The Case of the Ruby Necklace

by Bob Byrne

I have told you, dear reader, of the first case I shared with Sherlock Holmes, which occurred in March of 1881. I recall well his comments to me just before we received Inspector Gregson’s summons to Lauriston Gardens:

“Well, I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am the only one in the world. I’m a consulting detective, if you can understand what that is. Here in London we have lots of Government detectives and lots of private ones. When these fellows are at fault, they come to me, and I manage to put them on the right scent. They lay all the evidence before me, and I am generally able, by the help of my knowledge of the history of crime, to set them straight. There is a strong family resemblance about misdeeds, and if you can have all the details of a thousand at your finger ends, it is odd if you can’t unravel the thousand and first.”

“And these other people?” I asked, regarding the many strangers that visited our rooms for private sessions with Holmes. I had wondered if he were not some kind of fortuneteller and too embarrassed to tell me so.

“They are mostly sent on by private enquiry agencies. They are all people who are in trouble about something, and want a little enlightening. I listen to their story, they listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee.”

“But do you mean to say,” I said, “that without leaving your room you can unravel some knot which other men can make nothing of, although they have seen every detail for themselves?”

“Quite so. I have a kind of intuition that way. Now and again a case turns up which is a little more complex. Then I have to bustle about and see things with my own eyes. You see I have a lot of special knowledge, which I apply to the problem, and which facilitates matters wonderfully. Observation with me is second nature.”

I was at his side when he demonstrated his special knowledge and observational skills as he shone light on the mysterious deaths of Enoch J. Drebbor and his secretary, Joseph Stangerson. Inspectors Gregson and Lestrade of Scotland Yard were no closer to solving the mystery than was our not as yet long-suffering landlady, Mrs. Hudson.

While we became more comfortable as lodging mates, we still lived largely separate lives as that year wore on, though I confess I myself had little to occupy my time. The Army examined me and declared my health to be beyond serviceable status and I was discharged. With no possibility of being posted again as a military doctor, my ends could not have been looser.

Often, I had no idea where Holmes was, though he seemed uninterested in running here and there without what he deemed a specific purpose. I myself was prone to walks about the park as I attempted to recover from the wounds I had received at Maiwand. Holmes rarely accompanied me on these jaunts, and my solitary existence meandered along aimlessly.

221b certainly saw many comings and goings, though. Rarely did a week pass without at least one or two persons visiting our lodgings and asking Holmes for advice or guidance. Thus our Spring turned into Summer, Summer into Fall, and then the holiday season was upon us.

The cold weather caused my shoulder to ache and a feeling of listlessness seemed to have overtaken me the week before Christmas. Holmes had little use for the holiday, but I had allowed Mrs. Hudson to decorate our rooms a bit with a few pine spruces, pieces of holly, and some red bows. There were no stockings hung from the mantel, of course, but with a roaring fire, it was a cozy place with a little of the holiday spirit.

One evening I was comfortably ensconced in my chair, a copy of Anthony Trollope’s The Eustace Diamonds in my hands. I found the tale to be less than compelling, though I admit I was hoping that Lizzie Greystock received her comeuppance. I fear I was making little progress, dozing off and on while attempting to continue my reading.

Holmes slouched in his own chair, puffing absentmindedly on his briar pipe. Since I had quickly learned that he chose the clay for deep meditation and his cherry-wood when he felt particularly disputative, I guessed that he was bored: his machine-like brain spinning to no purpose.

A knock at the door brought him out of his reverie and me out my half-sleep. “Come in, Jamison,” he called out as I attempted to escape my state of torpor.

The door opened and in stepped a mustached man, wearing a bowler and a heavy overcoat. Both were wet from the light drizzle outside. “How could you know it was me, Holmes?”

Holmes waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really. Were it not a member of the official force, Mrs. Hudson would have announced you herself, not merely sent you up on your own. And you always skip the seventeenth step. Thus I knew it was not Lestrade or Gregson.”

He removed his hat, revealing thinning hair, showing gray around the edges. “Well then, nothing clever, I see.”

Holmes smiled bleakly. “Merely observation and deduction. Two things in short supply. No, no, Watson, please stay.” This was in response to my rising awkwardly and starting towards the door. It was my custom to leave when Holmes’s visitors arrived.

“Inspector Jamison, you have not had the pleasure of meeting Doctor John Watson, late of her Majesty’s Afghan service. He is my flat mate.”

Jamison offered his hand, which I took. “Hello, Doctor.” I exchanged a greeting and looked curiously at Holmes.

“I assume you have come with some little problem. Watson’s advice could be of aid. He will respect your confidences, won’t you, Watson?”

I admit that I straightened my shoulders with some pride as I returned to my seat. “Yes, yes, of course. Be glad to help if I can,” I told the inspector earnestly.

He nodded his head politely and took off his coat, revealing an ill-fitting suit. Such seemed to be required of inspectors at the Yard. He draped the coat on a table and took a seat himself, declining my offer of a drink.

“Good of you, Doctor.” He turned away from me. “Holmes. You know of Lord Bragington?”

The name was vaguely familiar to me, but Holmes instructed me to get the index book he kept which included subjects under the letter “B”. These books, into which he pasted various articles and bits of information, were a valuable resource to him.

Book in his lap, he leafed through it. “Bar of Gold - there’s an opium den of ill repute. Bertillon - brilliant fellow, though I believe there is a less cumbersome system yet to be developed. Oh. The Marquise de Brinvilliers. Poisoned her own family members. But that’s too far. Ah, here it is.”

He mumbled fragments aloud. “Wilifred Bragington. Financier. Trusted advisor to the government. Hmm... mm... mm.”

He clapped the book shut and tossed it carelessly aside. “I see nothing to indicate trouble emanating from Bragington himself. What is your concern?”

Jamison stared into the fire. “Lord Bragington, his wife, and daughter were here at their London home for Christmas when he was summoned to Burma on the Crown’s behalf. Lady Bragington and the daughter, Melissa, remained in town, with three other guests. The first was Alice Hitchcock, formerly Melissa’s nurse, and now a friend.”

“Nurse, you say? What is the young girl’s condition?” I interjected. Holmes made no objection, so Jamison turned to me.

“Formerly, she was very depressed and laid about all day. Her mother said she had no energy or interest in anything.”

I nodded my head. “Ennui. It is a lack of interest in life. Not fatal in itself, but if left untreated, the body is susceptible to various ailments. And of course, it can lead to serious depression, culminating in suicide attempts.”

“The young lady had overcome her affliction, I presume, as this Miss Hitchcock is now her companion, rather than her nurse,” Holmes added.

Jamison turned his attention back to him. “You’ve got it right, Holmes. Lady Bragington said they remained friends, and that seems to have helped keep her daughter’s spirits up.”

“And the other two guests?” So focused was I on the medical aspect of Jamison’s tale I had forgotten about the other players in this unrevealed mystery.

“Yes, yes.” Jamison removed a dog-eared notebook from his breast pocket and leafed through a few pages. “Jonathon Radwell. Late twenties, served in the military. He is quite glib. He is free and easy with his words, of the ‘hail - well met’ variety. He seems to be some kind of deal broker, but I’ve yet to determine what he actually does.”

Holmes puffed on his pipe, sending blue smoke drifting towards the ceiling. “A source of mine at the Foreign Office has warned me to be wary of this new breed of financial brokers. Often there is no real foundation at the base of the ‘propositions’ into which they connive to draw their investors. There is much talk but little substance. Great amounts of money are apt to be lost.” He paused. “I wonder if our Mister Radwell is one such?”

Holmes had mentioned an acquaintance at the Foreign Office once before, but he had provided no details. I wondered what position such a person might hold and how Holmes knew him.

“That’s as may be, Mister Holmes, but I couldn’t say. He’s the one with this ruby necklace.”

So saying, he handed Holmes an envelope. I watched my friend remove a silver necklace adorned with stunning rubies. The light from the fire reflected off a few of them and they seemed to burn from within. Holmes reached out for his magnifying glass and subjected the necklace to a thorough investigation. “I see that the setting has recently been worked upon.”

Jamison nodded. “You have a good eye, Holmes. Radwell had just returned from Scotland, where he had the silver setting replaced.” The detective returned the necklace to the envelope and handed it back to Jamison.

“Indeed, indeed. Most interesting.”

I admit I found nothing at all interesting in this but remained silent.

“It seems that Radwell intimated that if Melissa Bragington accepted his suit, the necklace would be hers. Perhaps as a Christmas present or as an engagement gift. I don’t believe that was made clear. But it was taken from his room and later found in Miss Hitchcock’s room.”

Holmes leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Excellent. You have my interest, Inspector. Everything in its order. What of the other guest?”

Jamison went back to his notebook. “Godfrey Stalwinn, employed by the firm of Hammersby, Odeon, and Nickwich.” He paused to reflect upon the young man, looking for the right words. “I wouldn’t call him taciturn, Holmes. Nor is he quite unfriendly. But his responses are always brief, and conversations with the man are filled with long pauses. I daresay a talk with him is the complete opposite of one with Radwell.”

I snorted. “A man who does not like talk may not be best suited for a career at law, eh, Holmes?” Though I immediately thought of several solicitors whom I would prefer to be less voluble.

“Indeed, Watson.”

“Did he have some gift for the young lady as well?” I interjected, wanting to contribute something more substantive.

“Nothing more than flowers, Doctor.”

“Ah,” I said, warming to the task. “Might not the morose young man have been upset with Radwell’s extravagant one-upsmanship? Perhaps he snatched the necklace to stir things up and take some of the shine from the presence of the rubies?”

Holmes smiled. “A valid point, Watson, though what would he gain by hiding it in Miss Hitchcock’s room?”

“Perhaps someone came down the hall and he was forced to duck into her room and hide it there?” I said, tentatively.

“No, no, Watson. That won’t do at all.”

Somewhat miffed, I resolved to remain silent for the next few minutes.

Holmes emptied his pipe into a copper bowl on the table next to him and set it down. “It all seems rather straightforward from your point of view, Jamison. Why have you sought me out?”

The inspector moved about in his chair. I wouldn’t quite call it “squirming”, but he seemed uncomfortable. “Yes, here’s the thing. Miss Hitchcock is a niece of Sir William Gull.”

“Aha!” Holmes fell back into his chair with a loud laugh.

“Really Holmes,” I cried, my vow of silence discarded by need. “That’s hardly a matter for joviality.”

Inspector Jamison looked back and forth between Holmes and I, wondering what he had found himself in the middle of.

“Come now, Watson. If this were just some common nurse, I certainly doubt that Inspector Jamison would be seeking my help. But a relative of the Physician in Ordinary to the Queen? I daresay he needs to be absolutely certain that the case is airtight before prosecuting the young lady.”

Jamison cleared his throat uncomfortably and leaned forward, iron in his voice. “Now see here, Holmes. If you’re implying that I would see an innocent person...”

Holmes raised a hand, palm outward, to stay Jamison. “No, no, Inspector. I assure you I am not besmirching your honor. But I know the, shall we say, difficulties and complexities when such an august personage may be involved. No matter how tangentially.”

A smile of gratitude crossed the inspector’s face and he sat back, voice softening. “You’ve got it exactly right, sir.”

“She denies taking the necklace, of course?”

“Naturally, Holmes. She has no idea how it got in her room. Or so she says.” Jamison’s tone of voice indicated that he was not fully convinced of her innocence.

“She used to be a governess, found herself unemployed, and discovered a calling as a nurse. She apparently is a good one and worked wonders in bringing Melissa Bragington back to health. The two stayed friends, which is why she was invited for Christmas.”

“Very close friends,” I observed.

“Definitely so, Doctor. Lady Bragington is understandably unhappy with Miss Hitchcock. She told me that they treated her as if she were their own daughter.”

“That is trusted, indeed. Why would she take the necklace?”

Jamison went back to his notebook. “Radwell presented the necklace after dinner one evening. Melissa Bragington tried it on, then gave it to Alice Hitchcock to do the same. Apparently the latter was quite taken with it. Lady Bragington even commented that it was better suited to her darker skin than to her daughter’s.”

Holmes began fiddling with his pipe again, tamping the tobacco in the bowl and lighting it once more. “I see,” he said quietly between puffs.

Jamison stared at him blankly. “I don’t see a thing, Holmes.”

“You see, but you do not observe, Inspector. Just another piece of clay as we make our bricks to fashion a wall of evidence”

I was stunned to see Holmes look askance at me and wink! “Tell me: Did Alice Hitchcock or Lady Bragington report any change in behavior in young Melissa? Perhaps during her friend’s visit?”

Jamison’s jaw dropped. “It’s witchcraft, it is. How could you know?”

“I am merely analyzing the data and making conjectures from it, Jamison. What one must always remember is that if the conjecture does not fit the data, one must either re-examine the data or discard the conjecture. I fear failure to do so is one of the greatest flaws in many of your colleagues.”

Jamison puzzled out that he had not just been insulted. “Yes, it seems that the young lady began acting a bit erratic during the holiday visit. Her mood would swing between irritable and lethargic.”

Holmes looked to me. “Your milieu, Doctor.

I paused for a moment of reflection. “It sounds as if she were in danger of a relapse. However, the irritability indicates that something specific was bothering her, preventing a malaise from completely overtaking her.”

“Tell me, Jamison. Do you know when the changes in her personality occurred?”

More flipping through the notebook. “I believe the problems began shortly after Radwell shared the necklace.”

“As I thought. Things take shape.”

He gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling and silence reigned for several moments. “If, in fact, young Miss Hitchcock is guilty, then you already have enough evidence to convict her, Jamison. So let us posit that she is innocent and someone else took the necklace.”

He quieted again as Jamison and I watched him, surprised at this change in direction.

“You have looked into the servants, of course?”

Jamison nodded. “Yes. That was our first thought, but we found nothing along that path.”

“Was the necklace locked up in Radwell’s room, Inspector?”

“Yes, in a drawer. Before you ask, there were only two keys. One kept in the butler’s office and one with Radwell, who insisted he never left it off his chain.”

“So, anyone with opportunity could have removed it from the butler’s office, used it, and returned it?”

“I suppose so, Holmes, though the butler says that was unlikely.”

“He would.” We were silent and I took the opportunity to light a cigar. I did not yet prefer a pipe.

“I cannot imagine Lady Bragington stooping to theft from a guest, Holmes. And then, why would she hide the necklace in Miss Hitchcock’s room?”

“Nobility is no bar to crime, Watson. But she does seem a less likely suspect. Of course, you have ascertained whether or not the necklace was insured?” Holmes asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, err, not quite yet, Holmes. That was next on our list.”

Holmes smiled at the inspector but chose not to comment on the man’s obvious dereliction of duty.

“Radwell may have hidden the necklace to gain the proceeds of an insurance policy. But we shall proceed with our explorations.”

“I should think that the other suitor, Stalwinn, would be a likely candidate.”

“Oh you do, do you, Watson? Pray, elaborate.”

I detected no insincerity in his comment, so I continued. “Well, as a suitor he seems to pale in comparison to Radwell. Less sociable and charming.”

“Very good. Continue.”

“And the introduction of the necklace most certainly injured his position. But if it were to disappear, he would regain some semblance of footing in the race to pursue Melissa Bragington.”

Holmes smiled. “Well thought out, Watson. Though he certainly put himself at great risk. Were he caught, he would not be able to woo her from prison. I think he would need more motivation than that.”

I sat back, a bit rankled at the dismissal of my theory. Jamison said nothing.

“Do you not see it, Jamison?”

“I see nothing, Mister Holmes. Nothing you’ve said makes it less likely that Alice Hitchcock is the thief.”

“Really, Inspector.” He shook his head sadly. “This is why you come to me. You have all the evidence I do. More, actually. Yet you fail to see the entire matter. Alice Hitchcock is guilty of nothing. Here is what you must do, just as I instruct.”

Jamison and I listened as Holmes laid out the entire matter, to our stunned surprise.

It was the next evening that Jamison stopped by our rooms, accepting a cup of tea. Mrs. Hudson had left the service and I took one myself. Upon hearing our visitor, Holmes had come out of his room, wearing his purple dressing gown.

“What news, Jamison?”

The inspector put his cup on the side table at his elbow and smiled broadly. “It was just as you foretold, Mister Holmes. I gathered Alice Hitchcock, Radwell, Stallwin, and Lady and Melissa Bragington at the latter’s house, just as you instructed.

“I told Radwell that we knew the stones were fakes and we were inquiring after his confederate in Scotland. Before he had a chance to deny it, Melissa Braginton wailed like a banshee and attacked him. He made to dash away before she reached him, but Stallwin, standing near the door, put him down with as nice a punch to the chin as I’ve seen in many a day.”

Had Holmes not revealed his deductions to us the prior night, I would have been dumbstruck with surprise at this recounting of events.

“Alice Hitchcock moved to comfort her friend, but young Miss Bragington then began shrieking at her.”

Here he paused and nodded approvingly at Holmes. “It was as you figured out. She had come to hate her friend. She accused her mother of loving Miss Hitchcock more than her, and said other unpleasant things. She had removed the spare key from the butler’s office unnoticed, taken the necklace, hidden it in Miss Hitchcock’s cabinet, and returned the key.”

He shook his head. “But when she found out that she would be getting fake rubies by choosing Radwell, she broke down completely. Of course, we released Miss Hitchcock immediately.”

“What made you suspect that the rubies were fakes, Holmes?” I asked. For he had not explained that last night.

“When the good Inspector related that Radwell had gone to Scotland to have the setting reworked, I considered the possibility. It would be perfectly natural to have such work done here in London. But if he wanted to replace the genuine rubies with fakes, then sell the originals, taking them north of the border would be sensible. My examination showed they were fine work, but still fakes.”

Jamison nodded. “And as you suspected, Holmes, he had insured the necklace for a hefty amount.”

“The scoundrel,” I said. “So he likely planned to falsify their theft, so he would reap the benefits of secretly selling the genuine rubies and then collecting the insurance on the fakes.”

“Yes. But then Melissa Bragington stole the necklace and pointed the finger of guilt to Alice Hitchcock by having it found in her room. He still would have profited from the sale of the actual rubies, but we put an end to that.”

“What of the Bragington girl, Inspector?” I asked.

“Well, of course, the Bragingtons are quite an important family. And though she did not know it, the necklace she stole was a fake.”

“Yes. One might say that in taking the necklace, she was preventing a crime, as it brought the matter to our attention, which prevented Radwell from proceeding with his insurance ruse.”

At this early stage in our friendship, I could not yet read Holmes very well, and I often failed to distinguish when he was serious and when he was subtly goading.

Clearly, the inspector did not know, either. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to look at it sir.”

I detected a twinkle in Holmes’s eyes for just a moment.

“Anyways, Radwell wasn’t in much of a position to proffer a charge.” Jamison added.

“I hope that Lady Bragington realizes that her daughter needs specialized medical attention,” I stated.

Jamison nodded gravely. “She certainly does, Doctor. If you had seen the lass attack Radwell.” He shook his head and sighed. “She clearly was not in control of herself. Obviously, Miss Hitchcock will not be returning to her duties with the girl. I believe there was some discussion of sending young Bragington to a rest home in the country.”

“Not a very merry Christmas, for that family, I daresay.”

“No indeed, Doctor Watson. I understand that a summons was sent to Lord Bragington, but it will be some days before he returns from Burma. Lady Bragington is understandably not in a festive mood. Nor will Radwell be joyous. We have his accomplice in Scotland and will know all the details very soon.”

“Fine work, Jamison. The Yard is unequalled at such tasks. I believe that Alice Hitchcock, though likely shaken by her experience, will have a better Christmas than she feared when she was in the cell.”

Jamison talked for a time longer, and we learned that he had recently become a father. “He’s going to be an inspector at the Yard, just like his old man, you can wager.” He thanked Holmes one final time and departed. Later that evening, I complimented Holmes on how deftly he had solved the crime and saved an innocent woman from prison.

He paused from rosining his bow and gazed wistfully out the window. “You know, Watson, I grow tired of this armchair detecting. Perhaps if I was a grossly overweight genius with no ambition or desire to interact with the world around me, it would be suitable. Though I imagine such a person would be quite irritable.”

He put away the rosin and scraped the bow across the strings. “But I crave more of a challenge. Such as the discoveries I made in that room at Lauriston Gardens. I think that this case of the ruby necklace may be the last I take in which I merely analyze data and give advice.”

He paused. “Imagine - had I revealed my deductions with all the parties in attendance. It would have resembled theater.”

This gave me the first intimation that acting was in Holmes’s soul, and as future cases proved, he embraced the drama inherent in his profession.

“Henceforth, I shall undertake cases which involve our leaving Baker Street.”

I looked up in surprise. “‘Our leaving’, Holmes?”

He smiled. “If you are willing, of course. I find your stolidity a whetstone to my sharp-edged intellect.”

You, good reader, will recognize the first incarnation of a sentiment that grew less than flattering over the years.

“Certainly. Any way that I can assist.”

“Excellent. I think this is the beginning of a profitable partnership, Watson.” With that, he began playing a medley of Christmas songs. To this day, I have never heard a more poignant version of “We Three Kings of Orient Are”. Holmes could easily have been a first chair violinist in a leading orchestra if he had dedicated himself to the art.

I will add that on Christmas morn, we had a visit from Alice Hitchcock, accompanied by her fiancé. She could not have been more complimentary to Holmes for saving her, and the young couple gave each of us a pound of Fribourg and Treyer’s finest tobacco!

Holmes was as good as his word, and he began undertaking more active cases, for which I am most grateful, as I cannot imagine my accounts of his exploits would have garnered the attention they have, had he simply reasoned from our sitting room at 221b Baker Street. Upon reflection, I would have to say it was the finest Christmas present I ever received.

So, I give you The Case of the Ruby Necklace. It was the last case in which Holmes was truly what he himself referred to as a consulting detective.