Sherlock Holmes and the Chinese Junk Affair and Other Stories (9 page)

Holmes replied, ‘I agree, Prime Minister. It was planned over a long time and masterfully carried out.’

Sir Simon leaned forward and tipped his drinking glass upside down to indicate it was empty. One of the other Cabinet members passed over the decanter. When all the glasses had been recharged, the Prime Minister asked:

‘What I want to hear, Mr Holmes, is how you arranged to put on an almost identical demonstration of the one witnessed at Halam Hall.’

The others clamoured to hear the account too.

Holmes took a sip from his recharged glass and put it down with great deliberation onto the walnut occasional table by his elbow. We all waited with great expectation. We were not disappointed.

‘I mentioned earlier how addicted to gambling the Chinese are. I was able to use this vice to advantage, saying that I too wished to gamble but, like my friend Rodger Hardy, wanted to make sure I would win. They laughed like young children being let into a secret. I explained that I too wanted to perform the magic trick and win much money from my friends which I would share with them. They would build me a small boat and I would bet my friends I could make it vanish. They fell about laughing and could not wait to begin making another paper and cardboard boat.

‘I searched around for suitable premises and was fortunate in renting the three disused identical-sized workshops. They had small doors and a connecting corridor, although dirty and in a poor state of repair they would fulfil my purpose exactly.

‘I looked then for a new suitably sized craft which could be copied. This proved more difficult. I was beginning to despair when I came across this pontoon which had just been built and was awaiting collection in a boat-builder’s yard. I was able to persuade the owners to delay collection from the yard for a while by paying double the hiring fee they would normally charge when hiring it out.

‘The Chinamen descended upon it like monkeys, examining and measuring every part of it. They were delighted when I presented them with a set of photographs I had had taken of the vessel, and they assured me having them would considerably speed up the time of construction. I decided to have two copies of the vessel made. One copy would be built in the first workshop, and the other in the third workshop.

‘The middle workshop would make suitable sleeping and living accommodation and on the day of the demonstration would store all the debris of both demolished pontoons.’

Holmes continued his account before his spellbound audience. I smiled inwardly, knowing that it would be many a long year before, if ever, they would listen to such a fascinating story. Holmes smiled and, enjoying every moment, went on.

‘I have not mentioned during all this account my very good friend, Mr Hing Sung. He acted as my interpreter during my negotiations with the Chinamen and throughout, supervising the copying and building of the pontoons. He will return to his laundry a much richer man, and the Chinese seamen and craftsmen will fade into the scene of London’s Chinatown, also wealthier, to become part of this great city’s society, enriching and adding to our national culture.’

Events explained by Holmes always seemed so simple, and one wonders why a case could have seemed so impossible to fathom, and yet have so simple an explanation. Yet I knew that it was his sheer brilliance which picked apart the facts of a case, found the vital clues and came up with a solution. Holmes remarked once that the fact magicians never revealed their secrets was because, once revealed, the audience would feel cheated, and illusion, which is the basis of all the aura of magic, would be eroded away, not to mention, he laughed, that the magician relied upon audiences night after night coming to see him for his bread and butter.

Holmes concluded, ‘Those, Prime Minister, are the facts of the case. There is no “Transposing Machine”, no threat to Great Britain or the Empire. Rodger Hardy has a brilliant brain, and he is to be congratulated upon this attempt of what was a unique and imaginative means to get back money from a government who had reneged on his family, many years ago.

‘But he failed, and failed because of one error, and that error was, he should never have allowed the Chinamen to settle here in London’s Chinatown. Instead, suitably rewarded, he should have paid their fare back to China. Had he done this, I would never have had the opportunity of learning from them, first hand, how the confidence trick had been worked.

‘But it was the lure of London’s streets lined with gold which had persuaded them to sail halfway around the world to come here in the first instance. He saw no risk from ten Chinamen unable to speak English disappearing into the busy London scene.’

Holmes leaned back into his chair and, placing both his hands together to form a spire, indicated his explanation was finished. Lord Bellinger, I noted, made opposite body movements, he leaned forward and gripped the arms of his leather chair. He looked around at his Cabinet ministers, two of whom had hardly spoken at all, but to nod and make noises which indicated they were following every word with utmost interest. I think they were overawed by the whole affair. The masterly way Holmes had presented the facts had held them fascinated. Lord Bellinger spoke.

‘Why, Mr Holmes, did Rodger Hardy choose to transpose a thing as bizarre as a Chinese junk as a means of perpetrating his confidence trick? For instance, he could have used a railway carriage or some similar large object?’

Holmes appreciated the thinking behind the question and his reply was a compliment to that thinking.

‘I have given that very question much thought, sir, and I have come to this conclusion. Rodger Hardy wanted to construct, over many months, something substantial that could be seen in all its stages of building, until it was finally completed. A sailing vessel, he decided, would be ideal considering the fact that it would almost fill the ballroom, and could by no means be taken out whole, all exits being too small.

‘Furthermore, a sailing vessel, the real one that is, would be easy to hide until required, and hidden again afterwards until sinking it later at night in the sea.

‘It also had to be something which was not metallic. Wood is not a conductor of electricity, as you know. It would thus prove that any non-metallic material could be transposed.

‘He wanted something unique, dramatic and utterly incomprehensible to baffle all reason and logic. What better vessel than a Chinese junk, surely never ever seen on the Thames or in the Western hemisphere before.’

The Prime Minister nodded his head several times whilst weighing up the various points Holmes had made. ‘I agree with that reasoning. It does make sense. A remarkable affair altogether... a most remarkable affair indeed.’ He looked at his three ministers and said, ‘I have had a word with the Lord Chief Justice and reluctantly we agreed there is no way we can prosecute this scoundrel Hardy when he returns from America.’

They tut-tutted, but agreed.

Holmes, on the other hand, took us all by surprise by saying, ‘I agree there is no way he can be prosecuted, having committed no crime, but instead, we should try and come to an agreement with him.’

We all stared at Holmes and tried to understand the logic of his statement. Lord Bellinger, now aware that Holmes was a player of much ability, smiled, remembering how Holmes had once before outmatched him.

‘Now, Mr Holmes, what devious plan have you in that head of yours?’

‘Well, sir, suppose we could persuade Rodger Hardy to take his “Transposer” abroad to each of the major powers in turn. With, of course, the same restrictions, that only in the event of the outbreak of hostilities was it to be activated.’

The smile grew on Lord Bellinger’s face as Holmes continued.

‘It could alter the entire thinking of these major powers’ generals and admirals when planning their future needs of guns and ships for their armed forces. It would give our own service chiefs a distinct advantage knowing the enemy were relying upon the help of a non-existent invention to move weapons of war about.

‘As an inducement to Mr Hardy I would suggest a sum of fifty thousand pounds, and all the help we can give him in the way of language translators, letters of introduction and diplomatic embassy procedures. After his first success, with the equivalent of one million pounds in his account, all we need do is continue to help him sell his confidence trick to the next major power, and just sit back.’

Lord Bellinger shook his head from side to side, slapped his thigh and exclaimed heartily, ‘Only you, Mr Holmes, I am sure, could have seen a means to use the “Transposer” confidence trick to Britain’s advantage.

‘Why, without any extra financing, it could give our Army and Navy an overpowering advantage in the world. I look forward indeed to my next meeting with the service chiefs.’

One of the ministers, a dour, insignificant individual who had shown less enthusiasm about the achievements of my friend Holmes, spoke his views for the first time. ‘I shouldn’t be too optimistic, Prime Minister. We had not been hoodwinked by it, so why should other foreign powers not also see it for what it is, a cheap confidence trick?’

Lord Bellinger glared at the speaker and in a tone which a master might address a rather obtuse pupil, replied, ‘Because, minister, firstly,
we
as you put it, in spite of all the best minds and brains in the country could not categorically dismiss it as a genuine advance in the field of science. Secondly,
we
had the advantage of the service of Mr Holmes; other nations have not.’

Having duly administered his rebuke to the unfortunate minister, he turned to Holmes and said, ‘However, I hate to see that scoundrel Hardy obtaining all those millions, in spite of the advantage it could bestow on this country.’

Holmes leaned forward, closer to Lord Bellinger. ‘Does that matter, Prime Minister? It won’t be costing the British taxpayer anything, will it?’

Lord Bellinger threw up his hands in feigned horror and cried, ‘Is there no limit to your plotting devious mind, Mr Holmes? I am thankful you are not a member of my Cabinet or I should be fearful every day for my job.’ He laughed until he had to wipe away the tears from his eyes.

Holmes was, by any standard, a giant even amongst these men.

‘One last question, Mr Holmes. What do you think Rodger Hardy was doing all those years in China?’

Holmes spread out the fingers of his outstretched hands. ‘Until he returns from America and I have an opportunity to speak with him, we can only assume he had spent his years following the profession he knew best, that of engineering.

‘In many ways China has a culture which we in the West can only envy, but as regards engineering it is very backward. It would have been ideal territory for him to use his knowledge and talents.’

And so ends my account of the Chinese junk, or almost...

Holmes and Sir Simon at a meeting with Lord Bellinger a few days later were able to improve the image the Premier held of Rodger Hardy, explaining his true motives behind the confidence trick.

‘It was a matter of family honour, Prime Minister, to even out the score against a government who in the past had been partly responsible in the bankrupting of his family. The money obtained, he would no doubt give to causes he considered worthy of charity.’

‘You mean he is a sort of combined avenging angel and latter-day Robin Hood — good intentions if a bit unorthodox?’

Holmes smiled. ‘Something like that, sir.’

Lord Bellinger reached out his arm and placed his hand on Holmes’s shoulder. ‘Now about a knighthood for exceptional services to the nation, surely this time you will accept it...?’

Sherlock Holmes and the Tick Tock Man

It began like any other morning lately, wash, shave and breakfast, then Mrs Hudson would bring in the morning papers and clear away the table. Only this morning, Mrs Hudson broke the cycle.

‘Before you, Mr Holmes, and Dr Watson settle down to read the papers, I wonder if you would mind hearing a request I should like to make and discuss with you?’ We leaned back into our chairs and bade her speak.

‘Well, yesterday Mr Hudson and me received a letter from my sister who lives at Ilfracombe. She says now her youngest daughter is off their hands, she has a spare bedroom, and would we like to spend a couple of weeks’ holiday with them?’ She looked at us both and as neither of us commented, she hurried on, ‘I could get a friend of mine to come and cook your breakfasts, and later on, cook your evening meal... but it would mean the place would be locked up and during the daytime of course... if any important clients called like... I wouldn’t be here to take any messages...’ Her voice trailed off as she looked from one to the other of us with an appealing look.

The opportunity of a holiday by the sea was rare indeed for most people of her station. The added joy of the occasion was, it would enable her to see her sister again after many years’ separation. I was about to reply when Holmes forestalled me.

‘What a wonderful generous offer from your sister. Of course you and Mr Hudson must take advantage of this opportunity... it will do you both a world of good, won’t it, Watson?’ I, of course, agreed with him.

Holmes continued, ‘Don’t make any arrangements with your friend about cooking our meals until I have discussed the matter with Dr Watson, will you please... and Oh! I presume your sister has not specified any particular dates?’

‘No, Mr Holmes. I suppose as the bedroom is vacant, we could go any time.’

‘Very good, Mrs Hudson, and I am sure Dr Watson agrees with me that we are very happy for you.’

‘Thank you very much, both of you. Mr Hudson will be so pleased.’ She carried the tray with our used breakfast utensils out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

I was surprised at Holmes’s seeming cheerfulness. I knew, of course, he would agree to our landlady’s request, but it had also seemed to have had an uplifting effect upon him. A few moments later I was to discover why.

‘What say we take a holiday, too?’ He slid his chair under the table and crossed to the window, looked out and turned about to face me. ‘Think about it, Watson. I have no case just now, your locum appointment is not until late September. Why should we not take the opportunity to holiday during the same weeks as Mrs Hudson?’

I must confess I was surprised. Holmes’s suggestion took me aback for a few moments, but quickly considering it, decided it was a capital idea and said so.

‘One thing though, where do we holiday?’

Holmes went over to the bookshelf and took down two books each containing a map of the British Isles. ‘I think we should study the map and select a number of locations we feel we should like to visit. Then write their names on separate pieces of paper, put them in the time-honoured hat, and let fate choose for us in the form of our good landlady.’

After much study of our maps, this is what we duly did. Each one of us selected ten locations and when Mrs Hudson later tapped at the door to inform us she was away to do her shopping, all was ready to invite her to determine our fate, although I confess, the word fate seems inappropriate in context with holidays. I think she was quietly proud that she should be instrumental in choosing our holiday venue, and after being asked to select a piece of paper from my hat, read out the place name with a certain amount of importance, ‘The surrounding countryside around Bakewell in the county of Derbyshire.’

It was not one of my chosen locations, but I was pleased all the same. I must confess I had not even considered it, knowing little about the county. When I confessed my ignorance to Holmes, he surprised me too, by admitting he also knew little about the county, and this was why he had included it in his locations.

‘Now then, Mrs Hudson, would the next two weeks be convenient to you and Mr Hudson?’ She was, like me, surprised at the speed at which things were happening. However, promising to write a letter to her sister accepting the invitation that very afternoon, we chose four days hence, a Saturday, to all begin our holidays.

‘I shall, of course, arrange a watch by my Baker Street Irregulars on the premises during our absence, Watson. Just to be on the safe side.’ I was amused at Holmes’s sudden energy and desire to go on holiday.

‘Now I intend on going out and buying us a map of the district and a new rucksack for each of us.’

‘And I shall look up the Bradshaw to see about suitable trains and connections.’

‘Excellent, Watson, excellent.’ There was no doubt, we were both as excited over the proposed holiday as if we were two college students looking forward to some field work in their vacation.

On sorting out the railway travel, I found we were fortunate in that the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway which had become the Great Central had, that very spring, extended their services to Marylebone. I remember it being reported in the papers with some pessimism at the time, some wit writing that if the old M.S. and L. stood for ‘Money Sunk and Lost’, G.C. clearly meant ‘Gone Completely.’

However, as we were to discover a few days later, the Great Central London expresses had a high proportion of corridor coaches, smartly turned out and most comfortable. Our journey from Marylebone to Sheffield, a total of 164 miles, was covered in 192 minutes. From Sheffield I saw there were plenty of local trains into the Peak District of Derbyshire. I closed that invaluable railway timetable book, satisfied that all would be well with our travel arrangements.

During the evening, we settled down to read through the books on Derbyshire Holmes had bought, jotting down page numbers on a slip of paper and ringing in pencil relevant points of interest we considered worthy of noting.

On exchanging books with each other, Holmes remarked how fortunate he thought we were that Mrs Hudson had chosen Derbyshire for our holiday location.

‘Mind you, Watson, we must take some stout, but comfortable footwear, this appears to be hiking country
par
excellence
.’ The more we read about the county, the more we realised two weeks would enable us to see and visit only a fraction of what the county had to offer. This proved to be the case and the reason why the visitors we met returned year after year.

The Peak District around Bakewell appeared, we later found, to be misnamed. There were no peaks, but beautiful valleys, idyllic scenes, rugged moorlands, limestone crags and pretty villages. As Holmes was to remark, ‘It truly is a landscape artist’s paradise.’

We spent the next few days in preparing for our holiday. Mrs Hudson provided us with spare clean linen, whilst Holmes and I tried to pack everything we might need, from a whistle to a penknife, a sketchbook to a small brass telescope.

At last Saturday morning arrived and after an early breakfast, which Mrs Hudson insisted should be substantial, we awaited the arrival of the hansom cab we had arranged to pick us up. Before leaving, we wished the Hudsons a pleasant holiday, with Holmes reassuring them that the Baker Street Irregulars would keep a good eye on the place during our absence. Such was the holiday atmosphere amongst us that Holmes suggested we should all, as a group, have our photograph taken by a passing street photographer.

Mrs Hudson felt honoured to be in the centre of the group and said so. But Holmes, in his most expansive mood, told her that it was not only right, she being a lady, but deserved, in recognition of how well she always looked after us.

We bid our goodbyes and the hansom cab made good time because the early morning rush of traffic was over. We thus arrived at the Marylebone station early and were able to secure a first-class smoker.

With our luggage safely secured on the roof rack above our seats, Holmes took out his pipe, stoked it up, and was soon filling the air with the acrid blue smoke as he read
The
Times
.

I decided to have a walk along the platform and look at the engine at the front of the train. Two small boys with their mother were there already, the boys transfixed by the maze of gleaming pipes and the glass-fronted dials in the cab. The driver with an oil-can in his hand was climbing along the side of the boiler oiling various parts. His fireman opened the furnace door to feed it with his long-handled shovel, the heat being felt even from where we stood. The beast sizzled; the smell of hot oil was wonderful.

Wearing blue overalls and a shining black cap, the driver climbed back into the cab and, looking down from his god-like throne, invited the boys up onto the footplate. Seeing the look on the boys’ faces as they were shown around reminded me of my own boyhood, when a simple gesture such as this would be remembered all one’s life. They stepped down onto the platform and the driver received their thanks from mother and the boys. I hurried back to my carriage, and with a wave of the green flag from the guard the train slowly eased itself along the track. I stood by the door and lowered the window with the leather strap, waiting to see what I knew would happen; the two small boys running alongside the engine, looking with awe and admiration as the huge driving rods turned the giant driving wheels around.

Now, whether the boys distracted the driver as he eased the regulator open, I don’t know, but suddenly the great wheels spun around out of control; the piston rods became for a few seconds a blur. If the wheel slip was allowed to continue, it could cause untold damage, bending the steel rods as if they were made of soft lead. The driver was quick to close the regulator, the spinning wheels slowed and the unholy noise was replaced by a steady chuff, chuff, chuff. All was well, the wheel slip was over.

I returned to my seat to find we had another passenger. He was middle aged, dressed in tweeds and appeared every inch a country gentleman; but I was wrong. He was, we were to learn, an engineer.

Holmes enjoyed listening to people; not the prattle about fashion or titillating scandal, but about the basics of life, employment, trade, science and the like. Soon the air was filled with smoke as our friend the engineer began puffing away too at his pipe, and in between puffs informed us why he was making his journey.

Holmes was content to feed him with a question now and again to keep his verbal momentum flowing. It appeared he was the director of the firm Garrett who make, amongst other things, threshing machines. Last year, he informed us, they had had a number of breakdowns with their machines.

‘Now threshing time is one of the busiest times on any farm and breakdowns are drastic to the farmer, and of course to our reputation, which, I must say, is of the highest.’ He puffed away and continued, ‘The previous year we had redesigned a certain part of the machine and, of course, tested it to destruction, but were very concerned when we discovered it had a fault which only became evident later during the threshing season. So you see, my journey is to replace the part, which is in the guard’s van, and make sure everything is in order when the threshing season begins. This is the last one we have to modify.’

He told us much interesting information about the threshing process.

We sympathised with the thought of all the hard work the farmworkers endured.

‘Aye,’ he remarked, ‘They worked on sometimes into the dark by lantern lights to finish the work, the thresher being booked to go to another farm next day, see.’

We ate our sandwiches, exchanged and read the papers, and all in all had a most enjoyable journey. We were sorry to say goodbye to our informative and interesting engineer on changing trains at Sheffield.

Looking through the carriage window after securing seats on our train to Bakewell, I noticed on the platform among other miscellaneous goods, luggage addressed in large printing ‘Leen Mills School, Hucknall, Nottinghamshire’.

I touched Holmes’s knee.

‘Isn’t that where Lord Byron, the poet, is buried; Hucknall?’

‘Yes, I believe it is, and his heart buried separately in Greece. It’s said, you know, Watson, that an old prophecy foretold that when a boat should sail across Sherwood Forest full of green, then the Byron family would be no more.

‘It happened, so the legend goes, a wicked member of the family had a boat made so he could sail it on the abbey lake, the same lake he had drowned his butler in. The forest people so hated the family, they threw bracken into the open boat as it journeyed through the forest, hoping to make the prophecy come true, and it did of course, the family is no more.’

‘So there could be a grain of truth in prophecy after all.’

‘Ah! Yes, Watson, and I prophesy the train will leave on time. The doors are crashing to, the green flag is raised and the whistle blown... and away we go.’

Holmes was certainly in a humorous mood. The corridor door slid open and a very overweight gentleman in a loud checked suit and bowler hat, like a racecourse bookie, slumped down into a corner seat and, after acknowledging our presence, closed his eyes.

As the train snaked its way over a multitude of points and crossovers, we were made aware of line-side factories and workshops producing the world-renowned Sheffield knives, forks, spoons and scissors. The huge satanic works and furnaces rose high, dwarfing everything around them. This was the life-blood, not only of Sheffield, but of England too. Dirty, grimy, black and likened to Bedlam, but without it where should we be?