A Biased Judgement Read online

  “Ah, Albrecht Porlock...

  “But where is your friend Hacker, Smiley? It’s rare to see you separated from one another.”

  “’e’s got another job, does ’erb.”

  “Another job?” Some presentiment sent icicles down my spine. I forced myself to stay calm. “Well? Who else does Porlock want murdered?”

  “Not Mr Porlock, Mr ’olmes. It was another gentleman. Though perhaps gentleman’s too strong a word... It was summat I overheard... You’ll speak for me at trial, Mr ’olmes, sir? Tell ’em I never lay an’and on them two in Notting’ill. As God’s my witness, I never.”

  “Yes, yes, if your information is helpful. Now speak!”

  “There’s a fellow calls ’isself Winters though if that’s ’is real name, I’m a Dutchman. ’e was there with Mr Porlock when ’erb and me arrived. We ’ad to wait in the ’all until they was done. They was talkin’ all soft, like, but I got good ears. What makes me so good with safes, innit?”

  “And what were their words? Exactly, mind.”

  “You’ll put in a good word for me at the assizes, Mr ’olmes? Say I was ’elpful. They’ll ’ang me for sure if you don’t speak for me.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. “But Porlock and Winters: what did they say?”

  “Winters, I’ve seen ’im before. Evil bugger ’e is, beggin’ your pardon. Anyway, ’e said ’e’d do Mr Porlock’s job if only Mr P would do ’im a favour first. ’e said if a lady could be got rid of all her money would go to ’er aunt’s ‘usband, and this ’usband was Winters’ own brother.

  “Then ’e said it would have all gone according to plan if you, Mr ’olmes, ’and’t meddled. ’e said ’e really didn’t want to kill the lady, but ’e ’ad no choice now. And Mr Porlock, ’e said ’e was right fed up with your meddling, and it was time to fix you for once and for all.

  “So this Winters fellow leaves and me and ’erb was brought in and given our orders. I was to keep you stood ’ere so ’e could shoot you and ’erb was to go to Wimpole Street to ‘teach ’er a proper lesson,’ that’s what ’e said.

  “I don’t ’old wiv ’urting a Lady. I got my standards. Might not be the same as yours, Mr ’olmes, but I got ’em right enough.”

  I thought my heart would stop in horror. Stammering in my haste. I said to Billy, “With all haste, find me a cab.” As he ran to do my bidding, I turned back to the odious creature. “You, Smiley,” I said. “Have you told me everything? Anything you tell me could save you from the noose.”

  He gibbered, tears and snot coursed down his sallow face even as he still grinned. “As God’s my witness, Mr ’olmes, I’d tell you if I knew.”

  “All right,” I said. It was too much to hope for more. “Sergeant-”

  “Wait!” Smiley cried. “I did ’ear summat, I just remembered. Don’t know what it means, but Mr Porlock was saying about it would ’ave to be done before she went to the island and it would be a proper Christmas treat for ’is friends in dutch-land.”

  “Dutchland? Do you mean Deutchland?”

  “That might ’ave been it,” he said. “That’s all I know. It is truly, Mr ’olmes.”

  “Very well. You may have saved your skin, Smiley. I shall remember your help in this matter when you come to trial. I have no time to spare now, but be assured I shall speak to you later.”

  “God bless you, Mr ’olmes, for a gentleman,” he cried. Several constables arrived and took him away.

  I leaped into the waiting cab and directed Billy to come with me. I gave the driver Beatrice’s address. “With the greatest of haste,” I said. “A woman’s life may be at stake.”

  The carriage clattered through the streets, sending theatre-goers leaping from its path.

  My thoughts went through a series of acrobatic leaps and landings. I was right but for once there was no satisfaction in the realisation... I had correctly surmised Winters’ true identity. A man in debt, desperate to find money. He had tried to marry a fortune, but I had prevented him. Now he saw his only alternative was her death so her aunt’s husband would get everything. No doubt he thought it a poor second, but at least it meant he would be able to pay his debts...

  And the lady, oh dear God, the lady, the lady, the lady...

  The carriage lurched dangerously as we took a corner. It had started to rain and the road was deadly. Some part of me was aware that Billy was holding on to the door for dear life. The thought was an intrusion... I must concentrate.

  But the next thought made me ill: the artist’s wife in Notting Hill, the butchery to which she had been subjected... Dear God if Hacker harmed Beatrice...

  I felt the bile rise in my mouth and forced it down.

  Think of something concrete: Winters is Wallace Summerville. You know now; all the suspicions have been confirmed. You have a witness in the form of Harold Smiley.

  Smiley eating an apple as Hacker slashed and stabbed...

  Oh God, Beatrice...

  We sped along the terrible roads and at last turned onto New Cavendish Street. There were two policemen outside her home on Wimpole Street. Oh yes, I’d asked Lestrade to post someone for the lady’s protection... I’d quite forgotten. Bless the man for keeping his word.

  After my anxiety in getting to her, I was utterly disconcerted to find an utterly relaxed, even giddy atmosphere prevailing at my fiancée’s home.

  Stevens waved to me with a bandaged hand as I leaped from the carriage. I ordered the cab driver to wait, and left Billy sitting there too.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Is Beatrice safe?”

  “Perfectly safe,” Stevens said. “Thanks to these good gentlemen.”

  “Just doing our duty, sir,” said one pimple-faced officer. (Are policemen now being recruited from the nursery?)

  “What happened?” I demanded.

  Stevens said, “We got home and everything seemed quiet. The lady said she’d stay up for a bit and bade me goodnight. I was going to just go to bed but your caution was ringing in my ears, Mr Holmes, and I thought I’d check the house first.

  “I found a broken pane in the basement and, using your method, sir, I followed the footprints. That’s when I found this evil brute hiding in the pantry. Leaped on me with a knife and I shouted for help.

  “Lady Beatrice let in these fine gentlemen and we eventually got the villain subdued, though it took all three of us.”

  “The lad took a slashing to his hand, but no real damage done,” said the police officer.

  “And the lady is safe?” I said.

  “Quite safe,” replied the other officer. “This young man deserves a medal, Mr Holmes. You should have seen him wrestling with that brute. Young Mr Stevens will be a fine addition to the Force. A big arrest to his credit and him not even an officer yet.”

  Stevens beamed. Well, I suppose he should.

  “And Hacker? Where is he now?”

  Stevens said, “Officer Bradstreet here called for a car and the villain’s on his way to the Assizes, not ten minutes ago.”

  An attempt against Beatrice, Hacker detected, disarmed and arrested, and all of it done without me. Well.

  “I’m sure the lady would like to see you, Mr Holmes,” said Stevens. “Though she’s not in the best temper.”

  “A spirited lady,” Bradstreet said.

  “It’s a filthy night,” I said. “The boy Billy is in the cab, Stevens. Will you see he gets something hot to drink? And ask the cabby to wait.”

  “I’m happy to take you wherever you want to go, Mr Holmes,” Stevens said.

  “Thank you, Stevens. If you feel well enough, I shall certainly need you. But I shall need the cab as well.”

  I got to the door and turned. “Bradstreet? Are you related to Inspector Bradstreet?”

  “His son, sir,” said the man, prou
dly.

  His son? Surely Bradstreet - my Bradstreet - is hardly old enough to have a grown son. I really have become the Elder Statesman.

  What a loathsome thought.

  Beatrice was in the library drinking a brandy. She poured me a glass and as she handed it to me, said, “Well, you have heard all our news? Vile creatures hiding in my pantry and policemen at my door... I assume that’s not your own blood behind your left ear?”

  “It is not,” I said and wiped at it with a handkerchief. “It is what remains of an unfortunate gentleman by the name of Isaiah Collins.”

  “I am sorry for the gentleman. Is he all right?”

  “He is dead.”

  She stared at me in silence. “So a good man is dead while I am perfectly safe. Do you know three men came to my defence? Stevens had his hand sliced by the wretch. I, of course, could not be trusted with the information that I was at risk nor the measures taken to protect me.”

  “It is fortunate that you were so well protected,” I replied. “I shudder to think what the consequences might have been otherwise.”

  “A visit from a drunken, abusive Wallace Summerville I was prepared for,” she said. “But a knife-wielding killer? I do not understand why someone would hate me so much...” She downed the contents of the glass in one gulp and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand like a schoolchild.

  “It was not hate,” I said. “But greed. Desperation, even.”

  “You know who was behind this? Greed... you can only mean the Summervilles. Has it come to this? They hired someone to kill me?”

  “You should sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit down. I’m too angry.”

  I smiled. She said, “Well? I amuse you?”

  I laughed out loud. “I was thinking any other woman in the nation would be reduced to tears and terror. My Beatrice becomes pugnacious. It is delightfully refreshing.”

  A brief smile flickered at the corners of her lips but she fought it back. “Don’t make me laugh,” she said. “I want to stay angry.”

  She really is too delightful for words.

  After a few more moments pacing she stopped and sat down, facing me. “Greed?” she prompted.

  “You remember I told you I was looking for a fellow called Winters who had amassed considerable gambling debts? Well, I have suspected for some time that Winters is Wallace Summerville.

  “Today he was seen at the home of Albrecht Porlock, the man who is, I believe, the head of that deadly organisation. Summerville agreed to do something for Porlock if he, in turn, would arrange your death.”

  “Good God!”

  “It is distressing, I know. But perhaps it helps to realise he is not acting out of malice but out of desperation. I cannot say why there is a distinction, but I believe there is one.”

  “Yes. Yes, I think so too.” She smiled at me and suddenly I felt warm. “I know this will come as a great surprise to you, Holmes,” she said. “But you’re a great comfort.”

  We sat quietly, each occupied with our own thoughts. The November rain beat against the window panes.

  After some moments I said, “I must ask you to pack a bag. May I use your telephone?”

  “You may of course use the telephone and anything else you wish, but not until you’ve explained why I am to pack.”

  “I cannot risk another attempt against you. I am going to arrange for you to stay at Windsor until the wedding.”

  “No, Holmes, absolutely not. It is out of the question.”

  “Hush and listen. There are several good reasons why I need you to do this. Be still, and hear me out.

  “This man Porlock means to make an attempt against the queen and he plans to act before Her Majesty goes to Osborne House for the holidays on the seventeenth of next month. If you are in the Castle for a few days you can keep watch; be my eyes and ears. It allows me some time to put another plan into motion.

  “Secondly, I need you to be safe. I find myself worrying about your well-being and that is distracting. No, I understand that concern is not of your making, but you must know it is beyond my control.

  “I need you to do this, Beatrice. And there’s more.”

  She took a deep breath and slowly released it. It sounded like steam hissing from a kettle. I was subjecting her to a lot of information very quickly but she seemed to be following me. I continued. “I need you to help me with something, but it could be dangerous. Very, very dangerous.”

  Her eyes sparkled and she said, “You can count on me.”

  It wasn’t until much later I realised we’d been holding each other’s hands throughout this entire conversation.

  20

  November 27th, 1897

  A little after midnight, my future wife and I were in her carriage being whisked through the streets of London back to Windsor Castle.

  Billy, happy because of the hot soup Beatrice’s cook had given him and the two shillings I had added to his sixpence, took the cab to Mycroft’s Pall Mall apartments with a letter updating him on the evening’s events, and then back to Finsbury Park with new instructions for the Irregulars.

  The streets were quiet now, and only the destitute and the drunks still wandered about.

  “What does the queen make of all this?” Beatrice asked.

  “I did not speak to her directly. Sir Arthur Bigge did not want her to be disturbed. I have no doubt she will have many questions.”

  “Does she know about the plot against her? What may I say?”

  “She does not yet know anything of the danger and Sir Arthur Bigge has asked that we say nothing for the moment. If all goes well, we can tell her after the holidays.”

  “Surely she ought to be put on her guard?”

  “I agree, but it is not up to me.”

  She frowned and, after a moment’s deep thought, said, “I suppose it is for the best. And no point in worrying her about Summerville either, but you do realise if the queen knew of his involvement in this assassination plan she would have him arrested and you might not have to marry me.”

  “I don’t think there’s any way of getting out of the marriage now. We are committed. Come, Beatrice, it may not be so odious as all that.

  “As to your erstwhile suitor: We do not as yet have any real evidence against Summerville. He was seen entering Porlock’s house, but that alone means nothing. He could argue it was merely a social call. It will take Smiley’s statement of what was said between the two men if we are to make a charge stick. When it comes down to it, Wallace Summerville is from a well-respected family and his brother is a knight. Were he just a common man we might be able to have him arrested regardless, but he still has powerful friends. We must proceed carefully. It is, in part, why I need you to do that job we discussed.”

  By the time I had seen Beatrice safely ensconced at Windsor and got back to the city it was 5am.

  Stevens was happy to drive me and despite the hour did not seem fatigued. Not even the weather, which was filthy, seemed to dampen his mood. He would have chatted quite merrily if I had given him even the slightest encouragement. Fortunately, he forced himself into silence. I sat with my chin on my chest and my hat pulled down around my ears. The clatter of the carriage as we wound through the empty streets helped me to think.

  Mycroft was none too pleased at being awakened at such an “unholy” hour. I built a fire in his living room as he dressed.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any breakfast?” he said morosely as he joined me.

  “I fear not. Please, Mycroft, sit down and let me tell you what’s been happening.”

  “I got your note. That urchin brought it here a few hours ago. So Winters is our old friend Wallace Summerville? Well, well.”

  “I sent word to Lestrade to keep watch on his lodgings. The police are not to enter unt
il I am present. I cannot risk them destroying evidence through their clumsiness.”

  “I must call Bigge and arrange a meeting to discuss the Queen’s security.” He frowned and I could see he was already reviewing those details in his mind.

  “Bigge prefers we say nothing to Her Majesty for the moment,” I said. “With the anniversary of Prince Albert’s death in a couple of weeks and the state of her health, he does not want Her Majesty to be burdened unnecessarily.”

  “Hmm... I will speak to him in any case. Windsor is as secure as any other royal dwelling, which means it is difficult to penetrate but not impossible.”

  “I agree, but your word will undoubtedly carry more weight than mine.”

  I went on to tell Mycroft about the Queen’s approval of my engagement to her god-daughter, the attempt against Beatrice, and that I had placed her in Windsor.

  “She has been given instructions to say only that I want to ensure her safety; she is to say nothing at all of Hacker or Summerville. While she is there, she can also keep an eye on the queen’s well-being.”

  He stared at me in astonishment and for several seconds said nothing. Then he spluttered, “She’s just a woman, Sherlock. No, no, I understand she is exceptional, but you cannot think she can circumvent an assassination.”

  “She needs only observe,” I said. “And I can attest that her talents in that area are quite exceptional. Besides, she knows Summerville and she will be on her alert as soon as she sees him.”

  Mycroft went to his cupboard and pulled out a tin of biscuits. He offered me one and I shook my head.

  He sat again, sinking heavily into his big armchair and pulling a heavy tartan rug close around him. The fire was taking a long time to catch; I poked it again.

  Nibbling on the iced biscuit Mycroft said, “We cannot be certain Porlock will trust to Summerville alone. I would be very surprised if he doesn’t have a back-up plan already organised.”

  “I have thought of that. It makes getting into Porlock’s house even more urgent.”

  “There isn’t much time, Sherlock. What do you have planned?”

  “I shall see Hacker and Smiley and get a formal statement from both of them. That should be enough to get a warrant for Summerville’s arrest. With any luck, he’ll tell us what he knows about Porlock. But if that plan fails, I have an alternative which is already in motion.”