Echoes of Sherlock Holmes: Stories Inspired by the Holmes Canon(71)

“I bought them for a percentage of their worth.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Oh, Inspector, remember who I am and what I am. Leverage is always useful. Now, see who has guaranteed the notes.”

Dermot turned over the page. “Vicars!” He looked at Katherine. “Vicars guarantees Shackleton’s debt. But how could he afford that on his salary?”

“He could not,” she said simply. “He asked a friend of his, Frank Goldney, to take on the debt, which he did.”

“What a tangled mess . . .”

“There is another twist. I am presuming that you did not know that Shackleton is an intimate of Lord Haddo.”

The inspector sat bolt upright. “The son of the Viceroy?”

“The same.”

“And when you say ‘intimate . . . ’” he asked cautiously.

“Both gentlemen are also very close to the Duke of Argyll, who has a fondness for guardsmen.”

“Guardsmen?”

“Guardsmen.”

“How did you discover all this?”

“Why, by listening, Inspector. People do love to gossip. The Castle is abuzz with stories of Vicars and his entourage of handsome young men. Did you know that they frequent some of the flash houses at the bottom of the street—those which cater solely to men? And that they sometimes dress in women’s clothing and . . . wear the jewels as part of their costumes?”

“Oh God!” Dermot leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

“And that the jewels have disappeared before, when the boys accidentally forgot them at one of their parties?”

Dermot sat back into the chair. “You have been busy. And, let me say that you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Katherine nodded. “One in my position is rarely given an opportunity to exercise her abilities, although I have spent my entire life watching and listening. It makes me quite suited to the role of detective, don’t you think?”

“What should I do?” he asked suddenly.

“This is a scandal, and scandals destroy careers. If you identify the thief, then you earn the enmity of him and his friends. If you continue to investigate you will bring yourself to their attention and even if you make no accusation, then your career is destroyed.”

“So what should I do?” he asked again.

“Do nothing. The jewels will either mysteriously turn up, or they will not.”

“But the police will still descend on these streets and close your businesses. This morning you spoke about children starving . . .”

Katherine leaned forward, firelight turning her face golden. Her smile was feral. “About an hour ago a letter was delivered to both the Viceroy and the head of the Dublin Metropolitan Police outlining some of the facts of the case. There will be no real investigation, I assure you; the scandal would involve the crown, and Edward now works hard to distance himself from the excesses of his youth. I am sorry that you will not get that promotion, however. Your future fiancée will be disappointed.”

“There will be other cases,” he said. “And I have waited this long to propose; another few months will not make any real difference.”

“Women do not like to wait, Inspector. Propose. If she loves you, then she will say yes, in spite of your circumstances.”

“And if she says no?”

“If she loves you she will say yes,” Katherine said softly.

Finishing his hot chocolate, he stood. “I will take my leave of you. All in all, it has been quite the day.”

Katherine rose and stretched out her hand. Dermot bowed over it. “Thank you for your help, Madam Kitten.”

“Katherine. Call me Katherine.”

“Will I see you again, Katherine?”

“I have no doubts about it.”

Dermot Corcoran paused with his hand on the door handle and turned to face the woman lost in the shadows. “You never did say who stole the jewels . . .”

“Inspector. Follow the money. And then, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable . . .”

“. . . must be the truth.”



The jewels never did turn up and, as I predicted, the scandal destroyed careers. Inspector Kane came over from Scotland Yard, investigated and discovered the culprit. His report was never published, then mysteriously disappeared.

Vicars went to his grave convinced that Shackleton had stolen the jewels. He openly accused him, even going so far to include the accusation in his Last Will and Testament. I know that Shackleton was exonerated by the investigating Royal Commission, despite some strong evidence that if he was not involved, then he knew who had stolen the jewels. But Shackleton had friends in very high places and his brother, Ernest, was about to embark on his Nimrod Expedition to Antarctica. Vicars lost his position, his pension, and ultimately his life, when he was shot on the lawn of his home by the IRA in 1921.

Years later, I learned that Shackleton had been charged with fraud and spent some time in prison in England. When he was discharged, he changed his name and disappeared.

No one ever looked too closely at Goldney, the man who had rather recklessly guaranteed Shackleton’s debts. He went on to become the Mayor of Canterbury. When he died a decade after the theft, amongst his possessions was discovered a cache of items he purloined over the years from the various offices and positions he had held.