Sherlock Holmes and the Queen of Diamonds (13 page)

By the time the police reached the park, there was no sign of the man who’d stolen the Star of Persia.

CHAPTER 18

Prelude to a Showdown

A
s soon as Holmes arrived back at Baker Street Watson leapt up from his chair.

‘Have you heard the news?’ he demanded. ‘I can’t believe that James would do something so … so … irresponsible! The man is here for revenge, not to embark upon a new career as a jewel thief!’

‘Quite so,’ said Holmes, removing his cap and wig.

‘So what do we do about it? Confront him? It’ll be dangerous, Holmes. The man is a known killer.’

‘A confrontation with Mr James will have to wait,’ said Holmes. ‘We have other matters to attend to first.’

He vanished into his room, where he remained just long enough to remove all trace of ‘Levi Wright’ from his person. When he reappeared he was dressed in a black Prince Albert, and together he and Watson travelled by hansom to the Royal Museum.

Following the robbery the museum had been closed for the day. But they were allowed in when Holmes introduced himself to the flustered curator, Professor Stanley Longford.

There were signs of chaos everywhere. In particular Holmes was drawn to the marks the robber’s horse had left in the wooden floor of the mezzanine. He knelt and studied them for several minutes before moving on.

Since the robbery had been committed within the confines of the Metropolitan Police Force’s Whitehall Division, it had fallen to Inspector Maxwell Byron to investigate the crime. Holmes and Watson found him peering out through the
shattered
window at the grey Thames below, while his men continued to scour both floors for clues.

‘Confound the man!’ said Byron, after he’d shaken hands with them. ‘Whoever he is.’

‘You don’t believe it is Jesse James, then?’

‘No, sir, I do not. And for three very good reasons. One, there’s nothing to indicate that Jesse James is even in the country. Two, he’s a bank or train robber. He deals in hard cash. This kind of crime isn’t him at all.’ He shook his head. ‘No, sir. And thirdly – Fleet Street has simply linked James’s name to the crime because it will sell more papers. But may I ask your interest in the matter, Mr Holmes?’

‘I am intrigued by the audacity of crime,’ Holmes replied vaguely.

Unconvinced, Byron studied him shrewdly. He was a tall, remarkably good-looking man, and as tenacious as a starving rat. ‘I know you are a man of integrity, Mr Holmes, so I have to take you at your word. But I am aware that you have been helping Rosier of T Division with the recent spate of jewellery thefts. And of course you were quick to visit Inspector Varney of the City of London Police following the Crosbie and Shears robbery.’

Holmes smiled. He had always liked Byron, who was quick and imaginative.

‘But there,’ Byron continued, ‘I fear the similarity ends.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Watson asked.

‘Because the robbery of a country house and the robbery of a city bank pale by comparison with this. As I’m sure you can imagine, this is very likely to cause a serious diplomatic incident if that stone isn’t returned.’

Watson looked at the jagged remains of the window and shook his head. ‘Hard to believe someone could actually jump a horse out of a window into the river and live to talk about it.’

‘But from that feat we can deduce that the thief was a man of great nerve and has no small talent as a rider,’ said Holmes. ‘He is also used to thinking on his feet. He almost certainly visited the museum sometime within the past day or two to get the lie of the land and formulate his plan, but when it went wrong and the doors were closed, preventing him from making his getaway, he quickly found another means of escape. If you haven’t already done so, Inspector, I suggest you ask your men to question the museum staff to see if they remember anyone paying particular attention to the Star of Persia.’

‘I have already done that, sir.’

Holmes himself glanced through the shattered window. ‘You say the police lost him in the woods on the other side of the park?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Mr Holmes. But by all accounts it wasn’t much of a chase. To hear them tell it, they felt they might just as well have been chasing winged Pegasus, the way that horse flew away from them.’

‘That does not surprise me,’ Holmes remarked. ‘No
ordinary
horse could have made that leap into the river. Well,’ he added briskly, ‘we cannot tarry overlong, Inspector. We too have work to do.’

‘Of course, sir. But, ah, before you go …’

‘Yes?’

‘Is there anything else you can tell me that might be of use? We really
do
need to find this jewel quickly, you know.’

Holmes considered briefly, then said: ‘You are looking for a recently shoed horse of between sixteen and seventeen hands, whose skills would normally be employed in show jumping or perhaps dressage.’

‘How can you possibly know that?’ asked Byron, frowning.

‘The marks your thief’s horse left on the floor outside show a stride of approximately twelve feet, or one stride for every four taken by an average man. Size that up
accordingly
and you get an impressive horse indeed. As near as I can tell, the scuffs show little or no wear – hence, the animal was shoed recently, perhaps in preparation for this very crime. In addition, the shoes were fitted with caulkins.’

‘Caulkins?’

‘They’re cleats, more or less,’ said Watson. ‘“Frost studs” if you like. They’re brazed or screwed to the shoe to improve the creature’s balance and give it greater traction. Your own police mounts wear them, I believe.’

Holmes smiled. ‘Well done, Watson. Oh, and by the way, Inspector. You have one of the animal’s mane-hairs stuck to your sleeve.’

Byron looked down, saw the offending hair and quickly
peeled it off. ‘A
mane
-hair, eh?’ he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Holmes nodded. ‘Certainly. A hair from its tail would have been noticeably longer and considerably less flexible. Good day, Byron.’

In his room at Montague Hall Jesse climbed out of the tub and towelled himself dry. The hot bath had chased away the last of his chills and he felt as close to contentment as he had since this whole thing had started.

It had taken him a long time to make it safely back to the house. Not only was he still largely unfamiliar with the city, he had also felt it prudent to double back on himself several times just in case he was being followed. It was almost two o’clock when Elaina’s residence eventually came into sight and he heaved a sigh of relief.

He didn’t enter by the front, but followed the river-facing wall at the back of the gardens. The wall was high and covered with ivy. Had it not been for one particular
tree-stump
he could never have found the hidden gate by which he had left early that same morning.

He dismounted, rummaged among the ivy for a few moments, eventually found the gate, then pulled a key from his still-sodden pocket. He unlocked the gate, pushed it open and drove the stallion through with a slap on the rump. He relocked the gate, rearranged the ivy to disguise the portal and dragged himself up and over the wall. He then wearily stepped back into the saddle and rode Duke to the stables.

Elaina was waiting for him in the library. When at last he entered, soaked and with soggy boots squelching, she gasped at his condition and demanded to know what happened.

‘Nothin’ you need worry about,’ he said, grinning. Bringing his hand from behind him, he held up the Star of Persia between forefinger and thumb.

The sight took her breath away.

She rushed to him and grabbed the large, flawless diamond. ‘Oh my God,’ she breathed. ‘It’s even more
beautiful
than I remember!’

Jesse watched as she went to the window and admired the jewel, lovingly turning it over and over so that it sparkled in the sunlight.

‘This is
it
, Jesse, the last piece I need for my collection. Now it’s complete.
I’m
complete.’ She smiled and closed her eyes. ‘I wish I were a poet, so I could truly describe how I feel.’

‘You’re doin’ fine,’ Jesse said. He shivered, adding: ‘If it’s OK with you, Ellie, I’ll head upstairs and take a hot bath. Get rid of these chills.’

‘Good idea.’ She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. ‘But hurry back, darling. I want to share my joy with you.’

Now, warm and clean, he tossed the towel aside and dressed in fresh clothes. Outside, the afternoon was sliding toward dusk and sunset was painting the grounds in sweeping shades of amber and pumpkin orange.

He went downstairs and found Elaina in the sitting room. There was no sign of the Star. ‘Gotten tired of it already, have you?’ he teased.

‘I’ll never get tired of it,’ she said, ‘or you.’ Rising, she pressed against him. ‘You’ve made me the happiest woman alive.’

‘Happy enough to still stump up that reward money?’

‘Shame on you, Jesse James. I know you’re joking, but to even
think
I would renege …’ She crossed to a portrait of Rupert Montague that hung beside the fireplace and unhooked it to reveal a small wall safe.

Behind her, Jesse went to the drinks trolley and poured himself two fingers of Scotch. As he did so he watched her reflection in the circular mirror in front of him. She spun the combination back and forth, then opened the safe and reached inside.

As her hand closed around the pearl-handled,
nickel-plated
, two-shot derringer it contained, her eyes hardened. ‘Maybe this will put an end to your suspicions,’ she said over her shoulder.

But before she could turn back to him, they heard the jangle of the front-door bell. Elaina quickly returned the derringer to the safe and locked it.

Jesse peered out the window. ‘You expectin’ anyone?’

‘No.’

‘Then go see who it is an’ stall ’em, if you can. I’ll cover the safe.’ He took the portrait from her and as she left he
carefully
replaced it on the wall. He then unbuttoned his coat so he could easily reach for his Colts, wondering as he did whether he could have slipped up somehow and led the police right to her door.

A few moments later, Elaina returned with Holmes and Watson in tow.

‘Forgive us for intruding, Countess,’ Holmes said. Then to Jesse: ‘May I assume that you have heard the news?’

‘What news?’ interrupted Elaina.

‘Your Mr Liggett has struck again,’ said Holmes. ‘He robbed the Royal Museum this morning and rode off in broad daylight with the Star of Persia.’

‘My God,’ Elaina gasped. ‘How terrible!’

‘How terrible indeed,’ Holmes agreed. ‘Relations are already strained enough as it is with Tehran. They may turn even uglier if we cannot return it in a timely fashion. Of course,’ he added, ‘if we are lucky, it may not come to that.’

Elaina said: ‘You mean you’ve found the Liggetts?’

‘I believe so. As soon as we leave here, Watson and I are going to confront them.’

‘Count me in,’ Jesse said grimly.

‘I believe we have already discussed that, Mr James,’ Holmes said sternly. ‘They will pay for their crimes, on that I give you my oath. But I will not stand by and watch you murder them in cold blood.’

‘An’ if they try to shoot me first?’

‘I can condemn no man for acting in defence of himself.’

‘Then that’s the way we’ll play it,’ said Jesse. ‘For now, anyway.’

Worried, Elaina said: ‘Jesse, you can’t go. The streets will be teeming with policemen in the wake of the robbery….’

‘I’m afraid she’s right,’ said Holmes. ‘And I should tell you that your enemies have been far from idle in the interim, Mr James. They have already covered the East End of London in wanted posters, and the likeness they have used is remarkably accurate.’

‘That’s a chance I’ll have to take,’ Jesse said. ‘’Sides, it’ll be dark soon.’

‘Maybe,’ said Elaina. ‘But it’s still an unnecessary risk. Remember,’ she went on, ‘once we post that reward, Liggett will play right into your hands.’

‘What reward?’ Holmes asked quickly.

Ignoring him, Jesse said: ‘It could be days, maybe weeks before Liggett takes the bait. This is
now
, and I like my chances.’

‘Well, at least show a little sense and take my brougham,’ she begged. ‘I doubt the police will stop you if you’re riding in a coach that bears the Montague arms.’

‘Splendid idea,’ Holmes said. ‘Thank you, Countess. We will dismiss our own waiting hansom and do as you suggest.’

CHAPTER 19

Fresh Out of Brothers

J
ust before he joined the others in Elaina’s brougham, Holmes gave their destination to the driver: ‘The Pool of London. A public house called The Poacher’s Pocket, in Cable Street.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Prescott.

As Holmes closed the door behind him and sat beside Watson Jesse made his move. He whipped out one of his pistols and aimed it at Holmes. Watson’s eyes opened wide in surprise and he reached for his own service revolver.

‘Stay your hand, Watson,’ Holmes said quickly. ‘There is no need for violence. Mr James suspects I’m leading him into a trap.’

‘Ain’t you?’ asked Jesse, adding: ‘You can quit your
play-actin
’, Holmes. We’ve been on to you for some time now.’

Holmes arched an eyebrow. ‘“We?” Ah, yes, that would be the countess, of course. What did she tell you? That I couldn’t be trusted? That I was really working with the police to bring you to justice?’ In the dark of the cab his lips thinned. ‘I think it is time we laid our cards on the table, Mr James – beginning with the countess.’

‘What about her?’ Jesse asked warily.

‘I am afraid she has been using you. Perhaps not from the very first, but certainly since she discovered who you really were.’

‘What’re you talkin’ about?’

‘The Star of Persia – didn’t you steal it for her this very morning?’

‘You know I didn’t,’ Jesse said calmly. ‘Hell, you said
yourself
that it was Liggett.’

‘That was strictly for the countess’s benefit.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I do not want her to know that I am on to her little game just yet.’ He leaned forward, closer to Jesse. ‘Now admit it: Elaina asked you to steal the Star of Persia for her, didn’t she? Just as she has engaged others, through one agent or another, to steal for her in the past.’

‘You got some steak to back up that sizzle?’

‘I have been investigating the countess for some time now. Has she told you anything of her past?’

‘She told me her pa ran a hotel in Kansas City,’ Jesse said grudgingly. ‘That’s where she met her husband, that Earl feller.’

‘Well, it is certainly true that she was born in Kansas City. However, she was employed as a dancehall girl at the Empress Saloon when she first met the Earl. Her real name is Ellie Corbin. She was born into great poverty but with incurably expensive tastes. She deliberately set out to beguile Earl Montague and marry him as a means of
inheriting
his fortune.’

‘That’s a lie!’

‘I wish it were, Mr James, for it gives me no pleasure to speak thus. The truth is that within months of their return from the United States, the earl met with an unfortunate accident. According to the countess, who was the only witness, he was descending a staircase when he misjudged a step and fell, breaking his neck. The countess was
apparently
heartbroken, but her lawyer, Sir Ashley Danvers-Cole, suspected that all was not as it appeared. Upon his own examination of the body he discovered that the earl’s injuries were more consistent with a fall
backwards
, not forwards, as the countess had testified. A further, more thorough examination of the earl’s chest revealed five small bruises upon each of his shoulders, which were consistent with the tips of four fingers and one thumb, pushing against the flesh. They were almost gone by the time he inspected the body, and would ordinarily not have shown at all, except that the earl suffered from inflammation of the blood vessels – which gives rise to easy bruising.’

‘So why didn’t this lawyer feller have her arrested?’

‘Because the evidence was circumstantial at best, and open to interpretation,’ said Holmes. ‘However, because it chafed him that she should get away with the murder of a decent and honourable man, he engaged me to keep an eye on her and wait for her to make a mistake.

‘I did not have to wait long,’ he continued. ‘It quickly became clear that the acquisition of wealth and beauty is an obsession with the countess. She is of headstrong and
determined
disposition, and she will acquire whatever she desires by any means necessary – including treachery.’

‘You sayin’ she’s got a Machiavellian streak?’ Jesse said, recalling how Elaina had described Holmes.

Holmes gave him a quizzical look, as if surprised that someone of his background would use such a term. ‘In a manner of speaking, yes,’ he said then. ‘Have you seen her collection, I wonder? I cannot list every jewel of course, for much of it has been purchased legitimately. But among her more recent and questionable acquisitions are a rare and distinctive pair of teardrop earrings, a gold diamond pendant, a pearl bracelet and a three-string mourning necklace in jet, onyx and jasper. I am not an expert in such matters, but I imagine the Star of Persia sits rather well with them.’

Jesse eyed Holmes uneasily. ‘If this is more of your fancy “deducing”, I ain’t fallin’ for it.’

‘You still don’t trust me?’ And then, when Jesse didn’t answer: ‘Very well. If you won’t trust me, sir, you will just have to shoot me.’

‘Holmes!’ breathed Watson.

Holmes braced himself. Jesse appeared to be just a
heartbeat
away from pulling the trigger. But something about Holmes’s direct, confident stare made the man from Missouri hesitate.

Holmes smiled fleetingly. ‘Indecision is not something I expected from you, Mr James.’

‘Let’s just say I like to get all my ducks in a row ’fore I blow a feller’s head off,’ Jesse growled. ‘But let’s get one thing straight – just ’cause I’m givin’ you the benefit of the doubt, don’t think I won’t shoot you if …’ He paused as the coach began slowing down, and glanced out of the window. ‘We here?’ he asked.

Holmes peered out into the near-darkness. ‘Yes.’

Jesse gave Holmes one last long, hard look and then holstered his Colt. ‘Let’s go.’

Prescott had parked the coach on the opposite side of the road to the pub. The trio climbed out and studied their surroundings. The night was quiet and a sulphurous mist was drifting in off the Thames. Here and there lights
twinkled
aboard some the boats at anchor. Suddenly a burst of laughter drifted to them from the pub across the street, and they looked at each other.

‘Remember our agreement, Mr James,’ said Holmes. ‘You may do as you will, in self-defence. But I will not be a party to cold-blooded murder.’

Jesse’s only response was a grunt that could have meant anything. He then started across the road toward the pub, Holmes and Watson following.

Inside, business was brisk and customers had to shout to be heard above the noise. A drifting pall of cigarette and pipe smoke hung like a shroud over everything. Holmes had to squint in order to perceive their quarry, hunched
conspiratorially
around a table in the corner. Except for the numbers – there were only three men instead of the five he had been expecting – it was exactly as his informant had told him; a young, dark-haired man was in the company of a large mulatto and a redhead.

‘Unless I am mistaken,’ Holmes said to Jesse, ‘that would be Jack Liggett?’

Jesse nodded, his ice-blue eyes hooding dangerously. ‘An’ them other two, they’re part of the gang that tried to rob Ellie.’

He started forward, only stopping when Watson pressed
the barrel of his Webley against Jesse’s spine. ‘Let’s not be hasty, Mr James,’ he said through clenched teeth.

Jesse looked back at him disdainfully. ‘You ain’t no
back-shooter
, Watson.’

‘Of course not. But I fancy the prospect of a bullet in the leg or the shoulder will make you think twice before you do anything rash.’

Jesse ignored the warning and strode purposefully through the crowd.

When he reached the corner table, he halted and said quietly: ‘Sorry to interrupt, boys, but what am I robbin’ next?’

Startled, all three looked up. They paled as they
recognized
Jesse.

He pulled back his coat to reveal his holstered pistols, adding: ‘Another bank, maybe?’

For an instant Jack Liggett’s nerve broke altogether. Then he recovered himself and tried to hide his fear behind a mocking sneer. ‘Well, if it ain’t the great Jesse James himself! What’re you gonna do now, James – gun us down in cold blood? This ain’t Missoura, y’know. We’re not armed.’

‘Neither were Ma an’ Doc Samuel an’ little Archie – but that didn’t stop you or your murderin’ brother from tryin’ to kill ’em.’

‘That was a mistake an’ you know it …’ began Jack.

He broke off, alarmed, as Jesse drew his pistols.

‘Then I reckon one mistake deserves another,’ Jesse said, and his fingers tightened around the triggers.

‘If you shoot him,’ a voice said calmly behind Jesse, ‘we might never find out where his brother is hiding.’

Jesse glanced over his shoulder and saw Holmes and Watson regarding him gravely. Jesse turned back to Jack Liggett, the urge to kill him almost impossible to control. Grudgingly holstering his pistols, Jesse leaned close to the younger Liggett and said: ‘You want to live – tell us where your brother’s holed up?’

‘I don’t
have
a brother,’ Jack said.

‘Don’t insult us by lying,’ said Watson.

‘I ain’t lyin’.’ Jack turned to his companions: ‘Do I have a brother?’

They solemnly shook their heads.

‘Sorry,’ Jack said flippantly. ‘Fresh out of brothers.’

Jesse whipped out one of his Colts and fired.

Jack screamed and clutched his right hand, blood squirting from between his fingers. ‘You bastard!’ he wailed, cradling his injured hand to his chest.

Watson blanched, murmured: ‘Good Lord …’

Everyone in the pub fell silent. Seeing Jesse’s gun and Liggett’s bloody hand, they quickly shuffled back to give the group gathered about the corner table plenty of space.

Meanwhile, Jack examined his bleeding hand and
realized
that the tip of his little finger was missing, leaving only a ragged, bloody stump. ‘God
damn
you!’ he hissed at Jesse. ‘Only a gutless yellow belly would shoot an unarmed man!’

Jesse quickly drew his other Colt and placed the gun on the table before Jack. ‘Pick it up,’ he said.

‘An’ have you shoot me ’fore I can grab it – no thanks.’

Jesse holstered his remaining Colt and stepped back. ‘How about
now
?’ he said. ‘Or ain’t you got the sand for a fair fight?’

Jack went white but didn’t answer.

‘Figures,’ Jesse mocked when Jack didn’t move. ‘You’n your brother are mighty brave when it comes to maiming women and killin’ young ’uns … but facin’ someone who’s gonna shoot back … that’s a mule of a different colour, ain’t it?’

Jack nervously wet his lips. ‘You’re just lookin’ for an excuse to kill me,’ he said. ‘An’ I’m not gonna give it to you.’

Jesse smiled, a cruel dangerous smile that froze Jack’s blood.

‘This ain’t about me,’ he said, drawing his Colt again. ‘It’s about what you’n Cage done to my family. So either you tell me where your brother’s hidin’ or the next shot’s gonna clip off an ear, Jack.’

He thumbed back the hammer.

‘N-No!’ Jack begged. ‘No … don’t … don’t do that. Put up your damn … iron.’

‘Tell me where Cage is and I will,’ Jesse said.

‘I c-can’t! I mean, it’s too late! My brother lit out! He heard you was after him an’ … an’ he went north … said he’d write me when he found someplace … to stay.’

‘You’re lyin’!’ snarled Jesse.

‘I swear it!’

Jesse aimed his Colt at Jack’s right ear.

‘D-Don’t … Please, don’t. I …’

He stopped as someone entered the pub and Jesse saw recognition cross his face as he identified the newcomer.

Thinking it might be Jack’s brother, Jesse whirled, ready to shoot – but instead saw a small, rat-faced man whose nose was running. Recognizing Jesse, Alfie Adams quickly started to leave.

Jesse snapped off a shot, the bullet punching into the heavy wooden door close to Alfie’s head. Yelping with fear, Alfie turned and fled from the pub.

Jesse grabbed Jack, dragged him to his feet and jammed the barrel of his six-gun against his temple. ‘Talk straight, damn you, or I’ll blow a hole through you.’

Watson started to protest but Holmes silenced him with a brusque gesture.

Jack hesitated, eyes popping with fear. Jesse thumbed back the hammer and at last Jack broke. ‘All right, all right,’ he whined. ‘I’ll tell you.’

‘You’ll do better than that,’ snarled Jesse. ‘You’ll take us to him yourself. And remember this, Jack: if that little weasel’s gone to warn Cage and he fixes to bushwhack us, you’ll be right there to take the first bullet.’