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It was, I suppose, inevitable, that when I returned from urgent night-time visits to two of my patients, I would find Holmes had been injured. I had trudged wearily up the seventeen steps to 221B, entered our rooms and hung my hat and coat on the coat stand, and was about to throw my bag into my armchair when I realised Holmes was bleeding.
I admit to being less than sympathetic. He was attempting to bandage the wound in his arm himself, but, in fact, appeared to be also dripping blood over the table and, as I quickly realised, what were my carpet slippers.
“Really, Holmes!” I remonstrated. “Sit still and I will see to it for you.”
He grunted but made no objection. I insisted on cleaning the wound despite his protestations he had already done so. This was partly because I didn’t trust him to do so properly and partly to vent my own frustrations at being delayed from reaching my bed. Having done so and having satisfied myself it wasn’t as bad as I had initially feared, I bandaged his arm and ordered him to move it as little as possible for the next few hours.
He looked as if he would defy me, so I asked him if he needed to go out again.
“Not for some hours,” he replied.
“Good.” I hunted in my medical bag and produced a triangular sling, which I used to tie up the injured arm. “I am going to my room and intend to catch up on the sleep I missed last night. I shall untie the sling when I come back down. And do not think you can fool me by removing your arm from the sling and replacing it the moment you hear me returning.”
He had the grace to give a small smile in acknowledgement that he had indeed been thinking of this.
“Do you think Mrs Hudson would be prepared to delay luncheon until two o’clock?” I continued.
“I’m sure she will if she knows it’s for you.”
“Perhaps you could go and ask her,” I said. I picked up my bag and headed for my own room, where I gratefully lay down on the bed and fell asleep.
***
When I returned downstairs a few hours later, I was in a much better frame of mind. I instantly removed Holmes’ sling before he had occasion to complain about it and took my place at the dining table. Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson arrived with our luncheon.
I was partway through my meal when I paused and said, “So, tell me about this latest case.” Holmes looked at his bandaged arm, and I added, “Yes, that one.”
“A curious affair,” he said. “I was exploring the area in the role of a drunken toff. Had I been wearing my alternate outfit of workman’s overalls I would have been better protected. I shall keep that in mind for future use.”
“Ahem!” I said. I had no wish for Holmes to distract me from the details of the case.
“There have been a number of occasions recently where such gentlemen have been relieved of their valuables. Not that this is unheard of, by any means, but in these occasions, the valuables include letters which might prove of an incriminating nature. I was consulted by one such unfortunate who told me he had heard of others having similar experiences.”
“Blackmail?” I asked.
“Almost certainly. My sense is someone is specifically targeting these gentlemen. It seems very unlikely the blackmailer is the actual assailant; I am assuming the assailant or assailants are hired and permitted to keep whatever other valuables they obtain.”
“And you had a suitable letter in your pocket?” I surmised.
“Correct. I had visited a number of establishments where I made it known in my drunken state that I was carrying a particular missive. I wasn’t sure whether the ruse would work, but as I was finally making my way home, I was attacked, and the letter taken.”
“But, Holmes, surely no-one will contact you in a blackmail attempt,” I protested.
Holmes gave a bark of laughter. “I admit to initialling the letter SH, but the address on the reverse was for one Miss S Hopkins.”
“Holmes, really! Poor Inspector Hopkins will be horrified if he receives a blackmail demand.”
“I have taken the precaution of forewarning the inspector, and he has told his landlady anything for a Miss Hopkins is important police business.”
I sighed with relief and continued to eat my food.
We had not long finished eating when there was a knock on the door and Mrs Hudson entered carrying a tray and followed by Hopkins.
Hopkins waited until Mrs Hudson had retired before saying, “The letter has arrived.”
He handed it over to Holmes, who glanced at it and said, “You’ve not opened it?”
“No. Somehow it didn’t seem quite right to do so.”
“Well, take a seat and we’ll see what it says.” Holmes opened the envelope and read the contents. “The blackmailer isn’t asking a particularly high price,” he said. He told us the amount.
“Maybe not,” Hopkins said. “But I wouldn’t like to have to find that amount of money quickly.”
“Our blackmailer is astute. He knows the lady wouldn’t be able to afford it, so he plays on her asking the gentleman for what, to him, would be a comparatively smaller sum.”
“What happens next?” I asked.
“The lady must ask for more time,” Holmes replied. “She will send her maid with a note and we will follow her.”
“Will it be risky?”
“I think not. Our blackmailer is expecting communication and will not press too soon. We shall send Aggie, and two of the Irregulars can follow her closely to ensure her safety.” Turning to Hopkins, he asked, “Will you join us, Inspector?”
Hopkins smiled. He was always happy to learn from Holmes. “Thank you, Mr Holmes, I will.”
Hopkins departed, and Holmes spent the rest of the day making his preparations.
***
The following evening, we set out. Aggie, our housemaid, had been suitably primed by Holmes and equipped by Mrs Hudson, who had placed a rolling pin in Aggie’s basket. Hopkins joined us at our destination, and we watched from a safe distance whilst the Irregulars crept closer.
Aggie approached the side of one of the prestigious gentlemen’s clubs, and shortly afterwards a liveried employee stepped outside. Aggie bobbed a curtsey and passed over a note, saying, as Holmes had instructed her, “My mistress sent this, sir.”
The man read the note and replied to Aggie. We couldn’t tell what he said, but he seemed satisfied with the arrangement because Aggie bobbed another curtsey and walked away, the man returning inside the building.
Satisfied the coast was clear, Holmes stepped out of the shadows and beckoned to Aggie. “What did he say to you?” he asked.
“To tell my mistress her terms were acceptable. That was all, sir,” she replied.
Holmes looked thoughtful.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“There is nothing more we can do this evening,” he said. “We’ll go back to Baker Street for now.” There was a familiar glint in his eye. “Hopkins, what do you know about a man called Broughton?”
“He’s a slippery customer. We’ve had our eye on him for some time but have never been quick enough to prove anything.”
“If my theory is correct, you may soon have all you need. Can you be at Canning Town police station at eleven tomorrow morning with some of your men?”
“That will be no problem at all,” Hopkins said. He nodded to us and departed.
I hailed a cab, and Holmes, Aggie and I returned to Baker Street.
Once we were back in our own rooms, I asked Holmes what he now knew. He poured both of us a glass of brandy, and we took our seats before he began to speak.
“The man who received Aggie’s note is called Thomas Wright. He was dismissed from his post at the Diogenes about six weeks’ ago. A few of the members had reported the loss of small items, and although nothing could be proved, Mycroft had his suspicions and Wright was asked to leave.”
“So how has he managed to get a similar job in another club? The Diogenes would never give him a reference.”
“I presume they were forged. If my plan were simply to have him dismissed, I could query that, but this way I hope to kill two birds with one stone.”
“Wright and Broughton. But what’s the connection?”
“Wright is married to Broughton’s sister.”
“You seem to know a lot about the man,” I said thoughtfully. “I presume Mycroft must have consulted you.”
“He did. And I was forced to agree with him that proof would be hard to obtain because nothing was ever likely to happen in our vicinity. And, had it not been for the addition of the blackmailing element, I doubt I would have realised Wright had continued with his old ways at his new club.”
“So, he informs his brother-in-law of his selected target, brother-in-law steals both valuables and letter, and both are happy.”
“Precisely!”
We parted shortly after that. Holmes had suggested I spend the night with him, but tiredness, or maybe second sight, compelled me to say I would sleep in my own bed. It was as well. At three o’clock the following morning there was loud knocking on our door, and Aggie called out to say I was needed.
I returned just as Holmes was preparing to depart to meet Hopkins.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” Holmes said with a smile. “But I do not anticipate any problems and you would be better placed returning to your bed.”
Consequently, I had just woken when Holmes returned home. I may not be a consulting detective, but it is not hard to tell from the sound of his movements when things have gone well. I rose and went down to greet him.
“It went well, I see,” I said.
“It went very well. We found Wright and Broughton together and much of the stolen goods which they had so far been unable to dispose of. We also retrieved a quantity of correspondence which Wright had secreted and which he could not justify being in his possession. Hopkins is naturally delighted.”
“And you, how are you feeling?”
“I am content and in the mood for celebrating tonight at Simpson’s if you would care to accompany me.”
I smiled. “Holmes, have you ever known me to refuse such an offer?”