Watson waited until he was alone in his room to examine the piece of paper that Hulpett had given him. He read and reread it several times, hoping the meaning would leap out at him.
We made contact with Captain Brevette.
Brevette had been one of the two names written on the square of paper Archer had presented to Watson on his visit to the examination room. What was the significance of Brevette? He heard footsteps approaching and quickly tucked the paper under the excuse for a pillow. It was Harry, looking breathless and with snow in his hair.
‘You all right, lad?’
‘Never better, sir,’ he said, clutching his heart. ‘Just some of us boys having a snowball fight. One of the Germans joined in and wished he hadn’t. Looked like a bleedin’ snowman by the time we finished with ’im. He took it in good part, though.’ He paused. ‘I thought you might need a hand settin’ up for the surgery, sir.’
Watson nodded. He would be glad of the company, even if he did think Harry had something other than his best interests at heart. ‘As long as you aren’t neglecting your other charges.’
‘I told you, we’ve come to some arrangement, Doctor.’
‘And I said you must let me pay for any expenses in that area, Harry.’
He gave a lopsided grin. ‘I’ll bill you at the end of the month, sir.’
‘I won’t be—’ he began, before he realized the lad was joking. ‘I’ll pay you later on today. No arguments. Now, can you fetch me some boiling water?’
‘Sir.’
‘Oh, Harry.’
‘Sir?’
‘Do you know a Captain Brevette?’
Harry frowned. ‘Yeah . . . Brevette. He’s not on the list, is he? Must be some sort of mistake. He won’t be turning up for surgery today, though.’
‘And why is that?’
‘He died about three months ago. Maybe more.’
‘Of . . . ?’
‘It was the cholera. We had an outbreak. He was quarantined in the other compound. But it killed him.’
‘Just him?’
‘Only one to die. Some of the others had the . . . you know, the shits, sir.’
‘Diarrhoea and vomiting?’ Watson prompted.
‘Not half.’
‘Lucky.’
‘Not a word many of those affected used.’
‘Lucky you didn’t have a full-blown epidemic. Did they trace its source?’
‘No, but that German doctor had us clean out the latrines and he rerouted the drinking water pipes. They were next to the latrines.’
‘Steigler?’
‘That’s the kiddie.’
‘Good for him. And, Harry, one last thing – where is the chess club? In the rec room?’
‘No, they reckon that’s too noisy for them. Horseplay, they call it. Like a bit of peace and quiet, the serious players do. Hut 15 is where you’ll find them.’
‘Tonight?’
‘What’s today?’ He thought for a minute. ‘Yeah, Wednesday and Friday is backgammon, chess every other night. You fancy a game?’
‘I might,’ Watson said non-committally.
‘Well, be careful, sir. Some of them is demons and they like to suggest a little wager.’
‘Thank you for the warning. I prefer to lose my money on the horses.’
‘Ah, then you’ll be wanting Hut 9.’
‘What for?’
‘The Epsom of Harzgrund, that’s what it is. Only they ain’t got any real horses. So they use rats. But there’s bookies and everything.’
‘Sounds charming. But I’ll try the chess first.’
‘I’ll get that water.’
After he had left, Watson sat on the bed and ran the conversation with Harry through his mind, trying to decipher what was truth and what was a lie, until his head started to thump as if he’d swallowed more of that hideous alcohol.
It was later that same day that Watson made his way across to Hut 15. More blasted snow had arrived, filling the gauzy cones cast by the perimeter lights. But the snow brought a calming quiet as all noises were muffled and even the barking of the dogs seemed distant. Most sensible men had retreated indoors to keep warm, by stove and collective body heat. In his own hut, Cocky had opened up some more of his delights, and word had whipped around the camp that there was pressed ham and tinned pilchards and pickled onions and the atmosphere had grown oppressive as more and more souls ‘dropped by’ in the hope of some morsels. Watson was glad to be out of it.
He wondered what Holmes was doing at that moment. Probably settling down by the fire with pipe and book. Perhaps his young companion, Bert, would be with him. Watson felt a twinge of envy but quickly suppressed it. Circumstances had brought him here and there was little he could do to alter those. Holmes would never dwell on past events that were immutable. One should only dwell on those immediate concerns that can be influenced by your actions.
So what could he influence? He could find out what lay behind this apparent suicide of men who claimed to have contacted the dead Brevette. Something was very peculiar in this camp, very peculiar indeed. But he felt as if he were looking at events through a fog, that nothing would come into focus. There was foul play at work, but the exact shape and form of it was impossible for him to grasp, as if he were trying to catch and preserve one of the snowflakes falling around him.
He walked into the shadow of Hut 8 when he saw a figure detach itself from the wall. The man made two steps and turned to block his path. ‘Major Watson?’
‘Yes?’ he asked, trying to place the voice.
The blow from behind was both unexpected and accurate. A short, sharp tap to the temple and Watson’s legs crumpled under him and he pitched sideways, heading for a soft landing in the snow.
DAILY NEWS
GUARDS FOIL DARING AERIAL ESCAPE FROM HOLLOWAY
Witnesses see ‘dangerous’ female prisoner attempt to climb rope ladder into balloon before being shot dead.
Wreckage discovered on Highbury Fields – police search for body.
Female warder murdered ‘in cold blood’.
STOP PRESS: Police report finding body of escaped prisoner, identified as Nora Pillbody, convicted of murder and spying for a foreign power.