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

‘Nothing could prevent it!’

‘Excellent! I may require you to hold Inspector Jones in check. He has a tendency to approach matters like a bull at a gate, and if by his lack of subtlety he reveals our intentions too soon it could be fatal to our plans. If our murderer is frightened off, we may lose the chance of making an arrest.’

‘You are confident that he will make his attempt today?’

‘It must be so. The full dress-rehearsal takes place this evening. Provided it goes acceptably well, many of the company will not come to the theatre at all tomorrow and the day after that will be opening night. Tonight, then, we may be certain, is the moment that hooded villain has planned for his diabolical scheme.’

‘We must prevent this monstrous crime at all costs!’ I cried.

‘Certainly we must,’ agreed my friend. ‘That is, of course, the paramount consideration. Nevertheless, there are others.’

‘I cannot think of any.’

‘There is the consideration, for a start, of apprehending the villain.’

‘Surely, if we prevent the crime, it will be by apprehending the villain.’

‘Not necessarily. If he realises we have discovered the truth, he will not act. Thus, although we should have prevented the crime, we would have no grounds for an arrest. The villain might be able to provide some perfectly plausible explanation of his actions and deny all knowledge of the deadly trap-door. If so, it would probably be impossible to prove that he was not telling the truth.’

‘We should have prevented his mischief, anyway.’

‘That is true, but he may find some other way to achieve his end. In my experience, those with murder in their heart rarely abandon their plans after the first setback. We must, therefore, seize the villain in the very act of carrying out his monstrous design, at the point when it will be utterly impossible for him to protest his innocence. It is for this reason that we must be in position in good time. I am afraid, therefore, that our vigil is likely to be a long and tedious one. There will be no light by which we might read and we shall have to remain in complete silence. Taken all in all, it may be that our chief occupation will be in preventing Inspector Jones from falling asleep.’

We took a cab to Scotland Yard shortly after lunch, from where Inspector Jones accompanied us to the theatre. He was, as Holmes had described, a large, burly and plethoric man, but with a pair of very keen and twinkling eyes, which had the appearance of spying furtively upon the world from behind his puffy red cheeks. As we travelled to Hardy’s Theatre, he asked numerous questions concerning the business that was taking us there, to all of which Sherlock Holmes gave patient and detailed answers.

‘So,’ said the policeman at length, in a husky, wheezy voice, ‘let us sum the matter up. Some person has, it seems, been making a nuisance of himself and now, if your theory is to be believed, Mr Holmes, this same person intends to commit murder.’

‘That is correct.’

‘If you don’t mind my pointing it out,’ remarked Jones after a moment, in a portentous tone, ‘it seems something of an increase in violence, I must say, to pass from pushing people over and turning gas-taps off, to plotting a murder.’

‘I quite agree, but it is the only conclusion possible from the care with which the trap-door in the stage has been prepared.’

‘Well, I shall have a look at it when we get there and give you my opinion.’

‘By all means.’

At the theatre, we found Hardy in his office, sorting through piles of papers on his desk. He had the air of one with much work to do and little time to do it in, and hardly seemed to be listening when Holmes explained that we wished to take another look in the basement, but would probably not stay long. I had the impression that Inspector Jones was about to hold forth on some topic or other to the theatre manager, but Holmes ushered him along the corridor.

‘I do not want to tell Hardy our true purpose in being here,’ said he, as we descended the stairs to the basement. ‘I am not confident that his discretion can be relied upon, especially in his present distracted state of mind.’

In the chamber beneath the stage, we lit the gas and made a careful examination of every alcove and corner, until we were satisfied that there could be no one hiding there. Then Holmes put up the ladder immediately beneath the trap-door, and invited Jones to clamber up and take a look for himself.

‘As you can see,’ said Holmes, when the policeman had taken his burly frame to the very top of the ladder, ‘the safety-bolts are all unfastened. If you now examine the wooden bar, to which the cord is attached, you will observe that the four screws which secured it to the ceiling have been removed. It is now held in place only by the two brackets, which have been recently added. Careful, Inspector! If it slips from the brackets, it will fall and the trap-door will at once drop open!’

‘I don’t need you to tell me about screws and brackets, Mr Holmes,’ returned Jones in a husky voice. ‘I’ve seen one or two screws in my time, I can tell you. What we have to establish is why these changes have been made.’

‘Surely it is clear,’ returned Holmes in an impatient tone. ‘Dr Watson saw the mystery figure in this part of the basement. It is evident that he intends to pull out the wooden bar by tugging on this cord, in which case anyone standing up there would undoubtedly fall on to these flags and would almost certainly be killed.’

‘Well,’ said Jones as he slowly descended the ladder; ‘that is your theory, anyway, Mr Holmes.’

‘What else do you suggest?’

‘I am not much of a one for theories,’ replied the policeman, in an annoyingly complacent tone, ‘but I can see flaws in other people’s. How, for a start, can the murderer know that anyone will obligingly stand on the trap-door just when he wishes them to?’

‘Because he has observed where the various actors stood at the rehearsals.’

Jones snorted. ‘Just because an actor stands in a place once doesn’t mean he will stand there again,’ said he dismissively.

‘But it does,’ Holmes persisted. ‘There are marks painted on the stage, to guide the actors, so that they will be in approximately the same position at each performance.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Well, it is the case, I assure you.’

‘Mind you,’ said the policeman, ‘I have never seen any play more than once, so I wouldn’t know if the actors occupied the same positions on different nights or not. Once is quite enough for me, I always say.’

‘I am sure you do; but may we return to the matter in hand?’

‘The matter in hand, as I see it,’ returned Jones, looking up at the ceiling, ‘is that trap-door. In my opinion, there is something decidedly suspect about it. But what makes you so sure that murder is intended?’

‘Simply because I think it more than likely that anyone falling through the trap on to this hard floor would break his neck. Would you not agree?’

‘Possibly,’ replied the policeman in a cautious tone. ‘Rather than rushing into theories, I prefer to wait and see what happens.’

‘We are not likely to see anything if we don’t conceal ourselves soon,’ said Holmes with a glance at his watch. ‘Let us put the ladder away, dowse the light, and make ourselves somewhat less visible!’

In a few moments, we had taken up our position behind a large stack of crates, packed with boots and shoes of all shapes and sizes. Above our heads, someone was sweeping the stage, but, save that soft, rhythmic sound, the whole theatre was in perfect silence. Crouching on the floor in that dark room, I found myself reflecting on the events that had brought us there. If Holmes was correct – and I could not doubt that he was – a most devilish plot was about to reach its climax. This thought appalled me beyond measure. How could anyone plan such a cruel and heartless crime? I had seen vicious fighting during my army service in India; I had witnessed death, both of friend and foe; but this cold, calculated plotting of murder, by someone probably known to the intended victim, was surely of another order of cruelty altogether. Merely to contemplate it made the hairs rise on the back of my neck and my blood run cold. And what, besides, could be the purpose of so horrible a crime? For some time, I considered the matter from every angle, but could reach no definite conclusion.