery wave but at first she seemed not to be at home. Something made me stop and look closer; I thought I saw something moving, high up. It was quite gloomy within so I approached the window and peered more closely.

“You may imagine my fright Mr Holmes, when I realised it was a pair of legs!

“I could not see the upper part of the body on account of it being too high up and out of my view, but it was obviously Miss Hobbs.

“I believe I may have screamed, because a pinched little street urchin appeared from nowhere, to ask me what was wrong, but I chased him off as I thought this not a fit sight for a child. Then I sent my daughter Margaret to the station to alert the police. I durstn’t enter her rooms. And that’s all I can say.”

“That is very helpful Mrs Smith. Tell me if you will, did you speak with Miss Hobbs when she arrived home last night? How did she appear to you?”

“Oh, I always have a little chat with her, for she is my only tenant at present, although I have rooms for five; she was in the very best of spirits Mr Holmes, most cheerful as she had obtained permission for a few days of holiday leave from her employers. She told me of her plans to visit her sister in Brightlingsea shortly, and she was most excited and much anticipating it. Then she bid me goodnight, entered her rooms and locked her door. I always tell my young ladies to leave the key turned in the lock for safety” At this, Holmes shot me a meaningful look.

“Very wise; two final questions, if I may impose a little longer Mrs Smith; when did Miss Hobbs first contract to rent the rooms?”

“It was only last month in November, Mr Holmes, but it was not she who rented them; it was her guardian on her behalf, a Mr Bormanstein; very plainly he doted on her – said she was the apple of his eye. Very handsomely he paid me two months’ rent in advance. He said that the rooms were most conveniently placed for his ward’s new position in Richmond. He required keys for both for himself and his ward.”

Holmes nodded, as if this rather startling information came as no great surprise to him. “I am sure that in your line of business Mrs Smith, you have cultivated a sharp eye for a face, and I expect you are pretty handy at assessing the character of a prospective tenant; tell me, what manner of a man was Mr Bormanstein?”

“Oh, he was very much a proper gentleman Mr Holmes, no doubt about it. He was of middle-age, tall and muscular with a moustache, polite and very smartly dressed – a businessman I should imagine. Apart from maybe a slight foreign accent, very faint you understand, I noticed his eyes were rather strange; when he fixed you, you almost felt as if you dared not look away.” This of course, matched precisely the description supplied to Holmes by the honest locksmith, MacFadzean, and the shadier Hawes.

“Thank you; and finally, can you recall when the ashes were first strewed upon the front path?”

With an air of puzzlement the landlady replied “Indeed I can Mr Holmes. Miss Hobbs mentioned as she came in last night that the wet sleet and snow on the path was again freezing hard and was becoming wickedly treacherous under-foot, so when Albert – that’s my husband – came back at nine o’clock from the Dog and Rose, he immediately scattered some cinders. That’s why I placed that old cocoanut matting at the door and you can be sure that I made Mr Lestrade clean his shoes very thoroughly. I’m most particular about the hall floor – I polished it only this morning.” Holmes nodded with evident satisfaction. “Indeed, and it does you great credit. Did you observe anything else out of the ordinary – any visitors for example?”

“There was only one Mr Holmes – well, two really; about ten o’clock I heard the front door open and as Bert was already home I thought perhaps Miss Hobbs was going out; I peered down the stairs but it was only Mr Bormanstein and another gentleman visiting Miss Hobbs so I thought no more of it.” Holmes frowned; “Did you greet Mr Bormanstein – was he aware that you saw him arrive? And would you recognise the other gentleman if you saw him again? It may be important.”

“No I did not call down Mr Holmes, and I am certain he did not see me.” Holmes appeared extremely relieved at this news. “As to Mr Bormanstein’s companion, I would certainly recognise him again – he was a very large, heavily-built man and he had a most pronounced squint. I then went quietly back to my room.”

“Thank you Mrs Smith. You have been most helpful; I believe I need not detain you any longer – I bid you good afternoon.”

Outside the house once again, we encountered Lestrade together with the ambulance men crunching back over the cinder-strewn path, bearing a stretcher and a funereal black sheet. “Ah, there you are again Mr Holmes; I suppose you have seen everything? I’m sure you agree with me that this is no more than a sad but nonetheless rather straightforward business?”

Holmes made a noise something between a snort and a chuckle. “Indeed Inspector, certainly I have seen everything. And like you, I also am now quite confident of the circumstances surrounding the unfortunate young woman’s death.”

At this, Lestrade paused thoughtfully, and his eyes narrowed cynically as he asked “Do you then propose a different explanation Mr Holmes – if so I would be much fascinated to hear what fanciful alternative you might propose to explain away the simple fact of a solitary young woman discovered quite alone, hanged, in her own locked rooms, key within and no signs of intrusion, with the obvious remains of a suicide note not ten feet away from her dead body? I will own that on occasion your eccentric theories have been of minor assistance to the force, but perhaps in this open and shut case might you not be conjuring up imaginary ghosts where none exist.”

My colleague shrugged almost imperceptibly and smiled genially at the Inspector. “Perhaps you are right Lestrade, perhaps you are right. Well, I’m sure you have your report to complete so I shall bid you good day.” We turned to leave and were almost at the pavement when Holmes spun and called back.

“Oh, Lestrade, you might perhaps with some small advantage take note of a few instructive items in the young woman’s room, or so they seem to my fanciful mind.

“I would commend to your particular attention the burnt twine, the charred stick, some additional paper fragments in the grate, and the red scarf rather oddly thrown in the far dark corner which mayhap you overlooked; further, the stature of the unfortunate lady concerned and particularly the condition of her mouth; too, the positioning of the table and the state of her shoes, most of which I am sure you have already noted. They may have some small relevance. However, I expect you will work your way and I shall work mine.

“Incidentally, have you noticed how these wet cinders adhere to the soles of your boots Lestrade? Most annoying would you not agree?” Puzzled, Lestrade smirked back from the doorstep and said witheringly:

“You know Mr Holmes, if only you would learn simply to see what’s before your eyes, you might one day have the makings of a tolerable detective.” A thin, smile flickered briefly over Holmes’ pale gaunt face. Drily he replied “Indeed Lestrade. And perhaps, one day, so too, might you.”

With this he turned and strode to the kerbside, leaving the baffled Inspector standing at the front door. I whistled a passing hansom and we were soon well on our way back into the metropolis.

As on our outward journey, Holmes remained stubbornly taciturn and deep in contemplation, dismissing all my comments with a peremptory grunt or an impatient hand-gesture, until we were once again seated before the fire at 221B Baker Street.

Silence reigned for some few minutes, when abruptly Holmes cried “It’s broken, Watson! The chain is broken!” I looked up at him quizzically. “Don’t you see, the Hobbs woman was our only link in the chain to Bormanstein? Mark my words Watson; this villain’s game is indeed deep!

“Intimidation is the glue that holds his evil enterprise together, and now we can be sure that he will not shrink even from cold-blooded murder if someone like the foolish and greedy Dulcie Hobbs is rash enough to meddle in his affairs.

“But that you may understand the perils of the dark and dangerous labyrinth we have entered, you must be fully aware of the events which I am certain occurred in Chiswick late last night.” I gestured encouragingly for him to continue, for while I had followed some of his deductions, I was by no means entirely clear about some of his more obscure leaps of logic.

I recalled Holmes’ words to Petch:
‘...it is my craft to deduce backwards, eliminating in due order of time and circumstance, all those explanations which will not serve, until at last I arrive inescapably at the only one, no matter how improbable, which will. You may view this as the scrupulous reconstruction, through observation and deduction, of times and events now passed.’