The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes (11 page)

‘I then discovered a small scrap of mangled red leather, in a corner of the room and duly noted the complete absence of any other traces of the distinctive red shoes. Thereupon my decision to send for Toby appeared to have been vindicated, despite your own reservations, Inspector.’

‘So far I have not heard anything to dispel those reservations,’ Lestrade replied, some confidence returning to his manner.

In reply Holmes turned on his heel and a moment later returned from his room bearing his makeshift sack. He untied the sleeves and allowed its strange contents to cascade on to the floor at his feet. Lestrade laughed uproariously and gleefully clapped his hands.

‘Oh, Mr Holmes, you have surpassed yourself this time! What tomfoolery is this?!’ he cried, whilst the crestfallen Carlton Clarke turned ruefully away.

‘This idiocy of mine,’ Holmes declared, with bitter irony, ‘will, undoubtedly restore Alfred Walker to his rightful place, in the centre of the ring at Clarke and Clarke’s Circus!’

‘Why, these are nothing more than mangled shreds!’ Clarke cried in despair.

‘At first glance they undoubtedly are, but they also hold the key to Walker’s innocence. Goldie’s devotion to his master was such that he felt compelled to destroy the most
valued possession of his tormentor. These are the remains of Sonia’s most treasured shoes. Yet, on closer examination, one realizes that there are two pairs of shoes amongst this débris, one pair far newer than the other.’

‘How can you possibly tell which is which?’ Lestrade asked, no longer feigning any indifference.

Holmes beckoned for Lestrade to join him on the floor. Slowly picking out certain pieces of leather from the rest, Holmes painstakingly reconstructed the crude outline of a left shoe. ‘See how the manufacturer’s mark has been almost obliterated by constant use on this one. One moment, please.’ While Holmes continued to piece together further bits of leather, Lestrade looked up to me for consolation as he watched his case collapsing before his eyes. He was to get none. Meanwhile Clarke’s mood visibly lightened as he, too, dropped to his knees.

Holmes offered another partial reconstruction for them to examine. ‘Now observe the condition of the label on this example.’

‘Why, this shoe is almost brand-new!’ Carlton Clarke exclaimed.

‘It is brand-new,’ Holmes corrected. ‘On my way back to Baker Street, I called in on the vendors and they were able to confirm that this particular shoe, an unusually expensive pair, I might add, had only been available since last week. Apparently they are this season’s latest fashion and are distinguished from last season’s collection by one vital detail. See here, the heel is a full inch higher than that of the old pair!’

‘Good heavens, Mr Holmes! This is too marvellous. I cannot believe that I doubted you, even for one moment,’ Clarke cried.

Ignoring this display Holmes continued: ‘I am certain that Walker was not aware of his wife’s fancy for the latest fashion, and would, therefore have made no allowance for her change in height. Equally, the shop assistant was convinced that Sonia Walker’s obsessive desire to obtain this stylish footwear would have blinded her to its potential dangers. A simple measurement from the top of her head will, without doubt, confirm the tragic consequences of this lack of awareness.’

Lestrade slowly laboured back to his seat and wiped his brow as he sank down.

‘Mr Holmes, once again you have saved an innocent man from the gallows, using the most unlikely of means. I will set the wheels in motion as soon as I return to the Yard.’

‘For my part, I shall ensure that your name resounds throughout the length and breadth of the whole country!’ Clarke proclaimed.

Holmes laughed at this. ‘I can assure you, Mr Clarke, that my name has already resounded enough for my liking, thanks to my chronicler here. So I would thank you if my part in this affair remains anonymous.

‘Besides which, my fleeting visit to Scotland Yard showed me that it was your faith in the man’s character that proved to be his salvation. I was fortunate in gaining access to Walker’s cell and his version of the events that you described to me, confirmed every facet of the case. Certainly, Mr Clarke, you are as fine a judge of human nature as you are a raconteur!’

As I placed my pencil down upon the table, I could not help but smile at my friend’s humility.

‘That is indeed most gracious of you, Mr Holmes, under the circumstances,’ Lestrade quietly acknowledged.

As the two men slowly made their way towards the door Holmes suddenly called them back.

‘Oh Lestrade, there is one small service that you can perform for me.’

Holmes returned to his bedroom once more and this time he re-emerged with Goldie still tethered to his necktie. ‘Be sure to return this fine beast to its rightful owner, upon his release!’

T
HE
A
DVENTURE OF THE
C
UTTER
A
LICIA

T
he late spring and early summer of 1895 were made particularly noteworthy by virtue of the profusion of stimulating and challenging cases with which my friend, Sherlock Holmes, had been recently inundated. The climax of this golden period had been Holmes’s apprehension of the notorious strangler, Peabody, whose reign of terror had led the regular constabulary to despair. Only Holmes’s remarkable deduction, that the perpetrator of this series of odious murders would have no more than three fingers on his left hand, prevented Peabody from eluding their inept grasp once again.

By way of a celebration of this latest triumph of his, Holmes suggested an evening attending a violin recital by the esteemed Russian maestro, Leshtikov, culminating with a lavish feast at Marcinis. I could not have been more delighted at these arrangements and not one aspect of the
evening failed to live up to our expectations. I had rarely seen my friend more relaxed and at peace with the world, and as for myself, seldom have I felt fuller and more content after a meal. With this in mind, I suggested that we forgo the luxury of a cab for our homeward journey and instead negotiate the two or three miles on foot. Holmes thought this would be an excellent means of aiding our digestion and so, after hurling our half-smoked cigars towards the kerbside, we struck off briskly towards Baker Street.

To begin with, our walk was pleasant enough and, as we slowed our pace, Holmes launched into a most enlightening discourse upon the subject of Leshtikov’s fingering and interpretation. When, however, he suddenly broke off in mid sentence, I glanced towards him and was immediately struck by a dramatic alteration in his countenance. His eyes blazed with excitement and his hitherto relaxed features were tightened in concentration. He pressed his lips with his left forefinger and whispered through them:

‘Do not alarm yourself, old fellow, neither should you turn round just now or alter your gait, but I do believe that we are being followed. Rather clumsily and amateurishly, I will admit, so I am certain that we are not in any immediate danger, but please, nevertheless, when the moment is right, follow my lead.’

‘This is outrageous!’ I protested, in equally muted tones. ‘Are you certain of this? I had not noticed anything untoward.’

‘Really, Watson, you surprise me. They are not exactly expert at this.’

‘There is more than one of them?’

‘Two to be precise, a man and a woman. The man is of above average height, slim of build and probably in his
twenties. The woman is considerably shorter, of similar age and slightly asthmatic.’

‘Come now, Holmes, you cannot possibly know all this. I have closely attended your every word during the past ten minutes, and you have not once turned your head either to the right or the left!’

‘Watson, there is more to the art of observation than using your eyes. Whilst you have been hanging on my every word, I have been listening to our pursuers’ inept attempts to match the rhythm of their footsteps to our own. The constant alterations and hesitations that they have made throughout are what first alerted me to their attendance. As to their height and gender, the timbre of a young lady’s shoes is always more clipped and less resonant by virtue of their raised and narrower heels. The man has had little difficulty in matching our speed and stride pattern; therefore I deduce that he is of a similar height to our own. The young lady, on the other hand, has had to apply almost twice as many strides as her companion, in maintaining our speed, resulting in a breathlessness one would not normally expect in an otherwise healthy woman of her age. But see here … an unprotected doorway!’

As we turned a corner, Holmes grabbed my jacket sleeve and manoeuvred me into the recessed entrance of a small furniture shop. ‘They will panic as they turn the corner and find that we have disappeared from view. As they rush past us we shall accost them from behind.’ Observing me vainly rummaging in my jacket pockets, Holmes added: ‘Do not regret the absence of your revolver, Watson, I am certain that my loaded cane handle will more than suffice for these two.’

We waited silently and breathlessly within the confines
of the doorway for a moment or two when, sure enough, the otherwise deserted pavement, gave up the sound of two sets of footsteps coming to a halt at the very corner from which we had just turned. They quickened as they approached us, I could now distinguish the long strides of the man’s steps and the clip of the young woman’s heels as they sought to take up our trail. Holmes shot me a knowing smile as I acknowledged my recognition of this.

As soon as the couple had hurried past us we gave up our hiding-place and stealthily approached them from behind. As we drew closer Holmes placed his hand on the young man’s right shoulder while I did likewise to the woman’s left. Neither offered any form of resistance and they both turned around slowly, their faces riddled with fear and guilt.

‘Oh Mr Holmes!’ The woman exclaimed. ‘Please do not have us arrested. We meant no harm. We simply did not know how to approach so esteemed a gentleman as yourself. Your recent clients have included royalty and the like and our problem seems so insignificant by comparison.’

‘My dear lady, you must calm yourself,’ Holmes responded, at his gentlest and most charming. ‘No one is going to have you arrested. However, judging by your brother’s silence and dour countenance I would say that he disapproves of your approaching me a good deal more than I do myself.’

The young man flushed with embarrassment. ‘It is not that so much, sir, and I mean no disrespect, but I do believe that the matter of one’s father’s sanity is not a subject one should discuss with strangers.’

‘Your father’s sanity? Well, Watson, this may be a subject upon which you will have more knowledge than I. Young
lady, I really do not see what possible assistance I can render you in this matter.’ With that Holmes turned away and resumed his walk towards Baker Street.

‘A moment, please sir,’ The young lady’s voice pierced the silent night air and caused Holmes to pause in his tracks, but not to turn. ‘My father’s sanity is not the issue here, more the authenticity of what he claims to have witnessed.’ At this, Holmes slowly turned and began retracing his steps.

‘He claims to have observed the
Alicia
on her fateful voyage!’ Holmes concluded his return to us at a sprint.

‘Our rooms are but a five minutes’ walk from here!’ With a dramatic flourish, Holmes waved them to walk ahead of us.

It had been Holmes’s intention to follow the young couple all the way to our rooms, however his enthusiasm and impatience overcame any such restraint. Consequently he led the way, almost at a sprint; the couple tried to match his pace whilst I brought up the rear to ensure that they concluded their journey.

By the time the young couple and I eventually arrived at 221b, a somewhat bleary-eyed and dishevelled Mrs Hudson had already been coerced into preparing a tray of coffee. We also discovered that Holmes had, absent-mindedly, discarded his coat on the stairs in his haste to ascend them. I retrieved it as we made our way up and found Holmes pacing the room with his pipe already alight.

‘A thousand apologies, Mrs Hudson, for causing a disturbance at such an hour, but the matter is of the utmost moment,’ Holmes declared, as he took the tray from her unsteady grasp. He then ushered her out once more, somewhat unceremoniously, by way of a gentle shove upon her shoulders.

‘Well I must say—’ Mrs Hudson began to protest.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Hudson!’ Holmes called, once the door had been slammed shut behind her. I smiled apologetically towards the young couple when I observed their embarrassed exchange of glances, to which, I might add, Holmes was totally oblivious.

I invited our guests to share the sofa, upon which they perched themselves uncomfortably, whilst I picked up my notebook and pencil. Holmes returned his pipe to the mantelpiece temporarily before turning to face them.

The young lady spoke first:

‘I apologize for my brother’s earlier apparent brusqueness, but the embarrassment that we both feel is harder for a man to suppress, with his stronger inherent sense of family pride.’

Holmes waved this aside with the briefest of smiles.

‘Do not concern yourself with the niceties at such a time. The national newspapers have kept Dr Watson and myself well enough informed with regard to the tragic and mysterious loss of the
Alicia
and for your father to claim to have witnessed this calamity is more than enough for you to bear. Unfortunately the authorities have not seen fit to involve us at this time, so for you to engage us would be something of a feather in our cap and a means to prise open the door that, hitherto, has been closed to us.’

‘It is indeed strange that you have not been consulted upon this matter, Mr Holmes, but please let me explain our involvement and predicament in the hope that both your mystery and ours might yet be solved,’ the young lady offered.

‘That is indeed an excellent idea, for apart from the obvious facts that you are both from Leigh-on-Sea, in Essex,
and that someone very close to you, though patently not your brother, is a seafaring man, I know nothing of you whatsoever! Perhaps you might begin by furnishing Dr Watson and his notebook with your names.’

‘Why yes, of course. It is most reprehensible of me not to have done so this far. I am Mildred Lomas and this is my brother Edward.’ Miss Lomas said these words slowly, clearly bemused at the accuracy of Holmes’s observations.

‘Do not look so amazed, Miss Lomas. As the good doctor here will testify, there is nothing miraculous in what I do, only observation, deduction and pure logic. For example, I have yet to encounter a sailor who has not badly scored the insides of his hands with the scars of the ship rope on which he is constantly pulling. Your brother’s palms are as blemish free as on the day he was born. Furthermore, the exquisitely carved shark’s tooth that you wear around your neck as a pendant is an example of work only undertaken by a man of the sea. The fact that this sailor is close to you can be attested to by the quality of the work that has affixed the pendant to the chain. With no disrespect intended, this clearly belies the quality and condition of your other apparel and is, therefore, of great importance to you and was no doubt, a gift from your father. Identifying your home was simplicity itself. The splashes of mud, on both of your boots, are of a colour and consistency unique to the upper reaches of the Thames estuary. No other town along that stretch of the Essex coast can boast of a mooring large enough to accommodate the type of vessel capable of reaching the depths wherein a tooth of that size might be found.’ Without waiting for a reaction to his astounding explanation, Holmes suddenly turned away and reclaimed his pipe, which he promptly relit.

‘Mr Holmes, I now understand why my sister was so eager to seek your help,’ Edward Lomas stated gravely. Without acknowledging this remark Holmes promptly asked: ‘Since you appear to be more anxious to air your thoughts than your brother, Miss Lomas, I should be obliged if you would explain your exact connection with the affair of the missing cutter and why you fear for the sanity of your father.’

‘I will certainly do my best, Mr Holmes,’ Miss Lomas replied. Before beginning her story she took a long grateful sip of her coffee. Her pale cheeks suddenly started to redden with suppressed emotion as she began her narrative.

‘The
Alicia
was the last of the full-rigged cutters ever to set sail out of the harbour at Leigh. As such she commanded a certain sentimental respect from all who worked at the yard. Every time she put out of harbour, old sailors sitting on the boards, repairing their nets and tackle, would put down their work, for a moment, doff their caps or wave their scarves as she majestically glided by. I mention this, Mr Holmes,’ Miss Lomas clearly sensed Holmes’s growing impatience, ‘because no number of newspaper articles can do full justice to the great sense of deprivation felt by the whole community at the loss of the
Alicia
.

‘I am quite certain that this popular demonstration of grief has been a contributing factor behind the maltreatment and incarceration of our father. Men who have known my father well over many years have, seemingly, turned against him and even participated in the heckling and ridicule of him on the day that he was led away.’ Miss Lomas was barely able to complete the sentence before she gave way to her emotions and began sobbing uncontrollably.

Despite the gentleness of his earlier treatment of Miss
Lomas, Holmes now found it quite impossible to cope with her tearful display of grief. Consequently he waved me, distractedly, towards the stricken woman and I was successful in stilling her by administering hot coffee while her brother applied soft soothing strokes to her forehead with a dampened sponge. After repeatedly blowing her nose and then apologizing profusely, Miss Lomas felt ready to continue with her remarkable tale.