“No!” he shouted, with wounded pride. “I came, sir, I came because I care for learning, and for art! I came to speak of this world’s wonders! But those people are cretins, sir! Cretins, imbeciles and fools!”
“Well, yes. Obviously. I could have told you that,” I said, then mumbled, “By God, I wish I’d had the chance to tell you that.”
He gave me a queer sort of look. “Who are you, sir?”
“My name is John Watson. The host—Mary—she’s my wife.”
A look of fresh fury broke across Garrideb Grub’s face, so I quickly raised one finger and added, “Which is not my fault! It’s all to do with black magic, so let’s not go thinking that I had anything to do with what happened tonight. I would never. Really, Mr. Grub, I feel terrible. Are you sure there is no way I can compensate you for tonight’s misuse?”
With a defiant sniff, he said, “Quite unnecessary.”
“But perhaps… some item you’ve had your eye on, for your collection?”
“Unnecessary, I tell you!” he said, pounding the seat of the cab beside him. “I was in earnest when I said that my fortunes are about to reverse themselves. That damned Mr. Arthurs is not wrong when he says I’ve been known to spend my grocery money at Sotheby’s or Christie’s. And what is the result? Perhaps I have not the means to compete with some, but I have built an expertise, sir, a knowledge of true quality—both in items of great expense and of small! And when the True Garrideb brings my reward, I shall be able to build a collection of unimpeachable renown!”
Something about the way he said it made me deeply uncomfortable. “Yes, I believe you mentioned him before. The… er… the True Garrideb?”
Garrideb Grub only nodded.
So I continued, “I cannot help but reflect… that’s a rather strange name, isn’t it—the True Garrideb? Whatever can it mean, do you think?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he harrumphed. “I’ve never met him.”
“And yet, you feel he’s bringing you a treasure of some sort?” I pressed. Four years previously, I would have dismissed such claims as the rambling of an unfortunate old madman. And I wasn’t sure that might not be wisest. But my time in Holmes’s company had taught me to have a care with such things. I could not help but feel a tug of genuine worry.
“That’s what Mr. Winter says.”
“Mr. Winter? Who is he?”
“James Winter—an American gentleman. I only just met him. Funniest thing…” for a moment, Mr. Grub hesitated, wondering if he should confide in a stranger. And yet, why not? It was not as if I could interfere with his fortunes, was it? It was not as if I was a Garrideb. “He came and found me in my rooms on Little Ryder Street—I am always in my rooms. I seldom like to leave them. My doctor chides me for never going out, but why should I when I have so much there to occupy me? When we arrive, I could show you a single cabinet of artifacts, the adequate cataloguing of which would take me three good months! Ha! Go out, indeed! For no reason?”
“Mr. James Winter?” I reminded him.
“Ah, yes! Well, he came and found me in my rooms, cleaning off a Cro-Magnon skull—quite the specimen, nearly complete! He said he was very glad to have tracked me down, for I was the last of the Garridebs he required. I, of course, asked him why he required Garridebs. He said a certain individual had come to his attention—the True Garrideb. This fellow was willing to come share a great deal of wealth, but he could only be coaxed out of his dwelling when the three men he wished to meet were present. I well understood that, for I don’t like to leave my own rooms. I don’t know if I mentioned.”
“You did.”
“In fact, I expressed my trepidation about leaving to meet the other two Garridebs he had found. It is a rare name, you know, but Mr. Winter had located a man named Garrideb Treat in his home country of America and a Chinese fellow—now living in France—by the name of Garrideb Chow.”
My eyebrows went up. “Grub, Treat and Chow? So, in effect, each of you is named ‘Garrideb Food’?”
Garrideb Grub spluttered out a little laugh. “Oh! I hadn’t realized! Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
“Hmmph! Ha! Amusing! I shall have to relate that to the others when I see them. For, you see, I was in luck. After looking about my quarters for a few moments, Mr. Winter was of the opinion that I needn’t leave my rooms at all. He said he thought I was residing at the focal point and that the other Garridebs must be brought to me. So I didn’t have to go out. I do not care to be far from my rooms, you know. Happily, Mr. Winter is now on a steamer with Mr. Treat, on their way to France to collect Mr. Chow. When all are gathered, we shall meet in my chambers and be joined by the True Garrideb! Come to think of it, they must be almost on their way back by now! Oh, I can hardly wait!”
The zeal with which the old man said it left me in no doubt that he was convinced. Myself, far less so. Yet care for his feelings dictated that I choose my next words carefully.
“Mr. Grub, your story sounds… well… does it not seem perhaps a bit far-fetched?”
“Noooooooo,” he protested in a high-pitched, meek sort of whine. “I mean… there may be aspects of Mr. Winter’s story that seem… unlikely…”
“Then why on earth are you trusting him?” I wondered.
“Because it feels right,” he said. “It feels like this has always been my purpose—hidden just out of sight for all my life—and that it has finally been revealed to me. Just as it feels natural for me never, ever to stray far
