“I have deployed my scouts, Shinwell. Those lads know the streets far better than any of Lestrade’s men and at least as well as your own contacts,” he said. “If our man surfaces, then they will find him.”
And with that, Holmes seemed to have satisfied himself that as much as could be done was being done, and now he joined me at the breakfast table. The doctor arrived as I was on my second round of toast, and made a bit of a fuss checking my teeth and gums before he too joined us. I knew any camaraderie was only momentary, but for that short time I quite felt that I had indeed risen above my station – and for that, too, I have Mr Holmes to thank.
It could not last of course, and just as we were finishing breakfast I heard a pounding at the front door. Mrs Hudson showed a red-faced boy upstairs and into the sitting room, where Holmes had him stand by the fireplace for questioning.
“I done found ’im, Mr Holmes,” the lad said, even before Holmes could speak. He was out of breath, and smelled rather ripe – so much so that Mrs Hudson made a point of opening all the windows before she retired swiftly to the cleaner air in her domain below us.
If Holmes noticed the smell, he did not show it – the lad had his full attention. He took a florin from his waistcoat pocket and showed it to the boy, who made a grab for it, but was too slow to beat Holmes’s reflexes as the coin was made to vanish again.
“The story first,” Holmes said.
“After you described the geezer you was after, George and Ratty and the others went off to the houses on the south of Russell Square, but me and Tom, we decided that we’d have more luck trying where they weren’t, if you catch my drift? So we went round to the big hotel. Nearly got pinched by the doormen a coupla times too. We had to do a bit of duckin’ and divin’, I can tell you – Tom was fed to the back teeth. And right then, right when Tom was ready to jack it all in – that’s when I saw ’im – your cove, Mr Holmes. Just sitting there in the reading room – white hair and a big scar down his cheek, just like you said.”
Holmes sighed and waved the florin in front of the lad’s nose again.
“Try to keep this as brief as possible, there’s a good boy. And where might this have been, Stevenson?”
“I done told you already, sir – the big old place on the square with the columns and statues and such like.”
“The Hotel Russell?”
“That’s the one. He were just sitting there reading. I left Tom watching ’im, and ran right back here.”
Holmes passed the lad the florin.
“Mind to share it with Tom – if you do not, I shall hear of it.”
“Will do, sir. I’ll head back there now – just to make sure your man’s still there.”
The boy left at as fast a run as he had arrived.
Holmes immediately made for his coat and walking stick. Watson rose to join him, but I was unsure whether I was invited. Holmes soon put me to rights.
“Do join us, Shinwell. He disrupted you at your place of work last night – perhaps you should return the favour today.”
Two minutes later the three of us were in a hansom on our way to Russell Square.
I know the Russell well from the old days. Toffs leave all kinds of things in hotel rooms that they would not leave lying around in their homes – don’t ask me why, that is just the way it is – and it is easy pickings for chaps like me, or it was, back then. Rory Calquoun on the desk raised an eyebrow when he saw me with Holmes and Watson – back in the day he would have taken a couple of shillings off me and looked the other way for an hour. Today he made half a crown vanish into his waistcoat pocket when Holmes passed it over the counter and asked where Mackie could be found.
“Top floor,” he said. “Room 414 – he went up just five minutes ago.”
Holmes thanked Calquoun and took the stairs two at a time. I was quite out of puff by the time we reached the top, having carried twice the weight of the other two all the way up, so I was a few yards behind Holmes when he rapped on the door. A thin, blond chap opened it, and I recognised him immediately even before I got close enough to see the scar – he had been the one sitting next to the duke in the box last night – and he did not seem in the least bit surprised to see Holmes.
“After last night’s performance I have been expecting you, gentlemen. Come in and let us have a drink like civilised chaps.”
“There is little that is civilised about your behaviour, sir,” Holmes said as he followed him into the suite. The man, Mackie, merely smiled and waved a hand around, as if showing off the opulence and splendour that his endeavours had brought him. As I looked around I realised I had been in these rooms before too – a Russian gentleman had them then, and I had relieved him of thirty pieces of gold coin. I also knew that my knowledge gave me an advantage here that Holmes did not have. I made a bit more of my condition than I needed to, making a great show of being breathless and in dire need of water. Mackie was taking little note of me anyway, having his full attention on Holmes.
“You have nothing on me, Mr Holmes – and we both know it. It is not illegal to take photographs and none of my – shall we call them – customers will say anything against me to the authorities.”
“I might not have you to rights, yet,” Holmes replied. “I merely wanted you to know that I know – and that I shall be watching you closely.”
I missed the rest of the conversation – I was already off and away down the internal corridor of the suite. I found the bathroom, and a glass of water, which I carried with me for appearances’ sake should I be caught while casing the rest of the rooms.
At first I thought I was going to be out of luck – there were only clothes in the bedroom wardrobe – top quality though. But the second bedroom was where the real find was – the room had been made over into a small photography studio. I didn’t know what half the stuff was or what it was used for, but I recognised the flash powder right enough and remembered what Mr Holmes had said about it. I did what needed to be done and left quietly, putting the empty water glass on a sideboard before rejoining Holmes, Mackie and Watson in the main room.
Holmes and Mackie were still facing off to each other, but they were now sitting in armchairs and smoking cigarettes. I poured myself a Scotch – nobody seemed to be offering to do it for me, but nobody stopped me either – and joined Watson on the Chesterfield sofa. It all seemed a mite too civilised for my liking – I would have preferred to bust the villain’s head and have done with it – I suppose that is just another difference between Mr Holmes and myself, but I can’t say it’s one I am overly jealous of.
To be fair to him, Mr Holmes did not seem to be enjoying the verbal fencing, and his contempt for the Scotsman was writ large on his face as he listened.
“You cannot deny that I am only ushering in what we all know is in our future, Mr Holmes. The great unwashed do so love their tittle-tattle – gossip about their betters is the only thing that keeps them from despair. Who am I to deny them those pleasures if I am not to be paid to keep them to myself?”
“You talk far too blithely of despair for a man with so few moral scruples,” Holmes said. “I know it was you last night in the box, for I can see the magnesium powder in your hair where it has not been completely brushed out, and that scar on your cheek can be clearly seen even from the other side of the theatre.”
“And I know you saw me,” Mackie replied with a smile. “But here we are – and you can still do nothing about it, shackled by your conventions. Besides, even if you did find something against me, it is not as if you yourself are immune to scandal, is it Mr Holmes? There is more than enough in your past to keep your friend Lestrade busy for months should he come to hear of it.”