The Scottish Ploy (25 page)

Mycroft Holmes glanced at me, his grey eyes sharp. “If this is not a gesture of self-denial, I will permit it.”

“I am more hungry than thirsty,” I said truthfully. “Go ahead, sir.”

“Well, I am ravenous,” said Holmes, drawing up his chair and sitting down while I fetched a seat for Miss Gatspy. “This inactivity is worse than all the careering about we have done.”

“Thank you, Guthrie,” she said as I seated her. “Now then, Mister Holmes, let us review what we know about Sutton’s disappearance.”

Mycroft Holmes was busy serving himself poached eggs topped with cheddar cheese and scones. He paused in his activity to say, “It is all on the chart.”

“Not all of it, if you will forgive me saying so,” she told him. “I spoke with our guards, as you recall, and I am not satisfied that one of the vehicles in the collision was the means of removing him. I think he may have been seized and taken off by other agents of the Brotherhood. I say this because it would not have been remarkable had a constable happened by, and he would surely have detained the vehicles in order to make a report of the accident. No, upon consideration, I believe that the accident was a diversion that made it possible for comrades of the men managing the collision to take Sutton away while everyone was distracted by the supposed accident itself. The Golden Lodge guard did mention that a van went by just after the worst of the collision was cleared. He mentioned it only because it had a caduceus on the side, and he wondered if anyone had been hurt.” She poured a cup of tea and selected a scone and pot-cheese, then said, “I doubt whether a constable would detain a medical van.”

Holmes was listening intently. “You didn’t mention this last night.”

“I discounted it, as I realize now I was expected to do. But this morning, it struck me that this could have been the real key to the abduction. It wasn’t an ambulance-van,” she added. “It was one of those used to transport other patients, and bodies, those who are not emergencies.”

“Aha,” said Mycroft Holmes. “Yes, indeed. I take your point, Miss Gatspy. I comprehend your reasons for your suspicions, and I think it would be advisable to find out which hospital had such a vehicle abroad in this part of London last night, and where it was bound.” He ate eagerly, preparing for a long day.

“I shall put our men on it,” said Miss Gatspy. “You have other matters to occupy you.” She looked over at me. “What of Featherstone? Do you think we should check him out?”

“Do you mean, should we go to Scotland Yard to speak with him?” I asked.

“Yes, that is what I mean,” said Miss Gatspy. “Beard the lion in his den, as it were?”

“No,” said Holmes as he helped himself to another scone and dipped it in the smears of egg-and-cheese on his plate. “That gives him too much of an advantage. If you want to learn anything from him, he must come to you.”

“Shall I send for him?” I asked, glad to see Tyers come in with a fresh pot of tea and two more cups-and-saucers; he left these and withdrew at once.

“I wouldn’t recommend it; again, he would have the advantage of a warning,” said Holmes. “If he is going to come of his own volition, that will tell its own tale. In the meantime, you must be ready to do all that you can to summarize the progress that has been made in various cases. I want to be able to use that information to assess our current predicament.”

“You mean the closer we have come to solving a problem, the likelier we are to find the source of our problem?” I said, pouring out the new tea and trying to smile my confidence.

“That may be part of it. It may also be that Kerem’s escape might have been a signal of some sort, that set these wheels in motion.” He caught his lower lip in his teeth. “I wish I had not let Sutton go to the club in my stead. If they were after me, they should have had me.”

“You cannot mean that,” said Miss Gatspy in a stern voice. “Our only hope of finding him and saving him is you. With all credit to Sutton, were the circumstances reversed, he would not be capable of the necessary inquiries.” She had spread pot-cheese on her scone and had broken off the end to eat. “He is a most accomplished fellow, but intrigue on this level is not his metier.”

Holmes shook his head. “If anything should happen to him—” He stopped.

“We will do our utmost to be certain that it doesn’t,” I promised him.

“That is what I am depending upon,” said Holmes as he poured a second cup of tea. “It is infuriating to be cooped up as I am. If I could go about without endangering Sutton, I would.”

Miss Gatspy offered him a winsome smile. “I thought about that as well.”

“And what did you decide upon?” His question was abrupt, but Miss Gatspy didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, if Sutton goes about in all manner of disguises, so can you: you have done so any number of times in the past. And anything is better than having you cooped up and surly as a tiger.” She actually laughed a bit as Holmes turned a thunder-struck look on her. “Do not tell me you haven’t been fretting to put on your motly and go hunting for these men?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “I have been wanting to do just that, but I hesitated. I do not want to put Sutton at any greater risk than he is already. Still, I am sure you are right. Miss Gatspy, I am in your debt more than I can say.” He swung around and looked at me. “Guthrie, I want you to inform Sid Hastings that he is going to be carrying an elderly invalid out to Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital; he is to wait while we settle a few matters inside. Then he is to carry us back here.”

“You are still trying to find out about the stolen body,” I said. “Why?”

“Vans of the sort Miss Gatspy reported are often used to transport bodies to Potter’s Field. It is somewhere I can begin.” He helped himself to another two eggs and began to consume them with gusto.

“Isn’t Hastings carrying Tyers to the Admiralty? It’s not far, but in such rain ...” I let my thought trail away.

“He is, but that isn’t important now. It will be a matter of half an hour before he returns, and I will need all of it to make myself ready. The real problem here is to distract any watchers enough to keep them from noticing from which flat this invalid comes, or not to come from this flat at all.” He sat very still, lost in thought. “It will be a bit awkward, but I can get onto the roof of the building next door and from there I can go another number down Pall Mall. That is two buildings away, and I can enter there from the roof. Getting back will be a bit more difficult, but not impossible, especially if Tyers will arrange to have a ladder at the crucial place.”

“Shall I come with you?” I asked, anticipating his answer.

“I think not, Guthrie. I have no wish to give the watchers any reason to associate the invalid with me, and you could provide the very link I wish to avoid. They will not think about the invalid unless we give them reason, and your presence could well be enough to jar their thoughts. No, this is one I must attend to on my own.” He took another scone and buttered it. “You must see it is as well if you remain here, dancing attendance on your supposedly ill employer; the kidnappers will assume you are waiting for word from them, and everyone else will accept your devotion as typical of you.” He beamed at me; he was almost himself again.

“And Miss Gatspy?” I asked, wondering how he would assign her.

“She has information to get, and I hope she will do so quickly.” He directed his gaze to her once more. “I hope I am not being presumptuous, Miss Gatspy, but I am convinced that we must act promptly, or lose the little advantage we have.”

“I agree,” she said. “Your plans do not bother me in the least. I will return by noon and give you all the information I can.”

“Excellent,” Mycroft Holmes approved. “Thank goodness I shan’t have to be idle all day, else I would be climbing the walls. This may finally put us in a strong position at last. I dislike being forced into a defensive posture.” He cocked his head. “While I am gone, Guthrie, your task will remain as before, evaluating all we have put together about the last several days. I have a theory that will depend upon you making as comprehensive an assessment as possible.”

“As you wish, sir,” I said, taking a scone and dipping it into my tea, as I had done as a boy in Scotland; my mother had often chastised me for ill-manners, but did it herself, upon occasion. “When do you plan to return?”

“From this first venture? No later than one o’clock. I assume I will have more to do before the day is over.” He finished his breakfast with a flourish.

“And there is the theatre tonight,” I reminded him.

“What do you mean?” Mycroft Holmes asked, arresting his cup on its way to his lips.

“You said that if Sutton was not back this evening, you would take his place in
MacBeth,”
I reminded him.

“So I did, and so I shall, if I must,” said Holmes stalwartly, then added, “I hope we may have Sutton back with us before then.”

“As do I,” I told him. “But it may not be possible, in which case—”

“I know, I know,” said Holmes impatiently. “He has done more than that for me every day,” he went on, somewhat displeased with the possibility looming ahead of him. “I am prepared to do what I must to preserve our fictions for both our sakes.” He put his plate aside, saying decisively, “I am going to look at what Sutton has available for disguises.”

“He seems improved,” said Miss Gatspy as soon as Mycroft Holmes left the library.

“Let us hope it continues,” I said.

“Do you doubt it will?” Her large, celestial eyes revealed her own apprehension.

All I could say was, “We shall see.”

FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS

I have just returned from informing the Admiralty of MH’s illness only to find MH himself rigged out in an outrageous disguise, complete with white hair and beard and a massive walking stick. He has outlined his plan to me, and now is preparing to go rollicking off across the roofs of our neighbors’ buildings to escape notice. He has instructed me to leave a ladder at the study window, and to be ready to admit him by that route between half-twelve and one.

G has gone down to talk to Hastings, and Miss Gatspy has left for the morning, leaving G and me to deal with unfolding events here ...

SOMEHOW
the morning faded away more swiftly than I had thought possible. I had occupied my time as Mycroft Holmes had ordered me, and now I had eight pages of comprehensive summary to present to him upon his return. It was not the same as being out, pursuing various clues, but it was useful and necessary, as I reminded myself every twenty minutes or so. I had managed to find several suspicious points in the events of the last six days, yet none of them, by themselves, would seem anything significant: seen together, they became ominous. My head ached from effort and apprehension, and I had, to my chagrin, begun to feel my lack of sleep again.

Tyers brought me another pot of strong black tea, saying as he did, “You are doing well, Mister Guthrie, and no doubt about it.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I said, far from convinced of it myself. “I shall have material to present, and that is important.”

“It is,” Tyers agreed. “The Admiralty have said that Mister Holmes is to notify them when he is sufficiently recovered to resume the daily visits of the courier, and when he will be able to return to his duties. I have assured them both would be done in a timely manner.” He made ready to leave the library, but I stopped him.

“What if we don’t get Sutton back? What then?” I had been wrestling with that possibility most of the morning, but now that I actually voiced my fear, it redoubled.

“It would be most inconvenient not to, so it must be done. Mister Holmes has much need of Sutton; he relies on him for many skills, and if anything became of Sutton, it is unlikely that Mister Holmes could find such another as he,” said Tyers calmly. “I do not suppose that he will remain missing much longer.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, hoping Tyers had some special information that had not come my way.

“Because Mister Holmes would rather face the Brotherhood’s inner circle than tread the boards at the Duke of York’s Theatre.” He smiled once, and let himself out.

I wanted to be amused, but could not rise from the gloom that possessed me. I got up and went to pace in front of the day charts again, hoping to see something I had missed before; I continued to think I had not seen something obvious. I was staring at Friday’s events when a sharp knock on the door at the rear of the flat announced Miss Gatspy’s return. I gathered up my pages and prepared to welcome her back to our efforts.

“Thank you, Tyers; I’ll admit myself,” her voice declared; I felt a shiver go through me as the door opened. “There you are, Guthrie,” she said. She had taken advantage of her absence to don a new ensemble, this one a walking suit in bottle-green with a heavy silken scarf of the same color wrapped around her throat; her cheeks were pink from the cold and drops of water shone in the wisps of hair around her face where her hat—now most certainly in Tyers’ hands, along with her coat—hadn’t covered them.

“Is it noon already?” I asked as I glanced at the clock.

“Twenty minutes past,” she said, a bit ruefully. “I have my sylphide outside in the service alley, under the stairs. I hope no harm will come to it.”

“Your colleagues are on duty,” I said to reassure her.

“That may not be enough,” she told me as she went to sit down. “Were there any callers while I was gone?”

“No,” I said, hoping to make this good news.

“Nothing from the kidnappers?” She looked closely at me.

I hated to have to disappoint her. “Nothing,” I said sadly, and then, not wanting to dwell on such unproductive ruminations, asked, “Are you planning to go out again soon? Is that why you have your carriage with you?”

“I hardly know what I will be doing, but I thought it might be advisable to have more than one vehicle at our disposal, considering the diverse matters we have before us to investigate. Hastings can’t be constantly driving all over London, you know. This way, if more than one excursion is wanted, we need not rely on hire-cabs, or other transport.” She noticed the papers in my hands. “It appears you’ve made progress.”

“I have done a synopsis. I am not sure yet that it is progress,” I told her with more honesty than I had intended.

“It is better than having confusion,” she pointed out. “If nothing else, it will help us to eliminate those events that are unconnected to our inquiries.”

“Did you find out anything useful?” I asked her, trying to find something that would be more rewarding to us both.

“I may have. Mister Holmes will have to determine if what I have learned is useful, when he can spare us a moment.” She looked about again, as if expecting to find him sitting in the shadows; she turned back to me and held out her hand. “Let me see what you’ve done.”

“If you wish,” I said, and handed my pages to her; while she read I went to the door to ask Tyers to bring a fresh pot of tea.

“Already thrilling, sir,” Tyers responded from the kitchen.

“Oh, yes,
please,”
said Miss Gatspy. “I am longing for something warm.”

I could think of nothing to say to that, so I changed the subject. “I suppose your guards are still on duty.”

“Yes; one in a carriage and two on horseback. They want to be able to follow us and continue to watch the flat.” She made a gesture of helplessness. “I cannot convince my superiors that I can function as a guard as well as an ally in this situation.”

“You mustn’t mind their concern,” I said, marveling again at how easily this delicate woman faced terrible danger.

She was about to say something, but changed her mind. “We’ll discuss that later. I want to read through this, to see if what you have coincides with what I have learned.”

I inclined my head, deferring to her, and I waited for Tyers to come with the tea. I did my best not to stare at Miss Gatspy, or to disturb her in any other way, but I found myself watching her, trying to read her expression; I was eager for her comments, and hoping she would be pleased with my observations.

“Here is the tea, Mister Guthrie,” said Tyers as he came into the library some ten minutes later.

I was glad of his arrival. “Thank you, Tyers. Have you seen anything of Mister Holmes yet?”

“I checked the window not five minutes ago, to put the ladder in place, and I saw no one on the neighbors’ roofs,” he said. “He should be back shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said again as Tyers left the room.

“Do you mean that Mister Holmes is not here?” Miss Gatspy spoke sharply; she had put the papers aside at last. “I supposed he was in another room, or resting. When did he leave?”

“Not long after you proposed the disguise to him,” I said, bemused by her alarm. “He went out a little more than two hours ago; I am sure he was not noticed. You needn’t fret. He left from a building down the way.” I thought these reassurances would ease her mind; I saw by her expression that I was wrong.

“What on earth made him do anything so foolish?” she demanded. “Now none of my colleagues can watch him, nor do we know what has become of him.”

“He went with Hastings,” I said, as if that was protection enough. “And, if you recall, it was your recommendation that he use a disguise in order to be away.”

“Yes, but not for the entire morning; I assumed he would not be gone more than an hour; I should have known he would press his luck,” she said sarcastically. “Do you have any idea where he was going?”

“To Saint Elizabeth’s, as he said he would,” I replied, a bit sheepishly, for now that she had pointed out the risks Mycroft Holmes had taken, I was inclined to share her indignation.

“In disguise, you say?” She got up and took a turn about the room. “Disguised how?”

“He looked ancient, at least seventy. Before he left, he wrapped himself in a hooded duster of oiled canvas, which will keep him from getting wet and will preserve his make-up from damage. He left out the window onto the neighboring roof, then crossed to the building beyond, and went out to the street from there.” I gave a single nod. “Tell me, Miss Gatspy, how do you think he has exposed himself?”

She shook her head. “At least he has taken some precautions. Let us hope they are enough to keep him from being discovered, for Sutton’s sake. In weather like this, I suppose he might count himself safer than he would have done on a clear day.”

“So he thought,” I said, wanting to show her that Holmes had not been as reckless as she assumed he was. “He will return the same way. Unless the Brotherhood know of this, and have posted assassins on the roofs of neighboring houses, and can see through mizzle, he must be safe. And why would they do that if they assume they have Holmes as a captive?” I was speaking very fast, as if quickness made my comments more convincing.

“I see,” said Miss Gatspy, her voice dropping down to a condemning lowness that made me aware I had not yet persuaded her.

“He had a thought, and he wanted to confirm it, or discover he was in error,” I added.

“Do you know what he sought to find out?” she asked with asperity.

“I must admit I do not,” I told her.

She glared at the tea-service. “He is the most infuriating man. I don’t know how you endure his employ.”

I was wholly conscious of the concern she revealed, but her manner was rather too much for me to accept without challenge. “Dear Miss Gatspy,” I said with what I hoped was more hauteur than pique, “You may think what you like about Mister Holmes, but you will not berate him to me, if you please. He is the most capable, extraordinary man I have ever known, and I understand that because of his abilities he is not like most men; I am more than willing to make allowances for him if such are necessary.”

“Don’t get on your high ropes, Guthrie,” Miss Gatspy recommended with a smile. “I am aware of his sterling qualities. And I am aware of yours, as well.”

I did not know how to respond to this encomium—if encomium it was—so I remained still, saying only, “I am relieved to hear it.”

“And now I’ve embarrassed you,” she said. “Well, don’t go about in dismay, if you please.” She went back and sat down. “We both will be the better for a cup of tea and a moment’s quiet reflection.” Without waiting for me to agree, she poured out two cups. “Here. Before it gets too strong.”

“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the cup and added sugar. I sat down opposite her, and did my best to look at anything but her, so as to quieten my thoughts.

“Guthrie,” she said a bit later, “you and I are both worried on Sutton’s behalf. Let us not take out our apprehension on one another.”

It was such a sensible remark that I could only nod. “I will try to heed your advice,” I said.

“Good,” she approved. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to review your—” She stopped as we heard the rattle and scramble of Mycroft Holmes’ return.

“Tyers,” he cried out. “Come take the ladder. I have brought it in.” He sounded a bit out of breath, but there was no lack of enthusiasm in his voice, which implied his journey had been successful.

I went to the door and found Holmes stumping down the hallway, his oilskins flapping around him, his wispy white hair in disarray from the hood he had just thrown back; he half-dragged, half-carried a ladder over his shoulder. “It is good to have you back, sir,” I said, prepared to assist him.

“Good to
be
back, Guthrie,” he declared in stentorian accents. “Has Miss Gatspy returned?”

“She has. We are taking tea in the library.” I reached out for the ladder only to have Tyers arrive, ready to tend to all.

“Excellent,” Holmes approved as he gave the ladder to Tyers. “I will be with you directly.”

“I take it you have discovered something,” I ventured.

“Indeed I have. And it is just as I thought: it has been under my nose the whole time, and I failed to see it for what it was,” He pushed past me, and began peeling off his oilskins.

I went back into the library. “Did you hear?”

“I certainly did,” Miss Gatspy said. “Well, we must take this as a favorable omen. How long do you think it will take him to change?”

“Ten minutes,” I said, returning to my seat.

“Then let us finish our tea,” she recommended. “We cannot learn what he has discovered through contagion or osmosis.”

In the event, it was more than fifteen minutes until Mycroft Holmes joined us, still toweling his wet hair. He was in his own clothes once more, and he had removed all traces of the make-up he had worn. As he looked toward Miss Gatspy, he said, “I take it you have something to report to me?”

“That I have,” she said. “I have our records on Inspector Featherstone. You may find them interesting.”

“If you mean his Irish mother’s alliance with certain self-proclaimed revolutionaries back on the ‘auld sod,’ you needn’t bother,” Holmes said, and chuckled as we stared at him. “I should have realized that her maiden name—Collins—innocuous enough, but with certain associations—revealed ties that are not the ones we would want our policemen to have.” He sat down. “I’m ravenous,” he announced. “It has been a busy morning.”

“That it has,” I agreed. “And no doubt you have done more than visit Saint Elizabeth’s.”

“Yes. I called on Inspector Strange, and he was kind enough to allow me to review the records that worked so much against him when he was forced to leave Scotland Yard.” He was almost thrumming with energy now, and he put his hand to his chest in a show of mock humility that made me chuckle. “I was astonished to discover how much he had amassed in his files. Most interesting reading.”