Chapter Text
[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D.]
Foreword: To explain the political references in this story, Austria had gained much territory in northern Italy after the Napoleonic Wars but the nationalist movements in the middle years of this century had led to the Italian Wars of Independence, after the second of which Venice had in 1866 passed to the newly unified Italian Kingdom. Many Venetians did indeed seek new homes elsewhere after unification, as was witnessed by the fact that at a time when London's population had almost doubled in just twenty years, that of La Serenissima has barely changed.
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At this time in our brief acquaintance I had not unnaturally assumed that Holmes would be undertaking many cases to which I would not be a party. After all I had essays to write and my work at the practice, and surely he would not want me around all the time. Even if I did enjoy working with the fellow.
I had a temporary change of room-mate in the days immediately after the conclusion to the Vamberry case as Holmes had to go and spend a long weekend with his family (his hang-dog expression made it quite clear just how much of an ordeal this was for him!). I had thought to have a weekend by myself only for my brother Sammy to drop by out of the blue. Apparently there were some medical samples that the University had requested from London, so important that they dispatched one of their students to fetch them. We had a good time together seeing the sights and just talking over where our lives were just then. I saw him off at King's Cross Station and on the platform he mentioned that he had arranged for a pie to be delivered to my house. I was through the ticket-barrier before the engine had cleared the platform and home in record time, only to find that the 'pie' in question was a cardboard cut-out.
He was so going to pay for that!
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Holmes returned and predictably found Sammy's joke hilarious. I scowled my displeasure which only made him laugh even more.
Two days later I was writing up some notes from the Vamberry case when Mrs. MacAndrew knocked to inform us that we had a visitor. We both knew this in itself was unusual; our landlady only announced people she deemed ‘important’ although she had a soft spot for Sergeant Henriksen whose arrival miraculously always seemed to coincide with her baking days! I only hoped that he could detect criminals with the same degree of accuracy as he detected her cakes all the way from his station!
Our visitor was a nervous fellow in his early thirties whose calling-card stated that he was a Mr. John Smith. I briefly considered whether this might be an alias but I must say that he really did not look the type. The only distinctive thing about him was the decidedly unpleasant cologne he was wearing which was both vinegary and overpowering; I was glad that the window was slightly open that warm October day. He had short and somewhat scruffy mousy brown hair and I naturally assumed that he was a lowly clerk or some such.
Which showed how much I knew as Holmes calmly proceeded to blow that impression clean out of the water.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith”, he said politely. “Does your fisheries business bring you here today?”
Our visitor must have noted my surprise for he hastened to explain.
“I own a large fish processing factory in Lowestoft in Suffolk and we supply London with several varieties of fish”, he explained. “One of my investors is Sir Charles Holmes and when I mentioned certain recent, ahem, difficulties that I had been experiencing, he recommended his youngest son as the person to help me.”
“Please proceed”, Holmes said, waving him to a chair. “This is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.”
Our visitor nodded to me and took a seat.
“I should begin by explaining that I have a large house in Essex near Majestic Park on the edge of London”, he said. “I prefer to allow my factory managers up in Suffolk to do things themselves and pay only irregular visits to keep an eye on them, though I visit the distribution centre in London rather more often. What has happened – or rather not yet happened – concerns the circus that was set up in a corner of the park last year. It is not that near to my house yet it has had an impact on my life that I could never have foreseen.”
“The area that the circus moved into had recently been cleared and this had led to a large influx of foreign workers into the area many of whom have been Venetians, who seemingly preferred British to Italian rule. One of them, a gentleman called Salvatore Vincenzo, was unable to get work on the site. He applied instead for work at my London factory which is next to Liverpool Street Station and.... his daughter Vittoria also applied. The work is mundane but it pays a fair wage and I am said by most to be a decent employer.”
My eyes narrowed as I noticed the slight hesitation when he mentioned the lady's name. There was definitely something there.
“I must admit that at the first sight of Vittoria I fell in love with her”, he continued, blushing fiercely. “Of course I was her employer which put me in a difficult position to start with, let alone the ten-year age gap. Matters were further complicated when her father died in that outbreak of winter flu at the start of the year which caused her to look for additional work elsewhere. And that was where my troubles really began.”
“Although her sweet nature is wondrous in itself Vittoria is stunningly beautiful. Indeed when I first declared my interest in her I would have been far from surprised if she had refused me; with her looks she could have any man in London. It was those looks which enabled her to obtain a job at the circus which had once again come to the area. Many such places have a Belle, a girl of outstanding beauty, and the Galliano Circus is no exception. I agreed to amend her hours at the factory so that she could work evenings and the occasional afternoon at the circus, and all seemed set fair.”
“Unfortunately it was at that moment that my troubles increased in the form of a young jackanapes called Mr. Roderick West. In the ring he is Roderigo Occidentale, the Knife-man From Hell, and he made it clear from when he first saw Vittoria that he wished to be considered as a suitor for her affections. She was flattered – he is not ill-looking although he does not look the twenty-three years he claims to be – but she did not return his affections. However he has recently been pressuring the circus manager, a Mr. Pines, to have Vittoria included in his act. The thought of that horrible man throwing knives at my... that dear girl – I cannot allow it!”
“The question is”, Holmes said in his gravelled growl, “does Miss Vincenzo wish to allow it?”
“She does not”, our visitor said ruefully, “but she needs the job to continue to afford her house and I very much fear that she may feel forced to yield. But I do not trust the fellow.”
Holmes pressed his long fingers together.
“This is difficult”, he said. “No crime has been committed as of yet but if your fears of your rival prove justified then we may be looking at a potential case of murder, and one which could all too easily be made to appear as an accident. Obviously Miss Vincenzo cannot move in with you and leave her house so we must find a solution quickly. When might we wait on the lady in question?”
“She returns home from the factory at three today”, our guest said, “and I know that she would have to leave to be at the circus for the six o'clock evening performance. You would catch her any time between three-thirty and five o'clock.”
“Excellent!” Holmes smiled. “If you leave her address with us we shall visit her between those hours and then try to formulate a plan of action.”
I was somewhat surprised that my friend so casually assumed that I would be going with him although I said nothing. Obviously however I must have shown some emotion for once our visitor was gone Holmes spoke.
“I am sorry if I assumed a little too readily”, he said looking abashed. “I do however find your presence grounding and would welcome it if you could come.”
He looked at me so pleadingly that I knew I was going to go with him. Honestly, first Sammy's puppy-dog eyes and now this! I sighed in a put-upon manner and he gave me one of those smiles where his eyes crinkled at the edges. He looked nice when he smiled.
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Miss Vittoria Vincenzo lived at Number 30A. FitzAllan Gardens. It turned out to be a detached and quite modern house standing athwart the road which was terminated by the railway behind it, a single goods line running into Liverpool Street Station. I could not help but notice that the numbers were a little strange; houses one to thirty (no number thirteen) ran down one side, then Miss Vincenzo's house, and then fifty to seventy-nine back down the other side. Our target property was not small and I did not wonder at the lady having to hold down two jobs to keep it up although I presumed that she rented out unused rooms like everyone else.
The lady in question had obviously been apprised as to our coming and welcomed us with coffee (I noted how Holmes' eyes lit up at that) and cake. She was indeed beautiful and of the sort that make-up would more likely mar rather than make. I wondered how my friend would set about his inquiries and his first question surprised me.
“Have you perchance received an offer for this house, Miss Vincenzo?”
She looked as surprised as I felt but rallied quickly.
“Yes”, she said, her voice somewhat melodic in tone. “How did you know?”
“I did not”, he said. “But one of the things that I noted when we arrived is that the area directly behind the railway line is being re-developed, and I surmised that this would make a suitable access road from the City while avoiding the busy terminus. Your house is the only obstacle to that plan.”
She nodded.
“It has made for some bad feeling along the road”, she admitted. “Many of my fellow Venetians live here and they assumed that it was going to remain a quiet area. The thought of it becoming a busy thoroughfare worries them what with their children playing in the street. The road has always been a – how do you say, cul-de-sac? – but did once continue further hence the missing numbers. When they built the railway some decades back they knocked down some houses and renamed the part of the street which had been cut off. The developer built this one for himself; my father told me that he had an interest in railways hence the position.”
“Who made you the offer?” Holmes asked.
“Pettigrew, Barker and Woods, the developers of the site you saw”, she said. “I am afraid that I do not know if they were the ones making the offer or if they were acting for someone else. I found out later was a little more than the house is worth – Mr. Smith kindly had the house valued for me when I told him about it – but he also advised me to refuse their offer as he said it was far short of what I should get. I did not understand such things but since he knows business I decided to follow his advice.”
“I presume that he believed the developers would pay more because they would be gaining the access across the railway line”, Holmes said. “We must look into that further. Mr. Smith also tells us that he has some concerns about a co-worker of yours at the circus, a Mr. Roderick West?”
She shuddered.
“I think that he means well”, she said, “but he is such..... I would say that he is a Man rather than a gentleman, as one of the newspapers said about someone recently. I do believe that he was genuinely surprised when I did not return his affections, or so one of my fellow Venetians who works there as a cleaner told me. Mr. Smith is sure that he is behind the idea for me to be included in his act, which I would not like at all. But I cannot afford to lose my job there so I may have to. I have two lodgers and I still struggle.”
Holmes looked at her consideringly.
“Miss Vincenzo”, he said eventually, “you mentioned that there are several other Venetians living in this particular road. Do you happen to know if your father sought to buy this house in particular or if he was just looking for somewhere in this area?”
“That I do know”, she said. “He hoped to buy number Twenty-Three a little further down the road but he later told me that it had been sold to someone else, one of those people who, I believe the phrase is, sub-let to others. Not my fellow Venetians I do know; a family from somewhere in the North live there just now although they are quite nice. However the then-owner of this house heard that he was looking for property and he was just about to put his own house on the market. My dear papa had some money put by and we were fortunate that the seller was prepared to accept a little way below its full value as he wished to move quickly for some family reason or other.”
“I see”, Holmes said and I just knew that he was on to something. “May I ask why your father purchased the house outright rather than just renting?”
“He wished to settle in England permanently”, she explained. “His own father was moderately rich and although that estate was divided between three sons my father had just enough to be able to afford this house. As I am sure you know the incorporation of Venice into the Kingdom of Italy was not welcomed across the whole of La Serenissima and many of us have left for other countries.”
“Quite”, Holmes smiled. “You are quite clearly a lady of sense as well as beauty Miss Vincenzo, so I am going to be honest with you. Your life is in danger unless you do exactly as I say.”
I felt that he was being a little too direct here. The poor lady looked terrified.
“Why?” she gasped.
“You must trust me”, Holmes said firmly. “In a moment I am going to run through a list of instructions, and if you follow them to the letter all will be well. To the letter Miss Vincenzo. Failure to do so may well result in your untimely demise and we do not wish that, do we?”
“No!” she managed.
“Excellent!” Holmes smiled. “Now this is what you must do……”
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