Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 02

In the first part of my narrative I gave a full, frank and most disturbing account of the problem that had been laid before my eminent friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes. I cannot bear to write it again so, if you have not already made yourself aware of the incredibly delicate matter in which I was involved I would suggest that you first read Part 1 of this account.

I had some small practice matters to attend to during the day and went about these as best I could in my state of shocked distraction. The image of Miss Torrington standing naked in my friend's sitting room while he examined the strange piercings that had been attached to her body while she had been drugged was never far from my mind. In the early evening I called back to my house to retrieve my old Army revolver as instructed and arrived at Baker Street a little before the arranged time of 7 o'clock. Mrs Hudson informed me that Holmes had gone out and that he had left word for me to wait in the sitting room for him. Mrs Hudson had already laid out a cold supper for two and hot coffee which I started to consume while I waited. Holmes arrived back at precisely 7 o'clock, dropping his hat and cane onto the sofa and throwing himself into his chair by the fire. He said nothing until he had retrieved his pipe from its resting place on the mantle and filled and lit it.

'I have had a most instructional day Watson; I believe that the outline facts of the matter are quite clear to me, quite clear. It is a most unfortunate case, one of the most shocking we have had reason to deal with. It remains only to fill in a few remaining details and then I shall be ready to wrap the whole business up.'

'So the wedding is secure?' I asked with excitement.

'It is too early to tell, some things still lie in the balance. I see Mrs Hudson has left us a fine supper. Let us take half an hour to eat our fill and then we will venture out into the grim underbelly of this most refined of cities Watson. All life is here if you look far enough beneath the surface.'

We consumed our fill of the excellent supper then wrapped up in warm clothing and hailed a passing hansom cab.

'When I examined the knot of rings that Miss Torrington had been adorned with I was immediately reminded of an artefact known in England as a puzzle ring,' my friend explained as we clattered through the darkened streets of the town, 'Puzzle rings were designed by the expert metalworkers of the orient and, when they sit on a woman's finger they look like nothing more than an intricately designed piece of jewellery but should they be removed from the finger they immediately fall apart and become a loose collection of rings which, unless the specific correct technique is employed, cannot be made to fit upon the finger once more. They were used by jealous husbands to dissuade errant wives from removing their wedding bands to attract treacherous adulterers.'

'And you think that this is what our unknown fiend has had inserted into Miss Torrington?' I asked incredulously.

'Something similar I believe. There have also been stories that the great harem keepers of the Arabian states had similar ornaments made that meant that any tampering of their concubines would be immediately noticeable. It is this variation of the puzzle ring which I think has been employed here.'

'Astounding! So we are looking for some sort of Arabian scoundrel, some foreign blackmailer.'

'Not necessarily Watson. This afternoon I spent a most enlightening few hours in the jewellers' quarter of the city and managed to ascertain that only four jewellers in the whole of London produce puzzle rings in the oriental style. Of course, none of these would dare admit to making an Arabian device of the kind we are most interested in but I'm sure the knowledge would be there for the right price. This means that the ornaments could well have been made in London. My next line of enquiry is to find out who carried out the procedure. A backstreet vendor of piercings is liable to be more readily influenced to betray his clientele than a well-to-do goldsmith I think. To trace our man however, we will have to liaise with some of our more colourful fellow citizens. You did remember your revolver didn't you?'

I pulled the butt of my pistol from its hiding place beneath my coat so that my friend could see it and then replaced it securely. He nodded and then sat back in the cab and held his hands up in front of his mouth, the palms pressed together and the tips of his long middle fingers resting under the tip of his long nose. His eyelids half closed and I recognised that he was again running everything through his brain, leaving no mental avenue unexplored. It was my signal to remain quiet and I looked out onto the streets of the capital city. The odd wisp of fog hung around the gas lanterns that were becoming farther between now that we were moving into the poorer areas of town. The ruts in the streets became more frequent and I unconsciously drew my coat tighter against the imagined monstrosities that lurked in the darker alleys that ran off at angles from the main thoroughfare.

Suddenly Holmes sprang forward in his seat and with his siler handled cane rapped twice on the underside of the cab roof.

'Here will do driver!'

We opened the doors and stepped down. My friend paid the driver and told him that we did not wish him to wait for us and, with a relieved look, the driver turned the cab around in the street and headed back the way we came.

'Come Watson, we have some ladies to interview.' He said in his clipped and sharp manner of speech and then he headed off down one of the dark alleys with a flourish from his cape as he turned. I looked about me quickly once then followed on his heels.

The alley proved to be mercilessly short although the stench stayed in my nostrils for some time after we had exited onto a wider street that seemed to run parallel to the main street that we had arrived upon. The sound of raucous laughter and a badly tuned and played piano rattled off the closely packed walls of the half derelict dwellings that lined the streets and it was towards this sound that Holmes walked in the sprightly gait that he used when excitedly following a scent. The glow of gaslight through a smoke stained window at the far end of the street marked out the tavern from where the riotous cacophony came but to my surprise Holmes continued past the door and headed towards a young woman stood in the doorway of a warehouse next door. As I approached I realised that he was actually talking to an older woman who was stood behind the girl and as I drew closer I was amazed when, in the middle of his conversation he turned and indicated me by pointing with his cane. Before I could react he had turned back to the woman and was showing her something. She shook her head and my friend doffed his hat and continued on. As I passed the woman I was aware that she was giving me a very queer look indeed.

We continued on through a veritable maze of passages and alleys and every so often a similar tableau would unfold. Holmes would approach a young lady, who would unfailingly be accompanied by an older woman standing behind her and engage her in conversation, in each case pointing me out with his cane and then pulling out an object and showing it to the woman. In each case the woman would shake her head, some of the woman did so quite vigorously, and then my friend would doff his hat and walk on. I would then run a gauntlet of fierce looks as I followed on in his wake. I consider myself a man of the world and I was in no doubt as to the 'profession' of these poor girls and the hold that the older madams had over them and their earnings and I was becoming more than a little uneasy as to what Holmes was saying but I knew by the look on his face that it would not be wise to confront him about it while the hunt was fresh.

He had spoken to perhaps twenty women when he seemed to get the result that he was looking for. He again motioned towards me with his stick and then showed an article to the madam who was stood behind a particularly listless and grimy young lady in a decidedly faded and ripped dress. The woman, unlike all the others nodded.

'Mary!' she called loud enough that I could hear her rough accent across the street, 'Show the gentleman your fine jewellery what I gave you.'

The young girl turned towards Holmes and bent over and grabbed the hem of her skirt then stood straight up, pulling the skirt up as she did so. I could not see from my vantage point but I assumed that she was exposing herself to my friend and as she did so he looked intently down towards her abdomen. He nodded and held up his gloved hand and the girl dropped her skirt into place once more. There was a brief flash of silver as Holmes passed a coin to the madam and then, prompted by his request, she seemed to give him directions to make for a small alley along the street. He threaded his arm through the girl's arm as tenderly as fashionable sweethearts do when promenading in the park on a Saturday morning and motioned to me to catch up as he headed for the alley.

He led the way into the alley and proceeded to a rickety door which he pushed open to reveal a set of stairs that creaked wildly as we walked up them to the first floor. The building was one of the many derelict warehouses that litter the city but in one corner of the large bare room there had been set up a filthy mattress. Some tattered material had been hung from nails in the wall in an attempt to make the area immediately surrounding the mattress look less like the ruin that it was. The girl automatically let go of Holmes' arm and walked over to the mattress and in one practiced move had undone the fastenings of her dress and let it fall to the floor. As she stood in the light of Holmes' lantern, naked but for her street-worn shoes she looked so much like, and yet so much different to how Miss Torrington had done. Although difficult to ascertain she appeared to be much the same age, and her body was of similar proportions but she was dirty and a number of scars and wealds bore testament to the rough life and treatment that this slip of a girl had endured. Had she perhaps been born into a similar social circle as Miss Torrington I wonder if she would have been her equal in terms of beauty but, stood naked and awaiting her fate, in this squalid ruin, she looked quite pathetic.

'Look at her vagina Watson!' Holmes said excitedly.

'I really think . . .' my words of protest were cut short however because as the girl turned in the glare of Holmes' spotlight a succession of flashes issued from between her legs as the light reflected off a number of rings that had been inserted along her labia.

'My dear,' said Holmes addressing her, 'please put your dress back on. I would like you to take me to the man that put your rings in.'

His motioned towards her vagina with his hand. The girl however did not move, a confused look sweeping across her face.

'Do I not please you sir? Oh please that I would, I get punished quite severely if I don't please my gentlemen.'

'You will please me a great deal if you can take me to the man that fitted your jewellery.'

I moved towards the girl, picking up her sad rag of a dress but as I tried to hand it to her left hand snaked out and slid under my coat, immediately closing around my penis through my trousers. I was shocked and turned to look at Holmes.

'I can be very good for you sir, I do exactly as you please.'

Before I even had time to react her trained and nimble fingers had undone the buttons of my fly and she had actually pulled my penis out of my trousers. Despite all my best intentions, the attentions of her practised fingers meant that it was starting to grow firm. Holmes seemed to suppress an entertained grin as he quickly moved to the girl and gently moved her away from me, taking the dress and handing it to her, leaving me to turn my back and fumble with my trouser front as I attempted to regain both my dignity and my composure. By the time I had turned around it appeared that Holmes had got his message across and the girl was once more clothed and Holmes handed her a coin before she led us back out of the warehouse and back into the labyrinth of alleys.

'I am sorry Watson,' my friend said as we followed the girl swiftly through the rabbit warren of dirty walkways and unlit thoroughfares that marked this out as a particularly sordid part of town, 'but I may have given the girl the impression that you wished to avail of her services.'

'What?!' I exclaimed.

'Yes Watson,' a smirk barely visible on his face, 'to obtain the information I required I am afraid that I posed as your butler and advised the Madams that your particular pleasure was a young woman with intimate piercings. I knew that many of them would feign shock and disgust but that we would eventually find one!'

'Well, Holmes, I am indeed your friend but I feel that you have much maligned me!'

'Come Watson, you do not practise in this part of town, however much your skills are needed, and you rarely venture here unless you are helping me in one of my adventures, whereas I make it a habit of moving around all the parts of our city so that at any time I can have an accurate map in my head. It is one of the most important weapons in my mental arsenal. And wait, I think our pretty little guide has brought us to a place that I will make special note of for the future.'

The girl had brought us to what, at the outside, looked like a normal, if shabby, public house but, despite the noise of bawdy behaviour that emanated from within, the shutters were drawn and the heavy doors were closed. The girl raised her hand to knock on the door. Holmes quickly moved to her side and gently restrained her wrist with a kind smile then turned to face the door and rapped twice with the silver head of his cane. A small view hoe opened and, from my angle, a most unpleasant face belched out an enquiry.

'Watcha want?'

'This young lady informs me that this is the place where my companion can purchase the particular type of entertainment that he requires.'

'I've never seen you 'ere before' the ogre replied.

'Indeed you haven't' replied Sherlock Holmes, 'but if the service is as good as the reputation then I think we will become regular, and well paying, patrons.'

With this my friend retrieved a coin from his pocket and held it up to the grotesque face at the door. The face backed away to be replaced by a filthy hand but my friend pulled the coin sharply away and beckoned for the door to be opened. The sound of a heavy bolt sliding back preceded the opening of the door and a flood of dirty yellow light bathed the cobbles of the street. The raucous noise grew louder and as we all entered the strong smell of thick tobacco smoke, sweat and spilt liquor assaulted our nostril. The doorman was indeed an ogre of immense proportions. He towered at six inches over my friend who is six feet in height and he had the bulk of a prize-fighter, with the accompanying bulk and mean attitude. He motioned us inside. A rotund and ugly woman came up to us in a simpering, ingratiating fashion.

'What can I do for you fine Gentlemen this night, we have many pleasures and all our girls are of the strictest cleanliness, I insist on that if they are to entertain gentlemen of your obvious stature.'

Sherlock Holmes silenced her with a raised hand.

'You will give this young lady a fine hot meal and a mug of your best ale, and I mean the food that you keep for yourself, not the slop that you would normally give her. You will treat her well because she is a friend of mine. You will also tell me where I can find the piercer.'

My friend has the unerring ability to use the exact tone when he wants information, reading the forthcoming reactions of his source and he knew that if he acted the imperious gentleman this haggard old madam would react as she had be brought up to, with deference and unquestioning obedience. The gold coin in his gloved hand was further incitement for her co-operation.

'I shall feed her the best I have sir, I have a fresh beef joint in the kitchen which . . .'

'Very good, very good, the piercer if you please? I do not wish to be in this establishment all night.'

'Through the lounge then upstairs sir, fourth door on the landing but he has a client at the moment.'

'No matter.' Said my friend who then turned to the girl we had brought with us, placing his hand on her cheek. 'Go with this woman my dear, she will give you a good hot meal. When you have finished you may go home.'

He slipped her another coin without the woman seeing him and then led the way into the squalid lounge. The scene that confronted me, I am not ashamed to say, shocked me even though I have been exposed to some heinous sights during my adventures with the world's greatest amateur detective. The lounge was, in basic appearance, the same as any other public house that one may find gracing the lower streets of the capital but the people arraying in it were wholly different. The patrons were exclusively male and, by the state of their clothing, were from all the strata of society from the drunken dock worker to the finest gentlemen who, it appeared, favoured the darker corners and booths for themselves. Each patron had with them at least one young woman in varying states of undress, many of them completely naked. Many of the women were performing sexual acts on the patrons. At the front, on a small raised stage, there was a circus contortionist, her legs twisted up and over her own shoulders. She was completely naked and several of the customers were making lascivious remarks about her vagina which was displayed to them in the most open and vulgar manner. My attention was then drawn to the side walls of the room where four women, two on either side, appeared to be chained to the wall, once again completely naked, with their hands secured high above their heads so that their arms were outstretched and only their toes were touching the sawdust strewn floor. In a state of shock I noticed what I first assumed to be blood running down the lengths of their bodies but a second inspection proved it to be candle wax. The fittings that their wrists were manacled to held three long red candles, the settings of which directed the melting wax to drip down onto the bodies below. As I watched, a long tongue of wax dripped down onto the left breast of one of the girls and ran, as it cooled, down to her erect nipple, forming a stalactite as it fell off the end. Her lack of movement at this hinted at gin dulled senses.

At one end there were three card tables set up. At one of the tables there was a game of twenty-ones in operation. There was also another naked young woman kneeling on the top of the table, with her back arched backwards so that the top of her head was touching the felt behind her. I realised with astonishment that the croupier, who was also a naked young woman, was dealing the cards from a pack held between the folds of her vagina. At one of the other tables I was made to look twice as I recognised the unmistakable profile of one of the countries most eminent members of parliament! His table was playing a form of poker it appeared but clearly visible beneath the table was another naked young woman who, as he played his hand, had his penis in her mouth performing an act known medically as fellatio. It appeared that the politician lost that particular hand by the way that he threw in his cards and the winner scooped the tokens for which they were playing. After he had stacked the tokens the victorious gambler then looked under the table and barked something to the young woman. She immediately shuffled around on her knees under the table and took up a similar position at the victor's lap and started to perform fellatio on him. The politician started the next hand without even making himself decent.