‘The assistants now informed me that they couldn’t work here any longer. “It’s not your apparition that scares me,” said Smith Copton. “I just don’t want to breathe such foul air. You’re being pursued by some evil genie. It would be best for you to move. Do so, and you’ll get good staff. Stay here, you won’t survive the week.”
‘Both left, wishing me all the very best.’
Terehoff fell silent again.
Sherlock Holmes listened to him attentively, very taken by the story. He refilled Terehoff’s glass and handed it to him. Terehoff drank.
‘How did it all end?’
‘After that last incident, my wife renewed her pleas even more forcefully for me to change premises,’ answered Terehoff. ‘Finally, I gave in and took the only premises left in the Commercial Centre.’
‘And then?’
‘As soon as I had vacated my premises, I still kept an eye on it. I think the apparition must have gone on strike. For a while the place remained vacant, but then some Greek called Alferakki took it over. He trades in eastern delicacies and fruit, both wholesale and retail.’
‘And how are things with him?’
‘He doesn’t know of any apparition and laughs at me when someone brings up my misfortunes,’ Terehoff said angrily. ‘Personally, I don’t believe in the supernatural. I am sooner likely to suspect some human trickery. In a word, I’m mentally confused. Then I heard that you are in Nijni-Novgorod and decided to seek your advice. Supernatural or otherwise, I want to get at the truth. I am prepared to pay you five thousand roubles.’
Sherlock Holmes smiled, ‘That would amount to five hundred pounds sterling.’
‘Absolutely so!’
‘In that case I am at your disposal. For me, as an Englishman, time and every action are measured in monetary terms. Although I took a lively interest listening to your story, I wouldn’t spend any time over it, unless I was remunerated. Please draw up a contract and … who knows? Perhaps I’ll be able to restore your former premises to you, but without the evil presence.’
The detective and the merchant sat down and began to draw up a contract.
IV
Several days passed. It was late on 27 July. The shops had long since shut for the day. The drunken revelry for which the Nijni-Novgorod Fair was famous was in full swing. The old times are gone forever, as are the old music and dancing. It wasn’t so in those days. No sooner did the shops shut for the day, than the merchants hurried to the restaurants from whence music and women’s voices were raised in song. To the sound of them (part singers, part prostitutes), business deals were transacted. Mirrors were cracked. Then was yet the time, when drunken merchants still beat up waiters for any minor blunder.
That evening, the weather was terrible. The north wind blew all day. The rain poured in buckets. It was close to midnight, and everyone had taken shelter in restaurants.
Two men emerged from one of the restaurants in the park opposite the Commercial Centre. They made their way past the Flatch clock tower towards the Oka River wharf. Despite the pouring rain, the two men did not hurry. Engrossed in conversation, they spoke in undertones.
Following them out of the same restaurant, but at a distance, was a man in a hooded waterproof cape. This was Sherlock Holmes, the famous London detective. Three days and three nights spent at the fair were beginning to yield results. He had noted a few things here and there, and now wouldn’t let the two men out of his sight.
He sat down behind them on the ferry, but didn’t pick up anything useful. The two men were deep in conversation, but they were only discussing the Great Fair and the prices that had been established for certain goods. They disembarked at the Krashinsky Wharf, where they parted. Sherlock Holmes managed to overhear a phrase dropped by one of them, ‘And so, congratulations on the start of work. Goodbye.’
At this moment a dark figure approached Sherlock Holmes. This was Dr Watson, who accompanied him everywhere. ‘Well, what?’ he asked softly.
‘Let’s go; I have to talk to you,’ said Sherlock Holmes.
‘What about those two?’ asked Dr Watson.
‘They’ll keep. I’m not interested in their doings when they’re apart.’
They took a coach and returned to the Post Hotel. Having locked the door, they began to share their findings.
‘I haven’t found out anything. I don’t even know the names of the pair you have been watching,’ said Watson sadly. ‘Just as you suggested, I spent two nights in the taverns along the Bentakurovsky Canal. Lots of suspicious types there. Two men entered Tarakanoff’s tavern while I was sitting there. What confused me is that they seemed alike in build to the pair you were interested in who were at the fair.’
‘Describe them?’ Sherlock Holmes interrupted.
‘One was dark, the other ginger haired. Both lean. Both with moustaches, but otherwise clean-shaven.’
Sherlock Holmes jumped up in excitement, ‘That’s them all right, the devil take them. Do go on, I beg you. Your efforts were not wasted.’
‘They sat down at the table adjoining mine and ordered an expensive wine,’ went on Watson. ‘This tavern didn’t have the brand they wanted. They insisted it must be sent for. They kept on repeating that there was some job they had to get under way, otherwise they could miss out on all this money intended for the fair. Nothing suspicious in that. But when they’d nearly got through the bottle they had ordered, one of them said, “If only we could get under way! After that, we’re all right on our own, and as for him—” Following this, they dropped their voices, though I did hear them mention the Bentakurovsky Canal several times. I suppose you know, Holmes, that this particular canal has an evil reputation. It passes through the distant countryside, along its banks are the taverns with the worst reputation, the police often find corpses in its waters, in which quite a few crimes have been concealed.’
‘Yes, indeed, what you have to say is of great significance,’ Sherlock Holmes said thoughtfully. For some time he sat in silence, except for drumming his fingers on the table. His brows were knit in thought. Finally, he lifted his head.
Watson, anticipating that now Sherlock Holmes would relate what had happened to him, prepared to listen.
V
‘There’s not much for me to tell,’ said Sherlock Holmes after a long pause. ‘It was sheer chance that led you to the pair I was following.’
‘And they are—?’
‘The Englishman Smith Copton and the Greek Alferakki.’
‘Not the very same one who rented Terehoff’s shop in the Commercial Centre!’ exclaimed Watson, looking puzzled.
‘Indeed, the very same.’ Holmes nodded. ‘I began to watch the two of them, and soon enough I discovered a close connection between the new owner and the unemployed assistant. This was an important discovery and, as far as I am concerned, if Smith Copton really needed a job, his friend Alferakki would have given him one. After all, the Greek had hired another assistant with a poor reputation. But since he didn’t take on Copton, it could only mean the latter was not in need of employment.’
‘Damn it, your observations are, indeed, very interesting,’ said Watson.
‘Hold on,’ Sherlock Holmes stopped him. ‘It would appear that Copton’s claim to be in financial need was pure invention. But since they always met in secret, I came to the conclusion that they have some enterprise in common. Now put the following facts together: an apparition appears in Terehoff’s shop, Copton goes to work for him, the simultaneous appearance of a foul smell, forcing the shop to be cleared and … Alferakki, who knows Copton well, occupies the premises.’
‘Indeed!’