The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Dr Jekyll & Mr Holmes (10 page)

A moment later the old butler entered. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Poole, escort these gentlemen to the door. We have nothing further to discuss.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Poole bowed and turned to us, eyebrows raised.

‘I pity you, Dr. Jekyll,’ Holmes announced coldly. ‘It is an unfortunate man who does not recognise a friend when he sees one. Come along, Watson.’ He spun upon his heel and left a step ahead of the venerable manservant.

‘Well, Watson?’ said my companion when we were in a cab and on our way home once again. ‘What do you make of this latest development?’

‘I was not aware that it was a development,’ said I.

‘Oh, but it most certainly was! How do you suppose Jekyll saw through our ruse?’

‘I should think that Hyde told him of our earlier meeting.’

‘It is of course possible. But how could Jekyll be so certain that his friend has no interests outside of London?’

‘The same answer?’

‘If so, then the two are closer than brothers, for the doctor to be so intimate with every detail of Hyde’s life. Such intimacy, I think, would destroy the blackmail theory, since it’s hardly likely that he’d expect the man who is bleeding him to confide in him. Also, what theory have you formed that will explain Jekyll’s delay in exposing our little falsehood?’

‘I have none,’ I admitted.

‘Information, Watson! He hoped by playing along with us to find out how much we had learnt, else he would have denounced us immediately. That explains the purpose of Hyde’s visit this morning. He foresaw our calling upon the doctor and directed him to learn what he could of the threat which we represented.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘This case has taken on more facets than a brilliant. It is perhaps the most stimulating in which I have taken part. But we have a visitor.’

We had stopped before 221, and Holmes’s attention was centred upon the window of our lodgings, in which there was a light. An angular shadow paced nervously to and fro beyond the drawn blinds.

‘Utterson!’ greeted Holmes, once we had mounted the steps and entered. ‘I thought that I recognised that stooping posture. What service can we render?’

It was an agitated lawyer who stalked up to us as we removed our coats; his eyes flashed and his gaunt cheeks, normally pallid, seemed to glow like a railroader’s red lantern. His rage was evident. His first words, however, were cryptic.

‘My cousin was mistaken!’ he snapped.

Holmes raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

‘He swore to me that you were a man who kept a confidence,’ Utterson continued. ‘You yourself testified as much in this very room. Yet no sooner had I turned my back than you went running straight to Jekyll and told all. Have you no shame?’

‘You border upon insult, sir.’ Holmes spoke warningly.

‘Do you deny the charge?’

‘I would hear more before committing myself.’

‘I came here straight from Jekyll’s. He knows of your involvement in the affair and has delivered an ultimatum: either I dismiss you or look for another client. I would like to know how he learnt of it, if not from you.’

‘I would be interested in knowing that myself,’ replied Holmes calmly.

Utterson’s expression changed from anger to incredulity. ‘You are saying that you did not violate our confidence?’

‘I remind you that my vow of secrecy carried certain conditions. Nevertheless, Jekyll did not learn of our agreement from me.’

‘From whom, then?’

‘I am not clairvoyant, no matter what you may have heard to the contrary. However, it is not so very difficult to guess, since I introduced myself to Edward Hyde not forty-eight hours ago.’

‘And you told him that I had engaged you?’

‘I did not have the opportunity, but I should not have in any case. No doubt Hyde arrived at the conclusion himself. He is a bright young man, for all his repulsiveness. Seek not for someone to blame, Mr. Utterson; you knew that there was a danger of Jekyll finding out when you came to me.’

Utterson nodded distractedly. My friend’s logic had extinguished his fury as a bucket of water poured over a blaze. ‘I have done you a grave injustice, Mr. Holmes. Please accept my apology.’

Holmes waved it aside. ‘Perhaps it was not so unwarranted. Watson and I have ourselves newly come from Jekyll’s, where the truth came out as surely as if I had explained the matter to him. I had no other recourse.’

Mrs. Hudson came in with coffee. After we had all been served she left, and Holmes motioned the lawyer into that armchair which he had occupied during his first visit.

‘You say that you came here directly from Jekyll’s,’ said the detective, assuming his usual seat opposite. ‘When was that?’

‘I left at half past one.’

‘And we arrived there at two o’clock. We must have passed each other upon the way. How did Jekyll seem?’

‘He was angry with me, but he made no scene. He said that he knew what I was up to, and presented me with the ultimatum which I mentioned.’

‘That was all?’

Utterson shook his head, frowning at the coffee in his cup. ‘I explained to him my reasons for calling you in. He was past understanding, but he insisted that I leave the matter where it lay. He reiterated his special interest in Hyde but would not say what it was. Finally, he assured me that he owed no debt to the fellow and that he could be rid of him whenever he chose.’

‘And what was your response?’

‘As his friend, I had no choice but to agree to his demand. But that was not my only reason. Mr. Holmes, Henry Jekyll has his secrets — I’d be a fool to deny that in the light of recent events — but he does not lie. When he says that he can rid himself of this creature, I believe him. In spite of all our suspicions it appears that the affair is quite innocent. I am the one to blame for jumping to conclusions. Naturally I shall pay you for the time and effort which you have expended.’ He reached inside his coat. Holmes held up a hand.

‘Let your cheque-book alone, Mr. Utterson,’ said he. ‘This one is on Sherlock Holmes. But before you go, pray suffer a word of advice.

The lawyer had risen to leave. He paused and looked expectantly down at the seated detective.

‘I believe you when you say that your friend’s word is gospel. Whatever his predicament, however, I think that he is unaware of how deeply he is involved. It is a business most dark and sinister, and before it is finished I fear that more than one life may be ruined by it. I am but a humble servant, whose services may be engaged or dismissed at will. From what I have learnt of Edward Hyde, I would not file him under the same letter. The day is coming when you will regret having bowed to your friend’s will. When that day comes I ask that you do not forget me.

‘I shall remember,’ said Utterson. ‘If that day comes.’ He nodded to each of us and departed.

Holmes signed. ‘Those, I fear, were words well wasted. I had hoped that I might yet persuade him to change his mind.’

‘Do you really think that Jekyll is headed for disaster?’ I asked.

‘I have said once today that I am not clairvoyant. But Utterson was deluded when he said that his friend does not lie; he could be mistaken in other things as well.’ He touched a match to a cigarette.

‘What falsehood has he told?’

‘When he greeted us he said that he was not familiar with the name of Sherlock Holmes. Yet a scant half an hour earlier he had informed Utterson that he was aware of my involvement. In our presence he also feigned ignorance of our interest in Hyde. A spider which weaves so intricate a web is bound to get caught. Yes, Watson; disaster is on its way to the Jekyll household. It little matters whether it arrives today, or tomorrow, or a year from now. It is inexorable.’

He fell silent, and for some minute sat smoking and staring into the fire which blazed in the grate. At length, however, the shadow lifted from his brow and he returned his attention to me.

‘Well, my dear fellow,’ he began, ‘I believe that I promised you a holiday. Be good enough to peruse this month’s Bradshaw for the next train to Nottingham, and pass me my violin. I’ve been having trouble with the third movement in that little concerto of Tchaikovsky’s, and if I can get hold of it today I shall consider it an afternoon well spent.’

But for all his pretended gaiety, once Holmes’s fingers curled around his Stradivarius his true feelings came to the fore, and when he began playing it was not Tchaikovsky who received his musical attention, but the ‘Dead March.’

T
HE
C
AREW
M
URDER

O
f the more than twenty years during which I was privileged to call myself Sherlock Holmes’s associate, the year 1884 remains in my memory a pivotal period in the career of the man whom I consider to have been the most extraordinary figure of the nineteenth century. Whilst I laboured to perfect my account of the first case we shared — that which I have published under the somewhat fantastic title of
A Study in Scarlet
— the man about whom that account is centred was building his reputation upon the satisfaction of his many clients and was beginning to acquire something of celebrity status. That he abhorred fame and all of the obligations which it entailed was quite beside the point, for a man endowed with his remarkable qualities and gift for exploiting them could hardly expect to escape the clamourings of society.

Just how widespread his notoriety had become we did not learn until one day in late autumn when, whilst walking home from an interview with a cockney charwoman in connexion with a kidnapping in Manchester Square, we stopped off at a public-house to share a bottle of port and compare notes. This was shortly after Holmes had exposed Colonel Mortimer Upwood, late of the Indian Army, as the culprit behind the unsuccessful 1879 assault upon the home offices of the Capital and Counties Bank, which had resulted in the death of the head cashier, and the newspaper was rare which did not carry an account of the unofficial detective’s part in clearing up the matter. We had been there scarcely five minutes when a group of drunken day-labourers seated at the next table, who had not the least awareness of who their neighbours were, launched into the following ditty, which I shall endeavour to set down much as we heard it:

When you don’t know who the villain is, nor where to find the bones;

When Gregson tugs his whisker-ends;

and so Lestrade and Jones;

When Scotland Yard runs around half-made,

whilst Whitehall quakes and moans;

Then seek two-two-one-B, my lads,

and ask for Sherlock Holmes.’

The tune went on for several more choruses, but at the mention of Holmes’s name he flushed, sprang to his feet, and, after flinging a fistful of coins upon the table, fled towards the door. I was forced to run to catch up.

Once outside, my self-control collapsed at the sight of my friend’s distressed countenance and I fell into helpless laughter. At first he glared at me out of the corner of his eye, but after we had walked a little way the humour of the situation bore in upon him and he allowed himself a rueful smile.

‘Fame exacts a wearying price, Watson,’ he observed. ‘That little tune is probably making the rounds of every public-house in London. If it reaches the ears of Scotland Yard I shall never hear the end of it.’

‘It is a cross which you must learn to bear,’ said I, wiping away my tears of mirth. ‘Surely you did not hope to retain your anonymity for ever.’

‘I must confess that I had harboured such a wish. But the business may yet turn out to some advantage, if it leads to new adventures. I detest idleness with every fibre of my being.’

‘Take care,’ I admonished; ‘it has been nearly a year since your last holiday.’

‘Would that it may be that long before my next!’ he cried. ‘Really, Watson, Nottingham was rather a poor choice of locations for one of my active temperament.’

‘On the contrary, it was an excellent choice. Have you forgotten how near you were to a complete breakdown when we left?’

‘And have you forgotten how near I came to clambering up the walls of our quaint little cottage before we returned? When will you learn that my sole relaxation is in my work? Halloa, they’re crying murder!’

Like a bird-dog who had stumbled upon a scent, Holmes perked up as a newsboy came into view round the corner, waving a newspaper and crying:

‘Murder in Westminster! Eye-witness account of last night’s bludgeoning of Sir Danvers Carew! Murderer identified! Thank you, sir.’

The boy pocketed the coin which Holmes had given him and handed him a copy of the newspaper.

‘Listen to this, Watson!’ said Holmes as the youth wandered off, hawking his product. He proceeded to read the following excerpt:

SHOCKING MURDER OF AN M.P.

London society has been staggered by the sudden and ferocious death last night of Sir Danvers Carew, member of Parliament, noted philanthropist, and familiar figure at Buckingham Palace, during a late evening stroll along the left bank of the Thames in Westminster. Police were summoned to the spot at two o’clock this morning by Miss Evelyn Willborough, a maid in the employ of Mr. Jeffrey McFadden of Millbank who claimed to have witnessed the deed whilst gazing out her bedroom window. There they found Sir Danvers’s broken body, horribly mutilated, stretched out upon the path beside the shattered half of a cane said by the maid to have been used as the murder weapon.

When questioned, Miss Willborough, who seems much inclined towards romance, stated that she was seated at her window at about eleven o’clock prior to retiring, and musing at the moonlit path beyond, when she saw a chance meeting along the walkway between Sir Danvers and another man, smaller and meaner in appearance. Sir Danvers, she said, bowed and spoke softly to the other, gesturing as if enquiring his way, whereupon without provocation the other man, whom she recognised as a Mr. Hyde who had in the past had some business with her master, flew into a rage and smote Sir Danvers a terrible bow with his cane. The old gentleman fell, and before he could rise the said Mr. Hyde trampled him under foot and rained blows down upon him with the heavy crook of the cane. At this point, according to her own account, the maid fainted dead away and did not awaken until two o’clock, when, seeing that Sir Danvers lay unmoving and that his assailant had fled, she summoned the police.

Hyde is described as a small man, nearly a dwarf, with a large head and narrow features...