A Biased Judgement Read online

  No, I had to believe they were safe and proceed under that assumption. Yet I wondered why, once they were safe and secure from the area of danger, they did not attempt to contact me. Surely they could have alerted a policeman and asked for help. But they had not done so. Why?

  I realised it was almost four o’clock so I hurried back to Baker Street.

  Watson still looked fatigued but he was dressed and ready to continue our search.

  “There you are, Holmes,” he greeted me. “We’ve just had some interesting news.”

  “News? Well?” I demanded, more sharply than I ought.

  Stevens said, “I went around to get the horse ready, Mr Holmes and one of the cabbies told me that he was on the Seven Sisters last night around ten or so. He saw a young woman and a boy hurrying up the road. He thought it odd because the young lady had no coat and they were right in the middle of the roadway.”

  “In the middle.? Did he not stop to offer them a fare?”

  “He already had a fare, sir, or I’ve no doubt he’d have done so. After he dropped off his passenger he turned back but the two were gone.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  “I’ll bring the carriage around if you’re ready to leave, sir.”

  “Thank you, Stevens. Please do.”

  After he left I stood at the window looking out at the muddy street.

  “At least we know she got away from the park, Holmes,” Watson said.

  I nodded. “Yes, that’s something. You look done in, Watson. I really think it would be best if you stayed here. I have the Irregulars on the job. To be frank, I do not think there is much we can do.”

  “Can I be of assistance?”

  “Of course! You know how much I rely upon you. But I would be a poor friend indeed if I let you wreck your health-”

  “And I would be a poor friend if I let you go through this alone. Anyway, we have a stop to make.”

  “A stop?”

  “I’ll tell you in the carriage.”

  Stevens was waiting for us. Baker Street was its busy, bustling self again and horses, carriages and people hurried by. One of the new motorised cabs hissed and spat up the street, frightening the horses and causing amazed stares from onlookers. Soon all our traffic will be replaced with motorised vehicles. Well, at least we won’t have to step over manure...

  “Manure,” I cried.

  “I beg your pardon?” Watson looked not only surprised but a little repulsed by my outburst.

  “It’s why they were walking down the middle of the street. They were walking through the manure in order to throw the dogs off their scent. This woman, Watson, this woman!”

  For some reason that realisation lifted my spirits as little had. A woman of such intelligence must be a match for a wretch like Albrecht Porlock. So I told myself.

  As we left Baker Street Watson told me news of a potentially more enlightening sort. Lestrade had paid a visit.

  “Lestrade? Did he have news? What did he say?”

  “He had a report from Billingsgate Markets of a couple of stowaways on a delivery lorry. The officer who investigated didn’t think much of it. There was no sign of the people concerned and he wouldn’t have mentioned at all, except Lestrade had sent very particular word out to all the stations in the city.”

  “Oh well done, well done indeed, Lestrade. We are on our way to Scotland Yard now?”

  “Yes, I thought you’d like to ask him about it yourself. The officer involved will be at the station too.”

  “You have done far better than I, Watson, without even leaving our apartment. My entire morning was a waste. No, there was one thing...”

  I showed him the bloody sleeve and he examined it closely.

  “Well,” he observed. “The good news is this looks like part of a sleeve. A wound to the shoulder is unlikely to be life-threatening. She will be in a lot of pain and there will be some blood loss, but she will be all right. We’ll find her, Holmes.”

  And again my shoulder was squeezed sympathetically. Was it merely the fact that Beatrice was my wife that inspired such consideration, or did I appear distressed? I did not ask. I was not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  Lestrade was puffed with pride when we arrived at Scotland Yard. I refused his offer of tea and sat down to listen to the report of the young policeman from the docks.

  “Tell me every detail, Constable,” I said. “Omit nothing.”

  “Well, sir, I was on duty last night at the market - Billingsgate Market, that is, sir - and a long, weary night it was. The wind and rain were dreadful and there wasn’t so much as a cat out. The weather is raw there on the docks and the stink of fish... “

  “Get to the point!” I snapped.

  Nervously the young man continued. “Anyway, it was around two o’clock and I was doing my rounds outside the arches. A delivery lorry arrived and I exchanged some words with the driver. He was glad to get in out of the rain, he said. Then he added that he thought he’d picked up a couple of unwanted passengers along the way and said I should keep an eye out. ‘Thieves will be glad of an opportunity to slip in here and help themselves,’ he said.”

  “He did not look for them himself along the way?”

  “No sir, he did not. I did ask him but he said with it being such a raw night he just wanted to finish his round and head home. Can’t say as I blame him, sir.”

  “And you looked for the stowaways?”

  “Yes I did, sir. I was very careful and checked every inch of the place. There was no doubt there had been someone on that lorry - you could see where the tarpaulin had been flattened in some places.”

  Lestrade said, “The market is a very large area and if someone didn’t want to be found it would be easy enough to hide.”

  “It would indeed,” I said. “You didn’t check the vaults, I suppose?”

  “I just shone my torch, but I didn’t go down.”

  “And you did not see anyone during the rest of your watch?”

  “No sir.”

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  Lestrade led the man outside and spoke to him for a moment, then he returned and said, “He really should have been more thorough, Mr Holmes. We missed an opportunity there.”

  “Yes, perhaps,” I said. “But it is a very large space and hard for one man to find someone if they do not wish to be found. Well, Watson, I think a visit to the market is in order. Are you game?”

  “Of course!”

  “Do you want me to come with you, Mr Holmes?” Lestrade asked. He seemed torn between enthusiasm to be included and the bane of his duty.

  “We would welcome your company, Lestrade, but I should not keep you from your other cases. Thank you again. Good-bye.”

  At that, Watson and I hurried back to the carriage and set off for the docks. The weather was starting to turn again and the dark clouds rolled over the city turning everything to gloom. At least it was still dry, though it was cold and there was a strong wind.

  The stench of the market hit us almost a mile before we reached the place.

  The building is vast and at that time of day was crowded with fishmongers and customers. I spoke to each of the traders but none of them had seen a woman and a boy.

  I led Watson down to the vault. The homeless and disadvantaged often took shelter here, hiding from the elements and the unkindness of the outside world. Today was no exception. A scurry of footsteps greeted us as the occupants hid.

  “My name is Sherlock Holmes,” I called. “I am looking for someone. I will pay a shilling for good information.”

  At that, three men and a woman slithered forth from their hiding place. “Show us the money,” said the first man.

  I jangled the change in my pockets. “Not till you tell me what I want to know.”<
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  “What is it, then?” said the woman. “We’ll tell you whatever you like.”

  “There was a woman and a boy came here during the night. She was wearing a black gown and she was injured. The boy is about thirteen years of age, wearing a black pair of trousers and a blue jacket.”

  “They were here,” one of the men said. “Came just after the third bell rang. They hid in the back there. We heard the bobby look about up above and he shone his torch down here but didn’t come down.”

  “And the woman and the boy, are they still here?”

  “Naw,” the youngest man said. “They slept a bit then left just as the market was starting to open up to the public.”

  “Did they speak to any of you? Tell you anything.”

  “She did,” an old woman said stepping out of the shadows. “She said I was to give a message to Mr Holmes should he come looking and he’d reward me. That’s what she did say.”

  I appraised the woman and shone my torch onto her face. She seemed genuine enough. While I appraised her, she appraised me in return.

  “What did she say? You shall have your reward. All of you. Now, tell me.”

  “She asked if I’d like to make some money. I said I would of course. Then she said I was to keep watch for a Mr Sherlock Holmes. I would know him as a tall, thin gentleman, dressed like a toff. She said likely he’d have another man with him, a stocky chap. That would be you, then,” she said to Watson.

  He bowed formally. “Your servant, ma’am.”

  “Well, now, ain’t you got nice manners?”

  “And the message?”

  She thought a moment. “How much is it worth then?”

  “Half a crown now. If I find the lady and if she is unhurt another half-crown then.”

  “Here, here, what about us?” demanded the others.

  “A shilling for each of you, as I promised. But now, my good woman, tell me what she said.”

  “She said to tell you she was all right. That she had the stuff you wanted and was keeping it safe. She said there wasn’t no one she could trust and she was going to make her way back to Baker Street but not till after dark... It wasn’t true though,” the old woman added after a brief pause. “About being all right. She was hurt. She had scratches all over and her gown was torn. She had her arm wrapped up but she was still bleeding and she walked with a limp. The lad - Billy, he said his name was - was right worried about her. He wanted to stay till you got here, but that bobby put the wind up her right proper and she’d have none of it. She said for you to go home and she’d be there soon as she could.”

  “Thank you, my good woman.” I handed her a crown and gave a shilling to each of the others. They cheered and bowed and offered us any other help we might desire.

  Watson said, “Come Holmes, we must let the Inspector know we have news. Good day to you.”

  We hurried back up the steps to the main floor. After the stench of misery in the vaults below it was a relief to breathe even the fishy stink of the market.

  “Very dangerous waving money about in a place like that, Holmes.”

  “Calm yourself, Watson. I knew what I was doing. Well, I will say I am very relieved to know they found shelter. I am worried about her being injured though. Is it dangerous for her to have lost a lot of blood, Watson? Tell me truthfully.”

  “It’s not good, Holmes. If she loses too much blood, she could pass out...”

  “She could die.”

  “Yes. But she was still well enough to walk around this morning and she had tied off the wound. She’s a bright girl, Holmes. She said she’ll meet us at Baker Street; I have no doubt she will. Indeed, she may be waiting for us already.”

  She was not waiting for us. We were greeted at the door by a very unhappy Mrs Hudson. She shook her head at the sight of me and Watson - you’d think she’d be used to us by now - and handed me a note. Mycroft had called and left word that he had men placed at every port from Scotland to Cornwall. No sign of our prey yet, but it was only a matter of time.

  As soon as Watson and Stevens had eaten supper, I asked our reliable coachman to return to Scotland Yard and tell Lestrade to call off the search.

  “Are you sure, Holmes?” Watson said. “It might be helpful to have someone keep an eye out. After all, she is hurt and it won’t be easy for her to get back here.”

  “I know, Watson. Don’t you think I know?”

  “Then why?”

  “Use your head, man! She cowered in that vault when a policeman came by. Why didn’t she ask him for help?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of that. Why didn’t she, Holmes?”

  “Because those papers she took from Porlock’s safe undoubtedly list some members of her majesty’s police force as members of that vile organisation. Beatrice cannot be sure who to trust and so she will trust none of them.”

  “Good gracious, Holmes, surely men who have sworn to protect the people of this island couldn’t be in league with such evil. And yet I cannot deny the likelihood of what you say. But it means something else too - it means that Lady Beatrice is able to concentrate on reading and is able to reason. That’s encouraging.”

  “Do you want me to bring any message to your brother, Mr Holmes?” Stevens asked.

  “Yes, thank you, Stevens. I would be obliged if you would update my brother on everything we have learned so far. Then return here, if you would.”

  He hurried off. I stood at the window and looked down into the dark street. New rain battered down and the road was awash. In the distance, in the direction of the river, there was a lightning flash and a roll of thunder. Even supposing my wife had been well enough to read and reason at Billingsgate, that was seven hours ago. How much blood had she lost in the interim? Why did she not come? The storm covered the city in darkness. Surely she could have found a cab to take her here. Did she doubt me? No, of course she didn’t. She had known I would trace her to the vaults and had taken care to leave me word. No, she had done admirably to this point. I needed to have faith that she would continue to justify my belief in her.

  December 6th, 1897

  The wind has died and the house no longer rattles. Outside, the street is silent, save the drips and splashes of the steady rain. Night is upon us.

  And still she has not come.

  Watson ought to be in bed but he will not leave me.

  “Why don’t you at least lie down, Holmes?” he says. “I can sit up and wait if you like. You’re fairly done in.”

  “I couldn’t sleep, Watson. But don’t let me keep you up; you haven’t had as much rest as you ought. I have already compromised the health of one of my friends; I will be damned if I harm the other.”

  “Come, you make too much of it,” Watson said. “Your wife is an intelligent and resourceful woman. If anyone can survive these difficult nights it is she. She’ll come. Before the night is out, I’m sure she’ll come. She gave her word, Holmes.”

  I have never known such agonising indecision.

  Beatrice promised to come to Baker Street so I ought to be here to greet her, but why does she take so long? Is she hurt? In danger? Should I go and search the streets once more? No, the Irregulars are scouring the city. They can cover more ground than one man alone. And what if she comes just minutes after I leave?

  So I sit and I wait. Watson fell asleep in the armchair half an hour ago and his snores are now forming a beat to Stevens’ own nocturnal noises.

  I am still here, still sitting by the window looking out into the street, jumping at the sound of every carriage that passes. There are few enough at this hour. All I hear is the rain, not so intense now, but constant, and the chimes of the interminably passing hours.

  Around three o’clock I could stand it no more. I put on my coat and was headed down the stairs when a knock came to the f
ront door. I fled to answer it. There stood Tommy, wet through and weary.

  “I found them, sir,” he said. “You’d better come.”

  Halfway down Baker Street, I thought I should have brought Watson, but I couldn’t bring myself to disturb another night’s sleep for the poor man. No. She was found. All would be well.

  She was in Park Square West. I would not have recognised her. Billy sat on the grass holding her in his arms. He was shivering uncontrollably.

  “Well done, boys, well done indeed!” I cried.

  I knelt down and called her name. Her eyes opened and after a moment focused. She managed a smile and said, hoarsely, “Dear Sherlock... I knew you’d find me.”

  I picked her up and carried her. The two Irregulars trailed behind.

  “Tommy,” I said. “See if you can find a cab. It’s not a long way, but Billy can’t walk much further, I think.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the boy and he scurried off. We continued to walk back towards Baker Street, I carrying my exhausted and drenched wife in my arms. I swaddled my coat around her and held her close to me. I could feel ice where her cheek touched mine, and my heart failed.

  Tommy flagged down a cab and we all bundled in. Beatrice’s head rested on my shoulder and I found myself utterly mute in the face of her heroism.