Chapter 20

Shortly before midnight, I was wondering how much longer I needed to continue my vigil. I must also admit that I was rather surprised that the egg had been left unattended.

Suddenly, I heard, rather than saw, someone enter the room. With my chair angled to face the egg, my view of the entrance was totally obscured by base of the statue. Nevertheless, I decided to peek around the base, and I caught sight of Eaton, the organist, walking toward the other end of the room. Once at the organ, he began to gather up his sheet music and place it in the satchel he was carrying.

I resumed my previous position and focused my attention on the egg once again. Then I heard another noise near the entrance and assumed the musician was departing. However, he seemed to be fumbling with the door handles, and there was an additional sound that I was unable to identify. About a minute later, Eaton came into view. He stood near the table with the egg, carrying a tray with two fluted glasses on it. He gazed at the egg, admiring it for perhaps a minute.

Then, he suddenly spoke, “Mr. Holmes, I know you are here somewhere. Won’t you come out and join me for a glass of champagne? It really is a superior vintage.” He paused and when no response was forthcoming, he spoke again, “Come now, Mr. Holmes, I recognized Dr. Watson earlier in the evening although I appear to have lost track of him. If he is with you, you can both come out. I will fetch a third glass.”

I was stunned. When I had met him earlier in the evening, he had spoken with a proper British accent, perhaps from somewhere in the Midlands. However, now he sounded distinctly American.

He waited a few more seconds and then said, “Last chance, Mr. Holmes.”

When there was no answer, he reached down and attempted to remove the glass dome but, for some reason, he seemed to struggle with it, and when he stepped back, I could see the dome was still guarding the precious egg.

Reaching into his satchel, he fumbled around and suddenly, he removed a pistol. Before I could say a word, he swung the pistol and smashed the glass with the butt.

What happened next occurred so quickly and was so baffling that it still amazes me. Although he had struck the dome with considerable force, it did not shatter. Even more amazing was the fact that although the glass had cracked, it had remained intact; however, the egg had disappeared from sight. And if that weren’t enough, suddenly Holmes and Lestrade appeared from behind the screen that had been positioned in front of the alcove.

“So you are here,” Eaton said. “I rather suspected you would be on hand. I mean leaving the egg unguarded, that’s just not your style, now is it Mr. Holmes?”

Stepping forward, “Lestrade said, “I’m placing you under arrest,” as he seized the gun and secured the man’s wrist with a pair of darbies.

“On what charge? Damaging a glass dome?”

“Attempted theft at the British Museum . . .”

Before Lestrade could continue, the Merchant interrupted him. “Interesting, I don’t remember ever visiting the British Museum, and I certainly don’t recall trying to steal anything from it. I do hope that you have witnesses who can corroborate your allegation and state with certainty I was there.”

Lestrade continued unruffled. “You are also charged with the murder of a man in Paris.”

“A man, you say? Does the fellow have a name?”

“We will discover the victim’s identity, soon enough,” replied Lestrade.

“And someone saw me kill this unnamed man? I think you are treading on very thin legal ice, Inspector. However, I am more than happy to concede that this has all been some sort of misunderstanding. Now, if you would be so kind as to remove the cuffs immediately, I give you my word as a gentleman I shall not pursue legal action against you nor Scotland Yard.”

Lestrade hesitated and then looked at Holmes, who broke his silence by saying, “It may take some time Mr. Bullard, but I promise you that you will pay for every crime enumerated by Inspector Lestrade, plus a few others he has yet to mention.”

For the first time, I thought I detected an instant of doubt flash across the man’s face, but his bravado remained intact as he said, “What did you call me, Mr. Holmes?”

“I called you Bullard. You are, after all, Charley Bullard, are you not?”

“Who the deuce is Charley Bullard?” asked Lestrade.

Gazing in my direction, Holmes said, “You can come out now, Watson. And I must say you did a splendid job, old fellow.”

As I stepped out from behind the statue, Eaton looked at me and said, “So good to see you again, Dr. Johnson, or should I say, Dr. Watson. I was wondering where you were hiding.”

“Holmes, just who is this impudent fellow? I asked.

“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Mr. Charles W. Bullard. He is, as you can tell from his accent, an American. In addition to being one of the finest safecrackers in the world, Mr. Bullard is also a convicted thief and an escaped criminal. And I have no doubt, as Lestrade has said, that he is also a murderer.

“He was partners with a man named Adam Worth. Working in concert with one Fredericka Mandelbaum, Worth helped Bullard to escape from prison where he was serving a sentence for stealing $100,000 worth of goods from the Hudson River Railway Express.

“I have no doubt Mr. Bullard helped plan his own extrication as the scheme was quite ingenious. Worth, Mandelbaum and their associates rented an office directly across the street from the prison. Once they had the premises secured, they then tunneled into Bullard’s cell. Of course, they had a little help on the inside from a pair of prison guards who were paid handsomely for their silence. That was, I believe in 1869.

“Never one to let grass grow under his feet, later that year Bullard and Worth robbed the vault of the Boylston National Bank in Boston, getting away with some $200,000. However, the American police were determined to bring the robbers to justice, so Worth and Bullard decided to move to England. They have been living here under false names and quietly plying their criminal trade ever since.

“I cannot be certain, but I shouldn’t be surprised if the body pulled from the Seine turned out to be Worth. Perhaps there was a falling out or a disagreement about the spoils.”

“Bravo, Mr. Holmes. You appear to have everything figured out,” said the man Holmes had called Bullard. “If I may, a question?”

“By all means,” said Holmes.

“It took you long enough. What was it that finally tripped me up?”

“I have been aware of your activities for some time, but until you stole the jambiya from Lord Thornton, our paths had never crossed.”

“I knew that job was a mistake from the beginning,” Bullard said. “Adam insisted that it was an easy score.”

“I might have even overlooked the theft,” said Holmes, “but threatening a child is reprehensible.”

“You still haven’t told me what gave me away.”

“I fully expected you to make an attempt on the Duchess’ egg,” said Holmes. “And when I heard of the failed attempt in Russia, I knew there was only one other place that you could obtain one.

“When the Duchess introduced you as John Eaton, my suspicions were pretty much confirmed.”

“Oh?” said Bullard.

“You were entirely too predictable,” replied Holmes.

I must have looked as mystified as Lestrade. “Holmes, Eaton is a common name I said.”

“Do you remember how all the other names he and Worth used were those of men who had served in the Cabinets of different presidents of the United States? Well, John Henry Eaton was an American politician who served as a major during the War of 1812 and became an aide to General Andrew Jackson. In fact, Eaton fought with Jackson at the Battle of New Orleans.

“After the war, Eaton served in the U.S. Senate and was actually the youngest man ever elected to that august body. When Jackson was elected president, Eaton resigned his seat in order to serve as Secretary of War.”

“That was my mistake?” asked Bullard incredulously.

“One of two,” replied Holmes.

“What was the other?”

“Playing the organ. After all, there aren’t too many criminals with the nickname ‘Piano Charlie.’ When I heard the first strains of Bach, I was absolutely certain that we had finally come face to face with the Merchant.”

“The Merchant?” asked Bullard.

Smiling, Holmes said, “That has become Dr. Watson’s sobriquet for you, Mr. Bullard. And now Inspector, you may take him away.”

As Holmes turned away, Bullard said, “You disappoint me, Mr. Holmes.”

Holmes stopped and looked at Bullard. “Oh, how so?”

“Did you really think I would undertake a job of this magnitude with but one bullet in my gun?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Mr. Holmes, as I am sure you know, these operations require a great degree of advance planning. There are always unforeseen elements that cannot be accounted for such as the presence of Inspector Lestrade and yourself behind that screen, not to mention the big officer lurking in the bushes outside. To quote the poet:

‘The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

For promis’d joy!’

If you catch my drift?”

I was surprised, for the man had delivered the lines written by Burns with an impeccable Scottish burr.

“I am certain I have no idea of what your ‘drift’ is,” replied Holmes icily.

“Then let me spell it out for you. I know how fond you are of your landlady. What’s her name? Mrs. Hill? Mrs. Haversham? Something with an ‘H.’ I am certain of it.”

“Her name is Hudson,” replied Holmes tersely.

“Of course, of course, Hudson. How could I forget a name like that? It was one of my biggest jobs. At any rate, how is the dear lady? Have you checked on her lately? I am inclined to think you have not, since you’ve been rather busy taking care of things down here.”

I could not restrain my anger any longer, “If you have harmed Mrs. Hudson, not even the law will be able to protect you from me!”

“Easy there, Doctor. No harm has come to the woman—yet.”

“What do you mean yet?” I roared.

“Quite simply this. If I do not make a phone call to a certain associate in London within,” he glanced at his watch, “the next 10 minutes, you may well find yourselves returning to an empty house at Baker Street.”

“So you are offering Mrs. Hudson’s safety in exchange for your freedom?” said Holmes.

“Exactly,” replied Bullard.

“Take him away, Lestrade, and make certain he does not escape. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to Mr. Bullard before he can stand trial.”

Even Lestrade seemed taken aback by the fact that Holmes seemed so resolute in his answer; as a result, he asked my friend, “Are you certain, Mr. Holmes?”

“I am,” replied my friend.

I had felt ill when I heard Bullard utter those words, and I became more disconcerted as I watched Lestrade undo the chain that Bullard had used to secure the doors and march the man out of the library. I knew from the confident tone in Bullard’s voice that this was no mere bluff. I also knew there was no way that we could return to London in time to secure Mrs. Hudson’s safety. And even though Blenheim was equipped with telephones, I still was not certain a phone call, even from Lestrade or Holmes, would prove sufficient to foil Bullard’s plot.

To say I was upset with my friend would be a gross understatement. I have often remarked how cold and calculating—and yes, even ruthless at times—he can be. I was so beside myself that I looked at Holmes and said, “I understand your need to uphold the law, but I never thought you would place an innocent life in jeopardy just to satisfy your own sense of justice.”

Holmes actually seemed strung by my words. Softly, he replied, “As you should know by now, Watson, Bullard is not the only one who can plan ahead.”