Paul Gilbert - The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

Holmes now abandoned his cigar in favour of his cherrywood and retreated to the windowsill looking out over the street below. I issued his instructions to Mrs Hudson, who went about the business immediately. During the protracted silence that followed I was able to read again the very last entry that Stamford ever wrote.

I have arranged one final meeting with Paulsen, in the hope that the convivial ambiance of the Holborn might induce harmony rather than violence . Sadly my friend’s hopes had been dashed in the most tragic way possible and my thoughts were accompanied by the sad lament of Holmes’s violin.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE ABOMINABLE WIFE

‘… as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club foot and his abominable wife.’

( The Musgrave Ritual by A. Conan Doyle)

Aparticularly pleasant spring afternoon in 1890, just a few months prior to Holmes’s supposedly calamitous confrontation with Professor Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls, found my friend sitting on the windowsill overlooking Baker Street, toiling over Bruch’s Violin Concerto.

I use the word toiling for that is the only way that I can describe the horrendous, discordant screeching that was being emitted from Holmes’s normally sublime instrument. It is worth mentioning here that the last few months had seen his workload of noteworthy cases reach an unprecedentedly high level. The affairs of the ‘Enigmatic Talisman’ and the ‘Venetian Mandolin’ are at least two of those that will undoubtedly, one day, be included in my ever-growing compilation.

However, the last few weeks had seen a certain slackening off and, as a consequence, I had noticed certain signs of frustration returning once more to Holmes’s behaviour as his nature rebelled against the stagnation of his faculties. His inept rendering of the Bruch was indicative of this. Surprisingly, though, and in an instant Holmes’s bow on string became true again and the strands of the concerto became sweet and coherent once more.

I could not perceive a reason for this sudden change until I decided to employ Holmes’s own methods. There was a smile of satisfaction on his face and I stole stealthily over to the window. Sure enough I saw our old friend Inspector Lestrade, having just vacated a departing cab, staring up at our rooms standing next to a most singular-looking companion.

‘So you perceive a case in the offing?’ I asked.

‘Certainly the potential, Watson, although, as you know, I am loath to make assumptions without being in possession of the facts.’ Holmes smiled whilst carefully replacing the violin into its case. Reluctantly I put down the book that I had been engrossed in, Lord Lynton’s veritable tome The Last Days of Pompeii and a moment later there came Mrs Hudson’s inevitable knock on the door.

Once our guests had entered the room, Holmes sized them up for a moment before reciprocating their greeting.

‘Tea for four if you would be so kind, Mrs Hudson. Please take a seat, Mr Clarke!’

The look of astonishment on the stranger’s face was certainly mirrored by that on both Lestrade’s and my own.

‘I was not aware that I had previously made your acquaintance, sir,’ said the man identified as Mr Clarke.

‘I can assure you that you have not.’ Holmes replied.

‘Then in heaven’s name, what magic have you used to identify me?’

‘I can assure you that there is nothing magical in anything that I do.’ Before explaining himself and, I am certain, in order to create the maximum dramatic effect, Holmes turned deliberately away to prepare, slowly, his old clay pipe.

This most singular-looking gentleman presenting himself before us stood at just below average height and his build was certainly more than a little portly. He sported a most lively-coloured waistcoat; a checked tweed jacket fashioned from a cloth of deepest maroon and a bowler hat to match. He appeared to be in his early fifties and when he spoke it was with a deep, rich baritone voice. He used his arms to a most dramatic effect.

As I was making these observations Mrs Hudson returned with a tray of tea. Holmes waved our guests towards the spare chairs.

After we had each had a sip of tea Clarke repeated his question. Holmes hesitated, as if he had forgotten it.

‘Mr Clarke, your somewhat exuberant attire, your extravagant affectations together with such a well-trained resonant voice indicates employment in a branch of the performing arts. When I observe a strand or two of straw still clinging to the base of your left heel and a light dusting of sawdust nestling within the folds of your trouser turnups I can narrow that down to a circus. Furthermore, I observe a red blister between the thumb and forefinger of your right hand, of the type that I would normally associate with a driver and his use of a whip. You are, therefore, either a trainer of animals or the ringmaster. The quality of your clothes and shoes and the magnitude of your girth seem to indicate the latter. I have observed of late a large number of posters advertising Clarke and Clarke’s Circus as being “The Only Show in Town”. Therefore you are one of the proprietors of said circus. Which one, of course, I cannot possibly tell,’ Holmes concluded with a flourish.

‘Well, upon my word! The reputation that goes before you and your powers is by no means exaggerated.’ Clarke applauded most enthusiastically. ‘I am indeed Carlton Clarke; however, I should point out that the second “Clarke” is merely another affectation of mine. I found the symmetry of my “Three Cs” motif most appealing and so do my public.’

Now it was Holmes’s turn to give some applause. ‘Really, Lestrade, your companion is most entertaining. I fancy, however, that there is a darker motive for your visit this afternoon?’

‘Oh, indeed there is, Mr Holmes,’ Lestrade confirmed, ‘although on this occasion I think that even your powers may be found to be somewhat inadequate.’ For a brief moment a hint of maliciousness flashed across Lestrade’s weaselly countenance, as of old.

This was clearly not lost on Holmes, who now responded sternly: ‘That surely remains to be seen! However, before we allow ourselves to reach any premature conclusions, perhaps we should allow Mr Clarke to describe the details of his hopeless cause. I assume that that is the adjective used by our disparaging Inspector?’

‘Indeed it was, Mr Holmes, although I should point out that it is not for my cause that I have persuaded the Inspector to accompany me here to consult with you. It is for the sake of my old friend, known as Ricoletti, whose nature, I am certain, makes it impossible that he should have committed the heinous crime of which he now stands accused. Namely, the murder of his wife with a throwing knife through the head!’

These words suddenly ignited Holmes’s eyes and he almost shuddered in anticipation.

‘Watson, I think that this might be the moment for your notebook and pencil,’ Holmes pointedly suggested. I could not have agreed with him more and yet I had hesitated, so aghast had I been at the words of Carlton Clarke.

‘Before you relate to me the precise details of this remarkable-sounding crime please explain to me the use of the words “known as” when you referred to your friend Ricoletti,’ Holmes requested, whilst lighting his pipe once more.

‘His circus act is known as “The Remarkable Ricoletti and The Fearless Maria,” Maria being his wife. However, their real names were Alfred and Sonia Walker from Bermondsey.’

‘Now explain to me in terms as exact and detailed as you are able, the circumstances and events that have led to the dire plight in which your friend finds himself.’ Holmes now sank back into his chair and tightly closed his eyes as an aid for the intense concentration that he now required of himself.