THE ADVENTURE OF THE CUTTER ALICIA
‘… No less remarkable is that of the cutter Alicia, which sailed one spring morning into a small patch of mist from which she never again emerged …’
(The Problem of Thor Bridge, by A Conan Doyle)
The late spring and early summer of 1895 were made particularly noteworthy by virtue of the profusion of stimulating and challenging cases with which my friend, Sherlock Holmes, had been recently inundated. The climax of this golden period had been Holmes’s apprehension of the notorious strangler, Peabody, whose reign of terror had led the regular constabulary to despair. Only Holmes’s remarkable deduction, that the perpetrator of this series of odious murders would have no more than three fingers on his left hand, prevented Peabody from eluding their inept grasp once again.
By way of a celebration of this latest triumph of his, Holmes suggested an evening attending a violin recital by the esteemed Russian maestro, Leshtikov, culminating with a lavish feast at Marcinis. I could not have been more delighted at these arrangements and not one aspect of the evening failed to live up to our expectations. I had rarely seen my friend more relaxed and at peace with the world, and as for myself, seldom have I felt fuller and more content after a meal. With this in mind, I suggested that we forgo the luxury of a cab for our homeward journey and instead negotiate the two or three miles on foot. Holmes thought this would be an excellent means of aiding our digestion and so, after hurling our half-smoked cigars towards the kerbside, we struck off briskly towards Baker Street.
To begin with, our walk was pleasant enough and, as we slowed our pace, Holmes launched into a most enlightening discourse upon the subject of Leshtikov’s fingering and interpretation. When, however, he suddenly broke off in mid sentence, I glanced towards him and was immediately struck by a dramatic alteration in his countenance. His eyes blazed with excitement and his hitherto relaxed features were tightened in concentration. He pressed his lips with his left forefinger and whispered through them:
‘Do not alarm yourself, old fellow, neither should you turn round just now or alter your gait, but I do believe that we are being followed. Rather clumsily and amateurishly, I will admit, so I am certain that we are not in any immediate danger, but please, nevertheless, when the moment is right, follow my lead.’
‘This is outrageous!’ I protested, in equally muted tones. ‘Are you certain of this? I had not noticed anything untoward.’
‘Really, Watson, you surprise me. They are not exactly expert at this.’
‘There is more than one of them?’
‘Two to be precise, a man and a woman. The man is of above average height, slim of build and probably in his twenties. The woman is considerably shorter, of similar age and slightly asthmatic.’
‘Come now, Holmes, you cannot possibly know all this. I have closely attended your every word during the past ten minutes, and you have not once turned your head either to the right or the left!’
‘Watson, there is more to the art of observation than using your eyes. Whilst you have been hanging on my every word, I have been listening to our pursuers’ inept attempts to match the rhythm of their footsteps to our own. The constant alterations and hesitations that they have made throughout are what first alerted me to their attendance. As to their height and gender, the timbre of a young lady’s shoes is always more clipped and less resonant by virtue of their raised and narrower heels. The man has had little difficulty in matching our speed and stride pattern; therefore I deduce that he is of a similar height to our own. The young lady, on the other hand, has had to apply almost twice as many strides as her companion, in maintaining our speed, resulting in a breathlessness one would not normally expect in an otherwise healthy woman of her age. But see here … an unprotected doorway!’
As we turned a corner, Holmes grabbed my jacket sleeve and manoeuvred me into the recessed entrance of a small furniture shop. ‘They will panic as they turn the corner and find that we have disappeared from view. As they rush past us we shall accost them from behind.’ Observing me vainly rummaging in my jacket pockets, Holmes added: ‘Do not regret the absence of your revolver, Watson, I am certain that my loaded cane handle will more than suffice for these two.’
We waited silently and breathlessly within the confines of the doorway for a moment or two when, sure enough, the otherwise deserted pavement, gave up the sound of two sets of footsteps coming to a halt at the very corner from which we had just turned. They quickened as they approached us, I could now distinguish the long strides of the man’s steps and the clip of the young woman’s heels as they sought to take up our trail. Holmes shot me a knowing smile as I acknowledged my recognition of this.
As soon as the couple had hurried past us we gave up our hiding-place and stealthily approached them from behind. As we drew closer Holmes placed his hand on the young man’s right shoulder while I did likewise to the woman’s left. Neither offered any form of resistance and they both turned around slowly, their faces riddled with fear and guilt.
‘Oh Mr Holmes!’ The woman exclaimed. ‘Please do not have us arrested. We meant no harm. We simply did not know how to approach so esteemed a gentleman as yourself. Your recent clients have included royalty and the like and our problem seems so insignificant by comparison.’
‘My dear lady, you must calm yourself,’ Holmes responded, at his gentlest and most charming. ‘No one is going to have you arrested. However, judging by your brother’s silence and dour countenance I would say that he disapproves of your approaching me a good deal more than I do myself.’
The young man flushed with embarrassment. ‘It is not that so much, sir, and I mean no disrespect, but I do believe that the matter of one’s father’s sanity is not a subject one should discuss with strangers.’
‘Your father’s sanity? Well, Watson, this may be a subject upon which you will have more knowledge than I. Young lady, I really do not see what possible assistance I can render you in this matter.’ With that Holmes turned away and resumed his walk towards Baker Street.
‘A moment, please sir,’ The young lady’s voice pierced the silent night air and caused Holmes to pause in his tracks, but not to turn. ‘My father’s sanity is not the issue here, more the authenticity of what he claims to have witnessed.’ At this, Holmes slowly turned and began retracing his steps.
‘He claims to have observed the Alicia on her fateful voyage!’ Holmes concluded his return to us at a sprint.
‘Our rooms are but a five minutes’ walk from here!’ With a dramatic flourish, Holmes waved them to walk ahead of us.
It had been Holmes’s intention to follow the young couple all the way to our rooms, however his enthusiasm and impatience overcame any such restraint. Consequently he led the way, almost at a sprint; the couple tried to match his pace whilst I brought up the rear to ensure that they concluded their journey.
By the time the young couple and I eventually arrived at 221b, a somewhat bleary-eyed and dishevelled Mrs Hudson had already been coerced into preparing a tray of coffee. We also discovered that Holmes had, absent-mindedly, discarded his coat on the stairs in his haste to ascend them. I retrieved it as we made our way up and found Holmes pacing the room with his pipe already alight.
‘A thousand apologies, Mrs Hudson, for causing a disturbance at such an hour, but the matter is of the utmost moment,’ Holmes declared, as he took the tray from her unsteady grasp. He then ushered her out once more, somewhat unceremoniously, by way of a gentle shove upon her shoulders.