Sherlock Holmes (50 page)

We both fell silent. After a few
minutes, I felt the tensions of the evening had been such that I
desperately needed to retire. Bidding Holmes goodnight, I trudged
to my room.

Once in bed, I found it
difficult to sleep. My mind raced with the events of the evening.
It was almost one o’clock, and I had barely slept a wink, when I
heard noises of movement from our sitting room. Taking my service
revolver from its place in my drawer, I crept as stealthily as I
could towards the slightly opened door.

As my hand reached for the door
knob, a familiar voice spoke quietly from within the sitting room,
“You will not need the revolver, Watson.”

Lowering the weapon, I was met
by a familiar, yet now shadowy figure that was busily putting items
from his collection of burglary tools into his black cape
pockets.

“I am stepping out for a short
while, Watson. There is nothing that you need to know at present
and I will join you for breakfast.” With that, Holmes swept past
me, leaving me open mouthed and now even more concerned.

After a wretched night’s sleep,
I washed, dressed and stumbled my way towards our sitting room.
There, at the breakfast table, sat Holmes. He looked refreshed,
holding his folded copy of ‘The Times’ in one hand, whilst in the
other he held a half slice of toast, liberally buttered and covered
with fine, Seville marmalade.

Putting down the newspaper,
Holmes beamed at me, saying, “Ah! Watson. I trust my little
excursion last night did not inconvenience you?”

Trying as best as I could to
remain civil, I responded, “No, not at all, Holmes. For whilst I
was weary, I found it impossible to rest. I trust that your trip
was worthwhile?”

Holmes dabbed his mouth with a
fine Damask napkin before replying, “Indeed so. I am impatient to
see for myself this Emerald Spirit this evening and have taken the
liberty of inviting Lestrade to join us.”

This was certainly something
that I had not expected. As I watched, there appeared a strange
twinkle in Holmes’ eye as he turned his attention to the morning’s
post. From the two or three envelopes on the breakfast tray, Holmes
plucked a telegram and opened it, saying, “Ah, here is an item
worthy of note, Watson. It is a reply from the manufacturers of the
automated gas valve. It appears that Garton was indeed a proficient
engineer and designer but had left their employ some months ago.
There were suspicions that his designs had been secretly sold to a
competitor.” Holmes’ countenance became grim as he declared, “This
supports my opinion that we are dealing with a man driven solely by
greed. His interest in the spirit world is purely for his own
financial gain!”

The door to our sitting room
opened and Aunt Rachel, whom I had sadly neglected the previous
day, joined us for breakfast. After finishing the meal and having
enjoyed a refreshing cup of Darjeeling, Holmes turned to my aunt,
asking, “Tell me aunt, have you ever been to Hyde Park?”

I looked closely at Holmes as I
thought this rather an odd question to ask. My aunt thought for a
moment before replying, “Why no, I don’t believe I have.”

Holmes sprang to his feet
crying, “Splendid! Then I shall make it my business to stroll with
you there before luncheon.” I began to rise from my place at the
table but Holmes held up a hand with the palm raised towards me,
saying “You need not trouble yourself to accompany us, Watson. I am
sure that you can spend the time profitably. A nap, perhaps?”

I glowered at Holmes and
wondered what might be the reason behind this sudden desire to
stroll with my aunt. After they had left for Hyde Park, I returned
once more to reading my copy of ‘The Lancet’ and became engrossed
in an article regarding the new regulations for admission to the
Royal Army Medical Corps. It seemed but a blink of an eye before
Holmes and my aunt had returned but then I found my copy of ‘The
Lancet’ tumbled on the floor in front of me.

Feeling now a little more
refreshed and, after eating luncheon together, I could not resist
asking my aunt how she had enjoyed the park.

Aunt Rachel smiled sweetly,
saying, “It was both enjoyable and informative, John. Sherlock was
the perfect guide and I was grateful for his company as we
discussed Shakespeare and his counsel on another matter. Now,
please excuse me for I have some needlework to do.”

Throughout the afternoon, little
was said of our upcoming evening visit to St. John’s Wood and, by
six o’clock, Lestrade had arrived. With no further ado, we hailed a
four wheeler and were off. As we travelled, I could see that
Lestrade was clearly curious. Finally he asked, “I have arranged,
as you requested, for two constables to come to the address you
gave me. However, I didn’t have you down as one of those people
what was interested in spirits and messages from beyond the grave,
Mr Holmes. What’s the game?”

Holmes’ face instantly became
serious as he replied, sharply, “It is no game, I assure you,
Lestrade. Tonight we will snare a man who has killed in a manner
that emphasises the true meaning of premeditation.” Looking towards
me, he added, “I trust you are armed, Watson?” I nodded and patted
my jacket pocket, comforted by the weight of my service
revolver.

Lestrade, I could see, was not
satisfied by Holmes’ reply and was about to ask more but Holmes
held up his hand, saying, “All will be revealed shortly, Inspector.
Have patience. The spirits, I feel, will have their revenge on
those who have wronged them.”

Lestrade and I exchanged looks
of utter confusion and, although I had previously witnessed the
séance, I was now unsure as to what to expect.

Arriving at the home of Doctor
Garton, we were greeted by the maid who, as I looked more closely,
did bear a striking resemblance to the spirit! On entering the room
for the séance, Holmes, I saw, checked his pocket watch and then
waited for Doctor Garton. Within a few moments Garton joined us and
Holmes introduced Lestrade as “Mr Gregory.” This, I might add, gave
Lestrade something of a shock.

Garton extended his hand from
the long, flowing sleeve of his robe. He shook that of Lestrade,
saying, with something I thought akin to a wolfish grin, “There is
always room for another guest to be enlightened at my table.”

There were three other men
present in the room. These other fellows had clearly been to
previous séances as, once seated, they immediately splayed their
fingers on the table and waited for their partners on either side
to follow suit. Holmes had chosen to sit opposite Garton and I
could see from his expression that whilst stern, his eyes burned in
anticipation. He was indeed eager for proceedings to commence.
Lestrade was seated beside Garton and appeared somewhat hesitant;
looking around him and taking his cue from the others.

Soon, all was in readiness.
Garton closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, saying, “Let us
begin.” After a few moments he began to chant and, once again, I
found myself compelled to chant also, “Emerald Spirit… come amongst
us.” The feeling of an ice cold chill flowed over and around my
knees to the floor. I glanced briefly at Holmes and saw a thin
smile form upon his lips. Lestrade, however, looked on in awe of
the proceedings and I noticed that his fingertips were starting to
tremble.

Within moments, Garton opened
his eyes, his voice gathering strength as he announced, “She is
coming… she is coming!”

Just as before, the table began
to rise as the gas lamps flickered before changing to that now
familiar green flame. Lestrade seemed bewildered by the events, his
eyes darting from one to the other of us.

Suddenly, there was a flash and
sparks flew from the gas lamps. The flame quickly changed from
green to a lurid crimson which illuminated the whole room. From the
place where I had seen the Emerald Spirit appear, another figure
now stood in her place, one covered from head to toe in crimson
muslin.

Garton stared, terrified, at
this crimson apparition. His jaw hung loosely as the figure
approached. Peering closely, I could see that beneath the muslin
was the clothed figure of a mature woman. Whilst I watched, the
figure raised its arm and pointed a finger directly at Garton,
saying, “You did this to me, you and your infernal machine. You
brought me death, you deceived others and sullied the name of those
who truly have the gift. I have become the Crimson Spirit, our
world’s avenger. You must now admit your guilt for it is the only
way that you will be spared the torment that will otherwise befall
you in the afterlife.”

I looked around the table in
horror. All were as terrified as Garton…except one. The Crimson
Spirit’s voice now began to rise in strength, commanding, “Tell
them! Tell them all what you did to me, how you poisoned me and my
beloved Stephen with your mechanism…Tell them!”

All eyes turned to Garton who
was staring fixedly at the crimson figure that he had somehow
conjured. “Yes, it’s true, I did it… I had to. You had to die, you
would have told all and ruined me…I could not let that happen, I
couldn’t.” Garton then looked around him wildly, suddenly seeming
to realise what he had just admitted to. He rose to flee but a hand
with an iron grip had seized his arm and a steely voice halted his
progress, saying, “Not so fast, if you please, Dr Garton.” Somehow,
Lestrade had broken from his trance and now stood at Garton’s
side.

Seemingly within moments, the
lights had returned to their usual, yellow flame and the room had
brightened. I could now discern a familiar figure beneath the
crimson muslin. “Aunt Rachel!” I cried and I surged towards her.
Pulling the shroud of muslin from her, I was indeed grateful for
the embrace that she now gave me.

Stepping back, my aunt smiled
briefly at me and then her face became serious. “I had to do it,
John, for Elsie and Stephen’s sake.” I smiled and readily returned
her embrace.

The two constables summoned by
Lestrade had now appeared in the room and, with a nod from the
Inspector, led Garton away.

Aunt Rachel took my arm and,
together with Lestrade, we left Garton’s residence. Once outside, I
looked around for Holmes but he was nowhere to be seen. Then, with
a wave, he appeared through the front door. As he approached, I
noticed that his coat was unbuttoned. I was at once intrigued to
know what he had concealed within its folds.

A four wheeler was hailed and
together we returned to Baker Street. Once settled and with a
steaming cup of tea in hand, Holmes revealed to Lestrade the
details of the case. As he proceeded, Lestrade’s eyes grew wider
and wider and he was seen to reach for his notebook and then
scribble wildly. All was now clear to me except for the details of
Holmes’ moonlight excursion.

On this point he had remained
silent and only when Lestrade had finished his tea and had left,
did I dare enquire as to what had occurred. “Tell me, Holmes, what
did you discover on your outing to, I presume, Garton’s home?”

Holmes smiled grimly and
produced, from beside his armchair, a most peculiar object. “This
device, which I recovered this evening, is of particular interest,
Watson. It is the instrument of death created by Garton. From his
previous employment, he used his knowledge and engineering skills
to fashion a clockwork device that would deliver a small amount of
powder into the gas supply at a pre-determined time.”

“Ah! So that is why the séances
were always to start promptly at seven o’clock!” I cried.

Holmes nodded. “Precisely
Watson. They had, literally, to run like clockwork in order that
the Emerald Spirit should appear on time. As you can see, there is
a small hopper attached to the clockwork mechanism and it is in
here that Garton placed the copper powder.” Looking towards my
aunt, Holmes continued, “…and it is here that he also placed the
powdered carbon to such deadly effect at the Grainger’s
residence.”

Holmes paused briefly, placing
the mechanism on the floor beside him. “I will entrust this to
Lestrade with my report of its purpose. During my ‘visit’, I was
fortunate to be able to examine the room where the séances took
place. You recall that when the Emerald Spirit appeared, you felt a
sudden coldness in the air and a mysterious vapour swirled around
you?”

I nodded, thinking back to what
I had seen at the first séance. “Yes, that was most curious.”

Holmes smiled enigmatically,
asking, “Tell me what you know of the substance ‘dry ice’,
Watson?”

I thought for a moment and
rubbed my chin before replying, “Well, I know but little. I have
seen it produced from a cylinder of carbon dioxide… Of course! It
is extremely cold and the carbon dioxide gas given off caused
moisture in the air to condense …and being denser than the air
around it, the gas readily falls to the ground…but how did Garton
use it?”

Holmes nodded his agreement. “I
found such a cylinder in the scullery. Beneath the table used for
the séance was an insulated box into which Garton placed some ‘dry
ice.’ You will recall that he always sat in the same place at the
table. He used his knee to operate a hidden, sliding shutter
mechanism on the box. By this means he was able to release the ice
cold carbon dioxide gas which produced the chilling effect on those
seated at the table and also the clouds of water vapour.”

“How did he achieve the tilting
table?” I asked.

Holmes smiled. “A simple parlour
trick, Watson. I looked beneath the table where Garton sat and I
could see long scratches on the underside. Garton wore a robe with
long, full sleeves. This was to conceal that, strapped to the
underside of his forearms, there were two metal ‘tongues’ that
fitted beneath the table-top. His hands remained in view and
remained in contact with those of the persons on either side but he
was able to tilt the table simply by raising his arms.”