Author's Note: after months of writer's block I am back :)
Eastbourne, November 26th, 1943
When will it be over? How many people will have to die?
We are still making progress and a Nazi victory seems very unlikely, at least. But how will the world be after this? My children and grandchildren will have so much to rebuild...
OOO
In the following weeks, Sherlock kept visiting The Shining Lily on a regular basis. Jim Cay was always glad to see him and to get a free drink.
This time I could not help him like I had occasionally done in London. The only women who visited the Shining Lily and the inns at the harbor were prostitutes. Researching newspapers or old criminal records would draw too much attention on us, which I wanted to avoid. So I made sure that Sherlock was not forgetting to sleep and eat and that we could live decently with his modest wage.
One evening, in the middle of November, Sherlock came home with some news.
"I was complaining with Jim that I don't have much money left" he started.
I waited for him to go on.
"He looked around, bent over toward me and explained in a low voice that Thomas Penrose is looking for 'smart guys' like me and that he, Jim, was out of the question because of the drinking. I asked what Penrose wanted me to do and Jim became quite elusive, saying that he didn't know exactly. Then I explained that the woman I left in Baton Rouge would not be happy with me if I ended up in jail like Horace did"
"What did he say?" I asked.
"He said that if I took a chance I would be able to buy a new dress or a jewel for my woman"
"Not to mention that you would be able to buy him some drinks" I muttered
"I reckon this is the reason why he's so interested in my financial situation" he replied with a smile. "I told him that I needed time to think it over. He reassured me that I have time enough because the thing will not happen any time soon"
"And what will you tell him?" I asked.
"Well, of course I cannot accept. I wouldn't want to find myself robbing a bank or a train. But I must be very careful about how to put it. If I keep going there but I refuse to be involved in any criminal activity, they might suspect that I am a policeman"
Luckily, Sherlock didn't need to come up with an excuse. On the very next meeting, Jim Cay approached him apologetically.
"He told me 'I counted my chicken before they hatched. Tommy Penrose was mad at me when I told him about you. He says he needs some smart boys but he wants his trusted ones. You know, people who wouldn't sing if they were caught'. I pretended to be very disappointed at the implication that I would sing"
"Well, at least you will not need an excuse for not partaking" I replied with a sigh.
"But that is not all. Jim finally told me why Horace Mason was in jail"
"Why?"
"Because explosives were discovered in his inn" he explained with a smug smile.
"Is it not dangerous to keep explosives in an inn?" I asked.
"It depends. Some explosives, like Armstrong mixture for example, are very sensitive to friction and can cause a violent explosion very easily. They should not be kept in an inn's cellar. But Jim told me that the explosive found in Mason's inn included some chunks of tritonal" he concluded with another smirk.
"Could you make me understand as well?" I asked, annoyed. Did he think I spent my spare time reading about explosives?
"Tritonal is a rather new explosive. The substance has been known for some decades now but its explosive potential was discovered only recently. Its production in industrial quantities started just a few months ago, at the moment it is produced in Germany only. It is a very stable explosive and will not detonate unless boosted. It can therefore be kept everywhere. It is even water resistant"
"How powerful is tritonal exactly? How many people could one... kill?"
"This is hard to estimate because it has not been used in a war or a bombing yet. But if I were to judge according to its chemical characteristics... I would say that a few pounds of it could kill several people"
I stayed silent for a long moment, adjusting to the news.
"Why did the owner of an inn have a very new explosive which is produced in Germany only?" I asked after a moment.
"That is exactly the point!" he exclaimed "One needs money, contacts in Germany, contacts with a ship for the transport and someone who turns a blind eye when the cargo arrives. And you would definitely not do all of that to rob a bank or a store. No, they are planning something huge. The fact that Mason had a sample of tritonal, that Mason and the judge Auger died and that Penrose wants trustworthy people only, everything points in that direction: they are planning a huge attack. Maybe in a train station, a theatre, a market"
"What are you going to do now?" I asked worriedly.
"First of all I will go back to Baton Rouge to run off with my woman. I don't need Jim Cay's help anymore" he explained. Then I will focus my attention on the harbor. I need to find out whether a cargo of tritonal has already arrived or is going to arrive. Thankfully, I have already impersonated a sailor before..."
OOO
For several weeks there wasn't any progress.
"The best way to get the information I need would be to apply for a job as a sailor. But one would ask himself why a foreign chemist applies to work on a ship with a miserable wage. It would be senseless" Sherlock explained to me. So he was forced to do what he had already done with Jim Cay: meeting sailors in questionable inns near the harbor and trying to get something out of them.
The idea that tritonal could already be on its way or even in town worried me. Sherlock was as eager to find out more information as I was but he stayed unbelievably calm.
"Becoming emotionally involved in this case would lead me to make reckless decisions. I need all of my considerable intelligence to stay focused" he declared with delightful modesty.
One evening, a few days before Christmas, he came home so late that I was beginning to get really worried.
He was so excited that he told me about his discoveries even though it was past midnight, instead of waiting until the following morning like he usually did.
"I believe I know who transported the tritonal all the way from Germany" he whispered eagerly.
I sat on the bed with a gasp.
"A man called Roberts, who was tried with Mason in 1867 and cleared, now works as a captain for the Arnold Guillroy shipping company. And the Guillroy company happens to trade with Germany! Now, a few days before Mason was arrested, Roberts came back from Hamburg with a box that didn't leave his cabin during the whole journey. And guess who collected this box as soon as they arrived?"
"Mason?" I tried.
"Even better, my dear: Thomas Penrose himself!"
"Well, but you have no proof that there was tritonal in the box. It could be some precious German porcelain instead"
"Very true. Still, one day a cargo ship lead by someone who was tried with Mason arrives in New Orleans from Germany, a small box is collected by Penrose himself and some days later our friend Mason is arrested and a kind of explosive which is produced in Germany only is found in his inn. Curious coincidences indeed!"
"How do you know all of this?"
"From a friend of Captain Roberts' Yeoman. The lad is British and he was glad to find a fellow countryman. After an hour of complaints about Americans and half a bottle of rum, he became quite conversational. Of course, I had to complain about Americans as well - for the purpose of the investigation, obviously"
"Obviously" I muttered.
Sherlock laughed heartily.
"Of course I was curious to know what was in the box. But it looks like Captain Roberts didn't let anybody open it and handled the box to Penrose personally" he explained.
"All of this happened before Mason's death" I said, lying back again "but your new British friend said nothing about a larger quantity of tritonal"
"Ah, yes. Well, there are two possible explanations. Either they decided that it's too risky -and then the larger amount of tritonal is never going to arrive- or it hasn't arrived yet"
"Couldn't it have arrived on another ship?" I asked.
"This is possible but unlikely. The more people are involved, the more likely it is that information will leak. No, if Roberts brought the sample then he's going to bring the rest of the explosive as well"
"And now?"
"And now I'll wait for Roberts to come back from Germany. He sailed three days ago, so he will be back in a couple of weeks at the very least"
I sighed impatently.
"Is something wrong?" Sherlock asked concernedly.
"It's just that I have already heard the name Arnold Guillroy somewhere, I am absolutely certain. But I cannot remember where"
"I ignored his existence until tonight so he probably wasn't on the newspaper..."
The word 'newspaper' probably triggered my memory and I jolted up.
"Yes, it was on a newspaper! Wait, I have it right here... one Mrs Arnold Guillroy was looking for a French teacher for her daughter..."
Sherlock looked extremely interested and I could guess what he was thinking.
"Should I apply for the job? We could make progress..."
He hesitated.
"It would be important to know whether Guillroy is involved... whether Penrose and Captain Roberts visit him at home... but I wouldn't want... it could be dangerous"
"But I won't have to do anything dangerous. I will just teach French"
Sherlock was clearly torn. Eventually, he seemed to resolve himself.
"Very well. But please tell Mrs Guillroy that you are married and that we will probably go back to Britain at some point. This way, you can quit the job anytime if you feel uncomfortable"
On the following day, I applied for the job. I decided not to reveal that I was partly Yankee - I had noticed how people with a French surname weren't always pleased to hear that. In my letter to Mrs Gullroy, I wrote that I had grown up in Paris but that I was British on my mother's side - otherwise she would probably wonder why my first name didn't sound French.
To my surprise, Mrs Guillroy answered on the following day, asking to meet me.
She was a wistful looking woman who appeared to be in her early forties but, as I found out later, was actually younger. She had a pale complexion and light blond hair already streaked with grey. She looked unhappy and somehow unhealthy but she hid that behind an air of meek acceptance.
The Guillroys lived in a large and beautiful house about a mile away from the downtown and they were clearly well-off.
We spoke French only - hers was strongly accented but correct - and she was clearly in awe of my mother tongue mastery. She asked very few questions about my family and didn't even want to see the fake letter of recommendation Sherlock had written for me.
"Oh, Eloise will be lucky to learn such a perfect accent!" she exclaimed, smiling for the first time.
She introduced me straight away to Eloise, a spirited eight-years old little girl who welcomed me with joy.
"It's wonderful, madame! You are not as old as Miss Finch, my piano teacher!"
She spoke English and I had to concentrate very hard to hide my Northern accent and answer with a French accented British English.
They seemed to notice nothing wrong with my accent and we agreed to meet for the first lesson soon after New Year's Day.
OOO
It was Christmas Day and Sherlock contemplated the present I had given him with utter puzzlement.
"You gave me a novel written by a woman and called Little Women. You are trying to convey a message here, I perceive"
"Your cleverness is astounding" I told him with a smirk, trying on the present he had given to me, a light grey hat with a blue ribbon.
"Ah, that is very becoming. It matches with your eyes and with your wedding ring"
"It is lovely indeed, thank you" I said before kissing him. "As for the book, I am not just trying to convey a message. This novel has a very special place in my heart. When my father and I first arrived in Boston, in 1869, he decided to give me a book for my birthday and we went to a bookshop. It was the first time I went to a bookshop. My father was undecided and the bookseller told him about this new novel whose author was a friend of Henry David Thoreau, so he gave me Little Women"
The realisation that I was sharing a cherished memory with him seemed to move him and he thanked me with a hoarse voice that was quite unlike him.
In the afternoon, he proposed a walk in the city centre.
"If I am not mistaken, we took a walk last Christmas and the previous one" he said with a small smile.
"Yes, I remember something about a walk last year" I joked back.
The weather was warm and it almost didn't feel like Christmas. The city's musical spirit was even more pronounced than usual and we stayed outside for quite a while, taken by that bizarre music one could only hear in New Orleans.
"This makes the third pleasant Christmas in a row" said Sherlock casually while we walked back.
"It also makes the third Christmas spent with me in a row" I answered.
I am sure I heard him whisper "one and the same".
OOO
Author's Notes
- The production of tritonal actually started in 1891 in Germany
- Gwenn is partly inspired by Louisa May Alcott, the author of Little Women, which is mentioned in this chapter. That's why they share the same birthday (November 29th) and have spent part of their life in Boston