The collected papers of.., p.10
The Collected Papers of Sherlock Holmes, Volume 3, page 10
“I think,” he replied, shutting my journal with a finger to mark his place, “that I’ve shared quite a few more than just those.”
“Still, you cannot deny that you jealously retain facts – sometimes for no other reason than the dramatic effect that they will produce during their revelation. And—”
I stopped myself abruptly, for I had nearly crossed a line that I had drawn for myself – namely, to avoid mentioning the still-painful revelation, upon Holmes’s recent return to London, that he hadn’t shared with me that he had been alive during those three years when he was presumed dead.
He’d explained the reasons why I wasn’t told, while his brother Mycroft had been aware, and they made sense. He was doing work for the government around the world, and Mycroft had provided him with necessary funds and transportation. The late Professor Moriarty’s organization, though broken, was still in existence, and they – especially the Professor’s two brothers who had attempted to revive it – had been watching me, and any indication that Holmes still lived would have caused disaster for both him and me, and those that I loved. Finally, during that time my poor wife’s health had been steadily declining, which is where my attention needed to be focused. Still, I don’t think that Holmes realized, until he returned, just how the loss of both my best friend – more of a brother to me than my own by blood had ever been – and my wife in the space of just a couple of years had nearly broken me.
I had filled some of my time by writing up narratives from my cases for publication in a popular periodical, knowing at the time that, if Holmes could see from beyond the veil, where I believed him to be, he would certainly be disappointed. He had been tolerant –at best – of my first writing effort in late 1887, and less so with the second in 1890. Now, he had returned to London to find that another round two-dozen of them had appeared in print while he was gone – “Like drodded mushrooms,” he had muttered at one point.
Discussions about this had already occurred since his return, as might be expected. Sometimes cordial, sometimes less so, but the upshot was that Holmes wished for the cessation of publication of his cases – but only, I was happy to hear, for the present. The door wasn’t entirely shut, and in a quiet conversation, he had allowed that I might keep recording events as they occurred – “for the archives”, he had said – with an eye toward future publication.
But I was somewhat disappointed at the immediate embargo, as I had already completed a number of polished manuscripts that I had hoped to place – this time on my own, as my literary agent had grown quite weary of his own works being overshadowed and neglected by his association with Holmes. That morning, I had – unwisely, as it turned out – showed Holmes the write-up of our trip to Dartmoor to investigate a scheme wherein an old family legend was used to attempt the theft of an inheritance. I had thought that reading it might convince Holmes to lift his stricture on publications – but of course I was incorrect.
While I swallowed what I’d been about to say regarding Holmes’s failure to tell me that he was actually alive between 1891 and 1894, he had been flipping through my journal, likely looking for some other example to bolster his argument. He seemed to find what he wanted, and was about to jab with another quote when we heard the front doorbell ring.
We fell silent as we listened to Mrs. Hudson move downstairs. The front door opened, and there was murmured conversation before her steady step climbed to the sitting room. She knocked and entered, handing a small card to my friend. As his return to London was not yet common knowledge, I believe that we were both a bit surprised that he had a visitor. He looked at it with a tightened expression of distaste and then dropped it onto the low octagonal table that stood beside his chair, placing my journal more carefully beside it. “Show the gentleman up, Mrs. Hudson.”
I raised an eyebrow. I considered asking who was now climbing the stairs, but I could see that Holmes was arranging his own thoughts, his mouth in a tight line and a frown closing his eyes to slits.
The caller’s identity was soon revealed when the door opened to Mr. Nathaniel McGhee Hale. A small man in expensive clothing, he was one of the more recognizable figures of the day, and had been since before Holmes’s presumed death. He had a bobbing head, set on narrow shoulders, and topped with neatly combed white hair, very thin and fine. His eyes were blue, and with his pinkish skin and reddish eyelids, he almost looked albino.
He had made a substantial fortune in any number of areas after decamping from the southern United States to England in the 1870’s. He seemed to have the Midas Touch, steadily multiplying his wealth, but not without controversy and negative shades upon his reputation. The year before, although not widely known, his maneuverings had left the military low on cordite. At that time, cordite was a still relatively new munition, and mistakes had been made when estimating how much was available when re-outfitting the army, particularly for the .303 rifle.
This was the public account. Holmes and I had privately learned, during a recent visit with his brother Mycroft at the Diogenes Club regarding an unrelated matter, that the situation was much more serious than the public had realized, and that the man now facing us had been more heavily involved than followers of the daily press knew. And he had augmented his already substantial fortune because of it. More recently, his name had been associated with a number of mine disasters throughout Britain.
Holmes and I had stood as the man entered, and my friend directed Hale to the basket chair between us. Hale seemed as if he would offer his hand to the detective, but perceiving that it might not be readily accepted, he instead settled himself and began to speak.
“I’m here, Mr. Holmes, at the advice of Lord Evers,” he said, his accent – Alabaman, I believe – even stronger than I had been led to understand from the news accounts. “He seems to think quite a bit of you, although he wouldn’t say why.”
“Then far be it from me to provide more information than he would,” said Holmes. “I’m sure that you can expect the same sort of discretion, should I decide to accept your case.”
“But you must!” countered Hale. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not a public servant,” replied Holmes. “I am a private consulting detective, and as such, I may pick and choose such work that interests me… and also the clients with whom I wish to associate. You arrived with no appointment, and I have a few minutes to spare to hear your story, but it remains to be determined whether I will be able to help you, or whether your case will be of interest.”
Holmes clearly didn’t like the man, and made no effort to hide it. Hale’s face rotated through a series of expressions as Holmes spoke, clearly unaccustomed to this disdain in person. His countenance tightened and released while he considered his response. Finally he chose to simply present his story and hope for the best.
“I’m sure that both of you are aware of the events of recent months. I don’t deny my involvement – I’m a businessman, and I took advantage of opportunities. I won’t apologize. I could have just as easily lost everything.”
Holmes glanced at me. I knew what he was silently asking, as it was likely that he did not know of all of the recent events, as he had only returned to London a month or so earlier, and since that time, he had been steadily involved in a number of cases, not the least of which was dealing with the matter of Professor Moriarty’s nefarious brothers, both fighting each other to take over the criminal enterprise left by their late sibling, but managing to arrange a temporary truce to attack their common enemy, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
I cleared my throat and mentioned the cordite affair, which Holmes knew about. Hale’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t speak. Then I continued, laying out the details, as I recalled them, of the more recent mining disasters. “The Dwfn Mine in Gwent, and more recently, the Albion in Yorkshire. Explosions. Several dozen men were killed, due to poor safety practices, likely caused,” I concluded, glancing at Hale, “by the niggardly attitudes of the owners.”
Holmes nodded and looked back at Hale. “I am not an engineer. I cannot advise you on mine explosions, except to say that you should open your pocket-book and make these hellish places somewhat more survivable for those who have to labor there.”
“Those disasters,” said Hale tightly, “are not why I’m here, Mr. Holmes. They are only the events that set me in motion to consult you. If I may continue?”
Holmes waved a hand.
“The doctor is correct. It was due to my stinginess – my own, and my partners – that safety in the mines was in such a poor state. But I have a widespread range of affairs, and I can’t keep my eye upon every small detail. I assure you that I didn’t know how bad that it was. I bought the controlling interest in those mines five years ago, and they were just as bad then, although I didn’t know it. I had never actually visited them, you see. One allows oneself a certain comfortable ignorance. But I’ve since traveled to each of them, not just the ones where the explosions occurred, and I’ve taken steps to remedy the situation – both improving conditions in the mines, as well as providing compensation to survivors. I’m not a monster, despite what you might read.
“But a couple of months ago, when the worst of all of this was happening, and one disaster seemed to occur right after another, I made a mistake. I was lamenting my affairs to a fellow at my club, and he suggested that I visit that consulting fellow Lamont, of No. 12 Burleigh Street.”
I knew the site well, since it was the office where The Strand had initially been located, before it quickly outgrew its digs and shifted to nearby No. 8 Southampton Street. I hadn’t been in Burleigh Street in several years, despite passing its entrance on the Strand countless times.
I glanced at Holmes, to see if he had observed my reminiscences. He might not realize the significance of that address, as the magazine, which had published a substantial number of the accounts of his cases, had only established itself a few months before his supposed death at the Reichenbach Falls in early 1891, preceding my association.
He spoke, surprising me, as I had expected him to query about the significance of the address. Instead, he posed a different question.
“Lamont?” he said. “You mention him as if I should recognize the name.”
Hale raised an eyebrow. “The consultant,” he said, describing Lamont in the same manner as before. “The fellow who advertises himself as ‘The Sherlock Holmes of Business Consulting’, or some such. His motto is to make him your ‘Trusted Advisor’.”
Holmes looked at me, true puzzlement showing on his features. “Do you know of this man, Watson?”
I nodded. “He set himself up sometime last year as a type of problem-solver. From all accounts, he has made a fast rise.” I turned toward Hale. “Although you may not have been aware, Holmes has been out of the country for an extended period. He hasn’t yet had a chance to catch up on some of what has occurred in the capitol during his absence.”
I rose from my chair and stepped over to Holmes’s desk, where a tall pile of newspapers threatened to tip and avalanche to the floor. These had accumulated just since his return in early April, saved for when he had a spare rainy morning and could clip those articles of interest which would then find their way into his voluminous scrapbooks.
Pulling a recent edition from the top of the stack, I opened it to an inner page, turning past two or three sheets until I found the advertisement that I sought. Folding back the pages, I handed it to Holmes.
Difficulties? Complications? Disasters?
Consult Dunmar Lamont
“Your Trusted Advisor”
Problems Solved – None Too Large or Small
“The Sherlock Holmes of the Business World”
12 Burleigh Street, London
Holmes laid the paper aside. He glanced toward his scrapbooks, but I interjected, “It’s unlikely you’ll find anything about him there. He’s quite new on the scene.”
Holmes nodded and spoke to Hale. “Continue.”
The little man cleared his throat. “When the various… difficulties were occurring – the continued problems associated with the cordite affair, and then the mine disasters – I had a period of a week or two where I felt exceptionally despondent. In a moment of weakness, I discussed it with a chap at my club, Edward Woodhouse. I shouldn’t have spoken of it at all, but I was in a low spot, and Woodhouse asked me at just such a time that I’d be likely to reply. He suggested that I consult this Lamont fellow. ‘He helped me to get on my feet again,’ said he.
“I knew that Woodhouse had had a rough patch a few years ago – he had been a partner at Coxon and Woodhouse’s, until they were nearly sunk in the spring of ‘89 through that disastrous Venezuelan loan. Woodhouse went on to explain that Lamont had given him advice a few months ago, and since then he’d been in such better shape that he was now a convert, steering people in that direction whenever he could.
“Well, the short of it is, I didn’t see what it could hurt, although I wasn’t clear on what exactly this Lamont fellow could accomplish. If nothing else, I’d learned that he was an American, like myself, so I thought that we might have some common ground. It took a couple of weeks to obtain an appointment, but finally Woodhouse took me along to the office in Burleigh Street. It’s a little building on the corner, nothing special, and inside Lamont seemed to only make use of a couple of ground floor rooms – an empty reception area, with tall windows looking out upon the street, and an inner office – his sanctum, he called it.
“He only had a few comfortable chairs spread around on an expensive-looking rug. There was no desk, although there was something like a drafting table along one wall with papers spread across it. While Woodhouse waited outside in the reception area, Lamont and I found our seats, and I explained that I didn’t know what he could do to help me, but that I was a bit stretched at the moment, dealing with various business issues. He asked a few pointed questions, and I ended up telling him more than I ought, but I’d researched him since Woodhouse had suggested a consultation, and it seemed as if he would be a good resource – a ‘trusted advisor’, as he puts it.
“After Lamont’s questions were answered, we stood, and he said I should hear some good news soon. Woodhouse and I left, and when we were outside, I found that I was uncertain as to what to expect, or whether I had been a fool.”
“Was there any discussion of compensation?” asked Holmes.
“I’d asked that question, and was told that it would be discussed when my problems were settled.”
“Rather an open-ended arrangement for someone as reputedly canny as yourself to enter, sir,”
Hale nodded. “I agree. I can only say that I was at a low spot, and open to manipulation.”
“And were your problems solved?”
“Let’s just say I exchanged them for a different set of problems. Within a few days, Lloyd Addington, a rival and a very effective critic who was pressing me about the mining problems, was found dead, apparently of heart failure. Then, just a week or so ago, Lord Graeme, who has been quite the vocal antagonist over the last few months, fell in front of a speeding cab, dying instantly.”
Holmes raised an eyebrow. “I recall reading about that. There was some question as to whether he was pushed from behind. Additionally, his own driver, supposed to meet him on another street, was puzzled as to why Lord Graeme was nearly two blocks away when he was killed.”
Hale nodded. “Exactly. I thought nothing of these events – except, I will admit, to believe that they were fortuitous occurrences from my perspective – until I received a visit from Lamont a couple of days later.
“He presented himself at my home, asking if I found that my affairs had become less complicated of late. He had a smirk, which only grew as he perceived my puzzlement. Then he said, ‘Surely you will find your way easier going forward without Mr. Addington or Lord Graeme to vex you?’ His implication, of course, was that he was taking credit for their removal.
“I’ll admit that I was shocked. If what he implied was true, then he was a murderer – and apparently proud of it, too. Why would he be admitting as much to me, unless he was somehow trying to implicate me in the matter?
“Leaping ahead, and understanding that he might try to make me complicit in the deaths, I replied, ‘There is no way that you shall involve me in this matter, nor shall you press me for any payment! My consultation with you in no way connects me with any crime you have since committed on your own.’
“He laughed, and then said that it was beyond that. ‘You think that I simply want money?’ he asked. ‘I shall have much more than that before we’re done.” He leaned forward. ‘You fool. You didn’t know just how much you revealed during our conversation. I was able to take what you told me, and use it to know exactly where to look for more of your secrets. By now, I know more about your affairs than you do. And certainly more than the authorities, who would dearly love to hear some of what you’ve been up to. Perhaps you’d be surprised to learn that I know about the – ’”
Here, Hale broke off and swallowed. “Well, perhaps that’s not something I want to discuss here, even with you, Mr. Holmes. Suffice it to say, Lamont had a pretty good idea of my business, including parts that I’d nearly forgotten myself. I can’t say that I’m proud of it, but I did what had to be done. And now this man knows all of it, and wants to somehow use the leverage against me.”
Holmes uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, as if preparing to stand. “You will have to take your medicine, Mr. Hale,” he said. “There is nothing worse than a blackmailer, and normally my sympathies lie with the victims. But in your case, it rather sounds as if the two of you will cancel each other out. You really have only two options – pay him, as I assume he wants compensation, or kill him. I will be quite curious to see how it plays out, but I must intervene, at least peripherally, by letting the police know that Lamont should be evaluated in light of Lord Graeme’s death. I thank you for that bit of information.”
