It was a letter from none other than Gioacchino Pecci, who for thirteen years had sat on the papal throne in Rome as Leo XIII. The letter requested that the police allow Sherlock Holmes to investigate the circumstances of the death of the papal nuncio and provide whatever support was required. Mycroft Holmes added that the prime minister had himself sanctioned the request, presenting a note from Lord Salisbury to that effect.
I was told that Littlechild had an intense dislike of Sherlock Holmes. Holmes had not endeared himself to Littlechild, because he had often insulted some of Scotland Yard’s best men-Inspector Lestrade, for example. Inspector Tobias Gregson and Inspector Stanley Hopkins had also been held up to public ridicule by Holmes’s caustic tongue. But what could Littlechild do in such circumstances but accept Holmes’s involvement with as good a grace as he could muster?
Holmes and his insufferable and bumbling companion, Watson, were to have carte blanche to question Sir Gibson Glassford’s household and make any other inquiries he liked. Littlechild had thankfully made one condition, which was to come in handy for me. Detective Inspector Gallagher was to accompany Holmes at all times so that the matter would remain an official Scotland Yard inquiry. Thus it was that I was kept in touch with everything that the so-called Great Detective was doing while he was entirely unaware of my part in the game.
This is the part of the story that my friend Gallagher narrated to me.
The first thing that Holmes informed Gallagher of was that he had telegraphed Cardinal Tosca’s secretary in Paris. The secretary confirmed that Cardinal Tosca had caught the boat train to London, promising to return within forty-eight hours. The journey had been prompted by the arrival of a stranger at Cardinal Tosca’s residence in Paris late one night. The secretary had the impression that the visitor was an American by the way he spoke English with an accent. When asked his business, the man presented a small pasteboard that had a name and a symbol on it. The secretary could not remember the name but was sure that the device was harp-shaped. The man spent a few minutes with the cardinal, and the next morning the cardinal caught the boat train. Moreover, the cardinal insisted on traveling alone, which was highly unusual.
Inspector Gallagher pointed out that had Holmes consulted him, he would have been informed that this information was already in police hands, having consulted the cardinals secretary. Holmes was too conceited to be abashed by the fact. He believed that nothing was achieved unless he personally achieved it.
Gallagher accompanied Holmes and Watson in a hansom cab to their first port of calclass="underline" the local mortuary where the body of the cardinal was being preserved, much to the outcry of the Catholic Church, who felt it scandalous that His Eminence was thus prevented a lying in state and burial according to their practices.
Holmes insisted that he and Watson should examine the body, and this was done, after much argument, in the company of the original examining doctor, Thomson, and the coroner, with Gallagher looking on without enthusiasm. In fact, Gallagher found Holmes’s involvement quite objectionable. He seemed to claim authority over the medical experts and leaned over the corpse, using a large magnifying glass as he examined it.
He suddenly let out a hiss of breath and turned to his companions. “Do you not remark on the slight bruising on this neck vein,” he remarked, pointing dramatically, like one who has discovered something unique.
“I did so remark on it, Mr. Holmes,” Dr. Thomson replied patiently. The coroner was clearly displeased.
“If you will read my report, that matter was made clear…,” he began, but Holmes actually waved him into silence.
“But what of the puncture wound which is discernible under my glass. What of that, sir?” he demanded of the doctor.
“I found it irrelevant,” replied Thomson. “A bite of some sort, that is all.”
Holmes turned to his crony, the sycophantic Watson. “Watson, please observe this mark and bear in mind that I have brought it to the attention of these… gentlemen.”
Gallagher thought that he was being quite insulting, and so did Dr. Thomson and the coroner, who waited with unconcealed impatience for Holmes to complete his study.
Finally, Holmes turned to Gallagher and demanded to see the clothes that had been found with His Eminence’s body.
“Is there any question that these clothes found by the body belong to the cardinal?” he asked as the parcel was handed to him.
“None whatsoever,” he was assured. “Father Michael himself examined and identified them.”
The cardinal’s pocketbook, rosary, and pocket missal were all contained in the package.
“I presume that none of this material has been removed or tampered with?” queried Holmes.
Gallagher flushed with mortification. “Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes, is not in the habit of removing or altering evidence, as you well know.”
Holmes seemed oblivious of his insults, and he searched through the pocket book, which contained some banknotes in both French and English currencies and little else apart from two pasteboard visiting cards. They bore the name “T W. Tone” on them and a little harp device surmounted by a crown. Holmes showed them to Watson and said quietly, “Note these well, Watson, old friend.” It was as if Gallagher was not supposed to hear, but he did so and duly reported the fact to me.
Holmes then frowned and peered closely at the bundle of clothes.
“Wasn’t the cardinal supposed to be wearing a nightshirt? Pray, where is that?”
“It was wrapped separately from the other clothing,” Gallagher assured him, producing it. “As this was what the body was clad in, it was considered that it should be kept separate in case it provided any clues.”
The insufferable Holmes took out the nightshirt and started to examine it. A curious expression crossed his features as he sniffed at it. Turning, he picked up the other clothing and sniffed at that. He spent so long smelling each item alternatively that Gallagher thought him mad.
“Where have these been stored during these last several days?”
“They have been placed in sacking and stored in a cupboard here in case they were needed as evidence.”
“In a damp cupboard?”
“Of course not. They have been kept in a dry place.”
Half an hour later saw them at Father Michael’s presbytery, where His Eminence had last been seen alive. He treated the poor priest in the same brusque manner as he had the doctor and coroner. His opening remarks were, apparently, exceedingly offensive.
“Did the cardinal take narcotics, according to your knowledge?” he demanded.