The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Dr Jekyll & Mr Holmes Read online

  When you don’t know who the villain is, nor where to find the bones;

  When Gregson tugs his whisker-ends;

  and so Lestrade and Jones;

  When Scotland Yard runs around half-made,

  whilst Whitehall quakes and moans;

  Then seek two-two-one-B, my lads,

  and ask for Sherlock Holmes.’

  The tune went on for several more choruses, but at the mention of Holmes’s name he flushed, sprang to his feet, and, after flinging a fistful of coins upon the table, fled towards the door. I was forced to run to catch up.

  Once outside, my self-control collapsed at the sight of my friend’s distressed countenance and I fell into helpless laughter. At first he glared at me out of the corner of his eye, but after we had walked a little way the humour of the situation bore in upon him and he allowed himself a rueful smile.

  ‘Fame exacts a wearying price, Watson,’ he observed. ‘That little tune is probably making the rounds of every public-house in London. If it reaches the ears of Scotland Yard I shall never hear the end of it.’

  ‘It is a cross which you must learn to bear,’ said I, wiping away my tears of mirth. ‘Surely you did not hope to retain your anonymity for ever.’

  ‘I must confess that I had harboured such a wish. But the business may yet turn out to some advantage, if it leads to new adventures. I detest idleness with every fibre of my being.’

  ‘Take care,’ I admonished; ‘it has been nearly a year since your last holiday.’

  ‘Would that it may be that long before my next!’ he cried. ‘Really, Watson, Nottingham was rather a poor choice of locations for one of my active temperament.’

  ‘On the contrary, it was an excellent choice. Have you forgotten how near you were to a complete breakdown when we left?’

  ‘And have you forgotten how near I came to clambering up the walls of our quaint little cottage before we returned? When will you learn that my sole relaxation is in my work? Halloa, they’re crying murder!’

  Like a bird-dog who had stumbled upon a scent, Holmes perked up as a newsboy came into view round the corner, waving a newspaper and crying:

  ‘Murder in Westminster! Eye-witness account of last night’s bludgeoning of Sir Danvers Carew! Murderer identified! Thank you, sir.’

  The boy pocketed the coin which Holmes had given him and handed him a copy of the newspaper.

  ‘Listen to this, Watson!’ said Holmes as the youth wandered off, hawking his product. He proceeded to read the following excerpt:

  SHOCKING MURDER OF AN M.P.

  London society has been staggered by the sudden and ferocious death last night of Sir Danvers Carew, member of Parliament, noted philanthropist, and familiar figure at Buckingham Palace, during a late evening stroll along the left bank of the Thames in Westminster. Police were summoned to the spot at two o’clock this morning by Miss Evelyn Willborough, a maid in the employ of Mr. Jeffrey McFadden of Millbank who claimed to have witnessed the deed whilst gazing out her bedroom window. There they found Sir Danvers’s broken body, horribly mutilated, stretched out upon the path beside the shattered half of a cane said by the maid to have been used as the murder weapon.

  When questioned, Miss Willborough, who seems much inclined towards romance, stated that she was seated at her window at about eleven o’clock prior to retiring, and musing at the moonlit path beyond, when she saw a chance meeting along the walkway between Sir Danvers and another man, smaller and meaner in appearance. Sir Danvers, she said, bowed and spoke softly to the other, gesturing as if enquiring his way, whereupon without provocation the other man, whom she recognised as a Mr. Hyde who had in the past had some business with her master, flew into a rage and smote Sir Danvers a terrible bow with his cane. The old gentleman fell, and before he could rise the said Mr. Hyde trampled him under foot and rained blows down upon him with the heavy crook of the cane. At this point, according to her own account, the maid fainted dead away and did not awaken until two o’clock, when, seeing that Sir Danvers lay unmoving and that his assailant had fled, she summoned the police.

  Hyde is described as a small man, nearly a dwarf, with a large head and narrow features...

  ‘Good heavens!’ I cried. ‘Holmes, you don’t suppose that this Mr. Hyde is the same man who —’

  ‘It can be no other,’ he broke in. His eyes had taken on the hard glint which I knew so well. ‘The description is quite specific. I knew this was coming, Watson. Did I not warn Utterson that more than one life might be the forfeit if he called me off the case? My only surprise is that it has taken this long for Hyde to tip his hand. Wait here, Watson.’

  We were in front of our building. Holmes thrust the newspaper into my hands and ducked inside, only to return a few moments later with something in his hand. ‘Put this in your pocket,’ he directed, handing me my revolver. ‘You may find need for it. I have brought my own as well.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, putting away the weapon.

  ‘To beard a murderer in his den. Cabby!’ He threw up a long arm to hail a passing hansom, which stopped a few yards down the street. ‘Soho Square, cabby, and hurry!’ barked the detective as we clambered aboard. We were rolling almost before my foot cleared the pavement.

  ‘It is a circumspect account,’ Holmes said, indicating the newspaper in my lap. ‘The police know more than they are telling.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘The detective assigned to the case, an Inspector Newcomen, is quoted at some length later on in the column, yet he avoids the usual platitudes mouthed by Scotland Yard’s finest when they are all at sea. I’ve learnt that they are most reticent when a suspect’s capture is imminent. They boast loudest when baffled. I should not be surprised if we are not the first visitors whom Hyde has had today.’

  Holmes spoke the truth, for a lean young constable was stationed at the door of the house in which Hyde kept his rooms. He refused us entrance, after which he and Holmes argued at some length until a tall, burly Scotsman attired in a shining billcock and ankle-length grey ulster appeared upon the threshold. He wore a reddish moustache trimmed in military style and had a pair of close-set, steely eyes with which he glanced sternly from one to the other of us.

  ‘What is the meaning of this, Trumble?’ he demanded of the constable in a clipped tone. ‘Who are these fellows?’

  Holmes introduced us. At the sound of the unofficial detective’s name the big man stiffened. ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ he repeated distastefully. ‘I know your reputation. The newspapers delight in invoking your name at the expense of Scotland Yard. There is a public-house ditty going about —’

  ‘Which I did not write,’ Holmes finished. ‘Had I done so, both scan and meter would have benefitted by my intervention. But that is neither here nor there. You, I take it, are Inspector Newcomen, in charge of the investigation into the Carew murder?’

  ‘I am, and I am also curious to know how it is that you knew that, and how you found me here when even the Yard has not been informed of this development in the case.’

  As he spoke, the front door opened again and the sober figure of G. J. Utterson stepped out of the house. His eyes widened ever so slightly upon seeing Holmes and me.

  ‘Ah, Mr. Utterson,’ greeted my companion. ‘I am not surprised to find you here, though I suspect that you were not prepared to see me. There is the answer to your question, Inspector: Utterson and I have done business together, and at that time his slight acquaintanceship with Mr. Hyde became known to me. I thought that he would come to you once he had learnt of the tragedy which took place in Westminster last night.’

  ‘I did not come to him,’ corrected the lawyer. There was agitation upon his features, as if he feared that something might come out of this meeting which he would rather avoid. ‘Sir Danvers was a client of mine, and a letter to me was found this morning amongst his effects. I was out most of the day, but half an hour ago I returned to find the Inspector waiting for me, and once he told me of the occurrence
I of course offered to take him to that address which Hyde had given me. I — I mentioned that Hyde and I had met once or twice, quite by accident.’ He looked imploringly at Holmes; I divined that he was swearing him to secrecy concerning Henry Jekyll’s part in the affair.

  My companion took the hint. ‘And when you got here you found, of course, that the bird had flown the coop.’

  ‘I do not think that that is any of your affair,’ snapped the Inspector.

  ‘It is every man’s affair to see justice prevail,’ returned Holmes. ‘I am familiar, Inspector, with this man Hyde. He is a creature both clever and ruthless, which is a dangerous enough combination, and it is highly unlikely that he would remain in residence once his connexion in this dark business became known. You found, no doubt, that he had packed his things and burnt his papers?’

  Newcomen started, then quickly recovered. He had not been swift enough, however, to conceal the evidence that Holmes had surmised correctly.

  ‘You are treading upon official police business,’ said he. ‘I must ask you to leave. If you do not, Trumble, here, will see to it that you are removed forcibly. Which shall it be?’

  ‘You are refusing my offer of assistance?’ Holmes asked.

  The Inspector eyed him haughtily. ‘I have no doubt that there are some detectives who would welcome your assistance, but I am not one of them. The matter is open and shut. No man departs without leaving tracks. I shall have Hyde behind bars within a fortnight, and I shan’t be thanking anyone but myself for the deed. Good day, gentlemen.’

  ‘Are you finished with me, Inspector?’ Utterson asked.

  ‘I am if you’ve told me everything you know about Hyde,’ Newcomen replied.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Then you are free to go, and thank you for your help. Shall I have Trumble whistle for a cab?’

  ‘No, thank you. If Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson have no objections, I shall ride with them.’

  Newcomen opened his mouth to respond, then appeared to think better of it and snapped it shut. He spun around and tore open the door. ‘Come along, Trumble. We have a search to complete.’ The door banged shut behind them.

  ‘Now that you have made me your accomplice in concealing evidence,’ Holmes told Utterson once we were all in a four-wheeler and rolling towards the lawyer’s address, ‘I hope that you have something of importance for me.’

  ‘I think that you will understand my actions once I have shown you what I have,’ said the other, looking out of the window.

  Utterson kept a bachelor house in the city, where he lived and practised his profession. There he led us upstairs to his business-room, a spartan chamber lined from floor to ceiling with shelves of lawbooks and furnished with a glossy desk, two high-backed armchairs upholstered in buttoned leather, and a black metal safe which rested upon steel casters in a darkened corner. He lit a lamp, crouched before the safe, and unlocked it with a key which dangled from his watch-chain. From its recess he drew a folded sheet of paper and, standing, handed it to Holmes.

  ‘I lied to Newcomen when I said that I had not heard of the murder until he told me,’ he said. ‘On the way to my club this morning I overheard a pair of workmen talking on a corner. One of them had come upon the scene of the crime shortly after the police arrived, been questioned and released. He mentioned Hyde. I went straightaway to Jekyll’s and confronted him with the revelation. He gave me this letter.’

  Holmes unfolded the paper. I glanced at it over his shoulder. It was written in an uneven, upright hand and was mottled with many blotches, as if the writer had been in a great hurry.

  My dear Dr. Jekyll [it ran],

  You, whom I have long so unworthily repaid for a thousand generosities, need labour under no alarm for my safety, as I have means of escape upon which I place a sure dependence.

  Your obedient servant,

  Edward Hyde

  ‘When did he say he received this?’ asked Holmes, looking up.

  ‘This morning, by messenger,’ said Utterson.

  ‘Was there an envelope?’

  ‘I asked Jekyll. He said that he burnt it without thinking.’

  Holmes held the paper up to the light and studied it for some moments in silence.

  ‘Foolscap,’ he announced at last, lowering it. ‘A common enough type, though far from cheap. The top half has been cut away with several snips of a pair of very dull scissors; notice the puckered edge. A letterhead, most likely. The handwriting reflects determination and a certain amount of breeding, despite attempts to disguise it.’

  ‘Why ever should he attempt to disguise it?’ asked the lawyer.

  ‘That is the latest in a long line of questions which this entire affair has brought to light. May I keep this?’ He folded the letter and prepared to put it in his pocket.

  Utterson appeared ill at ease. ‘Please do not misunderstand me —’ he began.

  ‘Oh, very well, if I have not earned your trust after all this time —’ Holmes thrust the paper towards the lawyer.

  ‘It is not that. Jekyll gave me the letter to do with as I wish, and I do not see how public exposure of his relationship with the brute Hyde can possibly benefit the official investigation into the Carew murder; it can only serve to drag a respected name through the mud to no good purpose. I would breathe easier knowing that this document was secure in my safe.’ He accepted the letter and locked it away.

  ‘It is too late for that,’ snapped the detective. ‘Or had you not noticed that one respected name is already being slung about in connexion with murder most foul? How did Jekyll seem when you saw him?’

  ‘Remorseful, to be sure. He said that he had first heard of the tragedy from the cries of the newsboys in the nearby square. The letter must have seemed a great mystery before that.’ He frowned. ‘There was one strange thing, though I suppose that it can be explained by his disturbed state of mind.’

  Holmes pounced upon it. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Well, as I have already remarked, he said that the note was delivered by hand. But on my way out, when I asked his butler, Poole, to describe the messenger, he informed me that no such person had called. Can you explain that, Mr. Holmes?’

  ‘It is certainly singular,’ said the other, deep in thought.

  ‘And yet there is the letter to prove that such a delivery was made.’

  Holmes made no response to that. ‘Leaving Jekyll for the moment,’ he said, ‘can you tell me what that — what Inspector Newcomen found in Hyde’s rooms?’

  Utterson offered us each a cigar from an antique box atop his desk. We declined. Shrugging, he selected one, nipped off the end with his clippers, and, raising the chimney of the desk lamp, leant forward to ignite it. ‘That in itself is singular,’ said he, puffing away. ‘The most damning bit of evidence, of course, was the other half of the cane with which the murder was committed — a cane which, it grieves me to admit, I presented to Henry Jekyll upon the occasion of his forty-second birthday. Outside of that, I am afraid that the pickings were poor. Hyde had, as you surmised, packed his belongings and departed in what seemed a great hurry, leaving behind nothing which might give us a clue to his present whereabouts. This of course came as no surprise. But Newcomen was puzzled to find that the scoundrel had burnt his cheque-book.’

  ‘His cheque-book?’

  ‘The charred stub was found amongst the ashes in the grate, of which there was a considerable lot. He must have spent most of the night just burning his papers. The man must be mad, else why should he destroy the funds which are so crucial to his escape?’

  ‘Why, indeed?’ returned the detective. ‘Each day this case presents another interesting handle. I should be eager to grasp one if you will but engage me to do so.’

  Utterson shook his head gravely. ‘That is one thing which I cannot do, Mr. Holmes. Jekyll is no longer a part of this affair, and its outcome is of little interest to either of us. Hyde’s apprehension will not bring back Sir Danvers. You may do as you wish, but do not count upon
any assistance from me.’

  ‘I said earlier that justice is in every man’s interest.’ Holmes spoke coldly. ‘You, a lawyer, should know that better than I. You have my pity, Utterson, but you have very little else. No man is an island, immune to the ravages of a malevolent sea.’

  ‘I think that you had better leave.’ Utterson’s brow grew dark.

  ‘I quite agree. The atmosphere in this room is stifling. Good day.’

  ‘Are we giving up?’ I enquired of my companion on the way home.

  ‘What other option do we have?’ he snapped. The profile he presented against the window of the four-wheeler was taut with anger and frustration. ‘Jekyll is a liar, Watson. He is more deeply involved in this business than Utterson suspects.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘He told his friend that the boys were crying the news of Sir Danvers’ murder outside his window this morning. Yet the morning papers carried nothing of the incident; I know that because I read them before breakfast. He knew of the murder before a breath of it had reached the general public.’ His attention was fixed upon the grey scenery sliding past the window. ‘Gaze carefully over that maze, Watson. Somewhere out there a murderer lurks, and he will remain free so long as you and I are manacled by lack of co-operation from officialdom and the principals involved. He is too canny for Scotland Yard, yet too impulsive to stay out of trouble for long. A beast who once tastes blood will do so again. No, by thunder!’ He smacked the side of the conveyance with the edge of his first. ‘By all that is holy, we will not give up!’ He turned then, and the eyes which confronted me shone like twin blades of steel. ‘From this time forward, Doctor, you and I shall maintain a constant vigil. Though our ears ache from eavesdropping upon others’ private conversations and our eyes grow bloodshot from scanning the columns of every newspaper in London, we shall not surrender the search.’