5: Sherlock Holmes’s Testimony

To judge by the babble of languages in the press gallery the Queen’s Comptroller had made it his business to alert the world’s press to Holmes’s pending appearance for the Prosecution. I now understood why Howard Hensman, the special correspondent who had covered the Battle of Maiwand for the Allahabad Pioneer and the newspaperman Hector Macpherson of The Standard and Horace Harker of the Central Press Syndicate were present, even why they had sat grinning at me, assuming I had known about the Prosecution’s astonishing coup de théâtre. They and the entire public gallery leaned forward with intense curiosity to catch a glimpse of Europe’s ‘premier Connoisseur of malefaction’ as he took the stand. Holmes had already attained the status of legend. It was quite redundant when he was asked to give his name and profession.

In the Judge’s seat Sir Thomas Carey leaned down to question him.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, all of us in this room know of your work in assisting New Scotland Yard to solve even the most confounding crimes...” He paused, looking up to where I was sitting. “… as related by your amanuensis Dr Watson who is seated in the gallery today. But few of us are yet entirely conversant with the science of fingerprinting. Some sceptics even say it is no nearer a science than water-divining or fortune-telling. Can you offer the Court a brief description of the science of finger-printing, please?”

Holmes nodded.

“Your Honour, fingerprints are formed on the foetus before birth and stay with us throughout our lives. Each print is made of a series of ridges and furrows on the surface of the last finger joints. Identification, known as dactyloscopy, relies on the analysis and classification of patterns observed in these individual prints.

“Fingerprinting for identification is a practice known to many civilisations. The Babylonians pressed fingerprints into clay to identify the author of cuneiform writings and to protect against forgery. The Chinese were using fingerprints by 800 B.C., also for purposes of identification. From time immemorial Tip sahi, or signature by finger impression, has been in use in Bengal.

“Prints left by people on objects they have touched can be either visible or latent. Visible prints may be left behind by substances that stick to the fingers—such as dirt or blood—or they may take the form of an impression made in a soft substance, such as clay or wax. Latent fingerprints are traces of sweat, oil, or other natural secretions left on objects which can be picked up or touched. These are not ordinarily visible and require a particular treatment. Because glass is hard, latent fingerprints can be made evident by dusting techniques.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” the Bailiff said, sitting back in his chair. “The Prosecution may proceed.”

At this, the Queen’s Procurer De Garis stepped forward to replace Ozanne.

“Mr. Holmes,” he began, “thank you for volunteering to appear as an expert witness for the Prosecution in this trial for the murder of Brigadier-General Delves. I start by asking you something which will be fundamental to this hearing – in your experience, is it possible for criminals to escape a crime scene without leaving behind trace evidence of some sort, evidence that can be used to identify and track them down?”

“In my experience it is not possible, no,” came the reply.

“Is that at least in part, if murder is about to take place, because the perpetrator of the crime would be in an unusually agitated state of mind and especially prone to making a blunder?”

“Very likely,” Holmes affirmed.

“So if a murder took place at, say, the New Moon Inn, evidence might well be discovered there of significant value to the investigation?”

“That would be my expectation,” Holmes replied.

“For instance, forgetting to remove a vital piece of evidence before leaving the Inn – shall we say a bottle found under a seat with identifiable fingermarks on it?”

“That would be a good example,” Holmes concurred.

“On your arrival here on the island of Guernsey,” the Queen’s Procurer continued, “were you taken to the police laboratory to examine fingermarks from a glass phial?”

“I was.”

De Garis reached forward to point at the table in front of him.

“In fact, this phial?”

“If you say that’s the same phial,” came Holmes’s reply, “yes.”

“Did you make a careful comparison of the marks on the glass with fresh prints taken from the Defendant?”

“I did.”

“Can you tell the court your conclusion after that careful comparison?”

Holmes turned to look straight at Fenlon. He made a pronouncement which seemed to condemn my old comrade to death: “I have no doubt the two prints, while partial and smudged, are those of the man in military uniform seated in the dock, namely Colonel Michael Fenlon.”

A gasp rose from the packed gallery. Fenlon half rose, both shocked and disoriented. The Queen’s Procurer continued to question his witness, hammering home Holmes’s expertise in dactyloscopy.

On the surface Holmes’s testament was damning, yet I was puzzled. There was something odd about it. Despite his statement unequivocally identifying the fingerprints as those of Fenlon, Holmes’s responses had grown increasingly Delphic. When the Queen’s Procurer had asked, “Mr. Holmes, you have affirmed the prints on the phial found under a chair at the New Moon Inn are those of the Defendant. Having heard all the evidence, do you believe the prisoner to be guilty as charged?” Holmes replied, “I have insufficient direct evidence to come to a conclusion either way”. When the Procurer prompted, “But what of the many facts by implication?” Holmes answered, “It’s true an accused can be convicted on circumstantial evidence – but it’s a tricky thing. Such evidence may seem to point in one direction – as in this case – but when you shift your own point of view a little, you find it moving in an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different.”

Holmes’s virtuoso performance was reaching its end.

A few inconsequential questions later De Garis looked up at the Bailiff.

“I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honour.”

The Bailiff looked at both the Counsel for the Defence and the Prosecution and said, “I suggest we take a break”. He glanced up at the clock. “Shall we say a half hour recess?”

***

Thirty minutes later the Court reassembled. For the Prosecution the Queen’s Procurer rose to his feet.

“Members of the Jury, we have heard from a variety of witnesses that Colonel Fenlon was the sole companion to Brigadier-General Delves throughout the evening in question, that they ended up at the New Moon Inn, that within minutes of leaving the Inn near closing time the Brigadier-General collapsed and was taken by a passing trap to the hospital where he was pronounced dead from the effects of ingesting alcohol mixed with Chlorodyne. We have heard from the wife of the landlord of the New Moon Inn how she discovered a glass phial under the seat the Defendant had occupied on the evening of the death of the Brigadier-General. We have heard from the Woodlands’ daughter how she thought she saw Colonel Fenlon bending down under the table. We have heard from medical specialists that alone, even copious amounts of alcohol would not have been sufficient to cause death to set in so rapidly. In effect, Chlorodyne additive to copious amounts of alcohol was the coup de grâce.”

He turned to look directly at the Jurats and said, “Most damning of all, the court has heard the evidence of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, a most accomplished consulting detective, one whose opinion is called upon from New Scotland Yard to the intelligence and counter-intelligence agencies of a dozen countries including America. He pronounced the fingermarks on that empty bottle of Chlorodyne found under a table at the New Moon Inn to be those of the accused, Colonel Fenlon, without the slightest doubt. Therefore, when we sum up the case for the Prosecution I shall be asking the Jury to find the Defendant guilty of premeditated murder as charged!”