THE UNOPENED CASEBOOK OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
BOOK FOUR
THE GAMBLING KNIGHT
Being a reprint from the reminiscences of John H. Watson, M.D., late of the Army Medical Department
Edited by Callum J. Stewart
…
It was the first day of October and the wind that whistled through Baker Street carried with it an autumnal collection of brown and red leaves, much to the chagrin of the men who had spent all morning collecting them into huge piles and hoping the wind would not pick up. Children cavorted up and down the street, throwing themselves headlong into these mountains of crisp leaves and sending them flying in all directions like discarded scraps of paper. Neither myself or Mrs. Hudson had seen Holmes all day and I had assumed he was off on some business or other. I was slightly put out, because Holmes had promised to accompany me to my club - the Sinope club - that evening and the club secretary did not appreciate it when plans were changed at the last moment. There is a particular rule of my club that all gentlemen must wear grey suits when on club premises and Mrs. Hudson had laid one of Holmes' grey tweed suits out for him as well as a light dinner which was rapidly becoming cold. I was searching the sitting room for my pipe in preparation of leaving for the Sinope club when, with a great crash, Holmes came bounding through the street door and clambered up the 17 steps that lead to 221B.
"Watson!" he exclaimed as he shot through the door at almost full sprint. "I'm not too late?"
"Where have you been. Holmes?" I asked, a note of exasperation in my voice.
"My apologies my dear chap. I have been at the library reading up on the Venezuelan fruit fly. A most interesting topic."
"Whatever where you reading about that for?"
"Oh, nothing" Holmes said, enigmatically. "It is a trifle. But there is nothing so important as trifles. In any case, it is of no consequence to tonight's plans. I trust we are still going to your club?"
"Yes, indeed. But you'll have to change. Mrs. Hudson has left a suit for you."
Holmes bellowed his thanks to Mrs. Hudson and began changing in the sitting room, throwing his clothes in the general direction of his chair. "What, pray, is the purpose of our trip to the Sinope club, this evening?" he asked as he pulled on the grey trousers and jacket.
"It's peculiar, Holmes. As you know, I play cards with Sir Geoffrey Stanhope every third Sunday of the month and every time we have played over the last year I have lost money. It matters not if we play bridge, zetema, chemin de fer or any other game, the man seems unbeatable."
"Well," Holmes said, holding his head up and motioning for me to straighten his tie "all that tells me is that you are a terrible bridge player. Not to mention an inveterate gambler."
I smiled at Holmes. "Well, guilty as charged on both counts, but the man never loses. He doesn't just beat me - he beats everybody."
Holmes cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed? You suspect the man of foul play?"
"In as many words, yes. He is an intolerable man, gruff and rude. If he is a cheat then nothing would bring me more pleasure than seeing him exposed."
"So, you would like me discover his method?" Holmes asked.
"That was the plan, yes."
Holmes broke into a broad grin. "Watson, you are a treasure. My mind repels stagnation and, since we are not on a case at present, this should prove to be a most amusing distraction!" Holmes leapt over the sofa and threw open the door. "Come! Hail us a cab and let us flush out this villain. It may be that he is legitimately winning and the members of the Sinope club are simply woeful at the game of bridge, of course, but if Sir Geoffrey is indeed a cheat then we shall find out tonight."
We reached the Sinope club about half an hour after we left Baker Street and the doorman took our hats and coats. We headed straight for the games room and the opulence of the room stood in stark contrast to the drab grey suits of the club members. Sir Geoffrey sat at the furthest table with his back to the wall, facing a large grandfather clock and shuffling a deck of cards. A huge, corpulent man with large bushy whiskers and not much hair elsewhere. He sweated profusely, although he was sitting still and kept wiping his brow with a silk handkerchief. As Holmes and I approached, he stood up and barked "you're late."
"My apologies, Sir Geoffrey. May I introduce -"
Sir Geoffrey interrupted, "who is this?"
Holmes glanced sideways at me before smiling graciously at the man and extending his hand "Sherlock Holmes, sir. Delighted to meet you."
Sir Geoffrey grunted and sat back down, placing his pocket watch on the table in front of him next to a huge pile of tokens which represented the money he had won that evening. "I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes and I am not impressed. Someone who meddles in the affairs of others is not someone who is worthy of my respect."
A momentary flash of rage showed on Holmes' face but was replaced with a tight lipped smile that spoke louder than angry words ever could. The fire that always burned in Holmes' eyes when he became determined to get his man was as bright as ever. He took up his place behind me to my left and nodded to me to begin playing.
Sir Geoffrey shuffled the deck and said "the game is three card brag. You know the rules, yes? Good." He dealt the cards and, without looking at his tokens, threw a handful of them into the centre of the table. I met his bet and he raised the stake by two chips. I met this bet too and the time came for us to reveal our cards. Of course, Sir Geoffrey won and with a barking laugh dragged the chips over into his pile. This went on for several hands and my already meagre stack of tokens were wearing thin. I smiled at Sir Geoffrey and suggested we break for refreshment.
"Suit yourself," Sir Geoffrey growled and waved his hand dismissively. Holmes and I retired to the adjoining sitting room and I gave a drinks order to a waiter, ordering a neat Scotch for myself and a brandy for Holmes. We sat in silence, Holmes tapping the index finger of his right hand on his lips lost in thought, until the drink arrived.
"Well?" I said, risking Holmes' wrath by interrupting him mid-thought.
Holmes inhaled deeply and exhaled in a sigh. "The man is undoubtedly cheating., though I am bound to admit, I cannot at present fathom how. Play another few hands with the man; I am certain I can snare him."
"That's easier said than done, old man, he's beating me so soundly that I fear I will start bleeding chips!" I said, pointing to my dwindling collection of game tokens. Holmes reached into his jacket and produced his wallet. Exchange as much of this for tokens as you need. Continue playing and we shall expose this man."
I smiled "put your money away, old man. I'm not out of the game yet."
"Good." Holmes grinned and slipped his wallet back into his pocket before draining his glass. "Drink up, friend Watson, and return to the field of battle. 'Once more into the breach, dear friend!'"
"Shakespeare, Holmes?" I said. "I'm impressed."
Holmes laughed and took my arm, almost dragging me back into the card room.
"Ah, there you are" Sir Geoffrey said. "Thought you'd turned tail and given up."
"Never" Holmes muttered as he took his place at my shoulder - on my right side rather than my left this time and the game began again. Time and again Sir Geoffrey won and, after about fifteen minutes of this, he began squirming in his chair and craning his neck.
"Whatever is the matter, Sir Geoffrey?" I asked.
"I would like to know the time and your infernal friend Holmes is blocking the clock!"
Holmes glanced behind him at the clock and then down at the table and suddenly slammed his hands down on the table with a triumphant cry.
"Whatever are you doing, sir?" Sir Geoffrey said, his voice raised in anger. The entire room stopped and turned to look at us. The club president rushed over.
"Doctor," said he, "what is the matter?"
It was Holmes who spoke. "This man," he said pointing an accusatory finger at Sir Geoffrey, "is a baseborn cheat!"
"Mr. Holmes!" Sir Geoffrey cried rising to his feet.
Holmes' voice cracked like thunder as he shouted at Sir Geoffrey to sit back down. Sir Geoffrey, taken aback as we all were by this outburst, took his seat.
"Watson," Holmes hissed, "make sure Sir Geoffrey does not touch anything that lies upon this table." I rushed around the table and stood behind Sir Geoffrey, ready to restrain him should he attempt to hide the evidence of his dishonesty.
The club president demanded an explanation and Holmes, never taking his eyes off Sir Geoffrey for a moment, said he would be happy to provide one. A small crowd had gathered and Holmes, perhaps a touch too dramatically, spun around to address them.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes. From what my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson has told me, many of you have lost a lot of money to this man, Sir Geoffrey Stanhope. He is, it would seem, the master of card games - bridge, cribbage, brag; the very best gambler in London."
"You accused me of cheating, sir" Sir Geoffrey fumed. "Explain yourself!"
Holmes locked eyes with Sir Geoffrey. "I would be happy to, sir. A blind man would notice that Sir Geoffrey keeps his pocket watch on the table in front of him when he is playing."
"There's nothing in the rules against that" a voice in the crowd said.
"Correct," said Holmes, "however when I stood on Sir Geoffrey's right he complained that he could not see the time on the grandfather clock behind me. Question: why would a man with a perfectly serviceable watch on the table before him be annoyed that he could not see the time on a clock across the room?"
Sir Geoffrey's hand shot out to grab his watch from the table, but Holmes was too fast for him and grasped his wrist before he could snatch at the watch. Sir Geoffrey struggled, but Holmes held his arm in position over the watch and forced the deck of cards into his hand. Holmes called the club president over and pointed with his other hand at the pocket watch. The president gasped as he saw the reflection of the cards in the highly polished surface of the watch.
"When Dr. Watson and I arrived, Sir Geoffrey was apparently shuffling a deck of cards. He was in fact, stacking the deck in his favour. The mirrored surface of the watch allowed him to see the cards he was dealing from the bottom of the deck and provided reassurance that the deck was property stacked, enabling him to ensure that he would always win - and allowing him the opportunity to fold if he had stacked the deck wrongly. It was, therefore, impossible for him to lose."
A murmur went around the room as the club president glared at Sir Geoffrey. "Well," said he, "what do you have to say for yourself?" Sir Geoffrey sat in silence, shaking with rage before bellowing and hurling himself at Holmes with murderous intent. Holmes coolly sidestepped the man and his momentum brought his huge bulk crashing to the floor. He was then hauled to his feet by a club steward and escorted into the adjoining sitting room.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes" said the club president, wringing Holmes' hand. "I assure you this scoundrel will be dealt with. We must, of course, send for the police and there will be a scandal, no doubt."
"All that concerns me," Holmes began, "is that justice will be done and the money returned to the men who were swindled." Then he turned on his heel and headed for the exit.
The next morning we awoke to find a letter addressed to Holmes and stamped with an official government stamp. Holmes told me it was probably from his brother Mycroft and pinned it to the mantle with the jack-knife he always used to pin his correspondence to the mantle. Several days passed and I had forgotten the letter, but just as I was about to send my account of this unofficial case off to my publisher when Holmes suddenly decided to open the letter.
"My dear Mr. Holmes," Holmes read, "I am writing in reference to the recent unhappy events concerning Sir Geoffrey Stanhope." His voice trailed off and he handed the letter to me sighing "oh, Watson, you read it."
"Really, Holmes," said I taking the letter from him and picked up reading aloud from where Holmes left off. "Please be assured that Sir Geoffrey has been dealt with accordingly and all monies have been returned to those who were cheated. However, Sir Geoffrey is a very close friend of mine and a great asset to the British government. I would therefore be obliged to you if the facts of this case were not published. I am sure I can rely on your full cooperation. Yours sincerely, Robert Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquess of Salisbury." I looked up at Holmes. "Holmes! This letter is from the prime minister!"
"Indeed" said Holmes, lighting his pipe. "We must, I suppose, comply with his wishes. A shame. I rather enjoyed this little diversion."
"At least Sir Geoffrey won't be cheating anyone out of their money any more" I offered.
"Of course, Watson - that is what is important, after all. Justice - of a sort - has been done. Let that now and forever be enough for us."