The Sensible Necktie and Other Stories of Sherlock Holmes (20 page)

Holmes swiftly raised his forefinger to his lips. “It is better to show than to tell, don't you think, dear brother?”

Mycroft gently tapped the side of his nose and fell silent.

Holmes asked the driver to stop at a place where a long row of two-storey brick buildings lined the south bank of the river. We were now in an area that was both dark and foul-smelling, as a result of irregular street lights and mud-infested road surfaces, but I seemed to be the only member of our party who gave any thought to this. Furniss of course knew this district like the back of his hand, as did Holmes, and Mycroft looked rather more amused than vexed, as was his habit. Holmes led the way down a narrow passage lined with wooden hoardings until we came to the edge of the water, where the pebble beach sloped steeply down into the blackness. Here, Holmes halted and peered ahead towards something black and shapeless a few yards from the beach. To me, it looked like a small and primitive rowing boat. I thought the boat theory had been discarded, and was just about to say as much, when Holmes started pointing.

“There! Look!”

It was difficult to see anything at all in the darkness, but after a few seconds I could make out a silhouette that moved rapidly just above the surface of the water. It was apparently some sort of bird, flapping its wings so close to the water that it seemed to cause a few ripples now and then. As it neared the boat, a figure sitting in it raised an arm, and the bird promptly landed on it. Having shown us this curious spectacle, Holmes led us back up the passage again, not speaking until we were well out of earshot from the boat.

“I fail to see why we should observe a lone rower and his trained bird,” I said.

“The reason is plain if you know something of the cultural history of China,” said Holmes.

“China?”

Mycroft chuckled and placed a proud hand on the shoulder of his brother. “In China, fishing by way of trained cormorants is a practice dating back several centuries,” he said. “It is still widespread on the country's many rivers, and according to tradition, it is best carried out at night. They tie a string around the neck of the bird so that, when it catches a fish, it will be unable to swallow it, thus carrying it back to the fisherman waiting in his boat. At the end of the procedure, the bird is rewarded by being allowed to swallow his final catch.”

“Thank you for that concise lecture, dear brother,” said Holmes, not altogether pleased at having been robbed of a portion of his performance. “I was not aware that the Chinese community of London had taken this custom with them from their native land, but now that I have seen it with my own eyes, it transpires as perfectly obvious. The London Chinese are mostly settled near the river in both Rotherhithe and Limehouse, and many of them lead a poor and squalid existence. Why not improve their lot in life by applying to the Thames that knowledge which has been passed down through generations? The first clue to this was the frayed monocle cord, the fray being the clear trace of a bird's beak. Later when I wandered around the area this evening, I saw several Chinamen selling fish in the nearby market. I realised that this method was the only way of getting the monocle from the tavern to the brothel in so short a time.”

“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Mr Furniss. “How improbable a solution!”

“And yet the truth,” said Holmes.

“Shall we not arrest the man, then?”

Holmes raised his hand.

“That poor fisherman, I fear, if indeed he is the one, is only one link in a long and complicated chain. He lent his bird to the culprits, but we gain little by arresting him. Our next port of call must be the tavern!”

We continued through a maze of streets, leaving the river behind us. In due course, we came to a part of Rotherhithe where the streets were still peopled and groups of men and women congregated on street corners and in open doorways. At an intersection, we found the exterior of a public house where people were still at this late hour enjoying drinks and pouring out onto the pavement. A sign above the door bore the legend ‘The Lighthouse' and showed a crude picture of a beacon lashed by furious sea waves. Holmes stepped into the taproom, and the landlord behind the counter smiled at our party. When he noticed Mr Furniss, he greeted him with hospitality, but there were also signs of unease in his face.

“The usual, Mr Furniss?” he tried.

It was Mycroft, who was obviously growing more and more impatient with his brother's drawn-out demonstration, who stepped up and shortened the process. “You have acted with dishonest intentions towards this man, sir. You or someone in your staff stole an object from him on Monday evening.”

“I am sure I don't know what you are talking ab-”

“I am sure you do, my good man! We will be lenient with you if you assist us in our enquiries.”

The man looked at us all in turn, his lower lip trembling increasingly. Finally, he surrendered, and confessed to having conspired against Mr Furniss. “But I swear to you, we had no intention to do so. A gentleman came and told us he would give us money if we acted according to his instructions. As we are a bit hard up at the moment, I accepted the offer, but when I heard who we were to deceive, I hesitated, knowing that Mr Furniss is a good and trusted customer. But I admit that the offer was too good to turn down.”

Holmes stepped up to him. “I will do what I can to let off the hook, if you accompany us to the police to give them a full description of the man who instructed you, as I assume he did not give you a name.”

The landlord consented after some persuading, and we were allowed to leave Rotherhithe to lay our case before the police. The rest of the investigation involved Holmes and me only indirectly, and unfortunately I am still prohibited from publicising the details of the case as we moved nearer to the identity of the brain behind the scheme. I can only say that it revealed forces within the corridors of Whitehall that any decent Englishman would probably prefer not to know about, and that Gregory Furniss turned out to have enemies more powerful and numerous than he could ever have suspected. Although the guilty parties were eventually put to justice, the experience proved much too daunting to a young and innocent man like Furniss, and he decided that his father's unfinished work in politics was best left to linger. What I can say is that an alleged connection between Furniss and a low house in Wapping never reached the papers, and that the man's future probably turned out happier for him than if he had pursued his career in politics, a career that I suspected he never really wanted for himself.

A few weeks after our excursion to Rotherhithe, we were paid a late-night visit by Mycroft at Baker Street, who joined Holmes and me by the fire with a cigar. Our conversation moved from one topic to another, until Mycroft brought up the business of trained cormorants.

“I must congratulate you, Sherlock, upon your triumph in the Furniss case, but since then, the details of that investigation have been at the back of my mind. To me, it seems likely that the men behind the plot to incriminate poor Furniss must have had a special connection with the cormorant trainers. They must have been known to them from the very start, when their plan took shape.”

Holmes took the cigar from his mouth and glanced at his brother. “It is not unlikely that the Chinese fishermen have been used by the schemers in other affairs as well. In the days after our trip to Rotherhithe, that query gnawed away at me too, and so I consulted my commonplace books for possible links with other cases. I found at least four thefts that had taken place near the river in that part of London, all of them involving pieces of jewellery being snatched from someone's person in the dark of the night. But the most interesting eventuality was the link with the disappearance of the Ferrers documents three months ago, which would indicate that a trained cormorant was employed by political conspirators already at that date.”

“Sounds to me like a case of a thieving magpie!” I said.

“Yes,” said Holmes, “but one with a slightly more refined taste.”

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