His Last Bow

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Book by Arthur C. Doyle - His Last Bow, page 27

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hungry travellers at 7:30 to-morrow."

A telegram was awaiting us when we reached our Baker Street
rooms, which Holmes read with an exclamation of interest and
threw across to me. "Jagged or torn," was the message, and the
place of origin, Baden.

"What is this?" I asked.

"It is everything," Holmes answered. "You may remember
my seemingly irrelevant question as to this clerical gentleman's
left ear. You did not answer it."

"I had left Baden and could not inquire."

"Exactly. For this reason I sent a duplicate to the manager of
the Englischer Hof, whose answer lies here."

"What does it show?"

"It shows, my dear Watson, that we are dealing with an
exceptionally astute and dangerous man. The Rev. Dr. Shlessinger,
missionary from South America, is none other than Holy Peters,
one of the most unscrupulous rascals that Australia has ever
evolved -- and for a young country it has turned out some very
finished types. His particular specialty is the beguiling of lonely
ladies by playing upon their religious feelings, and his so-called
wife, an Englishwoman named Fraser, is a worthy helpmate.
The nature of his tactics suggested his identity to me, and this
physical peculiarity -- he was badly bitten in a saloon-fight at
Adelaide in '89 -- confirmed my suspicion. This poor lady is in
the hands of a most infernal couple, who will stick at nothing,
Watson. That she is already dead is a very likely supposition. If
not, she is undoubtedly in some sort of confinement and unable
to write to Miss Dobney or her other friends. It is always
possible that she never reached London, or that she has passed
through it, but the former is improbable, as, with their system of
registration, it is not easy for foreigners to play tricks with the
Continental police; and the latter is also unlikely, as these rogues
could not hope to find any other place where it would be as easy
to keep a person under restraint. All my instincts tell me that she
is in London, but as we have at present no possible means of
telling where, we can only take the obvious steps, eat our dinner,
and possess our souls in patience. Later in the evening I will
stroll down and have a word with friend Lestrade at Scotland
Yard."

But neither the official police nor Holmes's own small but
very efficient organization sufficed to clear away the mystery.
Amid the crowded millions of London the three persons we
sought were as completely obliterated as if they had never lived.
Advertisements were tried, and failed. Clues were followed, and
led to nothing. Every criminal resort which Shlessinger might
frequent was drawn in vain. His old associates were watched
but they kept clear of him. And then suddenly, after a week of
helpless suspense, there came a flash of light. A silver-and-
brilliant pendant of old Spanish design had been pawned at
Bovington's, in Westminster Road. The pawner was a large
clean-shaven man of clerical appearance. His name and address
were demonstrably false. The ear had escaped notice, but the
description was surely that of Shlessinger.

Three times had our bearded friend from the Langham called
for news -- the third time within an hour of this fresh develop-
ment. His clothes were getting looser on his great body. He
seemed to be wilting away in his anxiety. "If you will only give
me something to do!" was his constant wail. At last Holmes
could oblige him.

"He has begun to pawn the jewels. We should get him now."

"But does this mean that any harm has befallen the Lady
Frances?"

Holmes shook his head very gravely.

"Supposing that they have held her prisoner up to now, it is
clear that they cannot let her loose without their own destruction.
We must prepare for the worst."

"What can I do?"

"These people do not know you by sight?"

"No."

"It is possible that he will go to some other pawnbroker in the
future. In that case, we must begin again. On the other hand, he
has had a fair price and no questions asked, so if he is in need of
ready-money he will probably come back to Bovington's. I will
give you a note to them, and they will let you wait in the shop. If
the fellow comes you will follow him home. But no indiscretion
and, above all, no violence. I put you on your honour that you
will take no step without my knowledge and consent."

For two days the Hon. Philip Green (he was, I may mention
the son of the famous admiral of that name who commanded the
Sea of Azof fleet in the Crimean War) brought us no news. On
the evening of the third he rushed into our sitting-room, pale,
trembling, with every muscle of his powerful frame quivering
with excitement.

"We have him! We have him!" he cried.

He was incoherent in his agitation. Holmes soothed him with a
few words and thrust him into an armchair.

"Come, now, give us the order of events," said he.

"She came only an hour ago. It was the wife, this time, but
the pendant she brought was the fellow of the other. She is a tall,
pale woman, with ferret eyes."

"That is the lady," said Holmes.

"She left the office and I followed her. She walked up the
Kennington Road, and I kept behind her. Presently she went into
a shop. Mr. Holmes, it was an undertaker's."

My companion started. "Well?" he asked in that vibrant
voice which told of the fiery soul behind the cold gray face.

"She was talking to the woman behind the counter. I entered
as well. 'It is late,' I heard her say, or words to that effect. The
woman was excusing herself. 'It should be there before now,'
she answered. 'It took longer, being out of the ordinary.' They
both stopped and looked at me, so I asked some question and
then left the shop."

"You did excellently well. What happened next?"

"The woman came out, but I had hid myself in a doorway.
Her suspicions had been aroused, I think, for she looked round
her. Then she called a cab and got in. I was lucky enough to get
another and so to follow her. She got down at last at No. 36
Poultney Square, Brixton. I drove past, left my cab at the corner
of the square, and watched the house."

"Did you see anyone?"

"The windows were all in darkness save one on the lower
floor. The blind was down, and I could not see in. I was
standing there, wondering what I should do next, when a cov-
ered van drove up with two men in it. They descended, took
something out of the van, and carried it up the steps to the hall
door. Mr. Holmes, it was a coffin."

"Ah!"

"For an instant I was on the point of rushing in. The door had
been opened to admit the men and their burden. It was the
woman who had opened it. But as I stood there she caught a
glimpse of me, and I think that she recognized me. I saw her
start, and she hastily closed the door. I remembered my promise
to you, and here I am."

"You have done excellent work," said Holmes, scribbling a
few words upon a half-sheet of paper. "We can do nothing legal
without a warrant, and you can serve the cause best by taking
this note down to the authorities and getting one. There may be
some difficulty, but I should think that the sale of the jewellery
should be sufficient. Lestrade will see to all details."

"But they may murder her in the meanwhile. What could the
coffin mean, and for whom could it be but for her?"

"We will do all that can be done, Mr. Green. Not a moment
will be lost. Leave it in our hands. Now, Watson," he added as
our client hurried away, "he will set the regular forces on the
move. We are, as usual, the irregulars, and we must take our
own line of action. The situation strikes me as so desperate that
the most extreme measures are justified. Not a moment is to be
lost in getting to Poultney Square.

"Let us try to reconstruct the situation," said he as we drove
swiftly past the Houses of Parliament and over Westminster
Bridge. "These villains have coaxed this unhappy lady to Lon-
don, after first alienating her from her faithful maid. If she has
written any letters they have been intercepted. Through some
confederate they have engaged a furnished house. Once inside it,
they have made her a prisoner, and they have become possessed
of the valuable jewellery which has been their object from the
first. Already they have begun to sell part of it, which seems safe
enough to them, since they have no reason to think that anyone
is interested in the lady's fate. When she is released she will, of
course, denounce them. Therefore, she must not be released. But
they cannot keep her under lock and key forever. So murder is
their only solution."

"That seems very clear."

"Now we will take another line of reasoning. When you
follow two separate chains of thought, Watson, you will find
some point of intersection which should approximate to the truth.
We will start now, not from the lady but from the coffin and
argue backward. That incident proves, I fear, beyond all doubt
that the lady is dead. It points also to an orthodox burial with
proper accompaniment of medical certificate and official sanc-
tion. Had the lady been obviously murdered, they would have
buried her in a hole in the back garden. But here all is open and

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