The Adventure of Bruce-Partington Plans (4 page)

I felt some reflection of his elation in my own mind, for I knew well
that he would not depart so far from his usual austerity of demeanour
unless there was good cause for exultation. All the long November
evening I waited, filled with impatience for his return. At last,
shortly after nine o'clock, there arrived a messenger with a note:

Am dining at Goldini's Restaurant, Gloucester Road, Kensington. Please
come at once and join me there. Bring with you a jemmy, a dark
lantern, a chisel, and a revolver.

S.H.

It was a nice equipment for a respectable citizen to carry through the
dim, fog-draped streets. I stowed them all discreetly away in my
overcoat and drove straight to the address given. There sat my friend
at a little round table near the door of the garish Italian restaurant.

"Have you had something to eat? Then join me in a coffee and curacao.
Try one of the proprietor's cigars. They are less poisonous than one
would expect. Have you the tools?"

"They are here, in my overcoat."

"Excellent. Let me give you a short sketch of what I have done, with
some indication of what we are about to do. Now it must be evident to
you, Watson, that this young man's body was PLACED on the roof of the
train. That was clear from the instant that I determined the fact that
it was from the roof, and not from a carriage, that he had fallen."

"Could it not have been dropped from a bridge?"

"I should say it was impossible. If you examine the roofs you will
find that they are slightly rounded, and there is no railing round
them. Therefore, we can say for certain that young Cadogan West was
placed on it."

"How could he be placed there?"

"That was the question which we had to answer. There is only one
possible way. You are aware that the Underground runs clear of tunnels
at some points in the West End. I had a vague memory that as I have
travelled by it I have occasionally seen windows just above my head.
Now, suppose that a train halted under such a window, would there be
any difficulty in laying a body upon the roof?"

"It seems most improbable."

"We must fall back upon the old axiom that when all other contingencies
fail, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Here
all other contingencies HAVE failed. When I found that the leading
international agent, who had just left London, lived in a row of houses
which abutted upon the Underground, I was so pleased that you were a
little astonished at my sudden frivolity."

"Oh, that was it, was it?"

"Yes, that was it. Mr. Hugo Oberstein, of 13 Caulfield Gardens, had
become my objective. I began my operations at Gloucester Road Station,
where a very helpful official walked with me along the track and
allowed me to satisfy myself not only that the back-stair windows of
Caulfield Gardens open on the line but the even more essential fact
that, owing to the intersection of one of the larger railways, the
Underground trains are frequently held motionless for some minutes at
that very spot."

"Splendid, Holmes! You have got it!"

"So far—so far, Watson. We advance, but the goal is afar. Well,
having seen the back of Caulfield Gardens, I visited the front and
satisfied myself that the bird was indeed flown. It is a considerable
house, unfurnished, so far as I could judge, in the upper rooms.
Oberstein lived there with a single valet, who was probably a
confederate entirely in his confidence. We must bear in mind that
Oberstein has gone to the Continent to dispose of his booty, but not
with any idea of flight; for he had no reason to fear a warrant, and
the idea of an amateur domiciliary visit would certainly never occur to
him. Yet that is precisely what we are about to make."

"Could we not get a warrant and legalize it?"

"Hardly on the evidence."

"What can we hope to do?"

"We cannot tell what correspondence may be there."

"I don't like it, Holmes."

"My dear fellow, you shall keep watch in the street. I'll do the
criminal part. It's not a time to stick at trifles. Think of
Mycroft's note, of the Admiralty, the Cabinet, the exalted person who
waits for news. We are bound to go."

My answer was to rise from the table.

"You are right, Holmes. We are bound to go."

He sprang up and shook me by the hand.

"I knew you would not shrink at the last," said he, and for a moment I
saw something in his eyes which was nearer to tenderness than I had
ever seen. The next instant he was his masterful, practical self once
more.

"It is nearly half a mile, but there is no hurry. Let us walk," said
he. "Don't drop the instruments, I beg. Your arrest as a suspicious
character would be a most unfortunate complication."

Caulfield Gardens was one of those lines of flat-faced pillared, and
porticoed houses which are so prominent a product of the middle
Victorian epoch in the West End of London. Next door there appeared to
be a children's party, for the merry buzz of young voices and the
clatter of a piano resounded through the night. The fog still hung
about and screened us with its friendly shade. Holmes had lit his
lantern and flashed it upon the massive door.

"This is a serious proposition," said he. "It is certainly bolted as
well as locked. We would do better in the area. There is an excellent
archway down yonder in case a too zealous policeman should intrude.
Give me a hand, Watson, and I'll do the same for you."

A minute later we were both in the area. Hardly had we reached the
dark shadows before the step of the policeman was heard in the fog
above. As its soft rhythm died away, Holmes set to work upon the lower
door. I saw him stoop and strain until with a sharp crash it flew
open. We sprang through into the dark passage, closing the area door
behind us. Holmes let the way up the curving, uncarpeted stair. His
little fan of yellow light shone upon a low window.

"Here we are, Watson—this must be the one." He threw it open, and as
he did so there was a low, harsh murmur, growing steadily into a loud
roar as a train dashed past us in the darkness. Holmes swept his light
along the window-sill. It was thickly coated with soot from the
passing engines, but the black surface was blurred and rubbed in places.

"You can see where they rested the body. Halloa, Watson! what is this?
There can be no doubt that it is a blood mark." He was pointing to
faint discolourations along the woodwork of the window. "Here it is on
the stone of the stair also. The demonstration is complete. Let us
stay here until a train stops."

We had not long to wait. The very next train roared from the tunnel as
before, but slowed in the open, and then, with a creaking of brakes,
pulled up immediately beneath us. It was not four feet from the
window-ledge to the roof of the carriages. Holmes softly closed the
window.

"So far we are justified," said he. "What do you think of it, Watson?"

"A masterpiece. You have never risen to a greater height."

"I cannot agree with you there. From the moment that I conceived the
idea of the body being upon the roof, which surely was not a very
abstruse one, all the rest was inevitable. If it were not for the
grave interests involved the affair up to this point would be
insignificant. Our difficulties are still before us. But perhaps we
may find something here which may help us."

We had ascended the kitchen stair and entered the suite of rooms upon
the first floor. One was a dining-room, severely furnished and
containing nothing of interest. A second was a bedroom, which also
drew blank. The remaining room appeared more promising, and my
companion settled down to a systematic examination. It was littered
with books and papers, and was evidently used as a study. Swiftly and
methodically Holmes turned over the contents of drawer after drawer and
cupboard after cupboard, but no gleam of success came to brighten his
austere face. At the end of an hour he was no further than when he
started.

"The cunning dog has covered his tracks," said he. "He has left
nothing to incriminate him. His dangerous correspondence has been
destroyed or removed. This is our last chance."

It was a small tin cash-box which stood upon the writing-desk. Holmes
pried it open with his chisel. Several rolls of paper were within,
covered with figures and calculations, without any note to show to what
they referred. The recurring words, "water pressure" and "pressure to
the square inch" suggested some possible relation to a submarine.
Holmes tossed them all impatiently aside. There only remained an
envelope with some small newspaper slips inside it. He shook them out
on the table, and at once I saw by his eager face that his hopes had
been raised.

"What's this, Watson? Eh? What's this? Record of a series of
messages in the advertisements of a paper. Daily Telegraph agony
column by the print and paper. Right-hand top corner of a page. No
dates—but messages arrange themselves. This must be the first:

"Hoped to hear sooner. Terms agreed to. Write fully to address given
on card.

"Pierrot.

"Next comes:

"Too complex for description. Must have full report, Stuff awaits you
when goods delivered.

"Pierrot.

"Then comes:

"Matter presses. Must withdraw offer unless contract completed. Make
appointment by letter. Will confirm by advertisement.

"Pierrot.

"Finally:

"Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves. Do not be so
suspicious. Payment in hard cash when goods delivered.

"Pierrot.

"A fairly complete record, Watson! If we could only get at the man at
the other end!" He sat lost in thought, tapping his fingers on the
table. Finally he sprang to his feet.

"Well, perhaps it won't be so difficult, after all. There is nothing
more to be done here, Watson. I think we might drive round to the
offices of the Daily Telegraph, and so bring a good day's work to a
conclusion."

Mycroft Holmes and Lestrade had come round by appointment after
breakfast next day and Sherlock Holmes had recounted to them our
proceedings of the day before. The professional shook his head over
our confessed burglary.

"We can't do these things in the force, Mr. Holmes," said he. "No
wonder you get results that are beyond us. But some of these days
you'll go too far, and you'll find yourself and your friend in trouble."

"For England, home and beauty—eh, Watson? Martyrs on the altar of our
country. But what do you think of it, Mycroft?"

"Excellent, Sherlock! Admirable! But what use will you make of it?"

Holmes picked up the Daily Telegraph which lay upon the table.

"Have you seen Pierrot's advertisement to-day?"

"What? Another one?"

"Yes, here it is:

"To-night. Same hour. Same place. Two taps. Most vitally important.
Your own safety at stake.

"Pierrot.

"By George!" cried Lestrade. "If he answers that we've got him!"

"That was my idea when I put it in. I think if you could both make it
convenient to come with us about eight o'clock to Caulfield Gardens we
might possibly get a little nearer to a solution."

One of the most remarkable characteristics of Sherlock Holmes was his
power of throwing his brain out of action and switching all his
thoughts on to lighter things whenever he had convinced himself that he
could no longer work to advantage. I remember that during the whole of
that memorable day he lost himself in a monograph which he had
undertaken upon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus. For my own part I had
none of this power of detachment, and the day, in consequence, appeared
to be interminable. The great national importance of the issue, the
suspense in high quarters, the direct nature of the experiment which we
were trying—all combined to work upon my nerve. It was a relief to me
when at last, after a light dinner, we set out upon our expedition.
Lestrade and Mycroft met us by appointment at the outside of Gloucester
Road Station. The area door of Oberstein's house had been left open
the night before, and it was necessary for me, as Mycroft Holmes
absolutely and indignantly declined to climb the railings, to pass in
and open the hall door. By nine o'clock we were all seated in the
study, waiting patently for our man.

An hour passed and yet another. When eleven struck, the measured beat
of the great church clock seemed to sound the dirge of our hopes.
Lestrade and Mycroft were fidgeting in their seats and looking twice a
minute at their watches. Holmes sat silent and composed, his eyelids
half shut, but every sense on the alert. He raised his head with a
sudden jerk.

"He is coming," said he.

There had been a furtive step past the door. Now it returned. We heard
a shuffling sound outside, and then two sharp taps with the knocker.
Holmes rose, motioning us to remain seated. The gas in the hall was a
mere point of light. He opened the outer door, and then as a dark
figure slipped past him he closed and fastened it. "This way!" we
heard him say, and a moment later our man stood before us. Holmes had
followed him closely, and as the man turned with a cry of surprise and
alarm he caught him by the collar and threw him back into the room.
Before our prisoner had recovered his balance the door was shut and
Holmes standing with his back against it. The man glared round him,
staggered, and fell senseless upon the floor. With the shock, his
broad-brimmed hat flew from his head, his cravat slipped sown from his
lips, and there were the long light beard and the soft, handsome
delicate features of Colonel Valentine Walter.

Holmes gave a whistle of surprise.

"You can write me down an ass this time, Watson," said he. "This was
not the bird that I was looking for."

"Who is he?" asked Mycroft eagerly.