My Dearest Holmes Page 6

  'Only that Miss Kirkpatrick has a son, and that he has something to do with her disappearance. That much was sure to be revealed sooner or later, Lord Carstairs, and my client is a lady of considerable determination and perspicacity, who is moreover extremely anxious over her friend's disappearance, as is only natural under the circumstances. Surely you must all of you have realised that she would make some attempt to trace her?'

  Lord Carstairs gave a shrug.

  'I have every reason to hold the young lady in the highest regard,' said he firmly. 'Miss Kirkpatrick's affection for her vouches that she deserves as much. I can assure you, Mr Holmes, that in contacting my son and in asking him to warn his mother of the present danger, I had no intention of causing any embarrassment or anxiety to Miss D'Arcy. I assumed, however, that Maria--that is, Miss Kirkpa-trick--would take the responsibilty for any effect that current events might have in that quarter. I merely wished to put her on her guard, and to assure her that I had every intention of complying with the blackmailer's wishes, thus ensuring that no scandal ensued. I had to contact her through my son, since I did not know her address, only his. I do not know my son well, Mr Holmes--in fact, my solicitor has been my sole point of contact with him for these last fifteen years or so--but I'm afraid that he appears to be liable to panic and to overdramatise. I had not realised that he would summon Maria away from her home in such a particularly unsubtle manner. I suspect, in fact, that he is inclined to be a little jealous of his mother's affection for Miss D'Arcy.'

  Holmes gave a wry smile. 'Yes, I should imagine he finds it irksome that while he is well aware of Miss D'Arcy's existence, and her importance in her mother's eyes, she remains in blissful ignorance of his. She has suffered a rude awakening on that score, however, and it will not be long before she feels ready to tackle the task of ascertaining the identity of his father. But what about yourself, Lord Carstairs? What are your feelings on the matter?'

  Lord Carstairs waved his hand in a gesture of dismissive embarrassment.

  'Well, well, my dear sir, it was all a long time ago, though my affection and respect for Maria Kirkpatrick has always remained. Of course, I was not jealous; I wish only for her to be happy, in her own way. She deserved to be, certainly, for she sacrificed her reputation for mine, all those years ago, without a word of reproach.'

  It occurred to me that Miss Kirkpatrick's present mode of living might well in itself be construed as a reproach for her treatment at his hands. The thought must have shown in my face, for he turned to me almost with a look of appeal.

  'I offered her marriage, you know; please do not think the worst of me. It was she who refused, on the grounds that the feeling between us was not strong enough for marriage. I offered to give her my name, even so, but she would have none of it. She has always been the most strong-minded of women in refusing to compromise her true feelings.'

  'Indeed,' I murmured, 'I can well believe it.'

  Lord Carstairs sighed heavily, and continued. 'I always believed that I had paid the price for my selfish behaviour, if such it was, by being denied the opportunity to see my son or to have a hand in his upbringing, beyond the regular sums of money which I naturally contributed for his education up until his twenty-first year. I then made him a handsome settlement...but I do not say this to justify myself. I have no other child, you know; that means, of course, that officially I am childless. It is a great sorrow to my wife, and you will understand, gentlemen, that I have never been able to bring myself to disclose to her the incidents of my past life, or the existence of my son. This present business would kill her, if she ever got to hear of it.'

  'She will never hear of it,' said Holmes calmly, 'if only we can act quickly. Now, Lord Carstairs, suppose you tell me the details: do you know the identity of your blackmailer?'

  'No. He remains quite anonymous. He signs himself only by the letters Q.B.'

  'The letters Q.B. Hmm.'

  Holmes closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration, obviously racking his memory for some clue or connection. After a while, he was evidently forced to give up with a shrug.

  'He communicates with you in writing, then? Do you have his letters?'

  'I have so far received two. The first one I tried, perhaps unwisely, to ignore. I hoped, I suppose, that the threat it contained was not worth taking seriously; though I did take the unwarranted step of writing to my son to warn him. Since contacting Maurice, I received a second letter. It was this that determined me to come up to London. Maurice, it transpired, had already written to Maria about it. Upon my contacting him the second time, he sent her a telegram, so that we could all three arrange to meet.'

  I have seen the telegram. May I see the letters?'

  For answer, Lord Carstairs rose and went over to a locked desk that stood in the corner of the room. He extracted a key from his pocket, opened the desk, and took out two letters, which he handed silently to Holmes.

  'Ah,' said Holmes, turning one of them over and inspecting the envelope without attempting to extract the letter, 'posted in South London on the 2nd of January. Carefully addressed; printed in capitals, not handwritten--that is to be expected. The envelope has been smoothed out carefully after the letter was inserted. This correspondent is a person of calm and determination. So.'

  Carefully he withdrew the letter. 'Also printed in capitals,' he murmured. 'Hmm. Q.B. knows what he is about; capitals are easy to disguise and hard to decipher. There is a certain slant to them, however; I wonder--but we must not be hasty. Dated the 1st of January; I note that he refrains from wishing you a Happy New Year. Hmm.'

  He perused the letter in silence for a short while, then handed it to me.

  'Watson,' he said, 'be good enough to read it aloud, if you would. That way we may better judge its tone.'

  I obeyed.

  My dear Lord Carstairs,

  I have a proposition to put to you, which I think may be of some interest. I have in my possession two letters written by yourself to the late Mr Charles Courtney, upon the occasion of your wedding, dated the 25th of April 1876 and the 4th of August 1876 respectively. They contain references of a personal nature which I am sure you would not wish to make public.

  Might I trouble you for a small remuneration? PS2,000 would be adequate. I am afraid it will have to be cash.

  I shall expect your reply within two weeks, to be forwarded to the Post Office at Dulwich Village by no later than the 14th of January.

  I will then contact you again with the details.

  Q.B.

  P.S. I hope that your son is well?'

  Holmes listened to my reading with half-closed eyes.

  'Hmm, hmm. Would you object, Lord Carstairs, to my smoking?'

  'Not at all.'

  In deference to his surroundings, Holmes took out his cigarette case, having taken the letter as I handed it back to him and smoothed it out carefully onto the arm of the chair. Drawing gratefully on his cigarette, he proceeded to examine the second envelope.

  'You say you ignored this first letter, Lord Carstairs?' he said casually.

  'I'm afraid I did. My idea was to refuse to be drawn into the matter. I suppose that I hoped the blackmailer would lose his nerve.'

  'A pity. You might have been able to find out something very interesting at Dulwich Post Office; though I'm sure that such a meticulous correspondent would not collect his mail in person. Now, what have we here?'

  He had extracted the second letter and smoothed it out upon his knee. After reading it, he passed it over for my perusal, indicating that I was to read it aloud. It was shorter than the first, and dated the 14th of January.

  My dear Lord Carstairs,

  So you choose to ignore my little proposition? I am sure the gossip columns will be grateful to you.

  I give you one last opportunity. Have PS2,000 ready in used notes in a plain briefcase, and bring it with you to the clock at Waterloo Station at 6.00 p.m. on the 24th of January.

  Wait there for fifteen minutes. I woul
d strongly advise you to come alone.

  Q.B.

  P.S. I trust that Lady Carstairs is in good health, and well able to cope with a little excitement?

  Lord Carstairs gave a groan as he heard the last sentence. 'It was that decided me,' he said. 'My wife is far from robust, and the shock of such a disclosure could kill her. There was nothing else for it, Mr Holmes. I contacted my son for the second time, and came to London. He, Maria and I are all agreed that there is nothing to be done but comply with the arrangements set out in the letter. I have the money ready. The 24th of January is the day after tomorrow, and I intend to be at Waterloo Station, alone, at 6.00 p.m. with the money ready to hand over.'

  Holmes drew on his cigarette, and sat silently for some time. At length he said, 'What was in these letters, Lord Carstairs, which Q.B. has in his possession?'

  'They are addressed to my late friend, Mr Charles Courtney, of whose sad and untimely death you may have read last year. He died of consumption, last August; he was two years younger than myself. He was the best friend a man ever had, and I would have trusted him with my life.'

  'Evidently you did trust him with your secret.'

  'My dear sir, he knew all about it from the first! He was my support and my adviser over the whole affair. He was also the best man at my wedding, which as you may gather, took place some ten years ago, and it was on this occasion that I wrote him the fatal letters.'

  'Can you remember exactly the compromising words?'

  'Almost exactly. The first was written some months before my wedding, when preparations were still at an early stage. I invited him to be best man, and made some light-hearted reference to the fact that I would have to give up my old easy ways and become a model of virtue as a married man; adding, on a serious note, that I would have to give up all hope of future contact with my son, which I saw to be a painful but necessary decision.'

  I see. And the second letter?'

  'The second letter was written a few days before the ceremony itself. It was mainly concerned with travel arrangements. Towards the end I made some reference to his own last letter to me, which had contained some sympathetic words of advice. I said something like: "Thank you for your kind words about my boy; as you say, he is in good hands, and my contributions will ensure a good education. For the rest, it must be as you say; mum's the word."

  Sherlock Holmes remained relaxed back in his chair, eyes half closed.

  I see,' he repeated. 'And in neither letter was your son's name or that of his mother mentioned?'

  'No. I am absolutely certain as to that, thank God!'

  'Very well. We may assume that Q.B. is working in the dark as to your son's identity. Now we come to the crux of the matter; how did these letters pass into his hands, and have you any clue as to who he is?'

  Lord Carstairs sighed. 'I have wracked my brains over the matter and come up with nothing conclusive. When Courtney died, all his personal effects would have gone into his sister's possession, she being his only surviving relative. He was a bachelor.'

  'Do you know this sister?'

  'Not well, but enough to believe that she would never stoop to blackmail. And what reason would she have? She is rich enough, since her brother's death; and I am certainly not aware of any grudge she may bear against me.'

  'Her name?'

  'Mrs Cecil Forrester.'

  'Ah, she has a husband.'

  'She has been a widow these three years. Her husband died in India.'

  'I see. And have there been subsequent suitors?'

  Lord Carstairs seemed somewhat embarrassed by the question.

  'Well...as to that,' said he, stroking his moustache with a look of indecisive amusement upon his face, 'there... appears to have been a development in the lady's life. Rather a topical one, I suppose, under the circumstances. Rumour has it that she has been heard on more than one occasion to declare herself utterly opposed to anything of the kind. She appears to prefer the company of her intimate friends. I'm sure, under the circumstances, that I need explain no further...'

  He must have thought it very prim of me (under the circumstances) to blush, but blush I did.

  Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes very wide, and leaned forward in his chair.

  'Good heavens, Lord Carstairs, do I understand you to imply that this Mrs Forrester moves in circles in which she could well have made the acquaintance of Miss Kirkpatrick and of your--well, and of Miss D'Arcy, for example?'

  'Ah, I have forestalled you there, Mr Holmes,' said Lord Carstairs with a wry chuckle. 'I have discussed the whole thing with Maria. She has heard of Mrs Forrester, she says, but she has not actually met her; even though, coincidentally, she also resides in Camberwell. No, the problem must definitely be approached from my end, Mr Holmes. However the blackmailer obtained the letters from Mrs Forrester, he is definitely not on Maria's trail. If he knew that my son was also hers, he would certainly make no secret of the fact, as it would add scandal to scandal.'

  'Hmm.' Holmes lit a second cigarette. The firelight played across his tense features, giving them an unearthly, almost a threatening quality, I thought. 'Mrs Cecil Forrester is definitely the link in the chain, however,' he said. 'It may be true, as you say, that she herself would not blackmail her brother's old friend, especially as her own social position appears to be somewhat unsteady. Who would be most likely, therefore, to have had access to Mrs Forrester's papers over the last few months? Clearly someone with whom she is intimate. From what you say, Lord Carstairs, that person is unlikely to be of the male gender. The chances of the blackmailer being a woman are therefore very high.

  'There is always the possibility, of course, that those letters have been stolen from her; so we must not exclude the male gender entirely from our enquiry...Surely, Lord Carstairs, your natural curiosity must have led you to try and contact Mrs Forrester? I am assuming from what you have said, that you have not been successful in this.'

  Lord Carstairs gave a short laugh. 'Upon making enquiries, I found that Mrs Forrester is out of the country. I believe that she intends to spend the rest of the winter in Paris, where she has a friend; but exactly where in Paris, and with which friend, I have been unable to ascertain. Obviously the letters I have received do not come from Paris! And now there is no more time.'

  Sherlock Holmes rose briskly from his chair.

  'There are forty-eight hours, Lord Carstairs,' he said. 'And those forty-eight hours may be everything. Thank you for this late interview--I trust you will have no reason to regret it. I will be in touch with you again by the morning of the 24th at the very latest. In the meantime, I would advise you to do nothing yourself, and to discourage Miss and Mr Kirkpatrick from any further attempts at burglary. Good evening to you, Lord Carstairs.'

  He had already shaken hands with the bemused gentleman and was halfway to the door before our host had time to express the bewilderment caused by these parting words.

  'Burglaries?' he faltered. 'What burglaries, Mr Holmes?'

  I hastened to reassure him as I shook his hand.

  'Mr Maurice Kirkpatrick made an attempt to procure his birth certificate from his mother's house at Camberwell this morning,' I said. 'I'm afraid he was unsuccessful; the housemaid interrupted him, and the document was eventually found by Miss D'Arcy and myself. I must confess, I don't see that the possession of it would have done him much good.'

  Lord Carstairs gave a rueful laugh of relief.

  'Good heavens, Dr Watson! I suppose they wanted to forestall any similar attempts on the part of the blackmailer. But as I have said, I am sure there is no reason to fear an approach from that side. So, Miss D'Arcy holds the document?'

  'Well--' I hesitated. 'No, actually it is in Mr Holmes' possession. But I assure you that it will be returned to Miss Kirkpatrick once this affair is all over. I have every confidence,' I added reassuringly, 'that Mr Sherlock Holmes will soon have the matter cleared up.'

  Lord Carstairs shook my hand warmly.

  'My dear Dr Watson,' he
said, 'I really am most grateful both to Mr Holmes and to you. I must say that I read your account of Mr Holmes' handling of the Mormon business with the greatest interest, and like you, I have every confidence in him. I only wish I had the good sense to consult him at the beginning of this affair.'

  With that, he bade us a hearty farewell, and we left him a much more cheerful man than we had found him.

  --VIII--

  IT WAS PAST midnight by the time we reached Baker Street. Holmes made straight for the spirit flask on the sideboard.

  'You're not tired, Watson?' he said, as he poured two very large whiskies and soda.

  I was, in fact, at the stage where one is too tired for sleep; my excesses of the previous evening (was it only the previous evening?), my broken night, followed by the excitement of the last fourteen hours or so, had reduced me to a state of remarkable lucidity. The adrenaline pulsed through my veins, and my whole body felt light and transparent.

  'Not at all, Holmes,' I murmured; and accepting the proffered glass, I sank into the armchair with a sigh.

  Holmes curled himself up in his chair and lit a pipe. For some time he stared at the contents of his glass as though he expected to read there the identity of the mysterious 'Q.B.'

  'Well, Watson,' he said at last, removing his pipe from his mouth and downing half of his whisky at one gulp, 'what do you make of it?'

  'It is certainly...unusual,' I said dreamily, holding up my glass to catch the light, as though it were the whisky we were discussing.

  'Q.B., Q.B.,' muttered Holmes. 'Somewhere in my memory, Watson, is the key that will unlock the door to Q.B.'s identity. I know it. I sense it; and yet I cannot--quite--reach it.'