Chapter 21

“As I often instruct my clients to do, I shall begin at the beginning,” said Holmes, as he filled his pipe.

He then recounted his adventure in Paris and his suspicion that there might be a spy in the government. “Having arrived at that conclusion, I suddenly found myself besieged by cases—two of which involved old friends—and all of which seemed to demand my personal and immediate attention. In fact, they even dispatched a woman in an attempt to lure us from London by appealing to Dr. Watson’s well-documented sense of chivalry.”

My comment about the woman in question being “quite a fetching lass” drew a laugh from the others and a quick glance of disapproval from Holmes, who, otherwise ignored my remark and continued, “As you probably know, I cannot abide boredom, and now I was suddenly beset by a number of tasks which Watson, in one of his more poetic flourishes, compared to the Labors of Hercules.”

He then related our efforts on behalf of Lestrade and how the desk and safe in the warehouse had allegedly been purchased by Mycroft and the good inspector himself, respectively. “I think the fact that this group had the audacity to tweak me spurred me on to even greater efforts,” he added.

“I knew we were finally making real progress when Mycroft was abducted. The question was in which direction to proceed. When Wiggins first informed me of Langlois’ daily visits to the park—sometimes with a newspaper and sometimes without—I devised a scheme to confront our adversary in the Whispering Gallery.

“I suspected Langlois had an cohort, and when Langlois turned up dead and the meeting at St. Paul’s proved an utter fiasco, I suddenly realized he had at least two associates. In fact, at that point, I began to think he was merely part of a much larger ring. The question remained how to ferret them out.

“After I discovered the existence of a second warehouse—one of which had allegedly been leased by Dennison and the other by Deniz Cenk—I determined that a visit to the second warehouse was in order.

Holmes then described his search and how he tumbled to the clue left by Mycroft. “That was very clever of you, Mycroft.”

“It was fortunate they didn’t take my watch nor the key on my fob. I made the scratches in the wood using the key. While I was feigning sleep, I overheard them say where they were planning to take me next.”

At that point I interrupted, “But you said the marks spelled out HM 5 MEN. How did you make the jump to a ship—especially when you thought Mycroft had inverted his initials?”

“Did you really think that, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked, disapproval in his voice.

“Just for a very brief while,” Holmes admitted. “However it might have been much longer were it not for Dr. Watson.”

“Me?” I inquired.

“Do you remember your remark in the cab?” asked Holmes.

“Something about a long journey with twists and turns.” I replied.

“‘Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns,’ is the first line of ‘The Odyssey.’ At that point, I realized that Mycroft had not inverted his initials and that the 5 was actually intended to be an S. After leaving you, Watson, I paid a visit to the harbormaster who informed me that there was a ship, the HMS Menelaus, once a battle frigate and a later a hospital ship and then a prison hulk, now rotting at the wharf by St. Katharine’s Dock.

“You all know the story from that point on,” said Holmes.

“But why did you miss the meeting after assuring me that you would be there?” asked Sir Henry.

“There were two reasons. First, I wanted to convey the impression that I was fully complying with their demands by absenting myself from the meeting. Second, believing the spy would be tied up indefinitely allowed me to pursue several avenues of my own. Unfortunately, none of them panned out. As a result, I was forced to reconsider everything which had transpired, albeit from a slightly different perspective. There is something to be said for a long night of reflection and several pipes of shag.”

“And what was all the rigmarole about maps in the Diogenes Club?” asked Lestrade.

“Mycroft, would you care to explain?” Holmes said.

Taking up the story, Mycroft began, “By that time, we knew that the second spy was another of my assistants. I was inclined to think it might be Cenk, but Sherlock, I knew, had cast his net elsewhere.

“At any rate, we retired to my office that morning where I constructed an entirely fictitious set of maps and diagrams showing our present and planned fortifications as well as our existing and potential supply lines, with notes in the margin, indicating the number of days it would take us to respond to any sort of outbreak of hostilities on the continent. As you have probably surmised, they were for the most part false.”

“Yes, yes, I see that,” said the Prime Minister, “but how could you possibly know that the spy would respond as he did?”

“My sudden appearance at the meeting was, I am sure, a trifle unnerving for young Mister Dennison. Still, I will give the man credit; he never flinched when I entered the room.”

“Yes, but how did you know that he would take the bait and bolt?”

“Sherlock?” said Mycroft.

Smiling broadly, my friend continued the narrative, “After we had left the Menelaus and I had deposited Lestrade and his prisoners at Scotland Yard, I picked up three copies of The Times, one for each assistant, and then inserted a coded message in each. Of course, it would only make sense to one.”

“What did the message say?” asked Lestrade.

“‘Fear detection. Take what you can. Leave at noon’,” replied Holmes.

“So that explains Dennison’s sudden return to the Arch,” I said.

“Yes,” Holmes continued, “thinking he was about to be discovered, he took advantage of the break for lunch to return, collect all of Mycroft’s papers and flee.”

“But not before making a few stops,” added Lestrade. “We now have the names of several of his contacts, and you can bet we will be keeping a close eye on them in the future.”

At that point, Sir Henry looked right at Holmes and said, “You let him escape on purpose?”

Mycroft answered, “That was a joint decision reached by Sherlock and myself. We thought it better to let him go free with the false plans—learning the identities of his contacts was an added bonus—than to have him rot in an English gaol and tell us nothing. There is no way to estimate what type of havoc those maps and diagrams will wreak, but I am inclined to hope it will be substantial.”

“But how did you tumble to Dennison?” I asked.

“Mycroft initially thought the spy to be Langlois,” said Holmes, “and he was correct in that respect. The proof was in the fact that Langlois was the assistant who kept bringing up the Tenrev Brigade. I rather suspect Dennison was the driving force behind his inquiries.”

“Yes, but how did you arrive at Dennison?” I persisted.

“I eliminated Cenk after observing him with his wife and children. Not even the best spy could feign the obvious affection he demonstrated when with them. That left Dennison and Bern. The scales began to shift in Dennison’s favor after he visited us at Baker Street.”

“Yes, but one of the warehouses had been leased in his name. Why would he do that?”

“A very clever ploy. If you recall, he involved himself and Cenk, but not Langlois and Bern. I am certain somewhere out there, waiting to be discovered, is a document of some sort linking Langlois to this affair. If Dennison were questioned or suspected, I believe he would have somehow led us to those documents, thus lumping himself in with the innocent Cenk and the not-so-innocent Langlois, leaving Bern all by himself to take the fall.”

“One last question,” said Lestrade, “Why kill Langlois?”

“As to the motive behind that, I can but speculate. Perhaps he was beginning to lose his nerve although I am far more inclined to think they believed such a sacrifice might occupy me to the point where I would shift my attention to the murder and perhaps allow them to complete their rather nefarious plans.”

“Well, do you have any idea who killed him?”

“Were I forced to guess, I should put my money on one Otto Kueck, a member of the Ettappendienst der Marine, a sort of German secret service, as the mastermind behind this whole plot. He returned to Germany last year after spending several years as vice counsel in the Mexican state of Chihuahua. I had heard that he was suffering from some sort of liver illness, but I have to believe he has recovered by now.

“You will recall Watson, I drew your attention to the different types of tobacco in the ashtray in Langlois’ apartment. I easily discerned the types of tobacco ash that had been left by his cigarettes and cigars. I could find nothing in his room to explain the third, so it was obvious Langlois had entertained a visitor who was also a smoker. As for the keys in Langlois pocket, his house key was right there along with the others. I checked all the keys on the door while you and Lestrade were searching the rest of the building. You will recall when we knocked on the door, it was locked. Someone, whom Langlois obviously trusted, had a set of keys to his flat which they locked after killing him. I can only assume it was Dennison, and at some point, he passed them to Kueck.”

“And the reading glasses?” I asked.

“On our first visit to Mycroft’s office, Langlois took his seat after introducing himself and immediately resumed reading the papers before him sans spectacles. On none of his visits to the park, was he observed wearing glasses while reading the paper.

“I am inclined to think the case was somehow used to conceal and carry messages. I should not be surprised, were we to capture Kueck, if we did not discover an identical case among his possessions.”

“My word, Holmes. That certainly does appear to cover everything.”

“Well, I will inform my friends at the Yard and they will certainly set their caps for this Kueck fellow,” said Lestrade.

“I should think he too has left England, but you may do your best,” remarked Holmes.

Breaking into the conversation, Sir Henry said, “Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Holmes. Inspector. I have something for you.” Pulling an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, he handed it to Lestrade. “That is a letter signed by myself and Commissioner Edward Henry clearing you of all charges and ordering the lifting of your suspension and your reinstatement, effective immediately.”

After expressing his gratitude to the Prime Minister, Lestrade turned to Holmes and said, “You’ve never let me down, Mr. Holmes. Thank you.”

Holmes continued answering questions for another ten minutes before the interrogation ceased. Looking about, he said, “Well, gentlemen, I believe that concludes our business this evening, I know that both Lestrade and Mycroft have an early day tomorrow, and there is the little matter of a set designer’s sudden disappearance in the West End that clamors for my attention.”

After exchanging pleasantries, Holmes and I were soon in a cab bound for Baker Street. When we had reached the sitting room, Holmes looked at me and said, “Would you care for a nightcap?”

As we sat in our chairs, sipping brandy and smoking the last pipe of the day, I turned to Holmes and said, “I do have one more question.”

“Just one?” he teased.

“Do you know whatever became of the woman who visited here?”

“I assume you are referring to the lady who presented herself as Deborah Werth from Shropshire.”

“Yes, I am.”

“She is currently appearing as Rosalind in a revival of the Bard’s As You Like It at the Hackney Theatre.”

“How the deuce did you discover that?”

“While your head is easily turned by a trim waist and a beguiling smile, I am not so easily swayed. Since she had no idea I would be absent when she called here, I was inclined to think she might be a professional actress. I had the Irregulars scour the theatres until they encountered a young woman fitting her description. I then paid a call upon her one evening before her performance. However, I must admit that I am rather disappointed in you in this one instance, Watson. I left the name of the theatre on the table for you to find.”

“But I had no idea what it meant,” I said in my own defense.

“Nor did you attempt to elicit the meaning,” he laughed. “At any rate, that is all water under the bridge. When I visited the young lady and told her who I was, she immediately asked, ‘So who won the bet?’ She believed that she had been hired by my brother to present us with a case that we could not possibly solve—since, in fact, there really was no case to speak of. I refrained from disabusing her of the notion and simply said, ‘My brother.’ I must admit Watson, she is charming and as you stated earlier this evening ‘quite fetching.’” He paused before adding, “I do believe those to be your exact words.”

“Dash it all, Holmes. Do you ever forget anything?”

He smiled and reaching into his jacket pocket extracted an envelope. “I have two front row seats for tomorrow night’s performance of As You Like It, should you care to attend.”

Laughing, I said, “Nothing would delight me more.”