Paul Gilbert - The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘Holmes,’ I interrupted, ‘you are so certain that this “other” could not have been Captain Johnson, that you allowed him freedom to go on his way?’

‘Watson, he would hardly have mentioned the barrels at all were he not innocent of the act. I would have had no other means of knowing of their existence, seeing that they now rest on the bottom of the Channel.’

‘No, no, of course not,’ I hurriedly and abashedly admitted. ‘Then who else would have aided Garside in his awful deception? Another member of the crew?’

‘I think not; they were unreservedly loyal to Johnson, to the last man. No, the person we are looking for is someone as ruthlessly ambitious as his master and one who would stop at nothing to preserve his job and career—’

‘Even if it meant seeing his own father unjustly incarcerated to further his ambition?’ Another voice callously asked this question from the entrance to the saloon. After all I had just heard and understood; even I was not surprised to see the sneering figure of Edward Lomas standing there.

‘I apologize for the lateness of my arrival, but from the moment that I received your note, I knew that the game was up. If the all-powerful Nathaniel Garside had found it impossible to escape from you, Mr Holmes, what chance, then had I, his underling? Besides I have heard enough from behind the door to know that any defence or resistance now would be futile.’ Despite these words of bravado, beads of perspiration on his brow and a tremor in his right hand indicated that Lomas was surely affected by the situation. As though to confirm this he made for the bar and drank hungrily from a large glass of cognac.

Then he sank wearily into an armchair opposite ours and acknowledged the presence of both Fowler and myself with the briefest of nods. Upon hearing the metallic sound of Fowler rummaging in his pockets for a set of handcuffs, Lomas said, ‘I can assure you, Inspector, that there will be no need for those. If nothing else, I am a man who knows when he has been bettered.’

Fowler, however, ignored his words and applied the cuffs with a rapid certainty.

‘Very well, Inspector, but before you drag me off to your cell, I beseech you all not to judge me too harshly,’ Lomas said, his tone of voice mellowing somewhat.

‘Really sir!’ I reproached him. ‘It is hard not to do so!’

‘Perhaps, but consider; it is not easy for an ambitious young man to make a life for himself in a village like Leigh-on-Sea. With a young sister to support and a father with a pronounced leaning to drink, it was not easy to stay out of the clutches of a man such as Nathaniel Garside. Besides the men in the barrels were only convicted prisoners,’ Lomas concluded.

‘Perhaps they were,’ Holmes rejoined. ‘Yet they were still entitled to a better fate than falling victim to avariciousness and greed. It hurts me to know that despite all my efforts at bringing the full weight of British justice down upon you, your fate should prove to be less unhappy than theirs!’ Acting upon an indication from Holmes, Fowler began to remove his chained prisoner from the room, only to be confronted by the tearful Miss Lomas leaning on the doorframe.

‘Oh, Edward!’ she screamed. ‘How could you, your own father?’

Before Lomas could reply, Fowler finished hauling him out of the room and I raced to the girl’s side to guide her over to a chair, for she could now hardly stand.

Then, to my great surprise, Holmes crouched down before her and took her by the hand.

‘My dear young lady, I assure you that I take no satisfaction from the conclusion of this case. My great regret is that on the very night that I have been able to restore your father to you, I have been compelled to remove your brother.’ As the girl’s tears began to fall on Holmes’s hand, he became momentarily embarrassed and, inevitably, it was left for me to comfort her.

An interesting postscript to the events just described was our discovery of the fate of Captain Johnson’s crew. Apparently they had been sufficiently rewarded by Garside to have been able to buy a small fishing vessel of their own, which they operate successfully out of Grimsby. Their escape from the Alicia was achieved by virtue of a small dinghy, attached to the larger craft. Its towline had been severed by a knife … with a serrated edge!

THE ADVENTURE OF THE RED LEECH

‘… I see my notes upon the repulsive story of the red leech and the terrible death of Crosby, the banker …’

( The Adventure of Golden Pince-Nez by A. Conan Doyle)

‘Well, well, friend Watson, I perceive that a matrimonial fracas, at “Castle Watson” has brought you to my door this morning.’ Holmes mischievously observed one bright spring morning, during the years of my marriage to my beloved Mary.

As a result of my long association with Sherlock Holmes I had been witness to many examples of my friend’s extraordinary powers and yet he had still not lost the ability to surprise me. I had just taken to my old familiar chair by the fireside and was slowly unfolding my unread morning paper as Holmes greeted me with this amazing statement. My paper fell from my grasp, for I knew from past experience that this was neither guesswork nor conjecture on his part.

My mood and disposition were such that on this occasion I had no great desire to express my amazement. ‘Evidently I have not been altogether successful at concealing my frame of mind this morning!’ I snapped whilst reclaiming my paper from the floor.

‘On the contrary, my dear fellow, I merely reached my conclusion from the fact that the redoubtable Mrs Watson would not, under normal circumstances, allow you to leave the house wearing unpolished shoes and both a brown and black stocking,’ Holmes remarked with some amusement.

I glanced down to confirm that I was, indeed, wearing a different colour on each foot.

Ignoring my embarrassment, Holmes continued: ‘On the only other occasion that I have observed such a sartorial calamity, Mrs Watson had taken herself away for a few weeks to visit her people. I recall your lamenting such a visit barely a month ago, so she is patently not due for another for some time to come. Therefore there must be another reason for her apathy towards your appearance this morning. Your early arrival and your undoubtedly grouchy demeanour merely confirm my simple deduction!’ With a dramatic, self-congratulatory wave of his arms Holmes sank back into his chair once more.

‘Merely a trifle,’ I responded quietly. ‘Just a trifle. However I observe that there may be a means for you to put your powers to more productive use and an explanation for your own light mood.’ I remarked whilst pointing towards a small piece of paper on the arm of Holmes’s chair.

‘Well then, pour your nervous energy into providing me with your conclusions regarding this!’ Holmes leapt up from his chair and tossed the note into my lap on his way to the mantelpiece, where he filled his pipe from the Persian slipper.

My newspaper now forgotten, I hurriedly unfolded what was, potentially, the road to a new adventure.

‘Why, there is nothing here at all!’ I exclaimed with much disappointment.

The note was a simple one:

I would appreciate a consultation, any time after sunset on the 14th. Yours, RANDELL CROSBY.

‘Watson! After all that you have observed and chronicled of my methods over the years you seem to have learnt nothing. Do not merely read the words of the note. Deduce!’

Somewhat put out, I filled a pipe of my own, while formulating my observations. ‘Evidently the matter is of some importance, for today is surely the 14th, besides which, the brief, untidy nature of the writing seems also to indicate urgency. It is almost as if the note was written off the cuff because the paper used has surely been torn from a larger sheet and the tool used was a most blunt pencil. Other than these points, I can deduce nothing.’