Secret Archives of Sherlock Holmes, The, The (10 page)

‘The Rev. Whittlemore had already taken up his position on the hearth rug where he stood waiting to
receive me, hands clasped behind his back and an expression of considerable disfavour on his face.

‘“Yes?” he inquired, not giving me the courtesy of addressing me by name.

‘I felt like a pupil summoned by the headmaster to his office for transgressing some sacred school rule such as whistling in the corridor or walking into chapel with my hands in my pockets.

‘I said, trying to keep my voice and face as pleasant as I could, “I have been reconsidering that most interesting case which you spoke of yesterday and, after careful thought, I have come to certain conclusions.”

‘“Indeed?” he replied, raising his eyebrows. It was not a very encouraging response but I thought I perceived a softening of his granite features and a brightening of that hard, disapproving stare.

‘I continued, “I cannot, of course, be positive at this early stage of the inquiry but it is my belief that the lady in black, who almost certainly stole the purse, is an accomplished pickpocket who chose your church quite deliberately. However, there are two or three factors concerning this theory which need clarifying. So, if you would be so good as to answer a few additional queries, I should be much obliged.”

‘“What are these factors you refer to?” he asked, regarding me with an expression which, while it could not be exactly described as approving, was considerably more tolerant than before.

‘I pressed on.

‘“Is it possible that this woman could have attended your church before last Sunday?”

‘He considered this question with grave attention and seemed about to deny it when I, fearful of losing the initiative, continued, “Perhaps wearing different clothing or sitting behind a pillar where she might not have easily been seen?”

‘“Yes, that is possible, I suppose,” he grudgingly agreed, “But the child …”

‘“She may not have had the child with her on these other occasions.”

‘“Oh!” He seemed put out by the idea. “Well, I suppose that is possible but I did not particularly notice anybody, although, now you have mentioned it, there was a woman who seemed young and who was wearing a veil, but not widow’s weeds. She sat at the back of the church and slipped out before the rest of the congregation left. I certainly did not shake hands with her and neither did my curate. He was detained at the door.”

‘“Was he indeed? By whom?” I asked, aware suddenly of a more complex plot than I had at first imagined.

‘“By a man; not one of my regular congregation, for I had never seen him before. He was middle-aged, stockily built, wearing spectacles, with grey hair and a moustache. I noticed him particularly because he kept Mr Thorogood talking in the porch for several moments,
about what, I have no idea, but I remember being annoyed at the time. It meant the people behind him were delayed in leaving. I said to Thorogood afterwards, ‘Never let them chat. Just shake hands and wish them good morning or evening, whichever applies. We are not a Friendly Society.’ In fact, I thought I saw him again last Sunday. Seen from the back, he resembled the man who kept Thorogood talking, but as soon as I saw his face, I realised I had been mistaken.”

‘“Really? May I ask what was the difference?”

‘“The second man was much younger. He had dark hair and was clean-shaven. There was also a most distinctive mole on his face which I am sure I would have noticed before. I am rather proud of my ability to remember faces. One has to learn the skill when one has large congregations.”

‘There was an exasperated note in his voice when he made the last remark as if he suspected me of doubting his word and, aware that I was treading on dangerous ground, I changed the subject.

‘“Tell me,” I said, “was last Sunday a special occasion?”

‘“Special? Of course it was! It was our saint’s feast day. That was why there were so many people in church.”

‘“And this special feast day was known about in the parish?”

‘“Certainly! There were announcements posted on the churchyard gates and in the porch itself.” He spoke
sharply as if I had accused him of neglecting his parochial duties.

‘I decided to leave it there, Watson, at least for the time being.’

‘You did not interview the curate again?’

‘No. I thought I had enough information to be going on with for the time being. If more were needed, I could always call back at the rectory when I was more sure of my ground.’

‘What ground?’ I asked, a little puzzled by his reply.

‘The whole of it, of course! Remember, I was then a young man and, to be frank, a little overconfident of my detective skills whereas, in fact, I was very much a greenhorn when it came to certain aspects of crime, especially those connected with the professional criminal and the underworld he, or she, inhabits. Take fraud as an example. I had very little idea of its complexity, the training of its perpetrators, the myriad subterfuges, the countless tricks of the trade. It even had its own language, “magsman”, for example, or “neddy”, or “shofulman”. These are just a few instances of the variety of its vocabulary.
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‘The same applies to pickpockets, or “dippers” as they are known in the trade. In my ignorance, I had
assumed they were all young street urchins, like the Artful Dodger,
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and, although I realised there was more to it than that, at the time I was quite unaware of how much more I had to learn, and quickly, too, if I were to solve the case of the stolen purse to the satisfaction of the Rev. Samuel Whittlemore. And I had to succeed. It would have hurt my
amour propre
exceedingly if I had been forced to admit defeat.

‘So I went back to my lodgings in Montague Street, shut the door firmly and sat down to think over what action I could take to bring the inquiry to a successful conclusion.

‘The facts of the case were easily established. “Lady Dee”, or whatever her real identity might be, had been robbed of a purse containing three guineas in the porch of St Matthias’ Church virtually under the noses of two clergymen and members of the congregation. The “dipper” was apparently a young and attractive widow with a three-year-old child, who had cleverly slit open “Lady Dee’s” reticule and removed the purse.

‘But how had she contrived to carry out this theft? She was holding the child by one hand and carrying her own reticule on the wrist of the other. It seemed impossible.

‘As for apprehending the thief, it seemed quite out of the question. I had no idea who she was or where she
came from, although some aspects of the crime seemed significant and might lead eventually to an arrest. For example, the theft had been carried out in a public place – a church – and among a crowd of people. Was it possible that the thief had deliberately chosen that place and that time? I then remembered that the Rev. Whittlemore had pointed out that the service was a special occasion and had been advertised in the neighbourhood.

‘In addition, there was the stockily built man who was seen among the congregation on both occasions. The changes in his appearance – the moustache, the spectacles, the large mole on his face – suggested theatrical disguises and these alone intrigued me. As a young consulting detective, I was becoming increasingly aware of the usefulness of wigs and greasepaint and all the other paraphernalia that actors use to change their appearance.
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Although I was at the time ignorant of all the tricks “dippers” used, I was aware they frequently acted in pairs, one to carry out the actual theft, the other to take the stolen item when it was passed to him, or her, by the “dipper” and then to disappear from the scene as quickly as possible.

‘I must admit, Watson, that by the time I had thoroughly thought the matter over, I was extremely pleased with the results. I now knew the method that was used by the thief, or rather, thieves, and this knowledge
in turn gave me a brilliantly inspired notion of how I might bring about their arrest.

‘I therefore went to Scotland Yard and put my plan before Inspector Lestrade who, I felt, was in my debt as I had assisted him in solving several inquiries while I was living in Montague Street, the first being a case of forgery.
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We came to an arrangement on a quid pro quo basis, that I would help him over a recent investigation into a burglary while he, in turn, would provide me with the services of a constable, a certain Herbert Pound, a young, intelligent officer who later moved quickly up the ranks and became an inspector. Incidentally, to jump forward in time, it was Pound who arrested Dawkins, the notorious blackmailer who murdered Jenny McBride and threw her body into the Thames. You may recall the case, Watson. The papers were full of it at the time.

‘However, to
revenir à nos moutons
, as the French say, my plan was this. I had no doubt my suspects would strike again using the same method. Criminals on the whole are the most conservative of creatures. They live and operate in the same districts, pursue the same illegal activities, use the same modus operandi to commit the
same types of crime. Once you have identified these similarities, you can follow the criminal’s spoor like that of a wild beast in the jungle, visit his watering holes, identify his lairs and the places where he lies in wait for his prey.

‘The same precept applied to my pickpockets who, for convenience’s sake, I christened the Widow and her Beau, for I was convinced the relationship between the two of them was more than a mere professional fraternity. They would hunt out their prey, not in the streets but in crowded public places, and their preferred choice of victim would be found among the middle classes, who were more likely to be wearing or carrying on their persons objects worth stealing such as gold watches and well-stocked purses and notecases.

‘So, following this theory, I searched the newspapers looking for advertisements for special events that would interest a well-heeled clientele, such as bazaars, charity fairs and fund-raising concerts. You would be amazed, Watson, at how often these events were held, many of them for charitable causes, and how the better class of citizens flocked to them to spend their money on homemade cakes or hand-painted
bookmarkers
for the sake of benighted natives in Borneo, shipwrecked mariners or destitute seamstresses in Shadwell.

‘Knowing that the Widow and her Beau would find such events a valuable source of well-to-do victims, I also surmised that they would almost certainly follow
the same procedure as they had at St Matthias the Less. In other words, they would make a preliminary visit to these places to size up the situation; for example, to discover where the exits were placed and how tight was the general security. They would then return later to carry out the actual robbery. As Pound had other duties beside assisting me, I usually carried out these preliminary forays on my own.

‘Oh, it was such a lonely and dispiriting business, my dear fellow! I cannot tell you the number of times I called in at the various venues where these bazaars were held, usually church halls or similar premises, and how I would wander about for hours at a time, trying to look interested in the goods for sale and occasionally buying something in order not to make myself conspicuous by my miserliness. At the end of five days, I had nothing to show for my trouble except half a dozen handkerchiefs embroidered with the letters S.H. in one corner and a shelf full of hand-painted pots for holding collar studs and small change.

‘I was on the point of abandoning the whole project when, on the last Wednesday of the month, I ran them to earth in an assembly room in Kensington. I was so jubilant that I almost danced a hornpipe on the spot but managed to restrain myself. For there they were! The Beau was grey-haired on this occasion, wearing spectacles and a trim, little moustache. He had the respectable air of a senior bank clerk or the manager of
a superior gentlemen’s outfitters. No one in their right mind would have picked him out as anyone of disrepute, let alone a professional thief.

‘Having discovered the Beau, I now set about finding the Widow among the crowds of eager customers and I soon ran her to earth quietly examining a display of bunches of lavender sold for the benefit of the widows of impecunious missionaries.

‘She was a young woman, petite of figure and modest of bearing, although I could understand why Thorogood was attracted to her. There was something very appealing about her – a shy vulnerability that the black widow’s weeds she was wearing emphasised in a most charming manner, as no doubt they were intended to do. She was accompanied by a little girl of three years, I estimated, who was also dressed completely in black from the top of her dear little bonnet down to the toes of her dainty boots.

‘I stood back and studied them from a distance, trying to solve the riddle of how she had managed to slit open Lady Dee’s reticule and steal the purse it contained when both her black-mittened hands were fully occupied, the left with a reticule of her own, the right with one of the little girl’s hands, which she was holding tightly as if to make sure they were not separated in the crowds that jostled between the stalls.

‘Together they formed a charming pair: a mother and daughter, recently bereaved by the death, no doubt,
of a husband and father, standing there, hand in hand, examining the bunches of lavender with such captivating innocence.

‘For a moment, I too was seduced by the sight of them. How could they possibly be guilty of any misdemeanour? They were the personification of virtue and honesty. And then common sense prevailed. I believe I have mentioned to you before, Watson, that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance money.
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‘So I hardened my heart and left in search of a cab to take me to Herbert Pound at Scotland Yard, with whom I made arrangements there and then to meet him at the Kensington Assembly Rooms the following afternoon, trusting to luck that the Widow and her Beau would keep to their usual schedule.

‘In the event, it was three days later before they reappeared and, having given up hope of seeing them again that day, I was in the middle of apologising profusely to Pound for the waste of his and police time, when we saw them; or rather, Pound saw them first, having recognised them from my description of them. Giving me a nudge with his elbow, he indicated them with a nod of his head. And there they were, the Widow and the child, hand in hand as before, but not examining
the goods for sale on this occasion. Instead, they were following purposefully a few paces behind an elderly lady and her younger companion who were walking slowly between the rows of stalls, the old lady leaning on a stick, an old-fashioned reticule in her other hand, her companion carrying several small parcels, no doubt purchases they had already made.