The Big Book of Sherlock Holmes Stories (84 page)

PRAGMATISM

SOME PARODIES ARE
better than others. One is usually able to recognize a good one from a bad one. However, in the six-part serial “Herlock Shomes at It Again,” it is nearly impossible to be absolutely certain whether the inconsistencies are simply slovenly or are deliberate attempts at humor.

Clearly, the anonymous author intentionally ended one chapter with the notice “Next Week: An entirely new set of characters and another thrilling installment,” then began the next chapter with the notice “Characters: Same as last week.”

Similarly, one would like to think the author was clear-minded enough to have knowingly listed Dr. Hotsam in the cast of characters, only to have Shomes's assistant appear in the narrative as Dr. Plotsam, Dr. Flotsam, and Dr. Hotsam at various times. I am less convinced that one of the cast of characters, Harold Fitz Gibbons, who never appears in the story, was a deliberate omission.

As with many Sherlock Holmes parodies, this is an utterly silly story—and incomprehensible to boot. Why reprint it, you might ask. Not an unfair question. It is a rare story from an obscure publication, so it is possible that this is the first opportunity you have ever had to read it. Only you can decide if this is a good thing.

“Herlock Shomes at It Again” was first published in six issues of
The Wipers Times
(London, Herbert Jenkins, February 12–May 1, 1916); it was first published in book form in
The Wipers Times
, edited by F. J. Roberts and J. H. Pearson (London, Herbert Jenkins, 1918).

CHARACTERS:

Bill Banks—A corpse.

Lizzie Jones—A Questionable Person Living at Hooge.

Harold Fitz Gibbons—Squire of White Chateau (in love with Honoria).

Intha Pink—A pioneer (in love with himself).

Honoria Clarenceaux—The Heroine (in love with Pink).

Herlock Shomes.

Dr. Hotsam, R.A.M.C.

Chapter 1

Shot in the Culvert

THE WIND WAS
howling round the rugged spires of the Cloth Hall, and the moon shone down on the carriage bringing the elite of the old town to the festivities arranged to celebrate the 73rd term of office of Jacques Hallaert, the venerable mayor of Typers. Also the same moon shone down on the stalwart form of Intha Pink, the pioneer. He sighed as he passed the brilliantly lighted scene of festivity, thinking of days gone by and all that he had lost. As he plodded his way, clad in gum boots, thigh, pairs one, he soliloquised aloud thus: “What a blooming gime. They gives me a blooming nail, they gives me a blooming 'ammer, and then they tells me to go and build a blooming dug-out.” At that moment Intha fell into a crump-hole, and then continued his soliloquies thus:

(To be Continued.)

Chapter 2

Shomes and His Methods

CHARACTERS
:—
SAME AS LAST WEEK
.

SYNOPSIS:

Intha Pink, a pioneer, while passing the Cloth Hall, Typers, the scene of a dinner given to commemorate the 73rd year of office of the mayor of that town, falls into a crump-hole. Here we left him.

We now leave to the imagination of our gentle reader the nature of Intha's soliloquies in the crump-hole, and turn to a series of tragic events which were occurring in the Denin Road. It being feast night in Typers, the road was surging with a merry crowd pushing and jostling their way, eager to taste the delights the town had to offer, but there were, amongst that motley throng, two people who were destined to play principal parts in the most profound and murky mystery that had ever baffled the aged and doddering
constabulary of Typers. One was Honoria, the fair but anemic daughter of the shell-fish merchant Hooge, and the other was—Shomes!

That night the shell-fish merchant, having run out of vinegar, had despatched his fair daughter to Typers to procure a fresh supply, and all had gone well with her until reaching the Culvert, she, catching sight of the lifeless form of Bill Banks, gazing placidly at the sky, had given three heart-rendering shrieks and fallen in the dark and silent waters of the Bellewarde Bec—the waters flowed on—but this was not to pass unnoticed. Shomes was in the district, and whipping out his vermoral sprayer with his right hand, he gave three rounds rapid into his forearm, while with his left he proceeded to tune up his violin. Dr. Plotsam, who had been walking in his shadow, hearing the haunting strains of the violin, rushed forward to his side, exclaiming “What is it, Shomes?” Shomes, with that grandiloquent gesture for which he is justly famed, said “You know my methods, Flotsam!” and fell in also. The waters of the Bec flowed on.

(To be Continued.)

N.B. Next week:—A fresh supply of characters, and another thrilling instalment.

Chapter 3

The Mystery of the Closed Gate

CHARACTERS
:—
SAME AS LAST WEEK
.

SYNOPSIS:

Intha Pink, a pioneer, while passing the Cloth Hall, Typers, the scene of a dinner given to commemorate the 73rd year of office of the mayor of that town, falls into a crump-hole, where he is left soliloquizing. In the meantime, whilst a merry throng is making its way along the Denin Road towards Typers, Honoria, the fair but anemic daughter of the shell-fish merchant of Hooge, whilst passing by the Culvert, catches sight of the lifeless form of Bill Banks, and forthwith falls into the Bellewarde Bec, the waters of which flow on. This incident is noticed by Shomes and Dr. Flotsam, who were passing by the Culvert at the time. They both thereupon fall into the Bec, the waters of which continue to flow on.

We now return to our friend Intha Pink, who, having soliloquized for exactly 13 minutes without once pausing to take breath or repeating himself, decides to extricate himself from the crump-hole into which he had so inadvertently fallen. While thus engaged, the silvery chimes of the clock on the Cathedral spire burst forth into song announcing the magic hour of zero p.m. “Bother!” ejaculated Pink in true Pioneer fashion. “At a quarter past zero I promised to meet Lizzie at Fell Hire Corner. I must indeed get a move on, otherwise she will be wroth.”

With that he picked up his hammer and his nail from out of the crump-hole and proceeded at a rapid pace to the corner of the Square where, after having his boots polished and some of the mud brushed from his clothes by Bertie, the boss-eyed boot boy, he went off at the double along the road leading to the Denin Gate.

He had not proceeded very far when perforce his pace had to slacken on account of the density of the merry crowd advancing in the opposite direction in close column of humps, all bent on spending a merry evening at the Cloth Hall. But Pink's mission was not a gay one, neither was he in a merry mood; a deep plot was hatching in the Pioneer's fertile brain in which, let it be whispered, lovely Lizzie was to play a not unimportant part.

On reaching Trueside Corner he entered the little shop kept by Sandy Sam, the suspected spy and sandbag merchant. “Evening, Sam,” said Pink. “What, you, Intha!” replied the old man. “What's in the air?” “Whizzbangs and air-crumps mostly, tonight” answered the other, “but I'm in a hurry. I want a good sandbag.”

This article having been produced, and approved of, Intha paid the bill with a worthless check on Fox's, and placing his hammer and nail in the sandbag and, slinging the latter over his shoulder again, took to the road; such was his hurry that, generally observant as he was, he did not notice the shadowy figure of old Sam following
in his wake. When within fifty yards of the Denin Gate the suspected spy took his S.O.S. signal from out of his pocket, unwrapped same, and hurled it into the air, this being almost immediately answered by three piteous howls from the direction of the gatekeeper's dug-out, where Tim Squealer, the sandbag merchant's foster son resided. Intha, still intent on his night's work, hurried on until he reached the Gate, where he fell over a cunningly concealed trip wire. At the same instant a soft, buzzing sound was heard, increasing in volume and ending in a loud crash! The Pioneer was trapped! The Denin Gate had closed!

(To be Continued).

Next Week: An entirely new set of characters, and another thrilling instalment.

Chapter 4

CHARACTERS
:—
SAME AS LAST WEEK
.

Returning to our friend Shomes who has, for some time, been cooling his ardor in the Bec, during which period he has contrived to make the acquaintance of Honoria, his fair companion in distress. Breathing undying love and vowing to save her, he hoists her on one shoulder, his vermoral sprayer on the other, and commenced his itinerary towards Messrs. Crump, Hole and Co's circular scoop warehouse abutting on Hordon Goose Farm. Bending low with his precious burden, Shomes' mind begins to wander and so does his foot as he comes a terrific “purler” over a loose duck-board. Buzzing Bill, the Breezy Butcher of Bellewarde, witnessing the disaster, and being especially solicitous for the safety of his customers, shouts in stentorian terms “beat it for the tall timbers.”

Meanwhile Intha Pink, having extricated himself from the disaster which overtook him at the Denin Gate, reappeared safely with his sandbag, hammer, and nail intent on reaching the trysting place where Lizzie is awaiting him.

“What of the night?” is his kindly remark to Vera, one of the “Cinema” girls, who has surreptitiously, tentatively, and furtively, dodged the managerial eye, and had slipped out for a breath of fresh air.

“How you startled me, Intha!” she said. “Are you going to meet
that
woman again?”

“Ah! Vera, to what lengths will your jealously lead you?” said Intha chidingly.

At that moment Silent Percy arrived unheralded on the scene. “Poor Vera,” said Intha, as he crawled out of the ditch and once more gathered up his hammer and nail, “she never would have been happy anyhow.”

While this tender scene is being enacted, Chumley Marchbanks, the knut of Bond Street, having strolled down Grafton Street to pay a visit to the new night club “des Ramparts,” which had sprung into fame very recently, inadvertently, and owing to the inadequate lighting, took the yellow bus at Fell Hire Corner and found himself in Bellewarde. All might yet have gone well with him had he not fallen over Crook, the Cambridge Cracksman, who after emptying his pockets pushed him into the Bec. The waters flowed on.

(To be Continued).

Next week: A new set of characters, and another thrilling instalment.

Chapter 5

CHARACTERS:—SAME AS BEFORE
.

Snowflakes were falling heavily around Hordon Goose Farm, where we left Herlock with the fair Honoria. Breezy Bill, the Bouncing Butcher of Bellewarde, had just been hit in the neck by a whizzbang when the chug-chug of a motorcycle was heard. “Can it be Intha?” cried Honoria, while Shomes proceeded to tune his violin. “No!” roared he, as a motor despatch rider came round Fell Hire Corner. “News at last from my Baker Street Squad.”

Hurriedly tearing open and reading the despatch, the true Shomes stood revealed in all his strength and method. Seizing his vermoral sprayer, he rapidly squirted an enormous dose into his forearm. Just then the voice of the faithful Hotsam was heard calling “Where are you,
Shomes?” “Here” replied the great detective, rapidly emptying his revolver at the approaching figure. “Thank goodness I've found you at last, but you nearly got me that time,” said Hotsam admiringly. “Never mind, better luck next time,” said Shomes, sotto voce, to Honoria. Aloud, “To work, there's mischief afoot. Thank heaven I attended that two day course at the Technical School. I shall now be up to all their dodges.” Drawing a searchlight from his pocket, he read the fateful message:

Division moves tomorrow at dawn AAA. You will assemble all characters at zero fifteen outside Cloth Hall, Typers, P 13 D 1-1 in time to catch the underground for
*——
——at twenty AAA. On arrival there steal any rations you can find, and carry on with serial AAA
—
Editor. (
*
Censored
—
ED)

“At last!” shouted the great sleuth. “At last!” shouted the others, as they busily collected the usual paraphernalia of the great man. “Hotsam,” cried Shomes, “send off the orderly sergeant at once to warn all Characters. Then meet me at the Denin Gate.” With these words he disappeared into the gloom and a crump-hole. All these arrangements having been made, Hotsam and Honoria continued their journey down the Denin Road, arriving in Typers just in time to meet Intha Pink before he left for his nightly work. Having rapidly given him a summary of all that had happened, they went into a neighboring estaminet to await the fateful hour of zero.

(Another long and thrilling instalment next week).

Chapter 6

Shot in the Culvert

CHARACTERS:—SAME AS LAST WEEK
.

Shomes and Co. having arrived at their new sphere of action speedily got going again. Intha Pink seized his hammer and nail and fell off the bus when near Hyde Park Corner. Meanwhile Hotsam had disappeared into the darkness, on a mysterious errand, taking the fair Honoria with him. Lizzie, as she saw his stalwart form disappearing from her sight, cried, “Do not leave me Herbert,” but a curse was her only answer. In despair she threw herself in the way of a passing whizzbang and disappeared from our tale. Intha crept rapidly towards his objective, and had almost succeeded in attaining his end, when a machine gun spat in his direction. Completely perforated: yet he smiled happily, and murmured “It's a blightie.”

Here we leave him and turn to a series of eventful happenings on the banks of the Douve. Hotsam, still dragging Honoria and perspiring freely, had managed to reach the lifeless form of Bill Banks, when a 17 in. shell detonated between them. Hissing out “We are discovered” he hurriedly grabbed Honoria and made off. But not far. Alas! His foot slipped, and with his burden he fell into the turbid waters below. The waters flowed on. Shomes, appearing on the scene some hours after, rapidly began looking for clues. Having found some, the great detective started off, but too late, the gas was on him, and he had left his vermoral sprayer in the bus.

And so ends this remarkable history of persistence and sagacity. The great enemy of the criminal is now only a name, but his methods must always remain one of the marvels of the criminal history of our nation.

THE END

[N.B. Should there be a few characters not dealt with in this Chapter the reader must understand that they all met their deaths in the liquid fire attack. —The Author.]