Sherlock Holmes (21 page)

“Men with tremendous political influence,” I said. “Yes, I see that. But you’re saying Underwood’s spectrograph generator is actually a machine for effecting hypnosis?”

“No,” said Holmes. “Not at all. I believe that Seaton Underwood truly thinks the machine is capable of photographing a person’s soul. He’s allowed it to become considered a parlour game, however, as we saw when we visited Ravensthorpe House – the means by which he’s able to entice Foxton’s guests to participate. To them, it is nothing but a light-hearted diversion, but to Underwood it is both an opportunity to test his equipment, and to carry out the work he’s been charged with by Baxter. What was it Foxton told you about Underwood, Watson?”

“That he’d become obsessed with his quest to prove that the soul exists independently of the body, driven by his unwillingness to truly accept the death of his parents,” I said.

“Baxter will be using that,” said Holmes. “Clearly, he has his own unhealthy interest in matters of the occult.” I glanced at Newbury, who was smiling indulgently, and clearly hadn’t taken offence at Holmes’s derogatory remark. “He’s involved Underwood in his little cult. Manipulated him. No doubt he’s promised Underwood access to all manner of arcane knowledge to continue his work, in exchange for his assistance extracting information from certain individuals. Perhaps he’s tempted him with resources that can only be provided by his German masters. There is a deep seam of Teutonic folklore and mysticism, supposedly dating back a thousand years. What wouldn’t a man like Underwood do to gain access to such treasure? Watson and I have seen the altar Baxter set up beneath Tidwell Bank; it was clearly no more than a piece of scene dressing for Underwood, to help convince him that his master had access to mystic knowledge of real power. Seaton is a disturbed and credulous individual, who is obsessed with proving that his parents’ spirits are truly tangible. Just the sort of man to fall in with a cult that seems to offer him everything he desires.”

“Foxton said that Baxter had fanned Underwood’s obsession,” I said. “Now it begins to make sense. He hoped to gain something in return.”

“A true deal with the Devil,” said Newbury.

“Yes, but you still haven’t explained the hypnosis,” said Foulkes. “How Underwood is actually doing it.”

“Well we know the ‘how’,” said Holmes. “The technique of placing a individual under hypnosis is not a difficult one. I have mastered it myself with little difficulty, and Watson and I saw several volumes on the subject when we visited Underwood’s rooms. As for the ‘when’, I’d wager the targets are selected by Baxter, and it’s a relatively simple matter for Underwood to engineer a situation where he’s left alone with each guest and his machine during one of Foxton’s gatherings. In fact, he said as much to Watson, I believe?”

I nodded. “Indeed, he mentioned that he preferred to be alone with a new subject.”

“No wonder he didn’t press the matter in Watson’s case,” Holmes smiled wryly. “Watson was of no use to Baxter, having no political importance, if you’ll forgive me, my friend.” I could not deny it, and at that moment was very glad of the fact. Holmes continued. “He generates a spectrograph, so that the visitor leaves with exactly what they expected, but he takes the opportunity to hypnotise and question them while they’re there. The questions are given to him by Baxter, which he may not even truly know the significance of. He then feeds that information to Baxter, who uses it for whatever nefarious purposes he’s planned.”

“Yes,” I said. “But it doesn’t explain why Herbert Grange threw himself in the river, or why we found Professor Angelchrist in such a sorry state. And then there are the paperweights, of course. Surely they point to a deeper connection between Baxter, Underwood and their victims?”

“Ah-ha!” exclaimed Holmes, suddenly animated. “Excellent, Watson. You’ve hit on it exactly. I believe that Underwood has planted a hypnotic suggestion in the minds of those men he put to the question, triggered by the sight of an amber paperweight bearing the symbol of Baxter’s cult. We saw Seaton’s own example of the object at Ravensthorpe, clearly on hand as a prop during the sessions. Rather careless of him.” He reached into his pocket and produced the half globe that had been sent to Angelchrist, which he held out for us to see. “Once the information had been gained, the subjects were just loose ends that could lead the authorities to the plotters. By implanting a hypnotic suggestion that could be triggered at a later date, the subject could be ‘removed’ at a time of Baxter’s choosing. Clearly our sniffing around forced their hand, and the Professor is paying the price. Otherwise I imagine they would have preferred to wait a little longer to truly let the trail go cold.”

I frowned. “You know as well as I do, Holmes, that a hypnotic suggestion breaks if the recipient is forced to place themselves in danger. Their survival instincts are too strong, and override any impulse to harm themselves. It cannot be the answer. Grange could not have been hypnotised to throw himself into the river.”

“No,” said Holmes. “But if the belief was sufficiently powerful that he felt he had no choice…”

“So the trigger itself didn’t inspire the impulse to commit suicide,” said Newbury, “but he made the choice to do it because of something he believed.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Holmes. “Remember what Miss Brown said to us, Watson. That Grange, when overcome, put his hand to his head and uttered ‘My God, they’re here. They’re in here.’ At first I took that to mean that he thought there were traitors in the War Office, but I soon realised he meant something else entirely. He thought they were in his head. That the enemy could see his thoughts.”

“Good Lord,” said Foulkes. “Just like Professor Angelchrist.”

“Of course, truthfully, they can do nothing of the sort,” continued Holmes. “It was simply an implanted fear, a belief, triggered by the sight of the paperweight. The hypnotic suggestion was the certain knowledge that the enemy knew the subject’s thoughts, including those of utmost importance to the security of the nation.”

“So Grange killed himself in an attempt to protect whatever secrets he held in his head, specifically regarding this ‘spirit box’?” said Newbury.

Holmes nodded.

“But why hadn’t it happened before?” I asked. “The paperweight was on the bookcase in full view. If that was the trigger, surely it would have done its work long before that fateful lunchtime?”

“It was precisely that fact, Watson, which convinced me of Baxter’s involvement. Grange had interviewed three German men that morning at the War Office,” said Holmes.

“Employees of Baxter’s,” I said, recalling our earlier line of questioning.

“One of whom delivered the paperweight in question. I imagine that the man distracted Grange, or made an excuse to step to the window. An untied shoelace or some such would give the perfect opportunity to kneel down, extract the paperweight from an inner pocket, and place it on the bookcase, in view but not prominently, allowing the man time to be far away before any scene transpired. After that, it was only a matter of time before Grange saw the object, and the trigger was pulled. In fact, we know the exact moment. Remember, Miss Brown told us that Grange went to the window to see if there was rain on the way, at which point he suggested postponing their outing. He then immediately went into the same state as the Professor here. He saw the paperweight as he approached the window, triggering the hypnotic suggestion.” Holmes took one last look at the paperweight in his hand, and then slipped it back into his pocket. “I can only fault myself for not confirming with Miss Baxter that the paperweight was a new addition to the office. But one cannot retain all the brilliance of youth, and I’m sure such a small matter could be dealt with by one of Foulkes’s men.”

“It all makes sense,” said Newbury. “A terrible, disturbing sense. Clearly, Archibald is another of their victims. He told us he’d undergone the spectrograph a couple of weeks ago, during one of Foxton’s gatherings. Underwood must have nobbled him then.”

“And we discovered pictures of the Professor in the undercroft beneath Tidwell Bank,” I said. “Where Baxter and his cronies were carrying out their rituals.” I turned to Holmes. “That’s a point. What was the purpose of the altar? You spoke of ‘scene dressing’. Were there truly rituals carried out? If Underwood was getting the information from Angelchrist and the others at Foxton’s house, surely the targets never went to the undercroft themselves?”

Holmes nodded. “Very perspicacious, Watson. I believe that the altar and all that window dressing was created by Baxter for Seaton Underwood’s benefit, a location where they would meet at night – with Baxter’s employees as extra gilt to the proceedings – and Seaton would pass on the information he had gleaned in an occult setting, perhaps with some hocus-pocus ritual focused on the spectrographs. The fact that when we arrived the candles had been lit, and our German friends were present, suggests that a gathering was planned for this very night.”

Foulkes shook his head in disgust. “So perhaps the Professor’s usefulness to him was at an end, and with Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson taking an interest, Baxter arranged to have a paperweight sent to trigger the implanted suggestion, hoping that he’d follow Grange’s example, no doubt, taking his own life for the good of the country.”

“Which means,” went on Newbury, “that they must have already extracted all of the information they needed from him. I wonder what it was, and what they’re planning.”

“For that, we’re going to need to talk with the Professor,” said Holmes.

Newbury glanced at Angelchrist. “Do you think he’s going to be alright?”

“I believe so,” said Holmes. “Provided he doesn’t come into contact with one of these paperweights again, of course.” He patted his pocket. “One usually finds hypnosis wears off after a good sleep.” He delivered this with the confident air of a man who had previous experience of such matters.

“I hope you’re right,” said Newbury. “He’s a proud man, and I’d hate to see him reduced to… well, to lose his mind like that.”

It was obvious that Newbury was deeply concerned. I knew he’d been a friend of Angelchrist’s for well over a decade, and he was clearly feeling a deep responsibility for ensuring the man – a confirmed bachelor, with no family that I knew of – made it through this harrowing episode unscathed.

“There’s only one thing to do in a situation such as this,” I said, getting to my feet. “Make more tea.” I set about collecting the cups and saucers and loading them onto the tray.

Newbury gave me a grateful smile in acknowledgement.

“Might I suggest, Inspector,” said Holmes, “that while Watson is busying himself in the kitchen, you might put a telephone call through to your Sergeant Hawley to enquire whether he’s been successful in apprehending both Henry Baxter and Seaton Underwood? The successful conclusion of our investigation rather hinges on it.”

Foulkes tugged at his beard. “A most sensible thought, Mr. Holmes,” he said. “I’ll see to it right away.” He stood and went out into the hall to find the telephone. I followed him out, leaving Holmes and Newbury to keep watch over Angelchrist.

* * *

When I returned a few moments later bearing the tea tray, Foulkes was still on the telephone to the Yard, deep in muffled conversation. I kicked the door to the study open with the edge of my boot to find – to my surprise – Angelchrist sitting up on the sofa, being fussed over by Newbury. The Professor was rubbing his jaw ruefully.

I hurriedly put the tray down on the table and went over to him, sitting next to him on the sofa. “How do you feel, Professor?” I said, taking his wrist and measuring his pulse.

“Oh, hello, Dr. Watson,” he said, his voice tremulous. “A little shaken, if truth be told, but well enough. Newbury and Mr. Holmes were just explaining to me what occurred. I must say, I’m able to recall very little of it, which is decidedly worrisome.”

I examined his eyes and had him follow my finger back and forth. He didn’t appear to be suffering from any ill effects. “I’m pleased to see you’ve regained your senses,” I said.

“Indeed,” replied Angelchrist. “Although I fear my greatest trial might be yet to come, if what Mr. Holmes has told me is correct. I can hardly warrant it – Seaton Underwood, falling in with traitors. It troubles me to consider what they might have learned from me whilst I was under their influence.”

“That’s what we must discover, Professor,” said Holmes. “I understand my questions might place you in a difficult position, but it’s imperative we’re able to assess the nature of the risk. Can you tell us – what was the nature of your relationship with Herbert Grange?”

I sat back, allowing Angelchrist some room. Newbury did the same, perching on the edge of his chair.

Angelchrist looked decidedly unsure. He glanced at Newbury.

“I believe these gentlemen are to be trusted, Archibald,” said Newbury. “You should tell them what it is they need to know.”

Angelchrist swallowed. He appeared to make a decision. “Pour me a cup of tea first, would you, Dr. Watson, and then I’ll explain.”

I did as he asked, handing it to him on a saucer. His hand trembled as he took it from me. “I tell you this, Mr. Holmes, because of my faith in the work of your brother, and because of the danger that I fear I may have inadvertently placed him in.”

Holmes leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the seat back. He closed his eyes. He steepled his hands beneath his chin. “Please proceed,” he said.

“Four years ago, Herbert Grange was one of a small group of men selected by your brother, Mycroft Holmes, to form a secretive bureau within the British government.” He glanced from Newbury to me, judging our reactions. “I was another of those men, along with four more who, for now, shall remain nameless. We were charged with the task of protecting the ‘spirit of the nation’, as Mycroft liked to put it – with steering policies within the House, ensuring the right men were elected to key positions in all of the important organisations, and generally upholding British interests wherever we saw cause to intervene. We would do so free from the asinine politicking that plagues the usual democratic processes or the careers of party members.” He looked over at my companion. “Your brother is an extraordinary man, Mr. Holmes. He foresaw this present conflict years before even the most perspicacious of other men. He thought it vital to make sure that if war came, only the worthy and truly patriotic would hold the reins. Too often politics can lead to unnecessary deaths on the field of battle.”