Fic for rabidsamfan: The Kidnapping of Arthur Daniel Ruskin
Title: The Kidnapping of Arthur Daniel Ruskin
Recipient: rabidsamfan
Author: capt_facepalm
Verse: ACD Canon
Characters/Pairings: Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson, others mentioned
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Children in peril
Summary: An early case fic involving the kidnapping of children
~ i ~
‘Is she pretty, Watson?’ Mr Sherlock Holmes inquired, looking up from his breakfast newspaper.
‘Yes, she... Hallo! How did you know I was looking at a woman?’
My fellow-lodger chuckled most annoyingly. Realising I would receive no answer, I returned to the window and its view of the Baker Street and the prosaic parade of of Londoners engaged in their morning activities.
‘As to her beauty, Holmes, you will soon be able to judge that for yourself. She is approaching our door and I don’t think she is here to see Mrs Hudson.’
Sure enough, the ring of the doorbell was soon followed by our housekeeper announcing that Mr Holmes had a visitor. A brief flurry of tidying gestures set the breakfast table and the pile of newspapers to rights, and I went to the door to admit a young woman in her early twenties. Although the autumn morning was fair, her heavy overcoat was suited for rain but she carried no umbrella. I found her appearance to be quite pleasing, even though the matter which brought her to our flat clearly caused her some distress.
‘Good morning, Miss,’ said Holmes. ‘You have travelled some distance already today and at some personal risk. Do have a seat and let me know how I may assist you.’
‘Mr Holmes, my name is Petra Lees and I am in the service in the household of Mr Thomas Knowles Ruskin at Bedgrove House, Aylesbury. There has been a kidnapping.’
Kidnappings: the year 1881 had seen a spate of these contemptible crimes. Prominent families were the first victims but as the summer progressed, more instances occurred. How many more left unreported would be impossible to tell. It seems that news of success in these endeavours had spread throughout the criminal element and new players were chancing that game. Higher ransoms were demanded and safe return of the victims was never a sure thing. There had been grisly amputations of fingers, ears, and the like, and some deaths as well. It was a despicable business.
‘Last week, two young boys were lured away from the manor: our master’s son, Arthur Daniel Ruskin, and our groundskeeper’s son, William Moyle.’
‘Will Mr Ruskin meet the ransom demands?’
‘I believe he intended to.’
‘Intended?’
‘Mr Holmes. The kidnappers returned one of the boys as a show of their intentions. They returned Master Arthur by mistake. I am here on behalf of Mrs Ruskin and she is concerned that Mr Ruskin will not ransom young William.’
‘When did this transpire?’
‘Master Arthur was found last night. He is in his doctor’s care.’
‘He was harmed?’
Miss Lees burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry Mr Holmes. Yes, he was. I don’t know how badly. My mistress sent me here on the first train. Will you come to Aylesbury?’
‘Watson, do I need to ask for your assistance in this matter?’
‘Of course not,’ I replied. Even if I had other meaningful pursuits planned, I would have abandoned them in an instant.
‘Very well, Miss Lees, return to Aylesbury. I will make some inquiries here in London and you can tell your mistress to expect Dr Watson and myself at Bedgrove House this afternoon.’
~ ii ~
The train to Aylesbury left at two o’clock and we passed our journey by reviewing the limited specifics of the case. Holmes, in his particular fashion, refused to stray into the terra incognita of speculation, gave me only such details as he trusted to be true.
‘I have made inquires. Mr Thomas Knowles Ruskin is a London businessman with Lloyd’s Bank. He keeps a small flat in London during the week and returns to his manor home on the weekends. Bedgrove House is located southeast of Aylesbury, one half mile off the London Road right here,’ said Holmes, indicating the spot on the Ordnance Survey map he had spread out in our compartment.
‘I would have preferred more time but, so far, all questions of Mr Ruskin return favourable responses. He is reputed to be honest in his business dealings, moderate in his politics, and cautious in his investments. He is faithful to his wife and devoted to their children. Other than Arthur, who is the youngest by several years...’
Holmes emphasised this with a mischievous smirk.
‘Yes. An unexpected blessing,’ said I, not finding it particularly amusing since it was a common enough occurrence.
‘Other than Arthur, there is a married daughter in America, and a son and namesake, Thomas, a respected historian at Cambridge. I think we can rule out the daughter, but the brother will be included in my sphere of scrutiny.’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a predisposition against elder brothers,’ said I.
A fleeting look passed his countenance. ‘Not brothers, Watson; historians!’
~ iii ~
On the railway station platform we were met upon our arrival by a young groom from Bedgrove House. His mistress had sent him and a trap to fetch us to the manor. Holmes took the precaution of taking a room in the hotel near the station lest we become marooned by the railway’s schedule and we set off.
The manor house itself was well kept with neat lawns and an avenue of chestnut trees. Rather than approaching the front door, the groom took us directly to the stables from where he led us through a decorative gate to a small floral garden. The lady of the house joined us forthwith.
I judged Mrs Ruskin to be around forty-five years. Although she was meticulously dressed, she had applied no makeup nor had she taken pains with her hair. I did not doubt that she had been up all night with nerves and later with anticipation of our arrival. We made our introductions and sat at a small wrought iron table by the garden wall.
‘Mrs Ruskin,’ said Holmes, always getting to the point, ‘Why all the subterfuge; do you not want Mr Ruskin know that I am here?’
‘He knows. He is not happy about it. He wanted to handle this without any outsiders. I acted rashly this morning though I do not regret it. The kidnappers are bound to realise that they have the wrong boy and what will they do then? William means everything to his father, our groundskeeper. If we ever lost William, Mr Moyle would be devastated.’
‘How is the young master? Miss Lees said he had been harmed.’
‘Dr Nellington says there is no permanent damage and that he should be fine eventually.’
‘I would have Dr Watson see him, if you don’t mind. I value his medical knowledge and observations in cases such as this.’
‘The doctor gave him a draught and he should sleep until later this evening,’ she said.
‘With your permission, I could examine him while he’s asleep. It might even be better that way,’ I suggested.
‘Very well, but first you must meet my husband. He may be too proud to admit it but he needs your help.’
~ iv ~
It was in the sprawling library where Holmes and I were introduced to two men: Mr Thomas Knowles Ruskin, Sr, and his son and namesake Thomas Ruskin. The elder Ruskin must have been at least ten years older than his wife and seemed even older due to this recent situation. His welcome was formal and gave credence to his wife’s earlier apprehensions.
The younger Ruskin strongly resembled his father. They were both of medium height with average build, similar facial features, and spectacles. Given another twenty years of sedentary work, youth would fade and the son would be a faithful likeness of the father.
‘Our time is better spent working together on this, Mr Ruskin,’ said Holmes before anyone else spoke. ‘You have at your disposal the world’s best consulting detective in the person of myself, and the skills of my most able assistant, Dr Watson, so do tell me all that you know.’
Holmes’ masterly temperament came as a shock to the elder Ruskin, and reason overcame pride. The man’s resolve melted away. I took the opportunity to ask to see Master Arthur and the younger Thomas obliged by taking me to his brother’s room, where, under his supervision, I conducted my examination.
The boy was battered and bruised. Cruel marks on his wrists and ankles told of struggles against his bindings. His fingernails were dirty and cracked. His brother’s countenance was grim whilst I carefully removed and catalogued the debris for Holmes’ later examination. Arthur was so heavily sedated that he did not respond to any of my ministrations. I checked the sleeping draught and found it to have a high concentration of laudanum; perhaps too strong for a child but given the circumstances, I only recommended a small reduction in dosage at its next administration.
‘Poor wee mite,’ I said upon my leaving. Thomas had pulled up a chair and and began to softly read aloud from a book of children’s poetry. Although it was doubtful that his younger brother could hear him, I said nothing.
~ v ~
Holmes and Mr Ruskin were waiting in the hallway. I told them what I saw and gave them my recommendations.
‘A boy of ten years with blond hair and blue eyes’, said Holmes. ‘The description is too vague; both Arthur and William match it and yet there is no way they would be mistaken for brothers. Here is a photograph from last summer. It is the only image we have of William but I’ve been assured that he has not changed much from then.’
I recognised Arthur and concentrated on the features of the other boy. In the photograph William was wearing a cap that did not totally obscure his smiling features nor hide his curly hair. The boys were in a goat pasture and each boy proudly held a very young kid while wary nanny goats looked on.
Holmes took me aside. ‘I feel as if there is a secret being kept from me and I don’t like it. Please ask about William whilst I concentrate of identifying the kidnappers. I should hope to get some details from Arthur when he regains consciousness. In the meantime, I will concentrate on what clues the kidnappers left us. If you can get a sense of the household and the missing boy, we can compare notes tonight.’
‘Arthur has been drugged. He won’t be much use until tomorrow morning,’ I said.
Holmes swore under his breath and we parted ways.
~ vi ~
I found Mr Moyle, dead drunk in his cottage, in the company of a stable boy who apologised for his condition.
‘Mr Moyle isn’t normally a drunk, sir. He’s been in such a state over his boy that the guv’nor sent round a bottle and told me to keep an eye on him. You won’t be able to ask him much.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll ask you. What is William like?’
‘I’ve only been here for three years and at first I thought he was a little strange. Either he’s grown out of it or I’ve become accustomed to his ways. He don’t speak much but he’s no dummy. I’ve heard him go on and on about some of his favourite interests. Usually it’s about animals. He’s good with them and now that he’s grown some, I let him help in the stables. Lately he’s been on about flying kites. He and the guv’nor’s boy pal around and get up to mischief from time to time: climbing the wrong trees, building tiger traps by the stream, breaking the potting shed window. Frankly, I expect it’s the young master who thinks up these things. William mostly follows his lead. Mrs McKnight, the cook, has been here forever. You should talk to her.’
I thanked him and added Mrs McKnight to the list of people to speak to.
~ vii ~
I made my way to the manor house with the intention of seeking out the cook when I spotted Mrs Ruskin at the little table in the floral garden. She had been crying.
‘My dear Mrs Ruskin, is there anything I can do?’ I asked.
‘You are too kind, Dr Watson. It’s just the state of my nerves. They’ve been shot since the boys disappeared, and even though my son has been found, William has not. You’ve seen what they did to Arthur.’
‘In all likelihood, William will be treated well. Arthur’s injuries are serious enough to act as an incentive and motivate your family to meet their demands. William’s abductors must think they still have your son. That is what your husband believes and he is willing to play along and follow the ransom instructions when the time comes. Your concerns that he would not seem unfounded.’
Her pause was not what I had anticipated. There was something she wanted to tell me and I implored her to do so.
‘Arthur and William have been thick as thieves since the creche. They were born just days apart and when I could not suckle, Mrs Moyle became wet nurse to Arthur. The boys were raised together in the manor. William was very active and was the first to crawl, the first to stand and take steps on his own, but he was a strange one. Ever since he could sit himself up, he could be found rocking back and forth in the night. His mother would settle him down without a fuss but after a while he would wake and begin rocking again. I don’t know how long that continued Once the boys were weaned, Mrs Moyle and William returned to her husband’s cottage. Arthur was walking and talking by then but William never spoke a word until his fourth year. Mrs Moyle, bless her, was taken by a fever that spring and William kept calling out for her. Since then he has always been a little odd. My husband suspects that William is an imbecile and he might be right. It’s harder to detect in children. My husband is sensitive to insanity because his grandfather had to be institutionalised.’
‘And you thought he would not pay the ransom because William is... odd?’
‘Yes. That is what I feared. He did not like how close William and our son had become and wanted Arthur to associate with other, normal children. We were planning to send him away to grammar school in January, but now I just don’t know.’
~ viii ~
Mrs McKnight, the cook, was a thin, dour woman who ran her kitchen in a manner rarely seen outside of Navy ships of the line. She was also loyal to a fault to the Ruskin family and did not take kindly to my enquiries.
‘Such gossip is beneath me,’ she said.
My powers of observation may not be on the level of Sherlock Holmes, but I can recognise a brick wall when I encounter one. Once I assured her I was only trying to get a sense of the missing boy, and not prying into the affairs of her family, I had better success. She corroborated what I had already learned: William was shy but not above a little mischief when in the company of the young master. The cook’s contact with those outside the immediate house was limited and so was her sense of William. Of Master Arthur she would only hint that, as the young child of aging parents, he was overindulged.
I did not have the time to question everyone on the estate but my further enquiries with the staff and tenant farmers fell along similar lines: William was considered odd but harmless and, out of respect for Mr Moyle, was not ridiculed or treated badly. Other children at the manor were either older and were working their parents’ plots, or were much younger and had little to do with Arthur and William.
~ ix ~
I found Holmes in the library; the quantity of cigarette stubs in the ashtray a testimony to the industry of his endeavours.
‘Don’t linger in the doorway, Watson. Come in, and tell me what you see.’
He handed me two type-written missives. The first was a claim that the kidnappers had seized the two boys. Dire threats were made should the Ruskins involve the police. The second was the actual ransom note demanding ten thousand pounds and telling them to wait for further instructions.
‘Mr Ruskin received the first missive at his office in the city the day after the boys were taken. It did not go by post and since correspondence arrives by various means the bearer was not remarked upon at the time. The second was pinned to master Arthur’s shirt when he was abandoned yesterday,’ said Holmes
I compared the two. ‘The paper itself carries no watermark so it is inexpensive and in common use so it will be difficult to trace. However, both letters appear to have come from the same typewriter. That has to be helpful.’
‘Regrettably, whilst a typewriter has its individual characteristics, it can be used by more than one person. I can tell you the make and manufacturer of the device but I cannot get a sense of the person or persons who involved it in this crime. All I can tell you is that there are two or more of them, they are not familiar with the Ruskins, and are likely from the city.’
I waited for his explanation.
‘Come now, Watson. These were two very active children. It would take two or more kidnappers to take them. The fact that they could not distinguish the Moyle lad from young Ruskin tells me that only cursory knowledge of the Ruskin family was known. Anyone local would not make that mistake. I believe I can rule out the elder brother as well. Except for his remarkably strong grip for an academic, there is nothing remarkable about him.’
‘Tennis,’ I replied. ‘There were trophies in the parlour. I passed them earlier this afternoon.’
I could not tell if Holmes appreciated my observation or was dismayed that he had missed it himself.
‘I have suggested that you stay with the boy and question him when he is less sedated. I will returning to London to follow another line of enquiry.’
‘What if the kidnappers contact Ruskin again and want to make the exchange?’
‘I’m willing to take that risk. Besides, it is my strong intuition that the boy is already dead and I am pursuing murderers, not kidnappers.’
My blood chilled.
‘How could they not realise that they have retained the wrong boy?’ Holmes continued. ‘No matter how clever the boys may have been to initially fool them, once their mistake is found, there is no reason to continue with the scheme. I wish it was otherwise. Perhaps the soil scrapings you collected will provide a clue to where they were being held. It’s a pity that you could not have retrieved his clothing as well.’
We parted on this sad note; Holmes leaving for the train station and myself remaining at the manor.
~ x ~
By nine o’clock Master Arthur showed signs of restlessness which indicated that the medicine was wearing off. I set aside my writing and, not wanting the child to wake to a stranger in his room, I sent for his mother.
Arthur’s concern for his missing friend combined with the heavy sedative made questioning him problematic so I proceeded carefully and recorded the details to give to Holmes the next day.
The boys had met a pedlar in the copse by the river. Arthur described the man as having a great ginger beard but could not guess at his age. The pedlar offered them some chocolates which tasted funny and Arthur saw William get sick.
The boys woke to find themselves bound and kept in a cold damp room which I thought could only be a cellar. The boys were not gagged. They had been given only bread and water by their keeper, who wore a mask. The bread was cut into miserly portions, which at first were fresh but had dried out as time passed. The two boys tried to escape once and had been beaten and bound for their troubles. Arthur had only vague impressions of his keepers.
‘I thought it was three men, but William said one of them was a woman.’
I urged Arthur to try to rest and not to worry. Sleep eluded me though, for as I sat at the boy’s side, my thoughts constantly flew to the missing boy and the hardships he must be facing.
~ xi ~
I must have finally fallen asleep because I woke with a start in the early hours when Thomas Jr entered his brother’s room.
‘We’ve received another message. The kidnappers have given father the instructions for the exchange.’
It was five o’clock and Arthur was sound asleep so we left and met Mr Ruskin in his study. The autumn sun had not yet risen but the household staff had started their day. The butler had found a worn leather pouch on the ground outside the main door. Contained inside was a typewritten note on familiar cheap paper:
“Midnight tonight. Fallstone Bridge. No tricks.”
Fallstone bridge, Mr Ruskin informed me, crossed a canal some five miles away off the road to London and had once been the site of a toll house.
Holmes returned in the early afternoon and was elated to hear that kidnappers were still going through with their plan.
‘It does not mean that William is alive, but any interaction with them will help identify them. You and I will accompany Mr Ruskin tonight;he is not a man of violence. I will be unarmed as well but I trust you will have the ‘Doctor’s Little Helper’ with you.’
That was Holmes’ pet name for my service revolver and it was nestled into an inner side pocket of my medical bag. Covered by a leather flap, it was not visible in case of a cursory inspection.
‘Watson, you must use the utmost care tonight. I mean it.These people are ruthless. If they have no qualms about harming a child, they would certainly not bat an eye at hurting either of us. I’m afraid you may see something which stirs your blood and I beg you to resist rash actions. You have a reckless streak in you which, combined with your sentimental nature, could spell disaster.’
‘At least you didn’t call me a cripple,’ I replied hotly.
‘I would never do that. I consider you one of the most capable men I know, but you have limits, Doctor; as do we all. Your safety is more important than the successful resolution of this case.’
‘You still think the boy is dead?’
‘Regrettably, yes.’
~ xii ~
The rain that had begun in the afternoon became a downpour by evening. There were no signs it would be diminishing through the night. The wind too had increased as the evening progressed, stripping the chestnut trees of their last autumn leaves.
Holmes assumed the coachman’s post and we set out in Mr Ruskin’s four-wheeler with no little misgivings. The darkness was so complete that eventually Holmes had to dismount, hold out the lantern, and lead the carriage team down the road. Inside, Mr Ruskin and I grew impatient with the slow passage. He held fast to the heavy dispatch box containing the ransom in bills and gold coin. Our breaths condensed on the windows, further obscuring the blackness without.
The carriage slowed and halted, and Holmes warned us to stay inside. I could hear him calling out and responding to someone. After this brief exchange we were ordered out into the elements. We had reached the bridge, where a bucket of pitch smoked and sizzled in the rain.
‘Who’s that with you, Ruskin?’ demanded a voice from behind a low yew.
‘He’s a friend; a doctor called Watson.’
We were ordered to empty our pockets and open our coats to prove we were unarmed.
‘I’ve got four guns pointed at you so let’s have no heroics tonight. Have your driver bring me the money.’
Mr Ruskin handed the box to Holmes, who took it to the base of the shrub.
‘It’s all there,’ said Mr Ruskin. ‘Now, where’s my boy?’
‘Not so fast. All of you... face the carriage and keep your hands up.’’ We heard the sound of rummaging in the contents of the dispatch box.
‘I’m glad you’re smart, Ruskin’. The money is all here. Now, step away. There’s a tree on the other side of the bridge. Go there.’
We started toward the bridge.
‘Wait! Leave the bag, Doctor,’ demanded the yew.
‘I will not. Search it if you must. It contains medicines and bandages. I have seen how you treat children.’
‘Very well. Keep it and be damned! The boy was still alive when I left him. Go back the way you came. Take the lane with the hedge. Your son is in one of the cottages. I’m taking your carriage. By the time you find it, I will be far away. If you try to follow me, my pals will shoot you down. Now, go!’
Once we reached the tree, the kidnapper seized bucket of pitch and leapt into the coachman’s seat. He turned the horses to the road and tossed the bucket into the canal. Then he whipped up the team and was gone.
~ xiii ~
‘I wish all criminals were as stupid as this,’ Holmes laughed.
‘Stupid, you say? He has the ransom, he has my carriage, and we do not have William!’
‘No, but I know how to catch him. The night is too dark for him to keep up that pace. He will have to walk the horses like I did and that means I can catch up to him. Meanwhile, you two follow his instructions and look for William.’
‘You’ll be shot! I exclaimed.
‘That’s not very likely!’ laughed Holmes. ‘He is alone. Did you not notice his inconsistent pronouns?’
‘You know, you’re risking your life based upon a slip of grammar,’ I said as I handed him my revolver and bullets.
‘Yes. That and other things I managed to observe. I’ve no time to discuss them now. Take my lantern, I will not need it. Good luck.’
Within an instant Holmes was engulfed in darkness and Mr Ruskin and I were on our way up the road.
~ xiv ~
‘Where are we?’ I asked, staring through the rain at the shadowed ruins of several stone structures.
‘These used to be the crofters cottages of Welles Hill. Unlike my grandfather, the landowners here turned their land over to sheep pasture. Once the cotton boom supplanted wool, the estate was no longer viable. The tenant farmers did not return and after a fire that engulfed the manor house, the subsequent generations lost interest and moved to the city. The land has been abandoned for twenty years at least.’
‘There are quite a few buildings here. Holmes said we are looking for one with a cellar. Would any of the cottages have one?’
‘Most would have a small root cellar, but not all.’
‘Let’s start with the ones in the best shape. The kidnappers needed to hide out somewhere and the would have wanted to keep their hostages close.’
Mr Ruskin and I headed toward the first building with an intact roof. An examination of the ground near the door revealed signs of recent foot traffic. The windows were boarded up and the door was latched but not locked. We stepped in out of the rain calling William’s name but received no answer..
Our lanterns revealed the contents of the small cottage. There were two benches and a table in the main room. The fireplace showed no signs of recent use. Two sleeping chambers faced inward but the curtains once used to separate them from the main room were missing. Had they chose to hide out here the kidnappers’ stay would have been very austere. Of most interest was a trap door in the centre of the main room floor but we still had not heard any reply to our calls.
The heavy trap door opened with a loud creak and as we peered down into what had formerly been a root cellar we were met by the stench of human misery. I saw no signs of the missing boy and I called out again. The cellar shelves were empty and on the floor there was a large crate and a pile of rags. There were no stairs and I looked around for a way to descend. There was a ladder leaning against the wall and I used it to climb down. Mr Ruskin handed me my lantern and used his own to illuminate the small space.
William lay under a worn blanket which I had mistaken for rags. He was unresponsive but his pulse was strong. Never have I been so grateful that Holmes had been mistaken. I cut the bindings, freed his hands, and rubbed them to encourage circulation. William’s eyes opened but he remained insensate. Bruising and abrasions indicated the rough treatment he had suffered, and other than his catatonia, he showed some signs of having been drugged. Mr Ruskin was as relieved as I was. He took the boy from my raised arms, lifted him out of the cellar, and wrapped him in his coat. I took one last look around the makeshift gaol before climbing out of the cellar. Considering the deluge outside, we decided to wait for it to stop or for Holmes to return.
The cottage contained no firewood and my fruitless search of the outbuildings only acted to soak me through to the skin. I returned empty-handed. After an hour’s wait Holmes returned with the carriage and we drove back to Bedgrove House where Holmes and I returned William to his father’s cottage.
~ xv ~
Mr Moyle was nearly overcome with emotion. He was enraged at William’s injuries and overjoyed to have him safely home. Meanwhile, William remained silent; he only took food and drink when the items were placed in his hands. His father and I cleaned him and dressed his scraped shoulder and elbows. I left with Holmes and promised to return in the morning. Thoughts of dry clothes and the warm bed awaiting me at the hotel filled my mind as the carriage took us back to Aylesbury.
‘Do you think you can identify the kidnappers?’ I asked once we were back to the hotel.
‘Even though I only saw the one in the ridiculous pedlar costume, I have some promising leads. The first is that one of them is a woman. The connections which bind criminals together are complex enough when they are men. Two men may have enough in common to keep them together but to add a third or more to the pair and there is a greater likelihood of discord. The fact that our little gang of three includes a woman suggests either a familial connection or a matrimonial one. She is either related to one of them or is his wife.’
‘That makes sense. What else?’
‘The amount of the ransom suggests a knowledge of the Ruskin family finances and yet the kidnappers could not recognise Master Arthur on sight. Anyone in Ruskin’s London office would have been able to identify the child by the family portraits he keeps on his desk. Similarly, I can dismiss local suspects because they would not have mistaken the two boys. The Ruskins and their closest family friends are members of the Society of Friends and are not likely to resort to violent means. My impression of the kidnappers is that they are clever but inexperienced. This recent success will only embolden them and their next victim may not be so lucky.’
‘What else is there to do?’
‘Nothing here. We shall talk to Arthur and William tomorrow and then bid our goodbyes at Bedgrove House before returning to Baker Street. From there I will continue to research possible connections between Ruskin and the kidnappers. Master Arthur was not chosen by accident and once I deduce why I will have them.’
‘I suppose the most important thing is that the boys have been returned. The ransom may pose a setback for the Mr Ruskin but it was within his means to pay it. It is a shame we could not have brought the criminals to justice tonight.’
‘Don’t worry, old man. A more tangible result would have satisfied me too even though I enjoy a good puzzle. We are far from an impasse; during my examination of the cottage I found two varieties of tobacco ash. Since neither is your blend and Mr Ruskin does not smoke, they have left me with a significant clue. I also heard all three speaking in their natural voices: well-educated northern voices. But speaking of tobacco, whilst you get some well-deserved sleep, I will fill my pipe and contemplate our next strategy.’
~ xvi ~
One afternoon, a fortnight later, when late autumn turned to winter, I returned home to find Holmes in deep conversation with Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
‘Come in, Doctor. The Inspector was successful in chasing down the Ruskin kidnappers.’
I had not known that Holmes had turned the case over to the police and I was dismayed. Far too often Holmes would let the professionals take credit for his investigations. At least now, since I published a little article which caused some embarrassment among Scotland Yard’s detective ranks, Holmes was treated with more respect and he and Inspector Lestrade collaborated successfully quite often.
‘Mr Holmes has done it again,’ said Inspector Lestrade. ‘His notes and observations led to the arrest of Mr and Mrs Norman Bloom and Mr Robert Smith, whom we took into custody last night near Wembley.’
‘The credit must be shared,’ said Holmes. ‘If Dr Watson had not mentioned the grammar school, I would not have followed the successful line of inquiry.’
‘The grammar school?’ I asked.
‘’Yes. You mentioned that young Arthur was to be sent away in January. Mr Ruskin had to include his financial details with Arthur’s application. Norman Bloom worked as a clerk at the school. He and his wife came up with the scheme and convinced her brother, Robert Smith, to join them. It was he who played the rôle of the pedlar.’
‘And the tobacco ash?’
‘Here is where my methods were thwarted, albeit briefly. Neither sample matched any known blends in London and still I persisted. I could identify the varieties but not the specific combinations. It was the tobacconist, Bradley, who suggested I try his associate in Wembley. Lestrade and a mob of policein plain clothes have spent the last four days beating the bushes-’
‘Actually, it was Sergeant Trewy and I,’ interrupted the inspector. ‘But once we were certain we had the right suspects, I had reinforcements sent up from London. We caught them unawares in their rented lodgings and they surrendered without a fight. There we found enough physical evidence so that a conviction is assured. The boys will not have to testify. Most of the ransom was recovered. Truly an open and shut case thanks to you, Mr Holmes, and a victory for law enforcement as well. Are you sure you do not want to take the credit?’
‘No, Inspector, although Dr Watson deserves equal credit, I would rather you keep our names out of it. Anonymity is a great asset. The criminal element already knows of my efforts and past successes, and those who need our help will always find us.’
~ fin ~
Recipient: rabidsamfan
Author: capt_facepalm
Verse: ACD Canon
Characters/Pairings: Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson, others mentioned
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Children in peril
Summary: An early case fic involving the kidnapping of children
~ i ~
‘Is she pretty, Watson?’ Mr Sherlock Holmes inquired, looking up from his breakfast newspaper.
‘Yes, she... Hallo! How did you know I was looking at a woman?’
My fellow-lodger chuckled most annoyingly. Realising I would receive no answer, I returned to the window and its view of the Baker Street and the prosaic parade of of Londoners engaged in their morning activities.
‘As to her beauty, Holmes, you will soon be able to judge that for yourself. She is approaching our door and I don’t think she is here to see Mrs Hudson.’
Sure enough, the ring of the doorbell was soon followed by our housekeeper announcing that Mr Holmes had a visitor. A brief flurry of tidying gestures set the breakfast table and the pile of newspapers to rights, and I went to the door to admit a young woman in her early twenties. Although the autumn morning was fair, her heavy overcoat was suited for rain but she carried no umbrella. I found her appearance to be quite pleasing, even though the matter which brought her to our flat clearly caused her some distress.
‘Good morning, Miss,’ said Holmes. ‘You have travelled some distance already today and at some personal risk. Do have a seat and let me know how I may assist you.’
‘Mr Holmes, my name is Petra Lees and I am in the service in the household of Mr Thomas Knowles Ruskin at Bedgrove House, Aylesbury. There has been a kidnapping.’
Kidnappings: the year 1881 had seen a spate of these contemptible crimes. Prominent families were the first victims but as the summer progressed, more instances occurred. How many more left unreported would be impossible to tell. It seems that news of success in these endeavours had spread throughout the criminal element and new players were chancing that game. Higher ransoms were demanded and safe return of the victims was never a sure thing. There had been grisly amputations of fingers, ears, and the like, and some deaths as well. It was a despicable business.
‘Last week, two young boys were lured away from the manor: our master’s son, Arthur Daniel Ruskin, and our groundskeeper’s son, William Moyle.’
‘Will Mr Ruskin meet the ransom demands?’
‘I believe he intended to.’
‘Intended?’
‘Mr Holmes. The kidnappers returned one of the boys as a show of their intentions. They returned Master Arthur by mistake. I am here on behalf of Mrs Ruskin and she is concerned that Mr Ruskin will not ransom young William.’
‘When did this transpire?’
‘Master Arthur was found last night. He is in his doctor’s care.’
‘He was harmed?’
Miss Lees burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry Mr Holmes. Yes, he was. I don’t know how badly. My mistress sent me here on the first train. Will you come to Aylesbury?’
‘Watson, do I need to ask for your assistance in this matter?’
‘Of course not,’ I replied. Even if I had other meaningful pursuits planned, I would have abandoned them in an instant.
‘Very well, Miss Lees, return to Aylesbury. I will make some inquiries here in London and you can tell your mistress to expect Dr Watson and myself at Bedgrove House this afternoon.’
~ ii ~
The train to Aylesbury left at two o’clock and we passed our journey by reviewing the limited specifics of the case. Holmes, in his particular fashion, refused to stray into the terra incognita of speculation, gave me only such details as he trusted to be true.
‘I have made inquires. Mr Thomas Knowles Ruskin is a London businessman with Lloyd’s Bank. He keeps a small flat in London during the week and returns to his manor home on the weekends. Bedgrove House is located southeast of Aylesbury, one half mile off the London Road right here,’ said Holmes, indicating the spot on the Ordnance Survey map he had spread out in our compartment.
‘I would have preferred more time but, so far, all questions of Mr Ruskin return favourable responses. He is reputed to be honest in his business dealings, moderate in his politics, and cautious in his investments. He is faithful to his wife and devoted to their children. Other than Arthur, who is the youngest by several years...’
Holmes emphasised this with a mischievous smirk.
‘Yes. An unexpected blessing,’ said I, not finding it particularly amusing since it was a common enough occurrence.
‘Other than Arthur, there is a married daughter in America, and a son and namesake, Thomas, a respected historian at Cambridge. I think we can rule out the daughter, but the brother will be included in my sphere of scrutiny.’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a predisposition against elder brothers,’ said I.
A fleeting look passed his countenance. ‘Not brothers, Watson; historians!’
~ iii ~
On the railway station platform we were met upon our arrival by a young groom from Bedgrove House. His mistress had sent him and a trap to fetch us to the manor. Holmes took the precaution of taking a room in the hotel near the station lest we become marooned by the railway’s schedule and we set off.
The manor house itself was well kept with neat lawns and an avenue of chestnut trees. Rather than approaching the front door, the groom took us directly to the stables from where he led us through a decorative gate to a small floral garden. The lady of the house joined us forthwith.
I judged Mrs Ruskin to be around forty-five years. Although she was meticulously dressed, she had applied no makeup nor had she taken pains with her hair. I did not doubt that she had been up all night with nerves and later with anticipation of our arrival. We made our introductions and sat at a small wrought iron table by the garden wall.
‘Mrs Ruskin,’ said Holmes, always getting to the point, ‘Why all the subterfuge; do you not want Mr Ruskin know that I am here?’
‘He knows. He is not happy about it. He wanted to handle this without any outsiders. I acted rashly this morning though I do not regret it. The kidnappers are bound to realise that they have the wrong boy and what will they do then? William means everything to his father, our groundskeeper. If we ever lost William, Mr Moyle would be devastated.’
‘How is the young master? Miss Lees said he had been harmed.’
‘Dr Nellington says there is no permanent damage and that he should be fine eventually.’
‘I would have Dr Watson see him, if you don’t mind. I value his medical knowledge and observations in cases such as this.’
‘The doctor gave him a draught and he should sleep until later this evening,’ she said.
‘With your permission, I could examine him while he’s asleep. It might even be better that way,’ I suggested.
‘Very well, but first you must meet my husband. He may be too proud to admit it but he needs your help.’
~ iv ~
It was in the sprawling library where Holmes and I were introduced to two men: Mr Thomas Knowles Ruskin, Sr, and his son and namesake Thomas Ruskin. The elder Ruskin must have been at least ten years older than his wife and seemed even older due to this recent situation. His welcome was formal and gave credence to his wife’s earlier apprehensions.
The younger Ruskin strongly resembled his father. They were both of medium height with average build, similar facial features, and spectacles. Given another twenty years of sedentary work, youth would fade and the son would be a faithful likeness of the father.
‘Our time is better spent working together on this, Mr Ruskin,’ said Holmes before anyone else spoke. ‘You have at your disposal the world’s best consulting detective in the person of myself, and the skills of my most able assistant, Dr Watson, so do tell me all that you know.’
Holmes’ masterly temperament came as a shock to the elder Ruskin, and reason overcame pride. The man’s resolve melted away. I took the opportunity to ask to see Master Arthur and the younger Thomas obliged by taking me to his brother’s room, where, under his supervision, I conducted my examination.
The boy was battered and bruised. Cruel marks on his wrists and ankles told of struggles against his bindings. His fingernails were dirty and cracked. His brother’s countenance was grim whilst I carefully removed and catalogued the debris for Holmes’ later examination. Arthur was so heavily sedated that he did not respond to any of my ministrations. I checked the sleeping draught and found it to have a high concentration of laudanum; perhaps too strong for a child but given the circumstances, I only recommended a small reduction in dosage at its next administration.
‘Poor wee mite,’ I said upon my leaving. Thomas had pulled up a chair and and began to softly read aloud from a book of children’s poetry. Although it was doubtful that his younger brother could hear him, I said nothing.
~ v ~
Holmes and Mr Ruskin were waiting in the hallway. I told them what I saw and gave them my recommendations.
‘A boy of ten years with blond hair and blue eyes’, said Holmes. ‘The description is too vague; both Arthur and William match it and yet there is no way they would be mistaken for brothers. Here is a photograph from last summer. It is the only image we have of William but I’ve been assured that he has not changed much from then.’
I recognised Arthur and concentrated on the features of the other boy. In the photograph William was wearing a cap that did not totally obscure his smiling features nor hide his curly hair. The boys were in a goat pasture and each boy proudly held a very young kid while wary nanny goats looked on.
Holmes took me aside. ‘I feel as if there is a secret being kept from me and I don’t like it. Please ask about William whilst I concentrate of identifying the kidnappers. I should hope to get some details from Arthur when he regains consciousness. In the meantime, I will concentrate on what clues the kidnappers left us. If you can get a sense of the household and the missing boy, we can compare notes tonight.’
‘Arthur has been drugged. He won’t be much use until tomorrow morning,’ I said.
Holmes swore under his breath and we parted ways.
~ vi ~
I found Mr Moyle, dead drunk in his cottage, in the company of a stable boy who apologised for his condition.
‘Mr Moyle isn’t normally a drunk, sir. He’s been in such a state over his boy that the guv’nor sent round a bottle and told me to keep an eye on him. You won’t be able to ask him much.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll ask you. What is William like?’
‘I’ve only been here for three years and at first I thought he was a little strange. Either he’s grown out of it or I’ve become accustomed to his ways. He don’t speak much but he’s no dummy. I’ve heard him go on and on about some of his favourite interests. Usually it’s about animals. He’s good with them and now that he’s grown some, I let him help in the stables. Lately he’s been on about flying kites. He and the guv’nor’s boy pal around and get up to mischief from time to time: climbing the wrong trees, building tiger traps by the stream, breaking the potting shed window. Frankly, I expect it’s the young master who thinks up these things. William mostly follows his lead. Mrs McKnight, the cook, has been here forever. You should talk to her.’
I thanked him and added Mrs McKnight to the list of people to speak to.
~ vii ~
I made my way to the manor house with the intention of seeking out the cook when I spotted Mrs Ruskin at the little table in the floral garden. She had been crying.
‘My dear Mrs Ruskin, is there anything I can do?’ I asked.
‘You are too kind, Dr Watson. It’s just the state of my nerves. They’ve been shot since the boys disappeared, and even though my son has been found, William has not. You’ve seen what they did to Arthur.’
‘In all likelihood, William will be treated well. Arthur’s injuries are serious enough to act as an incentive and motivate your family to meet their demands. William’s abductors must think they still have your son. That is what your husband believes and he is willing to play along and follow the ransom instructions when the time comes. Your concerns that he would not seem unfounded.’
Her pause was not what I had anticipated. There was something she wanted to tell me and I implored her to do so.
‘Arthur and William have been thick as thieves since the creche. They were born just days apart and when I could not suckle, Mrs Moyle became wet nurse to Arthur. The boys were raised together in the manor. William was very active and was the first to crawl, the first to stand and take steps on his own, but he was a strange one. Ever since he could sit himself up, he could be found rocking back and forth in the night. His mother would settle him down without a fuss but after a while he would wake and begin rocking again. I don’t know how long that continued Once the boys were weaned, Mrs Moyle and William returned to her husband’s cottage. Arthur was walking and talking by then but William never spoke a word until his fourth year. Mrs Moyle, bless her, was taken by a fever that spring and William kept calling out for her. Since then he has always been a little odd. My husband suspects that William is an imbecile and he might be right. It’s harder to detect in children. My husband is sensitive to insanity because his grandfather had to be institutionalised.’
‘And you thought he would not pay the ransom because William is... odd?’
‘Yes. That is what I feared. He did not like how close William and our son had become and wanted Arthur to associate with other, normal children. We were planning to send him away to grammar school in January, but now I just don’t know.’
~ viii ~
Mrs McKnight, the cook, was a thin, dour woman who ran her kitchen in a manner rarely seen outside of Navy ships of the line. She was also loyal to a fault to the Ruskin family and did not take kindly to my enquiries.
‘Such gossip is beneath me,’ she said.
My powers of observation may not be on the level of Sherlock Holmes, but I can recognise a brick wall when I encounter one. Once I assured her I was only trying to get a sense of the missing boy, and not prying into the affairs of her family, I had better success. She corroborated what I had already learned: William was shy but not above a little mischief when in the company of the young master. The cook’s contact with those outside the immediate house was limited and so was her sense of William. Of Master Arthur she would only hint that, as the young child of aging parents, he was overindulged.
I did not have the time to question everyone on the estate but my further enquiries with the staff and tenant farmers fell along similar lines: William was considered odd but harmless and, out of respect for Mr Moyle, was not ridiculed or treated badly. Other children at the manor were either older and were working their parents’ plots, or were much younger and had little to do with Arthur and William.
~ ix ~
I found Holmes in the library; the quantity of cigarette stubs in the ashtray a testimony to the industry of his endeavours.
‘Don’t linger in the doorway, Watson. Come in, and tell me what you see.’
He handed me two type-written missives. The first was a claim that the kidnappers had seized the two boys. Dire threats were made should the Ruskins involve the police. The second was the actual ransom note demanding ten thousand pounds and telling them to wait for further instructions.
‘Mr Ruskin received the first missive at his office in the city the day after the boys were taken. It did not go by post and since correspondence arrives by various means the bearer was not remarked upon at the time. The second was pinned to master Arthur’s shirt when he was abandoned yesterday,’ said Holmes
I compared the two. ‘The paper itself carries no watermark so it is inexpensive and in common use so it will be difficult to trace. However, both letters appear to have come from the same typewriter. That has to be helpful.’
‘Regrettably, whilst a typewriter has its individual characteristics, it can be used by more than one person. I can tell you the make and manufacturer of the device but I cannot get a sense of the person or persons who involved it in this crime. All I can tell you is that there are two or more of them, they are not familiar with the Ruskins, and are likely from the city.’
I waited for his explanation.
‘Come now, Watson. These were two very active children. It would take two or more kidnappers to take them. The fact that they could not distinguish the Moyle lad from young Ruskin tells me that only cursory knowledge of the Ruskin family was known. Anyone local would not make that mistake. I believe I can rule out the elder brother as well. Except for his remarkably strong grip for an academic, there is nothing remarkable about him.’
‘Tennis,’ I replied. ‘There were trophies in the parlour. I passed them earlier this afternoon.’
I could not tell if Holmes appreciated my observation or was dismayed that he had missed it himself.
‘I have suggested that you stay with the boy and question him when he is less sedated. I will returning to London to follow another line of enquiry.’
‘What if the kidnappers contact Ruskin again and want to make the exchange?’
‘I’m willing to take that risk. Besides, it is my strong intuition that the boy is already dead and I am pursuing murderers, not kidnappers.’
My blood chilled.
‘How could they not realise that they have retained the wrong boy?’ Holmes continued. ‘No matter how clever the boys may have been to initially fool them, once their mistake is found, there is no reason to continue with the scheme. I wish it was otherwise. Perhaps the soil scrapings you collected will provide a clue to where they were being held. It’s a pity that you could not have retrieved his clothing as well.’
We parted on this sad note; Holmes leaving for the train station and myself remaining at the manor.
~ x ~
By nine o’clock Master Arthur showed signs of restlessness which indicated that the medicine was wearing off. I set aside my writing and, not wanting the child to wake to a stranger in his room, I sent for his mother.
Arthur’s concern for his missing friend combined with the heavy sedative made questioning him problematic so I proceeded carefully and recorded the details to give to Holmes the next day.
The boys had met a pedlar in the copse by the river. Arthur described the man as having a great ginger beard but could not guess at his age. The pedlar offered them some chocolates which tasted funny and Arthur saw William get sick.
The boys woke to find themselves bound and kept in a cold damp room which I thought could only be a cellar. The boys were not gagged. They had been given only bread and water by their keeper, who wore a mask. The bread was cut into miserly portions, which at first were fresh but had dried out as time passed. The two boys tried to escape once and had been beaten and bound for their troubles. Arthur had only vague impressions of his keepers.
‘I thought it was three men, but William said one of them was a woman.’
I urged Arthur to try to rest and not to worry. Sleep eluded me though, for as I sat at the boy’s side, my thoughts constantly flew to the missing boy and the hardships he must be facing.
~ xi ~
I must have finally fallen asleep because I woke with a start in the early hours when Thomas Jr entered his brother’s room.
‘We’ve received another message. The kidnappers have given father the instructions for the exchange.’
It was five o’clock and Arthur was sound asleep so we left and met Mr Ruskin in his study. The autumn sun had not yet risen but the household staff had started their day. The butler had found a worn leather pouch on the ground outside the main door. Contained inside was a typewritten note on familiar cheap paper:
“Midnight tonight. Fallstone Bridge. No tricks.”
Fallstone bridge, Mr Ruskin informed me, crossed a canal some five miles away off the road to London and had once been the site of a toll house.
Holmes returned in the early afternoon and was elated to hear that kidnappers were still going through with their plan.
‘It does not mean that William is alive, but any interaction with them will help identify them. You and I will accompany Mr Ruskin tonight;he is not a man of violence. I will be unarmed as well but I trust you will have the ‘Doctor’s Little Helper’ with you.’
That was Holmes’ pet name for my service revolver and it was nestled into an inner side pocket of my medical bag. Covered by a leather flap, it was not visible in case of a cursory inspection.
‘Watson, you must use the utmost care tonight. I mean it.These people are ruthless. If they have no qualms about harming a child, they would certainly not bat an eye at hurting either of us. I’m afraid you may see something which stirs your blood and I beg you to resist rash actions. You have a reckless streak in you which, combined with your sentimental nature, could spell disaster.’
‘At least you didn’t call me a cripple,’ I replied hotly.
‘I would never do that. I consider you one of the most capable men I know, but you have limits, Doctor; as do we all. Your safety is more important than the successful resolution of this case.’
‘You still think the boy is dead?’
‘Regrettably, yes.’
~ xii ~
The rain that had begun in the afternoon became a downpour by evening. There were no signs it would be diminishing through the night. The wind too had increased as the evening progressed, stripping the chestnut trees of their last autumn leaves.
Holmes assumed the coachman’s post and we set out in Mr Ruskin’s four-wheeler with no little misgivings. The darkness was so complete that eventually Holmes had to dismount, hold out the lantern, and lead the carriage team down the road. Inside, Mr Ruskin and I grew impatient with the slow passage. He held fast to the heavy dispatch box containing the ransom in bills and gold coin. Our breaths condensed on the windows, further obscuring the blackness without.
The carriage slowed and halted, and Holmes warned us to stay inside. I could hear him calling out and responding to someone. After this brief exchange we were ordered out into the elements. We had reached the bridge, where a bucket of pitch smoked and sizzled in the rain.
‘Who’s that with you, Ruskin?’ demanded a voice from behind a low yew.
‘He’s a friend; a doctor called Watson.’
We were ordered to empty our pockets and open our coats to prove we were unarmed.
‘I’ve got four guns pointed at you so let’s have no heroics tonight. Have your driver bring me the money.’
Mr Ruskin handed the box to Holmes, who took it to the base of the shrub.
‘It’s all there,’ said Mr Ruskin. ‘Now, where’s my boy?’
‘Not so fast. All of you... face the carriage and keep your hands up.’’ We heard the sound of rummaging in the contents of the dispatch box.
‘I’m glad you’re smart, Ruskin’. The money is all here. Now, step away. There’s a tree on the other side of the bridge. Go there.’
We started toward the bridge.
‘Wait! Leave the bag, Doctor,’ demanded the yew.
‘I will not. Search it if you must. It contains medicines and bandages. I have seen how you treat children.’
‘Very well. Keep it and be damned! The boy was still alive when I left him. Go back the way you came. Take the lane with the hedge. Your son is in one of the cottages. I’m taking your carriage. By the time you find it, I will be far away. If you try to follow me, my pals will shoot you down. Now, go!’
Once we reached the tree, the kidnapper seized bucket of pitch and leapt into the coachman’s seat. He turned the horses to the road and tossed the bucket into the canal. Then he whipped up the team and was gone.
~ xiii ~
‘I wish all criminals were as stupid as this,’ Holmes laughed.
‘Stupid, you say? He has the ransom, he has my carriage, and we do not have William!’
‘No, but I know how to catch him. The night is too dark for him to keep up that pace. He will have to walk the horses like I did and that means I can catch up to him. Meanwhile, you two follow his instructions and look for William.’
‘You’ll be shot! I exclaimed.
‘That’s not very likely!’ laughed Holmes. ‘He is alone. Did you not notice his inconsistent pronouns?’
‘You know, you’re risking your life based upon a slip of grammar,’ I said as I handed him my revolver and bullets.
‘Yes. That and other things I managed to observe. I’ve no time to discuss them now. Take my lantern, I will not need it. Good luck.’
Within an instant Holmes was engulfed in darkness and Mr Ruskin and I were on our way up the road.
~ xiv ~
‘Where are we?’ I asked, staring through the rain at the shadowed ruins of several stone structures.
‘These used to be the crofters cottages of Welles Hill. Unlike my grandfather, the landowners here turned their land over to sheep pasture. Once the cotton boom supplanted wool, the estate was no longer viable. The tenant farmers did not return and after a fire that engulfed the manor house, the subsequent generations lost interest and moved to the city. The land has been abandoned for twenty years at least.’
‘There are quite a few buildings here. Holmes said we are looking for one with a cellar. Would any of the cottages have one?’
‘Most would have a small root cellar, but not all.’
‘Let’s start with the ones in the best shape. The kidnappers needed to hide out somewhere and the would have wanted to keep their hostages close.’
Mr Ruskin and I headed toward the first building with an intact roof. An examination of the ground near the door revealed signs of recent foot traffic. The windows were boarded up and the door was latched but not locked. We stepped in out of the rain calling William’s name but received no answer..
Our lanterns revealed the contents of the small cottage. There were two benches and a table in the main room. The fireplace showed no signs of recent use. Two sleeping chambers faced inward but the curtains once used to separate them from the main room were missing. Had they chose to hide out here the kidnappers’ stay would have been very austere. Of most interest was a trap door in the centre of the main room floor but we still had not heard any reply to our calls.
The heavy trap door opened with a loud creak and as we peered down into what had formerly been a root cellar we were met by the stench of human misery. I saw no signs of the missing boy and I called out again. The cellar shelves were empty and on the floor there was a large crate and a pile of rags. There were no stairs and I looked around for a way to descend. There was a ladder leaning against the wall and I used it to climb down. Mr Ruskin handed me my lantern and used his own to illuminate the small space.
William lay under a worn blanket which I had mistaken for rags. He was unresponsive but his pulse was strong. Never have I been so grateful that Holmes had been mistaken. I cut the bindings, freed his hands, and rubbed them to encourage circulation. William’s eyes opened but he remained insensate. Bruising and abrasions indicated the rough treatment he had suffered, and other than his catatonia, he showed some signs of having been drugged. Mr Ruskin was as relieved as I was. He took the boy from my raised arms, lifted him out of the cellar, and wrapped him in his coat. I took one last look around the makeshift gaol before climbing out of the cellar. Considering the deluge outside, we decided to wait for it to stop or for Holmes to return.
The cottage contained no firewood and my fruitless search of the outbuildings only acted to soak me through to the skin. I returned empty-handed. After an hour’s wait Holmes returned with the carriage and we drove back to Bedgrove House where Holmes and I returned William to his father’s cottage.
~ xv ~
Mr Moyle was nearly overcome with emotion. He was enraged at William’s injuries and overjoyed to have him safely home. Meanwhile, William remained silent; he only took food and drink when the items were placed in his hands. His father and I cleaned him and dressed his scraped shoulder and elbows. I left with Holmes and promised to return in the morning. Thoughts of dry clothes and the warm bed awaiting me at the hotel filled my mind as the carriage took us back to Aylesbury.
‘Do you think you can identify the kidnappers?’ I asked once we were back to the hotel.
‘Even though I only saw the one in the ridiculous pedlar costume, I have some promising leads. The first is that one of them is a woman. The connections which bind criminals together are complex enough when they are men. Two men may have enough in common to keep them together but to add a third or more to the pair and there is a greater likelihood of discord. The fact that our little gang of three includes a woman suggests either a familial connection or a matrimonial one. She is either related to one of them or is his wife.’
‘That makes sense. What else?’
‘The amount of the ransom suggests a knowledge of the Ruskin family finances and yet the kidnappers could not recognise Master Arthur on sight. Anyone in Ruskin’s London office would have been able to identify the child by the family portraits he keeps on his desk. Similarly, I can dismiss local suspects because they would not have mistaken the two boys. The Ruskins and their closest family friends are members of the Society of Friends and are not likely to resort to violent means. My impression of the kidnappers is that they are clever but inexperienced. This recent success will only embolden them and their next victim may not be so lucky.’
‘What else is there to do?’
‘Nothing here. We shall talk to Arthur and William tomorrow and then bid our goodbyes at Bedgrove House before returning to Baker Street. From there I will continue to research possible connections between Ruskin and the kidnappers. Master Arthur was not chosen by accident and once I deduce why I will have them.’
‘I suppose the most important thing is that the boys have been returned. The ransom may pose a setback for the Mr Ruskin but it was within his means to pay it. It is a shame we could not have brought the criminals to justice tonight.’
‘Don’t worry, old man. A more tangible result would have satisfied me too even though I enjoy a good puzzle. We are far from an impasse; during my examination of the cottage I found two varieties of tobacco ash. Since neither is your blend and Mr Ruskin does not smoke, they have left me with a significant clue. I also heard all three speaking in their natural voices: well-educated northern voices. But speaking of tobacco, whilst you get some well-deserved sleep, I will fill my pipe and contemplate our next strategy.’
~ xvi ~
One afternoon, a fortnight later, when late autumn turned to winter, I returned home to find Holmes in deep conversation with Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
‘Come in, Doctor. The Inspector was successful in chasing down the Ruskin kidnappers.’
I had not known that Holmes had turned the case over to the police and I was dismayed. Far too often Holmes would let the professionals take credit for his investigations. At least now, since I published a little article which caused some embarrassment among Scotland Yard’s detective ranks, Holmes was treated with more respect and he and Inspector Lestrade collaborated successfully quite often.
‘Mr Holmes has done it again,’ said Inspector Lestrade. ‘His notes and observations led to the arrest of Mr and Mrs Norman Bloom and Mr Robert Smith, whom we took into custody last night near Wembley.’
‘The credit must be shared,’ said Holmes. ‘If Dr Watson had not mentioned the grammar school, I would not have followed the successful line of inquiry.’
‘The grammar school?’ I asked.
‘’Yes. You mentioned that young Arthur was to be sent away in January. Mr Ruskin had to include his financial details with Arthur’s application. Norman Bloom worked as a clerk at the school. He and his wife came up with the scheme and convinced her brother, Robert Smith, to join them. It was he who played the rôle of the pedlar.’
‘And the tobacco ash?’
‘Here is where my methods were thwarted, albeit briefly. Neither sample matched any known blends in London and still I persisted. I could identify the varieties but not the specific combinations. It was the tobacconist, Bradley, who suggested I try his associate in Wembley. Lestrade and a mob of policein plain clothes have spent the last four days beating the bushes-’
‘Actually, it was Sergeant Trewy and I,’ interrupted the inspector. ‘But once we were certain we had the right suspects, I had reinforcements sent up from London. We caught them unawares in their rented lodgings and they surrendered without a fight. There we found enough physical evidence so that a conviction is assured. The boys will not have to testify. Most of the ransom was recovered. Truly an open and shut case thanks to you, Mr Holmes, and a victory for law enforcement as well. Are you sure you do not want to take the credit?’
‘No, Inspector, although Dr Watson deserves equal credit, I would rather you keep our names out of it. Anonymity is a great asset. The criminal element already knows of my efforts and past successes, and those who need our help will always find us.’
~ fin ~