George Mann - Associates of Sherlock Holmes

I expected that to be the end of it, for we were in a public place and neither of us was overly keen to draw attention to any relationship between us, wishing to stay on opposite sides of the fence as it were. So Holmes surprised me when he leaned closer and, under the guise of passing me a tip, whispered in my ear.

“Keep an eye open, Shinwell. There are dark deeds afoot here tonight, and I might have need of you before the show is over.”

He said nothing more, and was off and away into the foyer before I even thought of a question. Besides, there was little enough I could do at that moment – I had to watch the door, let the gentry in and keep the rabble out until the show began. So it was that it was nearly twenty minutes later before I retired to the foyer and shut the house doors behind me. As Holmes had asked, I kept my eyes peeled, but for the life of me I could not see what had drawn him here; I did not have him pegged as a man to enjoy the musical frivolities of The Spring Chicken. I had seen no one pass me whom I would consider capable of what Holmes had called “dark deeds”, but both Holmes and I knew from our respective backgrounds that appearances could be most deceptive.

I did a tour of the foyer and saw nothing out of the ordinary, then went inside to stand at the back of the house. Up on stage Gertie Millar had them eating out of her hand as usual, but Holmes seemed to be the only one immune to her charms. I spotted him in a box near the stage on the right hand side, and he wasn’t watching Gertie at all – his complete attention was on a box directly opposite him.

I followed his gaze. There were two gentlemen in the box, and both had their opera glasses fixed firmly on Gertie. I didn’t recognise either of the men – out of my league if you catch my drift, all starched shirts and oiled hair – but if Holmes was watching them that closely, I decided I had better do the same. When Gertie’s big song came to an end, one of the toffs left his seat before the applause died down. I made sure my blackjack was snug in my hand and hurried round the stairs to that side of the house. I was just in time to see the toff reach the stage door. Sleepy Jack was manning that one – or so I thought – but the man opened it and went through without stopping. I saw why seconds later when I reached the door myself. Jack was sleepy all right, addled with what smelled like cheap gin, slumped against the wall. I suspect he’d been bribed, but I had no time to cogitate, for the toff was already walking away, past the wings and towards the dressing rooms at the rear. Given the ferocity of his gaze when he’d been eyeing Gertie just minutes before, I was starting to fear for the singer’s wellbeing.

I was almost running by the time I got to her dressing room. I burst in, blackjack in hand and immediately realised I had made a damn fool of myself – and not for the first time either. Our Gertie was a married woman. I knew her husband well, and the man she was wrapped around wasn’t him, but was indeed my mystery toff.

Luckily they were too involved in the kiss to even take note of me so I was able to back out without any fuss, only to almost bundle into Holmes and Dr Watson who were coming along from the other direction.

“Did you see him, man?” Holmes said.

“He’s in there with Gertie, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes pushed past me, intent on heading along the corridor back to the main house. “Not the duke, you idiot. The other one.”

The amorous couple had finally noticed that something was amiss, and the door opened behind me. The toff stood there, looking slightly dishevelled and more than a tad embarrassed. A look of disgust crossed Holmes’s face.

“I would stay where you are, sir,” Holmes said to the man. “You have exposed your infidelity far enough for one night.”

Gertie was standing behind the toff, and she didn’t look in the slightest bit mortified by the situation.

“One minute, Miss Millar,” someone called.

Gertie pushed past me, heading for the stage. The toff made to follow, but Holmes pushed him back inside the room.

“Not you, sir. I shall have questions for you anon. Shinwell? Can I prevail on you to ensure that this gentleman does not leave the room?”

I smiled – the toff did not like that one bit – and nodded. Holmes and Watson left quickly, following Gertie up towards the wings. The toff looked like he might try to pass me, but I slapped my blackjack into my left palm, and just the sound of the thud it made was enough to quiet him. He went back into the dressing room and made quite an act of lighting a cigarette and feigning nonchalance, but I saw the tremor in his fingers clearly enough – he wasn’t going anywhere as long as I was at the door.

He was still smoking when Holmes and Watson returned.

“As I expected,” Holmes said. “He fled as soon as he got his picture of the duke going through the stage door. I found this by his chair in the box.” He poured a fine powder from a paper cone into a glass vial and handed it to Watson. “He used this for the flash gun. Magnesium powder and potassium chlorate if I’m not mistaken, Watson. If I can identify the ratio of the mix back in Baker Street, we may be able to trace the supplier, and thence our man. Remember, do not let it get wet – or at least, if it does, do not let it near your matches. We would not want an explosion in your pocket. And there’ll be a camera somewhere to be found too, although I expect we shall only uncover that once the film has been removed for developing.”

“Powder? Film? What the blazes is going on here?”

The toff had finally realised there was more to this night than a kiss with a pretty woman. Holmes ignored his question and answered with one of his own.

“What can you tell me about your companion in the box this evening?”

“Johnnie? Fine chap – met him last weekend at my club. Rowed for Cambridge, you know?”

“I doubt that very much,” Holmes said. “And I suppose he does not have a second name?”

“I never asked. And what bally business is it of yours?”

Holmes smiled thinly.

“Your father made it my business – when he got the first blackmail letter on Monday morning. I expect there will be another tomorrow, after your little fiasco here.”

The toff started to spit and bluster, but it seemed that Mr Holmes had already done with him, and the three of us walked away, leaving the toff shouting some rather ungentlemanly curses at our backs.

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on here, Mr Holmes?” I said when we got back to the stage door. Sleepy Jack was still out, snoring soundly.

“I am after a blackmailer, Shinwell. A nasty cove. I believe this is at least his third such case of extortion, and he is developing a taste for it. He targets young gentlemen with more money than sense. And, as you know, in this town that gives him plenty of custom. Our young duke back there has not been circumspect about his affair with Miss Millar – and that has been his undoing.”

“This blackmailing chap – you do not have a name?”

“Not yet. I was hoping you might be able to help with that. It is provident that you are here tonight, and I shall not look askance at such good fortune.”

“Anything I can do to help, Mr Holmes – you know that.”

“Good man – put out the word in the usual places – I am looking for someone, not from money himself, who has come into more of it than he knows what to do with. He might be spending a lot more than his usual means, and that might have caught the attention of one of your acquaintances.”

I laughed.

“That it might, Mr Holmes – it might even have caught my attention, once upon a time.”

There being a degree of urgency inherent in Mr Holmes’s request for help, I started that very night, after I got the crowd – including a very sheepish-looking duke – out onto the street and closed the doors of the theatre. Gertie wanted to go for a drink – eager to chase more young dukes no doubt – and some of the cast and crew agreed to accompany her, but I declined. She was heading uptown, whereas I was intending to travel in an altogether different direction.