Sherlock Holmes: The Collector's Edition

Preface.

This collection of twelve stories is written in the original, short story style as used by the master himself, Sir A. C. Doyle. They are arranged chronologically and cover the period 1889 to 1919 but, however, do not follow the order in which they were written by the author.

Whilst one may be drawn to believe in Holmes, Watson and their entourage, all the characters appearing in these stories are fictitious or used fictitiously.

Except for certain historical figures mentioned in the stories, any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

The Zhou Bell

The Birchwood Affair

The Cagliari Affair

The Bishop’s Tie Pin

Miss Violet Dixon (deceased)

The Bulgarian Clockmaker

The Lymington Affair

The Second Key

The Rattle Jacks Affair

The Angel’s Trumpet

The Emerald Spirit

The Star of Bithur

The Zhou Bell

Chapter 1 - An invitation from afar!

It was an invitation by none other than the Chinese ambassador that ignited the powder trail leading to the case that I have recorded here as that of The Zhou Bell.

The first week in April 1889 found Holmes and me enjoying an unseasonable spring in Baker Street. For the most part, the sun shone with a warmth not usually found until later in the year and we took full advantage of it when strolling through one of the great parks of London. Indeed, it was on the return from one such outing that the case began.

Holmes, invigorated by the exercise, bounded up the stairs to our rooms whilst I blamed the old war wound to my knee for preventing me from following suit.

Steady, Holmes. I am not the man I once was called I. This blatant excuse from me only caused Holmes to chuckle as he burst into our sitting room.

Alert as ever, it took him but a moment to observe the envelope that was sitting on the silver tray reserved for our mail. As I entered, Holmes was already draped in his favourite armchair and amusing himself by closely examining the unopened envelope. I sat wearily on our settee and began to regain my breath. Holmes had something of a wicked glint in his eye as he tossed the envelope across to me. What do you make of this, Watson?

This was a game that he fully enjoyed and played whenever there was something of interest in the mail. I took it in good part and knew he took pleasure from my very amateurish attempts at detection...although my skills in observation were improving!

I looked at the envelope, held it to the light and then up to my nose before making my report. Well, it is a not quite a foolscap sized envelope in a delicate shade of cream with our address written in a strong, but not entirely cursive, hand. It carries a plain seal and was posted in Belgravia.

Holmes positively beamed and began to fill his favourite Meerschaum from the Persian slipper that held his tobacco. Excellent, Watson. Pray continue.

The envelope has a slight odour, almost a flowery fragrance and the contents appear to be a single piece of stiff card. Pleased with my report, I passed the envelope back to Holmes.

Holmes was still smiling and proceeded once again to be my mentor on the finer points of observation. Capital, Watson...but let us see if there is anything else we can glean. As you observed, the size of the envelope is not standard but not only that, the paper itself is handmade and not of European origin. The fibres are quite coarse and are not, I think, from wood pulp. This may account for the colour also.

Taking up his magnifying glass and, after a strong pull on his pipe, Holmes continued. Yes, as I thought, we must look further East I feel for the origin of this envelope. As to the writing, I agree with you about the hand, the sweeping strokes are interesting although the formation of the letters is not fluid, they are as if done by a child learning their alphabet. What can we infer from that, Watson?

I must confess that I was initially stumped by this but then I had a flash of inspiration. My mind went back to the scripts that I had seen in my army days in India. Perhaps...perhaps the alphabet we use in the West is not one that is natural to the writer. Perhaps they are more used to a written language with different letter forms, as in India!

Holmes slapped the arm of his chair and again shouted, Capital! You have reasoned well...but I think we must travel even further east. The scent you detected on the envelope is not one of Indian incense. I think it more to be one of subtle flowers, Chrysanthemum, perhaps? Holmes would say no more on this and continued. As you correctly observed, the letter was posted in Belgravia, an area which has become fashionable for the residences of ambassadors to the court of Her Majesty. I believe, Watson, that the paper of this envelope was manufactured from bamboo and may have travelled many thousands of miles, from as far away as Peking to reach us here, via the Chinese embassy. What would you imagine to be written on the stiff card inside, assuming that it has, indeed, come from the Chinese embassy?

An invitation! I exclaimed.

Holmes chuckled. I trust it is for I shall be very disappointed, Watson, if I am completely incorrect and it is simply our laundry bill. Holmes slid a finger beneath the flap of the envelope to open it. He withdrew the card from it and studied it for a few moments. Holmes’ face, for once, showed some signs of slight puzzlement.

Interesting, Watson. It is, as I surmised, an invitation… but not to the embassy. It is to attend a soirée at one of our great British institutions, The Victoria and Albert Museum. Holmes was looking quite pensive and was tapping the stem of his pipe against the fingers of his hand. But why? I know of a forthcoming Chinese exhibition but why request our presence? It was at that moment Holmes turned the invitation over and a smile spread across his face. He had been so intent on confirming that the card was an invitation that he had become completely focussed upon it. "Ah, it is indeed a very personal invitation, Watson."

Holmes tossed the card to me and I read aloud the invitation. His Excellency, Liu Shui-fen requests the pleasure of the company of Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson at a preview of the exhibition of the Zhou bell at 7p.m. on the 10th of April, 1889 at the Department of Asia, Victoria and Albert Museum. R.S.V.P. I turned the card over and written in a precise and fluid hand were the words It will be a pleasure to meet you again, Holmes. Liu.

I sat back, a little shocked. You know the Chinese ambassador, Holmes?

Holmes smiled again. I did him a small service some years ago and, seemingly, he has remembered it. Holmes would say no more on the matter and rested back in his chair, still smiling and puffing contentedly on his pipe.

Chapter 2 - Meeting the Chinese ambassador.

On the evening of the 10th we had a light meal before setting off for the Victoria and Albert Museum. We had already eaten a fine luncheon of mutton chops, boiled potatoes, some spring greens supplemented by carrots which had been laid down in sand over the winter. Having eaten our fill, we dressed warmly and hailed a Hansom. Little was said on our short ride to the museum and we were soon mounting the steps towards the vast, white edifice which had now graced the skyline of London for over 30 years. During which time antiquities from across the globe and donations from wealthy patrons had come to fill the exhibition spaces of this fine building.

At the entrance to the museum were posters advertising the forthcoming exhibition of Chinese antiquities with the Zhou bell heading the bill. Two constables were on duty standing one either side of the front entrance. As we drew near, both constables saluted Holmes who, in turn, raised his cane in acknowledgement. The unforgettable figure of Holmes being well known to all members of the Metropolitan police. Once inside, our invitation was discreetly checked and we were ushered to the area in the Asia department which had been set aside for the exhibition. Suits of Chinese armour had been placed on mannequins and there were also displays of antique weaponry. Several glass cases containing coins, masks, small vases etc. had been placed in an arrangement which seemed to naturally lead the visitor towards the highlight of the exhibition, the Zhou bell.

The bell itself was sitting on a small silk cushion placed on a decorative Chinese table. For the exhibition, the bell was to be housed in a single sturdy glass case which was well lit by large oil lamps placed on either side. I have to say that, to me, it did not seem particularly impressive, being a cast, patterned bronze bell about ten inches tall. At the top of the bell was a square loop to suspend it by in the form of a serpent held in the mouths of two dragons, one on either side. The body itself was comprised of four panels, each made up of alternate raised bosses, almost like wax seals separated by bands of raised pattern work. The base of the bell was fluted and, again, a band of raised patterns about three inches deep. To the untrained eye, it looked similar in form to the strange bird and animal motifs found on Aztec artefacts. In the centre of the band was a large, circular seal depicting a coiled dragon with staring eyes and with its mouth wide open.

Holmes was looking at the various exhibits, pausing occasionally to examine something in greater detail. After a few minutes he returned to me as I stood by the bell.

In a low voice I expressed my first impressions of the Zhou bell. I have to say, Holmes, that I am not entirely impressed by the star exhibit.

Holmes raised an eyebrow, looked at the bell and then back to me. I think, Watson, you have to know a little about its history to appreciate it. The bell before you is unique. It is a Bo, the largest of a set of five bells of differing sizes used as a musical instrument. It was made specifically for the Zhou king between the 5th and 6th century B.C. at the Jin State foundry in Houma.

Holmes paused to give me a moment to absorb what he had said.

He continued. The bell was made using master pattern blocks from which clay moulds were taken and into which the molten bronze was poured. Normally, the mould could be used several times to produce identical bells... Holmes raised his forefinger, saying, but not so in this case.

Holmes again paused and pointed to the seal on the bell. Because it was made specifically for the King and bears his seal, after the series of five bells had been cast, all the moulds were destroyed so only the King could own this particular set of bells. This is the only one of the five known to have survived.

I nodded, realising the significance of what he had said. Ah, I see. That does make it a somewhat special bell.

Holmes looked around and seeing that he was unobserved, he raised the bell an inch off its cushion and gave it a gentle tap with the end of his silver mounted cane. Immediately, he dampened any vibration with his finger and, seeming satisfied, he carefully replaced the bell back on its silk cushion.

There was movement over to our left and a figure, resplendent in a stunning, multi-coloured silk robe stepped forward. He was a Chinese gentleman who I estimated to be aged about 50 years. His face was smooth, save for a thin moustache, and bore a thin smile and twinkling eyes. Upon his head he wore a round, silk hat, almost like a highly decorated teapot lid. Beneath it could be seen jet black hair which had been drawn back into a traditional, long ‘pig-tail’ which hung almost to his waist. He took a few steps towards us before putting his hands together and bowing. Almost at the same moment Holmes bowed and after a seemingly uncomfortably long pause, by myself. From the corner of my eye I saw Holmes return upright and I followed suit.

The Chinese gentleman took another step towards us and proffered his hand to Holmes who I could see had grasped it firmly. Holmes! How pleased I am to see you.

Holmes nodded slightly and replied And I you, your Excellency.

Both men were genuinely pleased to meet again and, after a few moments, I was introduced to the Chinese ambassador, Liu Shui-fen.

The Ambassador smiled, Ah, Dr Watson. I have heard so much about you from Holmes, I am very pleased to meet you. We must have tea after the preview of the exhibition. With that, he nodded a farewell and walked back towards a small gathering of formally dressed gentlemen whom, I assumed, were the dignitaries of the museum.

Gentle reader, I will not bore you with the details of the speeches that were made by the assembled dignitaries but suffice it to say that they concerned details of how the bell had been lent to the museum for six months by the Emperor of China himself, from his own private collection, and that the museum was very grateful for the loan.

After the speeches, handshakes and bows, people began to drift away but as we turned to leave, we were approached by a large Chinaman dressed in a wide sleeved, black silk shirt and matching trousers.

Bowing, the Chinaman said, The Ambassador has been given a small room here to allow him to receive friends. If you would follow me, gentlemen.

Holmes looked at me and raised an eyebrow whilst I followed on confidently, buoyed up by the prospect of a cup of tea!

We were led to a small office which had been cleared of furniture save for a low table and three ornate oriental chairs. Sitting behind the table was the Ambassador and standing discreetly against the wall behind him were two men dressed in black silk. I noticed that these men stiffened slightly at our approach, making small adjustments to the way that they stood. They did not appear threatening, just ever watchful.

The Ambassador rose. Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, please sit down. He waved in the direction of the ornate chairs and, at the same time, gave a command in rapid Chinese to the fellow who had brought us to him.

Looking straight at me, the Ambassador asked a somewhat searching question. Tell me, Dr Watson, what do you think of the Zhou bell?

For a moment I was flustered. Well, Excellency, at first I thought it somewhat ordinary until Holmes enlightened me a little as to its provenance.

The Ambassador smiled. Yes, Holmes has a profound knowledge of the Orient. In ancient China, music was an essential part of court life, not only as a source of entertainment but also for certain rituals of court. In ceremonies to honour our ancestors, drums and groups of bells were gathered together to produce a great variety of sounds.

I nodded as the Ambassador’s servant brought in the tea on a black, lacquered tray. Upon the tray were three delicately decorated white bowls and a fine matching teapot with a bamboo handle. The Chinese servant filled each bowl with a pale green liquid which I suspected to be green tea. I have to say that I had not drunk green tea before. In the course of keeping up to date with modern medical literature, I had read reports of the medicinal effects of drinking green tea but I had not, myself, imbibed as a social drink.

Naturally, Holmes was at his ease having often had cause to drink it whilst in disguise in the opium dens of London's East End. The servant bowed to each one of us in turn before offering us one of the bowls. I waited respectfully for the Ambassador to take the first sip and then I followed. The taste of the tea was very cleansing. I found it refreshing as it was served not too hot.

The Ambassador leant forwards slightly and smiled. The tea is to your taste, gentlemen? Holmes nodded, he was sitting back clearly enjoying the opportunity to relax and absorb the ambiance.

I finished my last sip and answered. It is the first time that I have tried it, your Excellency, I find it very refreshing. It reminds me of the infusions of herbs used by English country folk.

It was Holmes’ turn to join the conversation and I could see that his body was straightening, becoming more business-like. Holmes smiled. Tell, me your Excellency, how may we be of service to you? Whilst it is very pleasant to meet again and take tea, it is clear that it is not the main object of our meeting. The presence of your two bodyguards, whilst discreet, means that there is a serious matter with some danger to be discussed.

His Excellency's smile broadened. I think I can see why your brother Mycroft entered the realms of diplomacy rather than you, Holmes... but you are quite correct.

With a slight wave of his hand and a brief command in Chinese, the two bodyguards were dismissed. I turned and looked over my shoulder and could see through the glazed door that they had taken up positions either side of it. The Ambassador moved further forward in his chair, as if to make our conversation even more confidential.

Gentlemen, you will be aware that in February this year, a new Emperor formally began his reign. He is Emperor Guangxu and it is he who has loaned the bell to the museum. The Ambassador's voice dropped lower. There are those within the Imperial court that would like to see him lose face and be embarrassed in front of an influential foreign power like Great Britain. These people will stop at nothing to discredit Emperor Guangxu. The Ambassador glanced around him and looked grave. My sources tell me that powerful enemies within the Imperial court have recruited Chinese criminal elements in London and paid them handsomely. I cannot openly say these things nor can I inform Her Majesty’s government of my suspicions else I would lose my head. The Ambassador was clearly very serious about what he had said.

Holmes’ face looked like it had been riven from stone and he nodded to encourage the Ambassador to continue.

What could be more damaging to the Emperor than if a priceless Chinese work of art was seen to be stolen by criminal elements of the Chinese themselves? Where would the blame lie? With the British, for allowing the theft to happen? With the Emperor, for not suppressing the criminals and for allowing such a treasure to leave China? The damage to both the reputation of the Emperor and to Sino-British relations would be catastrophic! I fear not for my own life but for that of the Emperor....

The complexion of the Ambassador had turned quite pale.

Holmes reached for the Ambassador's hand, saying, Fear not, we shall do all in our power to prevent this. Holmes called out in Chinese and the door burst open as the two body guards rushed in, each with a deadly looking hatchet at the ready. These they quickly stowed in their silks on seeing that their master was unharmed.

The Ambassador spoke quickly to them, assuring them that all was well and turned once more to us. You must do what you can to prevent this, Holmes. A great deal is at stake for both our countries.

Both men held each other’s gaze and, with a respectful nod from Holmes, we took our leave. Outside the museum we hailed a cab and returned in silence to Baker Street. Once more in our rooms, the air soon attained a blue haze as we both settled into our chairs with a pipe of tobacco.

Little was said for over half an hour, each of us, I believe, turning over in our minds the words of the Chinese ambassador. I broke the silence by asking Holmes how likely he thought an attempt to steal the bell might be. Holmes looked straight ahead and blew out a thin ribbon of blue smoke.

I think, Watson, that the Ambassador has accurate sources within London’s criminal classes and what he says is likely to be true. Holmes turned towards me and, rubbing his hands together, said, We must prepare ourselves and make arrangements to protect the bell. I blinked, unsure of the implications of this statement!

Chapter 3 - Frustrated by the Crown

The next day I awoke to find Holmes already dressed and studying a blueprint, a floor plan of the Victoria and Albert Museum. He had spread the blueprint on our dining table and was busy annotating the plan with a pencil. I wandered over to the table with a mind to discover what was afoot.

Are you planning our defences? I asked.

Holmes was tapping the pencil on the plans and running his index finger along the various corridors inside the museum. Indeed, Watson. I am studying the layout of the museum and the ways that intruders might enter the building and reach the bell. The architects, in their wisdom, designed the museum so that it would be well lit by natural light which, in turn, means a plethora of windows.

I looked at the plans, observing, It is not a bank Holmes!

Holmes slammed the pencil down on the table, shouting, Precisely! The openness of the design is an inherent weakness in its security.

I could see there was a deal of frustration mounting in Holmes and suggested that it might be time for some tea. I rang the bell and asked Mrs Hudson to bring up a breakfast tray for me and two cups.

Holmes strode across the room and sat in his favourite armchair by the fireside. He drew his knees to his chest and placed his hands together with the fingers steepled against his lips. After a moment or two he spoke. I'm sorry, old fellow. I find this so damnably frustrating. If we were to suggest moving the bell to a place of safety each evening, it would reveal our hand and also greatly displease the Chinese.

Holmes then sat back in his chair with his eyes closed, his prodigious intellect focussed on the task.

The tea arrived and whilst I tucked into toast and home-made strawberry preserve, Holmes sipped at his tea. It was clear that he continued to consider several options, saying to himself, We must make sure that the approach to the bell is made as difficult as possible for any intruders.

I finished my breakfast and wandered over to the floor plan of museum. During my service in India, I had several times been present when the senior officers of my regiment had planned defensive strategies for our headquarters. It seems to me, Holmes, that there are but two corridors that any thieves might use to reach the bell. The main entrance is nearby but is too secure to be a point of entry.

Holmes finished his tea and came to stand by me at the table and I indicated the two corridors that I had identified. Holmes nodded and tapped his forefinger on his pursed lips. What do you know about Chinese Imperial assassins, Watson?

For a moment I was dumbfounded. Well, probably as much as I know about the man in the moon!

At this, Holmes roared with laughter and patted me soundly on the back. Then let me enlighten you, old fellow. Holmes reached for his pipe and then began to give me a potted history of the rise of these feared fighters.

In Japan, these secretive, highly trained fighters are called Ninjas...although they did not originate there. The name comes from the Chinese middle ages when the forerunners of these assassins were called Yinja, in the Chinese tongue, Kejia. The Chinese peasants referred to them as forest demons, 'Lin Gwai'. They were the epitome of stealth and brought with them death. Holmes’ face looked grim.

The thieves we face are as determined as they are deadly. I think we may have to involve brother Mycroft, despite the ambassador's concerns. With that he reached for his notebook and dashed off a cryptic telegram.

It was about mid-day when we heard the sound of a Hansom draw up at the curb in the street below. Holmes, I saw, was immediately alert. Ah, I presume this to be Mycroft.

A few moment later, the door to our rooms opened and in swept Mycroft Holmes. He appeared to be somewhat flustered as he struggled with the fastening for his cape. Eventually, he was free of it and cast it to one side.

Mycroft, a man of few words when speaking to his brother, came straight to the point. What is this about Sherlock? Your cryptic telegram did little to inform but greatly alarmed me.

Holmes invited Mycroft to sit and then proceeded to speedily and succinctly recount our meeting with the Chinese ambassador.

Mycroft was silent for, perhaps, thirty seconds. He seemed to be turning over the facts and at last he spoke. Yes… a very delicate situation, Sherlock. One, I think, you must not get yourself involved in.

Holmes was outraged. What? You expect me to leave the Chinese ambassador in fear of his life because of my inaction and my indiscretion? No! Mycroft. That will not do! I cannot stand by and let this happen! Holmes stood towering over Mycroft, his fists clenched and his face scarlet.

Mycroft looked up at Holmes and quietly said, I'm afraid you must. You forget that the Victoria and Albert Museum is a government building and, as such, its security is the affair of the Crown.

Holmes’ fist crashed down onto the dining table. No! There is not only honour but lives at stake here. I must be part of this! Holmes started to pace in front of the fireplace. I saw reason in what Mycroft had said but I also understood Holmes’ position.

I felt the need to intervene, saying, From what you have said yourself, Holmes, the men who seek to steal the bell are trained killers. What do you propose, Mycroft?

Mycroft turned towards me, sensing that I might be something of an ally in this. It will be difficult, Watson, for I feel I cannot fully involve Her Majesty's government. Glancing at Holmes, I could detect some small sign of relief pass across his face.