Then all at once, arresting both his speech and his movement suddenly, he caught me by the sleeve and inexplicably smiled in delight.
“Man Jack!” he cried. “What possessed you to join this misguided lot?”
I stared in astonishment. A man with an enormous frame and a livid scar running straight from his temple down across his nose and deep into his cheek stepped forward through the crowd.
“Now, I know for a fact,” he said in rumbling baritone, “that this is no night for Sherlock Holmes to be abroad in the Chapel.”
“Man Jack, I am overjoyed to see you.”
“I can’t say as I feel the same, Mr. Holmes.”
“The papers say he’s the Knife!” bellowed a surly youth.
“We’ll send him to hell this very night!”
“And what say you, Man Jack?” my friend asked. “It’s quite a little work of fiction.”
“You know as well as I do it’s the boy as can read,” he growled dismissively. “Now, be off. Or I won’t spend so long talking the next time.”
“There he is safe as a lamb,” called the villain who had started it all. “We’ve jawed long enough. I’ve a knife here, will serve him!”
“And I!” cried another.
“You’re none of you fit for proper policing,” Man Jack said calmly, but his voice reverberated through buildings. “You there! Let these fellows pass. Be off, now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. They obey me when they’ve a mind, but when they don’t, God help the man they take a grudge against.”
“My thanks. This way, Watson.”
Though their faces were scowling, and a few, including the burly Yorkshireman, ventured to spit in our direction, our opponents parted as if a curtain had been drawn.
“Who in God’s name was that fellow?” I asked in amazement.
“Man Jack? He is a prizefighter.”
“You know him from the ring, then, I suppose?”
“No indeed, my dear fellow. You’re sporting man enough to know my weight class and his ought not to intermingle.”
“He saved us from a terrible brawl for no reason I can see.”
“That is because you do not know his full name. Man Jack Hawkins has a family member in my immediate employ. I must confess, my dear fellow, when I amassed the Irregular force all those years ago, I never imagined that any of their parents would be called upon to vouch for my good name. Though God knows few enough of them have any parents.” Holmes sighed, as a wave of exhaustion seemed to pass over him. “Little Hawkins has just earned another sizeable bonus. There is a cab, my dear fellow, and if we make a dash at him, I think he shall just see us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO The Disappearance of Sherlock Holmes
I saw nothing of my friend the next day until nearly eight o’clock, when an exceedingly disheveled character wearing the filthy oilskins and the high boots of the men who risk their lives raking the sewers for coins saluted me and disappeared into Holmes’s bedroom. In half an hour he emerged again in grey tweeds, collected his pipe, and sat down at the table with the look of a man who relishes the work ahead of him.
“And what has that scavenger been doing today?”
“He has set foot in realms where Sherlock Holmes, temporarily at least, dares not tread. What is for supper?”
“Mrs. Hudson spoke of lamb.”
“Admirable woman. Just ring the bell, my dear fellow. I haven’t thought of food since early this morning, for there was a great deal of work to be done.”
“You have been in the East-end?”
“Well, for part of the day. I had other errands. I’ve stopped by the Yard, for instance.”
“In that getup?” I laughed.
“I demanded to see Inspector Lestrade. I revealed I had pressing information to relate, which would profit him immensely. His colleagues hesitated. Then I was forced to admonish them that if I went with my information to the papers instead, they would look rather foolish. This suggestion altered their mood, and I was in Lestrade’s office a moment later. I revealed my identity, much to the good inspector’s irritation, and I asked him some key questions.”
“Such as?”
“In the first place, the force are very put out by this Tavistock mongrel’s theorizing but are also anxious to avoid accusations of favouritism. Some of the more active fellows have suggested arresting me in the interests of thoroughness and public opinion.”
“On what evidence, in God’s name?”
“Incredibly, there really was a bloody knife found discarded a few streets away from Catherine Eddowes, but Lestrade never bothered to mention it to us because it was so unlike the double-sided blade which the Ripper used. Its discovery was a complete coincidence, but the villainous mind of either Leslie Tavistock or his foul source hit upon the happy notion that Eddowes could have wielded it in defense. In such a state of panic, it counts for nothing that any British jury would dismiss the whole tale in the blink of an eye. I can’t even bring charges of libel, for he hasn’t penned an untrue word.”
“Surely he has gone too far!” I protested.
“Watson, if the newspapers could be punished for speculation, every publication in England would soon enough be bankrupted. After I quit the Yard, I made my way to Whitechapel and looked in on Stephen Dunlevy. He proclaims his innocence in the strongest terms.”
“No doubt that is to be expected,” I said tightly, while privately thinking that if Dunlevy continued to operate under false pretenses with us, all the while endeavouring to enter the good graces of Miss Monk, I would have scant choice but to throw him in the Thames.
“I am inclined to believe him,” Holmes mused. “Indeed, I feel ever more certain that there is a malevolent force at work determined to impede my progress. Perhaps my mind detects conspiracy where none exists, but these small persecutions play directly into the Ripper’s hands by tying mine.”
“I should hardly call them small persecutions.”
My friend waved his pipe dismissively. “I’ve nothing further to report on the subject, for we can hardly know more until we have seen Tavistock.”
“We intend to see Tavistock?”
“We are to meet him at Simpson’s for cigars at ten.”
“You will then be able to claim acquaintance with the lowest form of life in London other than Jack the Ripper,” I stated dourly.
Holmes laughed. “Well, well, we go into it with the comfort of a good day’s labour behind us.”
“But what else have you been doing, Holmes? You left early this morning.”
“My time has not been wasted, I assure you. Ah! Here is Mrs. Hudson, and I beg your permission to confine my attentions to the tray she carries with her.”
That night, as many others had been that October, was shrouded in pungent fog, and we wrapped our mufflers tight about our faces and ducked our heads as if we walked against a strong wind. Despite the company which awaited us there, I was heartily glad to finally discern, nearly five yards in front of us, the facade of Simpson’s glimmer through the murk of the atmosphere.
The polished mahogany and gentle clink of crystal and silver improved my spirits, at least until we found ourselves in a private salon with a fire in the grate and stately palms in the corners, for it was then I laid eyes once more on Leslie Tavistock. In his office I had hardly taken notice of his physique, but now I saw he stood rather
