Denis Smith: The Mammoth Book of the New Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘J. Hardiman Smallbone’s copy of the Old Testament,’ interjected Holmes.

‘Precisely, Mr Holmes. I told Ullathorne that it didn’t sound a very secure hiding-place. “Why, anyone might find it there!” I said. He laughed at this, and pointed out that the book was a big one. “As you may be aware, Loxley,” said he, “the Old Testament contains thirty-nine books, nine hundred and twenty-nine chapters, and nearly six hundred thousand words. They made me learn that at school! My enemies wouldn’t know where to begin their search! Patience – a great deal of it – would be the chief requirement, and that is something they do not possess!” The thought of this appeared to amuse him greatly, and he laughed for several minutes.’

‘You gave this information to your villainous colleagues, presumably,’ said Holmes.

‘I did,’ replied Loxley, hanging his head. ‘I thought it would be of no use to them, as neither they nor I knew the whereabouts of the safe.’

‘So they sent Jonathan Pleasant here to try to find the safe and its secret combination. When he was unsuccessful, in both respects, they told you to persuade Mr Potter to sell Smallbone’s book to the dealer, Vidler, whom they had presumably bribed to make him do as they wished.’

Loxley nodded his head in silent acknowledgement of these charges.

‘Who is this man, Pleasant?’ asked Holmes.

‘A member of the conspiracy,’ Loxley replied, ‘no doubt chosen for the task on account of his persuasive manner of speech. In himself, he is unimportant, merely one of the small fry that are always to be found swimming alongside the great sharks.’

‘Hum!’ said Holmes. ‘Let us take another look at the book.’ He took the old volume from the shelf, and turned the pages over for several minutes. ‘I can find no marks upon the pages,’ said he at length. ‘Did Major Ullathorne have a favourite chapter, or verse, Major Loxley?’

‘Not that I can recall,’ returned the other.

‘Nor I,’ said Potter.

‘We could try the letters “J.H.S.”, the initials of the original owner,’ I suggested.

‘What a good idea!’ cried Potter. ‘That may indeed be the answer!’

‘Let us try it, then,’ said Holmes. In a moment he had rolled back the rug and lifted up the hinged floorboard. Then, lying full length upon the floor, he carefully turned the dials on the safe door. I watched with keen anticipation as he gripped the handle and applied pressure, but there came at once an expression of disappointment upon his features, which dashed my hopes. He then tried the same letters in the reverse order, but fared no better. For some time, then, he lay upon the floor in silent thought, until, all at once, with a little cry, he raised himself up on his elbow, and turned his attention once more to the lettered dials.

‘What is it?’ I queried.

‘An odd little idea that has occurred to me,’ replied he. ‘It may be as useless as the others. Let us see!’

In perfect silence, we watched as he applied pressure once more to the handle of the safe. Without a sound, and with no apparent resistance, it turned smoothly through ninety degrees. Then he pulled it gently upwards, and the safe door opened smoothly and noiselessly until it stood upright from the floor. With a little cry of triumph, he reached his hand into the recess and withdrew two long, bulky-looking manila envelopes.

‘Hurrah!’ cried Potter. ‘Well done, Mr Holmes!’

‘What was the combination, and how on earth did you discover it?’ I asked.

‘The letters are “J.O.B.”,’ replied Holmes. ‘The Book of Job is the only one of the books in the Old Testament whose title consists of just three letters; and Job, if you recall, was noted for his patience, a quality to which Major Ullathorne had drawn particular attention.’

‘Of course!’ I cried. ‘How obvious!’

‘Everything is obvi ous when once it has been explained to you,’ returned Holmes, a trace of asperity in his voice. ‘There is nothing else in the safe,’ he continued, ‘so we must take it that these two envelopes contain all the information and evidence that Major Ullathorne had managed to gather on the regimental corruption before his untimely death.’

‘We must place them in the hands of the authorities without delay,’ said Potter.

‘You will do no such thing,’ said a voice behind us, in a harsh, icy tone. ‘Hand me those envelopes at once.’

A cold, creeping sensation seemed to pass up the back of my neck, as I turned my head. There in the open French window stood a tall, strongly built man. He wore a long, heavy brown coat, the collar of which was turned up high, and a soft, broad-brimmed brown hat, pulled low over his brow. But his face was what drew my attention, or, rather, his lack of face, for it was completely covered by an oblong of black silk, in which slits had been cut for his eyes. In his black-gloved hand was a revolver, pointed directly at Sherlock Holmes. How long he had been standing there, I had no idea, but it was clear that he had witnessed the opening of the safe. For a long moment no one moved or spoke.

‘Hand over the envelopes,’ he repeated, ‘or I fire the gun.’

‘I know who you are!’ cried Major Loxley suddenly, in a loud, angry voice. ‘The fountain-head from which all abominations flow! That mask doesn’t hide you from me!’

‘I’d have thought you’d have enough sense to keep your mouth shut!’ returned the other in a menacing tone.

‘I’ve kept my mouth shut for too long already!’ cried Loxley. ‘I should have exposed you years ago! You poisoned my life, as you poisoned the lives of everyone you came in contact with.’

‘Be quiet, you old fool,’ cried the intruder in an angry tone, ‘or you’ll end up like your interfering friend, Ullathorne!’

‘What! You killed him!’

‘No, I didn’t. How was I to know the feeble old fool would have a seizure as my men were asking him a few questions. You!’ the intruder continued in a louder tone, turning to Holmes: ‘Mr Busybody Holmes! Hand over those envelopes now, or you’re a dead man! I’ll give you five seconds!’

‘You villain!’ cried Major Loxley, rising to his feet.

‘Get back, you fool!’ cried the intruder, turning the pistol upon the major. ‘Get back!’

For a split second, Loxley hesitated, then, with an inarticulate cry, he flung himself at the intruder. The pistol cracked, and a spurt of blood showed near the major’s collar, as he reeled round with a groan and fell heavily to the floor. In that same instant, and before the intruder could recover from the major’s assault, Holmes had sprung across the room like a cat, and seized hold of him. In a second, the two of them had crashed and tumbled out of the French window and into the garden. Potter and I sprang up at once and raced after them.

It was evident that Holmes’s adversary was an immensely powerful man. Over and over they tumbled across the muddy lawn, their struggle illuminated by the weak yellow lamp-light from the study. Potter dived in to lend his assistance, but the outcome of the struggle was still not clear. But I had seen as I dashed from the study that the intruder’s pistol had fallen from his grasp and lay in the flower-bed by the window. Quickly I snatched it up, and, with a shout, clapped it hard to his temple, and he lay still.

In a moment we had lashed our prisoner’s arms and legs with a curtain-cord. Then Holmes bent down to the still, silent figure. ‘Let us see this villain’s face,’ said he. He grasped the black silk mask and pulled it away, to reveal the snarling, twisted features of Major Felgate.

The evidence which Major Ullathorne had gathered before his death, together with certain information which Colonel Headley had lately managed to acquire, proved sufficient to break the power of Felgate’s criminal organisation, and to send everyone connected with it to trial. It was, we learnt, Colonel Headley himself who had visited Major Ullathorne’s cottage so mysteriously the previous summer to request his help, and we also learnt later that on the day we had seen the colonel at Woolwich station, he had been returning from Westminster where he had had a secret interview with the Prime Minister and the Secretary of State for War, to brief them on the state of affairs at the Royal Medway’s headquarters. He had harboured strong suspicions of Major Felgate and one or two other officers for some time, and was determined that they did not learn of the steps he was taking to bring about their downfall, and cleanse the Royal Medway Regiment.