A Biased Judgement by Geri Schear

Author:Geri Schear
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sherlock Holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes novels, sherlock holmes fiction
ISBN: 9781780926759
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2015
Published: 2015-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

15

October 15 th, 1897

For the past two weeks I have divided my time between processing Derby’s trophies and keeping watch on Porlock’s house in Finsbury Park. It’s an easy matter to leave my flat by the back window - well, less easy than it was seven years ago, but I manage well enough - and so thwart my pair of watchers across the street. They have finished ‘painting’ and now pretend to fix locks they themselves have broken. I have warned Mrs Hudson that she is by no means to trust them if they come to ply their trade here. Fortunately, she is canny enough to accept my word in matters such as this without demur.

Once free of Baker Street I head to my bolt hole in Jermyn Street where I change into my costume-du-jour. This week alone, I have been a beggar, a street-sweeper, and a rag-and-bone man. When I have not been able to keep watch myself, I’ve had the Irregulars take turns. And the result of all this effort: Nothing. Well, perhaps ‘nothing’ is a slight exaggeration. A few small crumbs have been my reward.

The governess leaves the house every day at two o’clock unless the weather is particularly unpleasant. She brings the two little girls out to the park for precisely forty minutes.

The lady of the house, Mrs Porlock, seldom goes out except with her husband. I assume she is kept much occupied looking after her ailing mother.

Porlock leaves the house on Sunday mornings to escort his wife and daughters to church. I won’t even comment on the Almighty’s likely response to that evil man’s prayers. Twice he visited our new National Gallery of British Art and spent several hours examining the Pre-Raphaelites. Monday last, he escorted his wife to the opera and this week to the theatre; and on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday of both weeks he attended his private club in Piccadilly. This last is exclusive to German men and I was given short shrift when I attempted to gain entry. I managed to slip in via the kitchen dressed as a valet.

On the face of it, the place is typical of any such facility. There is a smoking room, a room where cards are played and another for billiards. Alcohol is available without charge. (I suspect the dues must be prohibitive).

The members are magnates of industry, stockbrokers, and the wealthiest members of German society. I understand even the Ambassador is a member, though he was not present during my, ah, visit.

Porlock confined himself to the smoking room. He immediately dominated the best seat in the lounge and over the course of the next thirty minutes he received a succession of gentlemen who came and whispered in his ear. Circumstances did not permit me to overhear these conversations, but from the fear with which he is approached - even by the powerful - I perceive Porlock is a fearsome creature indeed.

This afternoon, knowing the master of the house would be occupied elsewhere, I contrived to gain access to his home.

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