The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case by K. Michael Gaschnitz Page B
Authors: K. Michael Gaschnitz
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but.... ,” replied the official detective rising from his chair.
“You are going, Lestrade?” I asked.
“Yes, Doctor Watson, I have a cab waiting and was hoping that you and Mr. Holmes might come to view the body.”
“Capital idea!” exclaimed Holmes.
It was but a short ride to the mortuary. The attendant led us to the small and gloomy chamber where the body was laid upon a bench and covered by a filthy sheet.
Holmes gave the body only a cursory examination disturbing a small swarm of flies in the process. We did not need Holmes’ magnifying glass to see that the man was missing a finger on his left hand or that his throat was disfigured by a hideous wound.
“You remember those cuts on the forearms that I mentioned a few minutes ago Lestrade, you will notice that such wounds are absent here. This would seem to indicate that either the attack was unexpected and sudden or less likely that the assailant was known to the victim. These types of people trust no one, friend or not. ”
“Do you have his effects , Lestrade?”
“They are laid out in the next room, Mr. Holmes.”
Holmes made a thorough search of the man’s belongings. He let out a sigh.
“Thank you, Lestrade. There is nothing more to be learned here.” With that we took our leave of that dreary place and began to walk in the direction of Baker Street.
“What did you expect to find, Holmes?” I asked.
“Simply confirmation , did you notice his shoes Watson? Did you see how the one shoe was slit along the sides? What does that indicate to you as a medical man?”
“The man is suffering from corns,” I said. “He has slit the shoe leather in order to relieve the pressure. I have seen many of my own patients do the same thing while awaiting professional help.” The relevance of this fact suddenly dawned on me. “Of course Holmes, the pain from the corns would cause him to limp.”
“If you had looked closely through my lens Watson you would have observed that the bottom layer of the leather has not yet been discolored.”
“It indicates that the slits are fairly new,” I said.
“Yes Watson, you have hit the nail on the head. The deceased has probably only begun suffering from this infirmity, which may indicate that he has only begun to spend long hours on his feet.”
Even walking it did not take us long to arrive at Baker Street.
“Now Watson, let us turn our full attention to the matter of the paper which was found on the dead man,” said Holmes pouring me a whisky.
“It appears most mysterious,” I remarked holding the strip of paper up to the light.
“Secret writings are by their very nature a mystery,” reminded Holmes.
“Of course Holmes, it was a poor choice of words. However with so brief of a message I would think that your customary method for solving such things would be of little use.”
“On the contrary it is probably only a matter of a few moments work. The curly appearance of the paper I think points to the nature of this particular cryptogram. Around twenty two hundred years ago the Spartans had developed a military code that was both ingenious and simple. They would wrap a strip of paper around a shaft and then write the message vertically down the paper. After that they would unwrap the paper and fill in the blank spaces. This accounts for the slight yet noticeable irregularities in the spacing of the letters. A rather sloppy job that! They would then send the message via courier to one of their generals. The recipient would then wrap the paper around a shaft of a pre-selected and matching size thus reconstructing the message.”
“I rather think we shall have a hard time finding a Spartan in nineteenth century London, Holmes.”
He laughed. “I think we may dispense with the natives of that ancient city , Watson for it will be a simple matter of trial and error, one which Mrs. Hudson shall be able to assist us with.”
I looked after him in bewilderment as he disappeared out of the door of
“You are going, Lestrade?” I asked.
“Yes, Doctor Watson, I have a cab waiting and was hoping that you and Mr. Holmes might come to view the body.”
“Capital idea!” exclaimed Holmes.
It was but a short ride to the mortuary. The attendant led us to the small and gloomy chamber where the body was laid upon a bench and covered by a filthy sheet.
Holmes gave the body only a cursory examination disturbing a small swarm of flies in the process. We did not need Holmes’ magnifying glass to see that the man was missing a finger on his left hand or that his throat was disfigured by a hideous wound.
“You remember those cuts on the forearms that I mentioned a few minutes ago Lestrade, you will notice that such wounds are absent here. This would seem to indicate that either the attack was unexpected and sudden or less likely that the assailant was known to the victim. These types of people trust no one, friend or not. ”
“Do you have his effects , Lestrade?”
“They are laid out in the next room, Mr. Holmes.”
Holmes made a thorough search of the man’s belongings. He let out a sigh.
“Thank you, Lestrade. There is nothing more to be learned here.” With that we took our leave of that dreary place and began to walk in the direction of Baker Street.
“What did you expect to find, Holmes?” I asked.
“Simply confirmation , did you notice his shoes Watson? Did you see how the one shoe was slit along the sides? What does that indicate to you as a medical man?”
“The man is suffering from corns,” I said. “He has slit the shoe leather in order to relieve the pressure. I have seen many of my own patients do the same thing while awaiting professional help.” The relevance of this fact suddenly dawned on me. “Of course Holmes, the pain from the corns would cause him to limp.”
“If you had looked closely through my lens Watson you would have observed that the bottom layer of the leather has not yet been discolored.”
“It indicates that the slits are fairly new,” I said.
“Yes Watson, you have hit the nail on the head. The deceased has probably only begun suffering from this infirmity, which may indicate that he has only begun to spend long hours on his feet.”
Even walking it did not take us long to arrive at Baker Street.
“Now Watson, let us turn our full attention to the matter of the paper which was found on the dead man,” said Holmes pouring me a whisky.
“It appears most mysterious,” I remarked holding the strip of paper up to the light.
“Secret writings are by their very nature a mystery,” reminded Holmes.
“Of course Holmes, it was a poor choice of words. However with so brief of a message I would think that your customary method for solving such things would be of little use.”
“On the contrary it is probably only a matter of a few moments work. The curly appearance of the paper I think points to the nature of this particular cryptogram. Around twenty two hundred years ago the Spartans had developed a military code that was both ingenious and simple. They would wrap a strip of paper around a shaft and then write the message vertically down the paper. After that they would unwrap the paper and fill in the blank spaces. This accounts for the slight yet noticeable irregularities in the spacing of the letters. A rather sloppy job that! They would then send the message via courier to one of their generals. The recipient would then wrap the paper around a shaft of a pre-selected and matching size thus reconstructing the message.”
“I rather think we shall have a hard time finding a Spartan in nineteenth century London, Holmes.”
He laughed. “I think we may dispense with the natives of that ancient city , Watson for it will be a simple matter of trial and error, one which Mrs. Hudson shall be able to assist us with.”
I looked after him in bewilderment as he disappeared out of the door of
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