Chapter 34

We were all lost in thought as we rode the elevator to the lobby. The doors opened to the strains of violins. The string ensemble had returned and was stroking out a jaunty tune. I didn’t remember the name, but I remember the lyrics. “Oh, we sailed the ocean blue . . .”

Holmes stopped in his tracks. “Ah, wonderful Wiggins. The H.M.S. Pinafore. I haven’t heard that for years. I took you to see it at the Adelphi just before you left for America. Do you remember?”

“Just the melody. Seems to me I remember a busty lady named Buttercup.”

“You would remember that,” Violet scolded.

Holmes wagged a finger in time with the beat. “Our dear Gilbert and Sullivan. Can you imagine they hated each other so much, they sat back to back when they had to work in the same room? Mycroft always wondered what they would have come up with if they got along.”

“Probably ‘She’s Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage,’” Violet said, giving my arm a tug.

Holmes actually laughed. “Very good, my dear. I can’t imagine anything more silly.”

Stepping out, we were surprised to discover snow had again begun to fall. For once we found no taxi waiting, and Holmes didn’t seem to care.

“A very productive day so far, Wiggins. I can hardly wait to attend Mrs. Croydon’s séance.”

“Indeed.”

“I can’t, either,” Violet squealed.

“Did either of you observe anything unusual about Sir Arthur’s relationship with Lady Jean?”

“He seemed protective, if that is what you mean.”

“Precisely, Wiggins. Though she’s the one who tends the gate when we talk to him, Sir Arthur seems to be aware of the inconsistencies in her version of Spiritualism and is quick to explain them away.”

“They’re protecting each other,” Violet said in a firm voice. “It’s almost as if she doesn’t really believe in it herself. I think she understands how much Sir Arthur has declined because of his beliefs, and she wants to shield him from ridicule.”

Thunderbolt!

Holmes, as excited as I had ever seen him, seized her by her arms and squeezed. “You are the wisest of us all, dear lady. Of course you’re right. It explains her truculence toward us to perfection.”

While Violet beamed, I held my breath in amazement. This was probably the closest Holmes had ever come to embracing any woman, and I expect he was more impressed by her insight than anything Dr. Watson or I came up with.

“Bravo, my dear,” I said, with a quick peck on her cheek. “But just to let you know my deductive faculties haven’t been asleep for the last two days, I’ve noticed some interesting inconsistencies between what Sir Arthur says and what Margery told me when Officer O’Neal and I visited her last night. I asked her directly why she invited the man she knows as Baker to her lecture. She said it was because her husband asked her to. And now Sir Arthur says she told him she wanted to give Becker an opportunity to announce his fund-raising event. It appears she lied to someone, and for no good reason I can come up with.”

Holmes nodded with a thoughtful look. “She’s being guarded, at the very least.”

“More than guarded, I’d venture. Sir Arthur seems to relate all of Becker’s motives and actions to his supposed desire to promote Spiritualism in Germany. Margery, on the other hand, told Officer O’Neal and me the friendship between Becker and her husband was based on shared affection for Germany and a common interest in eugenics and Aryanism. Knowing Becker, I tend to believe she was being truthful with us.”

“I concur, Wiggins.”

Violet flashed an angry look. “I don’t know Mr. Becker at all, but I certainly hope you don’t think everyone who’s involved in Spiritualism has bad motives.”

“Of course not,” Holmes said. “I never said any such thing.”

“I just wanted to let you know there’s a woman down the block from us who reads tarot and has a crystal ball. She puts on séances for us every once in a while, and hardly charges anything for her services. What she does take in provides a little more money for her husband to play the stock market. She calls herself a Spiritualist, and she’s probably contributed to the national organization. I’m sure she must know Albert Becker, but I’m equally sure she has no idea of where his money is going. Most of all, she certainly isn’t a bad person.”

“Absolutely not,” Holmes said. “At worst, she’s a petty thief. Not even that, if people consider her to be an entertainer only. I would guess she’s like nearly everyone else in the profession. Harmless and, essentially, a good person.”

“Exactly.”

“I expect nearly everyone in Detroit admires Henry Ford, too.”

Caught off guard, Violet frowned. “I’ve heard that some business leaders are angry because he pays his workers so well, but, at least as far as I know, everyone else considers him to be a good man.”

I never regretted not telling Violet about my friendship with Mo before. Now I wished I had.

“And in most ways, he undoubtedly is.” Holmes continued. “But he hates Jews, and he’s one of Adolf Hitler’s biggest supporters. At best, he’s misguided. At worst, he’s extremely dangerous. With his wealth and influence, he has almost unlimited power to put his unfortunate beliefs to work.”

“Maybe so, but I never even heard of Hitler until Timothy mentioned his name.”

“Right now, that’s one of his greatest strengths. He’s just the leader of one of the scores of political parties and causes in Germany thriving on the poverty caused by uncontrollable inflation.”

“It’s almost unimaginable,” I said. “People had to carry their money around in wheelbarrows, and spend it as quickly as they got it. Otherwise it became worthless in a matter of hours. Some think Germany will still become the next Russia because the Socialists are so popular and want to confiscate the wealth of the rich. It’s led to open warfare between Left and Right. What makes matters even more complicated, many of the communist leaders are Jewish.”

Violet yawned. “I’ve had enough of politics. Let’s get back to the room so I can finish my bread pudding.”

 

Rose met us at the door, bubbling with excitement. “I’ve found the name of a scholar Becker’s been corresponding with. He’s very well-known.”

“Indeed,” Holmes said. “Who would that be?”

“Madison Grant.”

“The naturalist?” I blurted in surprise “He’s a close friend of Theodore Roosevelt.”

“And John Muir as well. He’s visited Muir at Yosemite on more than one occasion. Grant’s been concerned about the decline of the moose population because of disappearing habitat, and he’s been trying to keep it from becoming worse.”

“Many Progressives are worried about declining species,” I said.

“Very true, but Grant also has extended his concerns to humans, especially the Nordic race. He says it’s being taken over by hordes of inferior stocks from Africa and the Mediterranean who reproduce at a much higher rate.”

Mr. Holmes stroked his cheek. “Why does he think the Nordics are superior?”

“He claims the cold northern climate has winnowed out the weaker members, leaving only the hardiest behind. This has also meant they are a smaller population and vastly outnumbered by the other races, and will have to battle for their survival.”

“I see,” said Holmes. “I expect Mr. Grant is arguing that the Nordics either have to remove the intruders from their land, or expand into other places.”

“He recommends both. It’s all in his book, Passage of the Great Race. According to him, the same thing is occurring in this country. He says there are far too many inferior peoples. He wants sterilization of mental defectives, to begin with—if there are still too many, he has a much more drastic solution.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” I mumbled.

“He wants them euthanized.”

“Euthanized?” Violet shouted. “Murdered, you mean. What a perfectly horrible thought. This is by a noted scholar?”

“Absolutely. And it is horrible. Apparently Becker’s convinced it’s a splendid idea. He sent a copy of Grant’s book to Hitler’s secretary.”

“Although I’m sure the great leader was already familiar with it,” Holmes said dryly. “Mr. Grant’s ideas couldn’t have fallen on more dangerous ears.”

“It gets worse. Hitler wrote a personal letter to Becker thanking him for the gift. He says the book has become his Bible. I get the impression that isn’t the first or only correspondence. Hitler considers Becker to be one of his most loyal and important supporters, and a tireless worker for the cause.”

The words made me shudder.