this would have been just one more indignity piled up on so many. Even so, my voice broke as I addressed him. ‘Holmes! I do not know what to say. The injustice of your arrest, the way you have been treated… it is beyond any imagining.’
‘It is certainly most interesting,’ returned he. ‘How are you, Lestrade? A strange turn of events, do you not think? What do you make of it?’
‘I really don’t know what to think, Mr Holmes,’ Lestrade muttered.
‘Well, that’s nothing new. It seems that our friend, Henderson, led us a pretty song and dance, hey, Watson? Well, let’s not forget that I halfexpected it and he has still proved useful to us. Before, I suspected that we had stumbled on to a conspiracy that went far beyond a murder in a hotel room. Now I am certain of it.’
‘But what good is it to know these things if you are to be imprisoned and your reputation destroyed?’ I replied.
‘I think my reputation will look after itself,’ Holmes said. ‘If they hang me, Watson, I shall leave it to you to persuade your readers that the whole thing was a misunderstanding.’
‘You may make light of all this, Mr Holmes,’ growled Lestrade. ‘But I should warn you that we have very little time. And the evidence against you seems, in a word, unarguable.’
‘What did you make of the evidence, Watson?’
‘I don’t know what to say, Holmes. These men don’t appear to know each other. They have come from different parts of the country. And yet they are in complete agreement about what occurred.’
‘And yet, surely you would take my word above that of our friend, Isaiah Creer?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then let me tell you at once that what I have told Inspector Harriman is the true version of events. After I entered the opium den, I was approached by Creer and greeted as a new customer — which is to say, with a mixture of warmth and wariness. There were four men lying semiconscious, or pretending to be, on the mattresses and one of them was indeed Lord Horace Blackwater, although of course I did not know him at the time. I pretended that I had come for my fourpenny worth and Creer insisted that I follow him into his office to make the payment there. Not wishing to raise his suspicions, I did as he asked and I was no sooner through the doorway than two men sprang on me, seizing hold of my neck and pinioning my arms. One of them, Watson, we know. It was Henderson himself! The other had a shaven head and the shoulders and forearms of a wrestler, with the strength to match. I was unable to move. “You have been very unwise, Mr Holmes, to interfere in things which do not concern you and unwise to believe that you could take on people more powerful than yourself,” Henderson said, or words to that effect. At the same time, Creer approached me carrying a small glass filled with some foul- smelling liquid. It was an opiate of some sort, and there was nothing I could do as it was forced between my lips. There were three of them and only one of me. I could not reach my gun. The effect was almost immediate. The room span and the strength went out of my legs. They released me and I fell to the floor.’
‘The devils!’ I exclaimed.
‘And then?’ Lestrade asked.
‘I remember nothing more until I awoke with Watson beside me. The drug must have been extremely strong.’
‘That’s all very well, Mr Holmes. But how do you explain the testimonies we have heard from Dr Ackland, from Lord Horace Blackwater and from my colleague, Harriman?’
‘They have colluded.’
‘But why? These are not ordinary men.’
‘Indeed not. Were they ordinary I would be more inclined to believe them. But does it not strike you as strange that three such remarkable specimens should have emerged, out of the darkness, at exactly the same time?’
‘What they said made sense. There was not a single questionable word spoken in this court.’
‘No? I beg to differ with you, Lestrade, for I heard several. We might start with the good Dr Ackland. Did you not find it surprising that although he said it was too dark for him to see who fired the shot, in the same breath he testified that he could see smoke rising from the gun? He must have a unique sort of vision, this Dr Ackland. And then there’s Harriman himself. You might find it worthwhile to confirm that there really was a break-in at a bank on the White Horse Road. It seems to me a touch providential.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if I were to rob a bank, I would wait until after midnight when the streets were a little less populated. I might also head for Mayfair, Kensington or Belgravia — anywhere where the local residents might have deposited enough money to be worth stealing.’
‘And what of Perkins?’
‘Constable Perkins was the only honest witness. Watson, I wonder if I could trouble you…?
But before Holmes could continue, Harriman appeared in the doorway, his face thunderous. ‘What the devil is going on here?’ he demanded.
‘Why is the prisoner not on his way to a cell? Who are you, sir?’
‘I am Inspector Lestrade.’
‘Lestrade! I know you. But this is my case. Why are you interfering?’
‘Mr Sherlock Holmes is very well known to me—’
‘Mr Sherlock Holmes is well known to a great many people. Are we going to invite them all in to make his acquaintance?’ Harriman turned to the policeman who had brought Holmes from the courtroom, and who had been standing in the room, looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘Officer!
I’ll take your name and your number and you’ll hear more of this in due course. For the present, you can escort Mr Holmes to the back yard where a police van is waiting to take him to his next place of residence.’
‘And where is that?’ Lestrade demanded.
‘He is to be held at the House of Correction at Holloway.’
I blanched at this, for all of London knew the conditions that prevailed at that grim and imposing fortress. ‘Holmes!’ I said. ‘I will visit you—’
‘It distresses me to contradict you, but Mr Holmes will not be receiving visitors until my investigation is complete.’
There was nothing more that Lestrade or I could do. Holmes did not attempt to struggle. He allowed the policeman to raise him up and lead him from the room. Harriman followed and the two of us were left alone.
THIRTEEN
Poison
All the newspapers had reported on the death of Sally Dixon and the subsequent trial. One account I have before me still, the paper now as fragile as tissue, worn away with age:
A crime of a serious and despicable character was committed two nights ago in Coppergate Square which lies close to the river and Limehouse Basin. Just after twelve o’clock, Police Constable Perkins of the H Division, patrolling the area, heard a gunshot and hurried towards the source of the disturbance. He arrived too late to save the victim, a sixteen-year-old serving girl from a London public house who lived nearby. It has been conjectured that she was on her way home and unexpectedly encountered her assailant who had just emerged from one of the opium dens for which the area is notorious. This man was identified as Mr Sherlock Holmes, a consulting detective, and he was immediately taken into police custody. Although he denied all knowledge of the crime, a series of highly respectable witnesses appeared to testify against him, including Dr Thomas Ackland of the Westminster Hospital and Lord Horace Blackwater who farms a thousand acres in Hallamshire. Mr Holmes has now been moved to the House of Correction at Holloway and this whole, sorry incident once again pinpoints the scourge of drugs in our society and calls into question the continued legality of those dens of vice where they can be freely consumed.
I need hardly say that this made extremely unpleasant reading at the breakfast table on the Monday
