The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case (7 page)

We awoke the next morning to a persistent tapping on the door. Fearing that it might be Holmes’ watch dog I was only too willing to let this summons go unanswered however my wife had no such qualms. Fortunately it was only one of the red liveried hotel servants bringing us breakfast.

“We did not order any breakfast,” Mary said to the fellow.

“As long as Holmes is paying we might as well take advantage of it,” I replied handing the man a coin.

I ate ravenously however Mary could only manage a cup of coffee as she was still a little feverish.

“Make yourself ready as quickly as possible dear,” I said rising from the table and kissing her on the forehead, “I will return shortly.”

A plan had begun to take shape in the early hours of the morning as I lay watching Mary sleep, but as of yet I had only a vague idea as how to execute it. At this hour there were very few people about, yet I would need help and from whatever quarter it may come. I strolled purposelessly down the corridors, not quite knowing what I should do. It was then that I noticed a young porter coming towards me carrying the luggage of one of my fellow guests. As the lad stopped in front of a door I called out to him.

“Excuse me
, son,” I said.

“Good morning
, sir,” he replied pleasantly. “How may I help you?”

“The man who occupies this room, can you tell me if he is alone?”

“I believe that he arrived alone last evening,” he said with a puzzled look on his homely face.

“It is necessary that we search his rooms. I have a warrant,” I said quickly flashing him a scrap of paper which I had taken from the writing table in my room, “however the task would be much easier if he was not there. In five minutes
time return to his room and inform him that there is a gentleman caller at the front desk and that he is requested to come down.”

“It is easy enough to do Inspector,” the lad said happily. “I too am going to be a policeman when I get old enough,” he added.

It was obvious that the boy was under the impression that I was with Scotland Yard. I did not disillusion him of the fact. Lying was becoming as familiar to me as an old friend.

I returned to my wife’s room and waited for the boy to come back. In a matter of ten minutes or so there was a knoc
k on the door. It was the porter.

“Mr. Williams has gone down to the front desk sir. He was quite put out at the inconvenience but I told him that it was important.”

I thanked the lad, and handed him a shilling for his trouble. He went away whistling happily.

I returned to the room of the man named Williams and
knocked on the door. No one answered. The lock was easy enough to jemmy using one or two of the instruments from the small medical kit which I always carried with me and quickly I slipped inside. In an instant I had done what I had set out to do and was back in my own room.

Quickly I helped my wife finish packing her few belongings and with one arm protectively around her waist we proceeded down the stairs to the front desk.

From somewhere in a back room I could hear the deep baritone voice of a man loudly complaining about the competency of the staff, conditions in the hotel and the state of the country in general. I took out my billfold to settle the account but changed my mind. If Holmes was going to go behind my back even in such a cause then he must bear the expense. Mary and I climbed into one of the cabs which were waiting at the door and we were off.

My practice that day was extremely busy and I was sitting at my desk in the late afternoon updating my patient records when Holmes burst in. He was carrying a bowler hat.

“Watson, I have some distressing news,” he said with a candor to which I had become accustomed. “Your wife has vanished.”

I had steeled myself for his arrival and
done my best to prepare for the questions which I knew must inevitably follow.

“What do you mean vanished? What has become of her?” I tried my best to sound shocked.

“Calm yourself Watson, all is not lost,” he said looking at me with his steel gray eyes.

“Fortunately the culprit has conveniently provided us with a number of clues.”

“What sort of clues, Holmes?” I asked nervously, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“You are equipped with a microscope and scalpel?” he asked looking around the room.

“Yes, of course.”

“May I make use of them?” he asked

“As you wish Holmes,” I replied, puzzled by the request.

“As a doctor you will be aware that there are physical differences between the distinct races aside from the obvious one,” he said to me, taking an envelope from his pocket and placing the contents under the microscope.

“I have heard something of the kind,” I said wryly.

“Tell me what you see Watson,” he said motioning me over to the delicate instrument.

“It appears to be a hair, Holmes,” I said peering into the eyepiece.

“It is indeed a hair.
What you may or may not know Doctor is that the hair of members of the Negroid race tends to be kinky and have an uneven distribution of pigment while that of the Caucasian tend to be straighter and have a more even distribution of pigment. The image on the right is a section of Negroid hair while the image on the left is a section of my own hair. You will notice that the hair on the right is also flatter than my own hair. This is another typical racial characteristic. I have made a study of the subject and perhaps I shall one day write a monograph upon the differences in the hair of persons of distinct racial origins.”

“A rather esoteric subject, I would think Holmes.”

“No subject is too trivial for the serious investigator, Watson,” he said severely.

“This hair then came from Mary’s room?” I asked returning to the business at hand.

“This hair came from the bowler hat which I have here and which was left in your wife’s room.”

“So the man
to whom this hat belonged is a Negro?” I replied with genuine incredulity.

“
Not only is the man a Negro but he is left handed, quite intelligent, an American, not much given to physical exertion and as recently as last evening he traveled on the Underground.”

I had no trouble registering my typical look of bafflement at these deductions.

“How do you deduce that he is left handed?”

“Look closely Watson. There is definite wear on the left side of the brim where the hat is normally clutched as it is put on and taken off.
That the wearer is not used to physical exertion, you can see by the inside band. Although the hat is far from new it is not discolored as much by perspiration as one might expect thus indicating the owner does not walk anywhere when he can ride. That he is intelligent one may deduce from the size of the object. Anyone with such a large head must have something in it.”

“And the fact he is an American?” I asked.

“Printed upon the man’s calling card, which was tucked into the inside lining, was the man’s name and the fact that he was a graduate of Tuskeegee Institute in Alabama which is a Negro school.”

“Is it not unusual to have printed upon your card the name of your school?” I asked.

“To each his own, Watson.”

“There are any number of further indications that the man is an American. Claridge’s is an expensive hotel and most English travelers who stay there would probably employ their own valets. The Americans, especially Negroes, would be less likely to engage servants. This would explain the traces of soot upon the hat. Soot which he would have come in contact with while riding on the Underground.

“The cigarette end which I found in the room was also of an American manufacture but most telling of all were his boots.”

“His boots, Holmes,” I said trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yes his boots were of an American style, and I also found the boy who took them to be cleaned.

“This lad narrated to me a peculiar story. He tells of a stocky middle age man with a m
oustache, purporting to be a Scotland Yard inspector. This man approached him in the hallway and paid him to lure the room’s resident from his chambers with some cock and bull story about his being wanted at the front desk. An Englishman would of course expect the caller to be shown up to the room while an American would think there was nothing amiss at being summoned downstairs. When the Negro returned from his fruitless errand he discovered his hat gone and a five pound note on his pillow.”

“How do you know this?”

“Why he told me so, Watson.”

“You spoke with him then.”

“Yes when I requested of him the use of this rather unremarkable item of haberdashery as long as I return it to him when I am finished, no questions asked.”

“I also came across another porter who saw this very same gentleman enter your wife’s room last evening.”

“So whom do you suspect, Holmes?” I asked now knowing the game was up.

“Come now Watson
, I thought you might attempt to pull off the bluff for a while longer. Surely you have accompanied me on enough cases to know that you could not hope to fool me by these elementary attempts at deception,” he let out a low sigh and rubbed his temple with his fingers. “I quite hoped that you would have more faith in me.”

“It is not any lack of faith in you Holmes. I just think that it is my duty to protect my wife, it is not the job of a paid professional.”

Holmes was taken aback at this last remark. “I did this as a friend Watson, not as a professional.”

“I am sorry Holmes
perhaps that was uncalled for. It is just that I feel much safer knowing where Mary is.”

“So be it, but will you at least tell me what you have done with her?”

“I will keep that my secret for now Holmes, although I fancy that if I could find where you had hidden her, you could do the same, however I must ask that you respect my judgment and privacy.”

“Very well Watson, you are both adults and have made your own beds and now you must lie in them. I sincerely hope though that there is no one hiding under that bed.” He got up to leave. “By the way Watson how did you find her?”

My friend listened with rapt attention and, I am happy to say, undisguised admiration as I related the sequence of events. I told him of how I had doctored his shoes and had Toby follow the scent to the hotel. He chuckled as I told him of my taking the hat and cigarette ends from the Americans’ room after luring him downstairs.

“You have done well Watson. I am happy to see that our partnership has been as beneficial to you as it has been to me.”

I flushed with pleasure at this.

“Never the less Watson, I think I should at least hear of your security arrangements. I give you my word as a gentleman and as a friend I shall take no action without your permission
.”

“Very well;
I think I would like that Holmes. You may remember that I have a neighbour, Anstruther by name, who will gladly do me a favor now and then. He and his wife were only too happy to extend to us an invitation to make use of their extra bedroom. Mrs. Anstruther is ill with the grippe and Mary who, herself has the beginnings of a summer cold, is going to visit the old lady while he is tending to his patients. In the evening when my own work is finished she will return home and spend the night there.”

“I don’t follow you Watson. Your plan seems most transparent, something a four year old child might devise.”

“You are right of course; however I have taken some additional precautions, Holmes. Every night Mary Jane will go next door carrying soup for poor Mrs. Anstruther. Once there Mary will don Mary Jane’s cloak and bonnet and return here. In the morning the process will be reversed and Mary Jane will return here carrying the tray of things which she took over the previous night.

“With my neighbour, his wife, various domestics and the constant presence of patients in the waiting room Mary shall never be alone.”

“It seems you have given it some thought after all,” he admitted grudgingly. “I pray your strategy shall be successful and that it shall not put your maid nor your neighbour’s household at risk. I must now bid you good day, Doctor as I have one or two other matters to attend to. I shall see myself out.”

I poured myself a drink and rang for my maid. She appeared shortly.

“Make yourself ready to go next door,” I told her, “and hurry girl.”

“Very good, sir,” she replied as she turned to go up the stairs. She vanished into her own little chamber at the top of the house and was back in front of me in under ten minutes.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes sir. I have put my nightdress, a toothbrush and one or two other items into this small bag which I can easily hide under my cloak.”

“Take the tray that you have prepared and be on your way. Have a pleasant evening and be ready for Mrs. Watson’s return in the morning.”

She favored me with a dainty curtsy and left. I went into the kitchen and checked with the cook on the preparations for our own dinner. I had asked her to do something special for Mary’s return home and she did not disappoint. The jugged hare and the Brown Windsor soup were unaccountably two of Mary’s favorites.