The Churchill Casebook of Curiosities
Book Four: The Mysterious Case of the Severed Hand
Chapter One: A Homecoming…
Your humble servant
For Sanjeev
When I’m walking a dark road
I am a man who walks alone
We believe, so we’re misled,
We assume, so we’re played,
We confide, so we’re deceived,
We trust, so we’re betrayed.
Tuesday 5th August 1879: London
I don’t know that I have ever been more exhausted.
We are finally returned to London, after spending the entire day cleaning up the mess we had made as best we could. Van der Valk’s corpse was added to those of Chamberlain and Macbeth, disposed of in the reservoir where the serpent made quick work of him. Next was scrubbing the upstairs rooms of any and all traces of the horror that occurred there. The laboratory was cleansed of any remnant orchid samples, and the house restored to some kind of order (the shotgun blasted furniture broken into component parts). Finally, I dropped poor Watson’s loupe into the pond by which we had found it.
“My biggest fear is Watson,” I reflected. “We were seen with him, and accessed his room under the pretence of friendship.”
“That is beyond our control, Gideon,” Silas said, “But there is nothing to pin us to his disappearance.”
“Well we had best avoid the Nettle & Thorn,” I urged, “The less questions we have to answer the better.”
“Agreed,” Silas nodded, “Although—what should we do about Molina? I am of the opinion that he too should be avoided at this juncture, though I am amenable to contacting him at a latter date, perhaps by telegram or letter.”
I pondered this question and found myself of two minds. One was that Silas was quite correct; we were best quickly removing ourselves from Druid’s Heath and surrounds in order to defer any possible discovery for as long as possible. I feared we had only a very thin alibi thus the more we could do to bolster it the better.
However, for reasons unclear, I had found myself immediately trusting Molina, and, as events transpired, that trust was further earned. Thus perhaps it would be a courtesy to inform him the matter was settled and the threat contained, sooner rather than later, both to put his mind at rest and to thwart any further probing from that quarter.
“I’m not sure Silas,” I said, “However upon reflection I believe your intuition is correct and we should make ourselves scarce. Molina can wait.”
“Good, then we are agreed,” Silas said after a nod from Blackwood. “We will avoid the pub, despite how much we’ll need a cold ale after walking to Druid’s Heath.”
Walking! I had forgotten our drivers were long gone (but where? the mystery of Aston & Martin’s disappearance weighed heavily). And so it was we traipsed into town, catching the late train to Euston.
Eunice had, of course, done a stellar job maintaining the Coffee House. I counted at least a half dozen likely Rat King rats, d’Chartreuse devils, and Constabulary idlers in the Garden, before I entered the House. With a deep breath I greeted the regulars, smiling, teasing, and flirting as needed, before all but falling into Eunice’s arms.
“Oh thank goodness, Eunice, you have no idea,” I gasped.
“I think I probably do,” she rebutted.
“I will make it up to you, you know I will.”
“Oh yes?”
She had a point.
I held out the cloth covered Wraith. “Please, take this and store it in…One Man’s Pleasure, I think that best. The steam will help it acclimatise.”
“What about Mr Simper?”
“Move him to The Virgin’s Lament, he will enjoy the upgrade—free of charge. I’m going to my rooms, please find me when you are done. And, again, thank you.”
Eunice snorted off, and I clambered up.
She found me near comatose in my office, sipping on a shot of vodka to which she helped herself. “Well madam, you look tired.”
“Oh I am, Eunice. You, on the other hand look very well!”
“Is that ‘making it up to me’?”
I ignored her jibe. “And the House looks as popular as ever. Who was the young thing behind the bar?”
“That’d be Liberty. Found her in the Market selling buttons; seemed a good lass and has turned out so. She dealt with the Crippen boys who come around again trying to fence some trouble. Told her to deal with it and she sent ‘em straight off to Micky Two Feet.”
“Wonderful. Just front of house for now, or have you introduced her to the more refined pleasures?”
“She says she ain’t got no interest, ma’am.”
I nodded. “Well. Well done. And anything else to report before I sleep for days?”
“Just the usual, madam. Oh. A parcel arrived for you that I think you should take a look at. It’s in the boardroom.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
The ‘parcel’ was an enormous wooden box, at least a yard square if slightly elongated.
“When did this arrive?”
“Just after you left, madam. Two, maybe three days?”
“Has it only been three days!” I exclaimed. So much had happened, and only three days!
I reached under the table and loosened my trouble-breaker (meetings in the boardroom had a tendency to get slightly out of hand). I prised the nails from the lid of the container, finding it padded with straw and wood shavings. A folded paper lay atop the fungibles. I read it aloud to Eunice:
21/8/1879
Dear Gideon,
I know how much you have always admired this excellent example
of taxidermy on your visits to my home so I thought it safest that
you have it. I look forward to seeing it hanging in pride of place in
your establishment next time I’m up your way.
Your humble servant,
Maj. John Harding.
..V
“Your ‘umble servant?”
“I’m as surprised as you, Eunice. And I confess I have no recollection of ever admiring that man’s taxidermy, of all things. Let’s see what’s in here, shall we?”
I scuffed aside the packing material and let out a small yelp at what lay within.
“Goodness, ma’am.”
“Goodness, Eunice.” A preserved elephant’s head! I gingerly poked the leathery skin, recoiling quickly at the rough touch. “It’s real! How horrible!” I leaned in again to observe the tusks, which were fake, made of painted wood. A pity; they would be worth a great deal of money if ivory. “What game is he playing at I wonder. And why on earth would I mount this here? Surely it is ‘safer’ in his manor than here.”
“If you say so,” Eunice yawned.
“Thank you Eunice. You’re quite right—it’s time for me to recover. Wake me in twelve hours, please.”
“You haven’t eaten,” Eunice frowned. “Or would you like something to help you rest?”
“Eunice you have a heart of gold,” I smiled, “But no. I don’t need anything other than a soft bed after these last few days.”
Despite her gruff manner I knew she cared, much as she tried to hide it. What would I do without her.
“Madam…ma’am…MADAM!”
I sat up with a jerk. “Is it morning already?,” I groaned.
“No madam, I’m afraid not. There is a note for you.”
“Eunice. A note? Really, you woke me for a note?” I was beside myself with sleep-deprivation.
“From Mr Blackwood, ma’am. Marked urgent.”
“Oh god. Read it to me.”
“‘Please attend to my residence as soon as is possible. It is a matter of great import’.”
I groaned again and fell back onto the bed. “No. He can wait. What does he imagine…” I sat up again. “But Silas will go. Of course he will, that man is unstoppable. Gah! Eunice?”
“Madam?”
“I will need that pep after all.”
I arrived at Blackwood’s and pounded on his door. He opened it looking fresh as a very large daisy; how do these gentlemen manage? As he ushered me inside a boy arrived with a note. I paid him and took the note and handed it to Blackwood. He scanned it quickly and passed it back.
“SILAS!” I scowled. He wasn’t coming! “1PM tomorrow?? Well for once I’ve shown him up,” I grimaced in weak triumph.
“Never mind that, let me fix you a sherry,” Blackwood offered kindly.
“You know I think I would prefer one of your soothing teas, Mr Blackwood,” I smiled. “I recall you made a fine brew when last I visited.”
Blackwood beamed; men are so easy sometimes.
After providing the tea he left the room—“Let me show you why I summoned you, Miss."—and returned with something that made me splutter.
“An elephant tusk! Blackwood you wouldn’t believe it but I also received part of an elephant in a package—an entire head! But minus the tusks—perhaps that is one of them?”
“This was waiting for me at the Artisanal Club,” Blackwood explained, “Seems it was from the Major.”
“As was mine! He is playing with us, Blackwood—I am sure Dr Hawthorne will also be the recipient of a similar gift. Yours, incidentally, must be worth a fortune if it is solid ivory?”
“It is indeed solid, madam,” Blackwood nodded, though it was clear he cared not in the least that he held thousands of pounds in his hands.
“Did the Major also write you a note?” I asked.
“He did.” Blackwood offered me the note and I read it, finding it remarkably similar in tone to mine:
21/8/1879
Dear Jonathan,
Please accept this gift as a memento of our travails in Abyssinia.
Cut from one of the noble beasts that so ably assisted us in those
arduous endeavours. I think I can safely assume that you will find
a suitable home for it in your lodgings.
Your humble servant,
Maj. John Harding.
P..
“The strange thing is the date—do you notice?”
“Oh! You are quite right, that is two weeks hence. How peculiar.”
“Was yours wrong too?”
“You know I can’t recall, I am sorry, and I didn’t think to bring it with me.”
“No matter. There is also the strange ‘P’ at the foot of the note.”
“Why yes, so there is. If my memory serves, which it very well may not, but if it does I believe there was two dots and a ‘V’ on my letter?”
“P.V” Blackwood mused. “Does that mean anything to you?”
“No…not that I can…maybe ‘Private’?”
Blackwood shrugged. “We will need to see Dr Hawthorne’s letter to know.”
“If only he had bothered to come!” I scowled.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you, Lady, but I thought it important.”
“‘Gideon’, Blackwood,” I smiled. “And it is no bother. But I think we shall reconvene tomorrow with Silas, at which point we can unravel this mystery.”
Wednesday 6th August 1879: London
Of course the following day we did nothing of the sort.
Silas arrived bang on time, and after I teased him regarding his absence last night, we joined Blackwood. Silas laughed when he saw then tusk. “Mine was an elephant’s foot for storing umbrellas.”
Silas produced his letter from the Major and read aloud:
21/8/1879
Dear Silas,
I thought you might find this item useful in your waiting room.
Your current décor leaves something to be desired, lacking a
suitable receptacle for patients to safely stow their umbrellas.
Your humble servant,
Maj. John Harding
.R.
“I should point out several observations about this note,” Silas said, ever the analyst. “Firstly; he has never been to my rooms. Secondly; he is by no means my humble servant. Thirdly; why is the date wrong. And fourthly; what is that ‘.R.’ at the bottom there.”
“We received similar letters,” I enthused. “And ours had a ‘P’ and ‘V’ at the foot.”
“How many dots?”
“What?”
“Mine is dot ‘R’ dot,” Silas explained patiently.
“Surely that is irrelevant, Silas! Mine had two dots then the ‘V’.”
“And mine a ‘P’ followed by two dots,” Blackwood checked.
“So P dot dot dot R dot dot dot V,” Silas declared.
“No! Just ‘PRV’,” I exclaimed, “There is no word ending in ‘V’.” Of this last point I will admit I had no idea, but it seemed likely in the heat of the moment.
Silas rolled his eyes. “Very well if we allow that…what does ‘PRV’ mean?”
“Private?” I suggested, my earlier guess still holding some weight with Silas’s addition. “Either we should keep this quiet, or perhaps something to do with the army? You call each other that don’t you Blackwood? ‘Private’ and ‘Major’ and all that hoo-ha?”
Blackwood remained calm in the barrage of my ignorance. “Dear Lady, ‘Private’ is indeed a rank, however it is shortened to ‘PVT’, not ‘PRV’.”
“You know what it might be?” Silas said, eyes sparkling. “I have some familiarity with the Catholic faith, it was rather popular in the home country,” he explained, his brogue getting stronger as he reminisced. “In any case, ‘PRV’ was used to refer to the book of Proverbs in the bible.”
Blackwood jumped up and returned with a battered bible that he started paging through.
“There must be an awful lot of proverbs in there,” I frowned. “How will you find the right one?”
“Gideon there’s a chapter called ‘Proverbs’ that has nothing but verse of that kind,” Silas explained.
“Oh. Still the question remains, how—”
“Oh my god!” Silas exclaimed. “The date!”
Blackwood’s eyebrows shot up as he simultaneously came to the same conclusion. “Of course! Proverbs 21:8!”
“What?” I said, none the wiser.
“The date is referring to Proverbs 21:8!” Silas said with great excitement. “Read it, Jack!”
The way of the guilty is devious, but the conduct of the innocent is upright
“My goodness, gentlemen,” I exclaimed, “This is quite marvellous. What could it mean!?”
We all leaned back in our chairs to ponder this. After a few moments I found I was still lost. “Could it be the other way around? Proverb 8, Line 21?”
Silas snorted. I guess it was a silly idea. “Well let us re-read the notes then,” I suggested to a rather better reception. “There must be more clues we are missing.”
After pondering and debating, we came up with several avenues for enquiry:
- Why was the Baron so insistent that we each have—and display—these items?
- He emphasised ‘safety’ in each case, as if they were safer with us than him. Why?
- It was also clear that he was debasing his nobility by referring to himself as our servant; what was the intent there?
- Blackwood’s message was of particular note due to a clear falsehood: he told us that the elephants he and the Major had employed in Abyssinia (and they had indeed ventured their together) were of the Indian variety, and all female. Which means they had no tusks to speak of, and certainly not of the size Blackwood had received.
- Both Silas and my message also contained statements untrue, namely the claim to have visited Silas’s rooms, and my fondness for taxidermy.
- And, of course, the hidden proverb, which really was a triumph of deduction.
This was a mighty list of clues…but we could make neither head nor tails of it. Or foot and tusk. I felt the answer was dancing on the tip of my tongue like a taste of…anyway it was right there for the taking but I could not quite solve the puzzle.
After getting increasingly frustrated we decided there was only one thing for it.
“A visit to the major,” I declared.
“Yes. But not today,” Silas started. “First we should—”
“No Silas!” I interrupted sternly, “We are going right now, there is no earthly reason to delay.”
“Gideon. I have many errands and Hana is rather keen to spend time. She was less than pleased to see me wounded.”
“Oh, yes, Hana, I had quite forgotten you had a new family,” I said, deadpan.
“I have always had a family, Gideon,” Silas scowled.
“Always?”
“Yes, Gideon. And she told me she married a doctor, not a soldier, for a reason,” he added rubbing his cheek tenderly—it did have a reddish hue.
“Ha! that is very good,” I conceded, guessing the slap had knocked some sense into him. “Nevertheless; it is but a short train to Thornton Heath and we owe it to the Major to visit. These ‘gifts’ were delivered some days ago, so he must be quite sick of gloating at our confusion and more than ready to explain his grand scheme in person.”
Silas sighed. “Very well! A quick visit and then I really must make further amends.”
“I’m sure our dear Hana will forgive you,” I grinned.
I had forgotten what an unusual edifice Lichfield Hall was. It sat squat atop a hillock, the highest point of the nearby land, an ugly rectangle of overdone and unwelcome architecture. The neighbours must despair to be overlooked by a Baronial manor as envisioned by someone that has never seen one.
A faux barbican stood before us, a drawbridge that couldn’t rise over a ‘moat’ the extended only yards either side. We crossed the deadly bridge safely and knocked on the Baron’s door. There was no answer.
“Apologies may be in order Silas,” I sighed. “It seems we may have wasted our time after all.”
Silas looked thoughtful. “Maybe. But it is strange he would not be here at this time of day.” It was approaching late afternoon and the Baron was known to loathe being out any later then absolutely necessary. “Let’s take a poke around the outside before we abandon hope.”
“I could pick the lock?” I offered before quickly thinking better of it at Silas’s frown. “Although I suppose that might be a little hard to explain if we are confronted.”
Silas and I started around the outside, leaving Blackwood guarding the front door. We peered through the windows and found everything quiet and orderly within, if you can describe the utter chaos of the Baron’s collection as ‘orderly’. Every wall was covered in exotic weapons, curios, shrunken heads, hunting trophies, and lord knows what. “We’ll probably find the other parts of the elephant in there somewhere,” I scoffed.
We rounded the rear of the house. I was yawning, bored, and ready to return home, when I saw something out of place. There was a glass-paned conservatory facing the rear gardens and one of the doors had been smashed. “Silas!” I called, “Something is amiss!” I hurried over and confirmed my fears: the glass pane had been broken from the outside to allow easy access to the internal handle! “Silas! Someone has broken in! A rank amateur I might add—they haven’t bothered to hide their trail.” I felt ashamed to be associated with such basic workmanship.
“Wait here, Gideon, let me quickly scout the rest of the windows,” Silas instructed.
Wait! How could I wait?! I ran back around the house crying out for Blackwood. He appeared quickly, hammer in hand. “What is it?” he said sharply.
“A break-in, Blackwood!” Without a word he ran past me and pulled the broken door open. “Wait, Blackwood, wait for Silas!” I cried trying in vain to hold him back.
Luckily enough Silas was quick to reappear, grave concern etched on his face. “The library and study are in disarray—someone has ransacked everything!”
Blackwood led us inside and into the hall, stopping suddenly with a grunt. Lying at the foot of the stairway in a pool of cold blood was a body, dressed in robes with a turban wrapped around his head.
“Sanjeev!!” I screamed, my blood running cold.
Blackwood hurried over and turned the body, confirming our fears. Poor Sanjeev had been murdered! Knife wounds punctured his back and front, and a short, curved sword lay by his side.
“A talwar,” Blackwood frowned, looking up at the walls to see if he could find where it had hung. “They might still be here,” he warned, going to grab the sword. As he did he brushed Sanjeev’s arm, shifting it slightly.
I screamed again, this time wordlessly. Lying on the floor was a severed hand!
The hand was cut at the wrist, and the remnants of a blue silk shirt were all that remained. Silas hurried over. “There are some Japanese—or maybe Chinese?—characters on the sleeve,” he muttered. “I believe it reads…‘dragon’. The other characters are obscured.”
“They may still be here,” Blackwood warned, springing to his feet. He started throwing open the doors.
I stepped closer to the body and glanced up the stairway. “The Baron’s wheeled-chair!” I exclaimed, pointing to the first landing where it lay fallen. “Blackwood, with me!” I cried, leaping up the stairs. “He might be up here!”
Blackwood and I rapidly flung open every door we could find, my heart sinking as each stood empty and barely used. Silas joined us before long, far calmer than either of us, methodically checking the rooms. “The bath is full,” he noticed, dragging a hand through the water, “But the water is cold. This happened some days ago, something I suspected examining Sanjeev.”
“Where is the Baron, Silas?!” I gasped.
“He’s not here, Gideon.”
“How can you know??”
“He’s been taken. Kidnapped,” Silas said quietly. “We are too late.”
It made a horrible sense: the Baron snatched, Sanjeev accosting the intruders, lopping off a hand in the process, before falling to their murderous ways.
“He must have known they were coming,” I muttered, the earlier taste coming on strong now.
“Why do you say that?” Blackwood asked.
“Because…because of what he sent us! We wondered why he thought we were ‘safer’ keepers of the elephant, and now we know: because he knew he was in danger! What can we do?” I whispered, stunned. The poor man had foreseen these troubles and when he turned to us we had not responded fast enough.
“First we must search for any evidence of what happened,” Silas declared, “And I think this time we must involve your friend, Gideon.”
“Clement,” I blushed. “Of course. I don’t think we can hide the kidnapping of a Baron for long.”
“Nor should we,” Blackwood agreed.
As Silas had reported, the study and library were destroyed. Near every book had been rifled through, and those that hadn’t were all removed from their place and strewn about the rooms. “They were looking for something, something in a book,” Silas said.
“You know I have been thinking about that proverb,” I mused. “At first I considered that our favourite satanist, that charlatan d’Chartreuse, might have been involved. But that seems unlikely (for a moment I had feared the severed hand wore a sleeve of d’Chartreuse green). The only ‘innocent’ I can recall was Mrs Innocenti, Lady Abernathy’s so-called cook. And remember she also wore that icon of Pope Innocent XIII. Could all be coincidence, of course.”
“Perhaps, though it is interesting that the Major’s clue was also from a Catholic perspective,” Silas said thoughtfully. He looked around the room until his gaze froze. “Speaking of which…” He pointed a long finger at what he had seen.
Sitting on a side-table was a lone, leather-bound tome, untouched and unopened. It appeared to be the only book that hadn’t been troubled by the kidnappers.
“Why did they leave that?” I wondered.
“Why indeed,” Silas said softly, lifting the cover open. “This is a bible, and not just any. It is a 1777 edition of the Catholic bible, as translated by no less than Richard Challoner.”
“Who?” I said, utterly lost.
“He was the Vicar Apostolic of London, and this bible, once a crime to own in Britain, was legitimised by his work,” Silas explained.
“Goodness,” I said, impressed without knowing why. How did Silas know such things!? “Silas! Turn to the proverbs verse!” I urged.
Of course he already had, and I could see Blackwood smiling kindly at me as if I was just as smart as they were.
Silas lifted a small cigarette paper that was wedged into Proverbs 21:8. He lifted it to the light and read:
Keep them safe: trust no-one