Eastbourne, January 3rd, 1944
Oh, I hope so dearly that this will be the last wartime Christmas!
General Eisenhower is now commanding the Allied forces in Europe. I've heard good things about him and I hope we can make further progress.
My daughter is on the verge of breakdown but she tries very hard to stay strong. She visited for a couple of days but she insisted to go back to her service. "If I stop, I might not be able to start again", she explained.
I can't help but thinking how lucky my generation was. We enjoyed forty-four years without wars in Europe, whereas my daughter almost lost her husband in the first war and might lose her sons in the second.
At least, Britain has not been occupied. I cannot imagine what my relatives in France are experiencing now, provided that they are still alive.
We'll meet again some sunny day...
OOO
"Could you please read one more page, Madame? Your French is so good to listen to!" begged Eloise.
"You are the one who should learn French, my dear. Now try and read a page out loud, would you?" I answered with a smile.
Eloise grudgingly took Perrault's Mother Goose Tales from my hands and obliged. While she was reading, I looked cautiously around, occasionally correcting her pronunciation.
It was my first French lesson at the Guillory's and I was determined to gather as much information as possible.
We were in an elegant living room from whose windows I could see the garden and the front Guillory was sitting on a sofa, embroidering and half-listening to the lesson. She gave an impression of great sadness and, once again, I thought that she might be ill. Her complexion was very pale and she was hunched over her embroidery, like she couldn't see properly. I noticed that she was wearing thick half-mittens.
"That will do, my dear, thank you" I told Eloise, taking back the book. "Your French is quite good already, it will be easy to make further progress"
"I've learned French for three years with mademoiselle Fontenot, my former governess" Eloise replied in French.
With the corner of my eye, I could see Mrs Guillory stiffen, the embroidery abandoned on her lap.
"Excellent, so we will not have to worry about the basics. Now would you please translate what you just read into English?"
On her sofa, Mrs. Guillory resumed her work.
What could that mean? Why was Miss Fontenot not working for them anymore? I put those questions aside and concentrated on the lesson, because Eloise was asking me questions.
About half an hour later, the door behind us opened and a masculine voice greeted us.
I turned to see Mr. Guillory himself. He was tall and balding, with a short, light-brown beard and round glasses.
"Ah, our new French teacher, Madame Cooper, if I am not mistaken" he greeted me with a smile, outstretching his hand.
He tried to look friendly but something was definitely wrong. His hand trembled ever so slightly and the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He kissed Eloise's forehead and went to sit next to Mrs. Guillory. I had the impression that his arrival hadn't improved her mood. He turned to his wife with a smile but she kept looking straight ahead, not meeting his gaze. He listened to my lesson for a while, then left silently.
"I am very pleased, Madame Cooper" said Mrs. Guillory at the end of the lesson, one hour later. "I am sure that Eloise's French will improve greatly"
She outstretched her hand and I shook it, taking the opportunity to look at it. Her fingers were quite red and the skin felt rough, I couldn't see the rest of the hand because of the mittens she was wearing. Her handshake was feeble and she pulled back as soon as possible.
A black woman in her late fifties accompanied me to the door and I noticed that she smelled like food, a mixture of cooked vegetables and baked bread.
Half an hour later, I sat in my own living room, thinking.
OOO
Although Sherlock tried to act composed, he was clearly relieved to see that my first lesson had gone smoothly.
"I noticed something that might interest you" I began while he changed into his dressing gown.
"I am listening"
"The Guillorys are probably not as rich as I previously believed. At least not anymore"
He turned his head to me with a swift movement.
"What makes you say that?" he asked.
"They have a very large house with a garden but I only saw one servant. She smelled like food: she probably cooks and acts as a maid too. No gardener, no cabbie. Mrs. Guillory's hands are red and chapped, she probably helps with dishes or washing. They used to have a governess but now they haven't one anymore. And another thing: the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Guillory appears to be strained"
Sherlock was now sitting on an armchair, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
"Tell me everything from the beginning" he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.
When I was finished he stayed silent for a long time and I even suspected that he might be sleeping.
"Like you said, their financial situation doesn't look bright. Of course, this is something a man like Penrose could take advantage of" he murmured without opening his eyes.
OOO
On January 8th, something new happened.
I was finished with my lesson and Mrs. Guillory had invited me to have tea with the family. I was chatting in French with Eloise and answering her questions about Paris when Nancy appeared, announcing a guest. Nancy was the black woman in her late fifties who acted as a cook and maid and who, I had found out, had been Mrs. Guillory's nanny.
"Mr. Penrose for you, sir" she whispered to Mr. Guillory, and he left at once.
I tried to hide my surprise and looked at Mrs. Guillory, who was sitting next to him. Her lips were very thin and she played nervously with the napkin, obviously unhappy about that visit. Her husband didn't come back for the rest of the evening.
"Excellent!" said Sherlock that evening "Now we should find out which part Mr. Guillory is playing. Is he just providing transport for the explosive or is he supposed to do something more?"
"I wonder how much Mrs. Guillory knows. She clearly wasn't pleased about Penrose's visit but does she know what kind of person he is?" I wondered.
"I doubt that she will share this information with you. If she even suspects what her husband is up to, she also knows that he could end up in jail or on the gallows. She will not talk about that with someone she's met just a few times" he replied briskly.
"Not to mention that I am only a French teacher and not a friend of hers" I agreed.
What would happen to her and Eloise if Mr. Guillory ended up in jail? Who would marry the daughter of a convict? How were they going to make a living? Mrs. Guillory didn't look like she was fit enough to work or used to do it.
"Roberts' ship from Germany should arrive in a few days" said Sherlock, still not opening his eyes. "We will see".
OOO
"You still have some trouble with negations, my dear" I told Eloise on the following Monday. "Let's try and build some sentences, shall we? Tell me something you should and should not do"
"Je dois ranger ma chambre. Je ne dois aller á la cave" she said.
Mrs. Guillory stiffened and opened her mouth like she was going to say something but she stayed silent. Eloise had just said that she wasn't allowed to go to the cellar, why was Mrs. Guillory acting so nervously?
"It seems you forgot something, dear" I answered.
"Excusez-moi, Madame. Je ne dois pas aller á la cave" she corrected with a smile. "I don't even want to, for that matter!" she added with a giggle.
"Stop blabbering, Eloise. Sentences are not an excuse to chat!" Mrs. Guillory reprimanded her in a harsh voice before I could reply.
"Let's try again with the verb savoir, should we?" I went on, not minding the interruption.
Mrs. Guillory had looked very upset when Eloise had mentioned the cellar. Was she just annoyed or was there a reason why Eloise was not allowed in the cellar?
This question was partially answered when Mrs. Guillory called Nancy to accompany me to the door, one hour later.
"I am sorry that supper will be late, ma'am" said Nancy to Mrs. Guillory. "I need potatoes but the master has the cell..."
Nancy stopped abruptly and I was sure that Mrs. Guillory had gestured for her to be silent behind my back.
But I could figure out what she was about to say. "The master has the cellar's key".
I could think of only one reason why Mr. Guillory had the cellar's key.
Later in the evening, Sherlock listened attentively to my new discovery.
"I wouldn't be surprised if the explosive had arrived today" he said eventually. "I'm going to the harbor"
OOO
He showed up so late that I was almost losing my mind.
"The explosive has arrived" he whispered excitedly. "My British friend told me that Roberts' ship transported six large boxes the crew was forbidden to touch. And they were collected by Penrose - again. Now they are likely in Mr. Guillory's cellar"
"Six boxes? But you said that just a few chunks could kill several people, how many chunks are there in six boxes?" I murmured.
"Six boxes is more than I expected" he admitted. "If they want to attack a train station, a theatre or a market, two or three boxes should be enough. One could make a massacre with six boxes. Maybe they are planning several attacks at the same time"
A thought suddenly crossed my mind and I gasped.
"What is wrong?" he asked worriedly.
"Sherlock, in less than two months, on March 1st..." I began.
"Yes, I know. It will be Mardi Gras and New Orleans will be packed with people" he concluded.
"What are you going to do?" I asked, shivering.
"Well, there is one problem. I am assuming that those boxes contained tritonal and I am assuming that they are now in Mr. Guillory's cellar but I cannot prove it yet. The people who informed me are not likely to repeat what they saw in front of a jury"
I was absolutely certain that we were right but I could see the point. We couldn't just go to the police and accuse somebody of keeping explosives under his roof. Yes, we could send a letter, but who would begin an investigation based on nothing? The police probably received that sort of letters all the time. Besides, if Penrose had been able to transport the explosive all the way from Germany, he certainly had some connections with the police as well.
"Is there a way to open the cellar's door? I could..." I offered, but Sherlock didn't even let me finish.
"Don't even think about it! It's too dangerous!" he replied hastily.
"What you are doing is dangerous too" I retorted.
"This is my job, I know what I am doing, but you are..."
"Yes, I am a woman, right" I snorted.
"I wasn't going to say that, my goodness!"
He noticed that he had raised his voice and huffed to calm down.
"I shouldn't have agreed when you offered to accept that job" he said slowly.
"And how would you have found out that Gillory is personally involved and that the explosive is at his house?" I asked pointedly.
He didn't reply and turned off his light.
I lay next to him with a deep sigh. I stroke his arm, which felt very tense.
"If something happened to you while you worked for me... Sydney Auger and Horace Mason were killed because they knew too much, Penrose will kill again if he has to. You are very bright and your information has been valuable, but you don't know the criminal world. And my mind cannot work properly if I know that you are in danger" he said in a low voice.
It would be easy to give me a special key that would allow me to enter that cellar, even if it was dangerous. But Sherlock cared for my well-being more than he cared for the case. He was willing to delay the solution in order not to endanger me.
I knew that he wasn't going to change his mind his time.
"Very well. But what should we do? You have no access to that house and it would be too dangerous to go there in the night, you might blow your cover"
"I will contact the police" he replied.
I was very surprised. Sherlock usually didn't have trust in the police and was even dismissive of it. Moreover, at the time the New Orleans' police department was known for its inefficiency, at least on the press, and there were voices about corruption as well.
But before I could voice my concern, he went on.
"There is a valuable police Captain called Edmond Starling. As you know, I read crime news daily and he has solved several complicated cases since our arrival. He solved the Fuller money forgery case, for example, and the Stokes murder one month ago"
Both examples said absolutely nothing to me but if Sherlock believed that another detective was good then it was probably true.
"I will write to him anonymously. He hasn't been involved with this case so far and I am not sure that he will be allowed to investigate about it, but I don't have a better idea" he continued.
"But how can you make sure that he will pay attention to your letter? The police probably receives that sort of letter all the time!"
"First of all, I will mention the tritonal. Its discovery wasn't announced to the public and very few people know about it. So the mention of tritonal might let him feel that my letter is worth investigating. Then I will mention names, dates and events that Captain Starling should be able to verify, like the trial back in 1867. He should see that I am not a compulsive liar"
I wanted to ask what he would do if there was no reaction to the letter but I desisted, not wishing to sound too pessimistic.
"What should I do with the Guillorys?" I asked.
Sherlock pondered silently for some time.
"Your presence there can be valuable. Tell Mrs. Guillory that I might receive a job offer in Britain any time now, so she will not become suspicious if you leave suddenly"
OOO
On the following morning, Sherlock showed me the letter he intended to send to Captain Starling. I was amazed at how well he could forge a handwriting. If I hadn't known that it was his hand, I wouldn't have recognized it.
To Captain Edmond Starling, New Orleans Police Department
Dear Sir
I decided to contact you about a matter you are not personally involved in because I hold your work in high regard.
You might want to know that several boxes of tritonal, a powerful and newly discovered German explosive, are currently in New Orleans.
The explosive arrived from Hamburg on January 11th on the Cargo ship Dauphine, commanded by Captain Roberts.
A sample of the same explosive was found some months ago at the inn "The Shining Lily", owned by Horace Mason. Mason was arrested, was released on bail and died in mysterious circumstances on the same evening. Coincidentally, he and Captain Roberts had been tried together in 1867.
The judge Sydney Auger, who was also incidentally murdered just before Mason died, was in charge of the trial against Mason and Roberts in 1867 and was going to be in charge of the new trial against Mason for detention of explosives.
In 1867, another man was tried and cleared together with Mason and Roberts. His name is Thomas Penrose and you might want to know that he paid the bail for Mason and that he collected the tritonal on its arrival at New Orleans. He also is a regular guest of Mr. Guillory's, owner of the Guillory Company and of the ship Dauphine. Mr. Guillory seems to be in financial difficulties.
The explosive can currently be found in Mr. Guillory's cellar. It is, indeed, a considerable amount of tritonal, which could kill hundreds of people if it exploded.
Thomas Penrose is the head of the band. He had Sydney Auger and Horace Mason murdered, the former because he knew too much, the latter because he wanted to cooperate with the police. He used his connections in Europe to buy the explosive in Germany. He took advantage of Mr. Guillory's financial difficulties to transport the explosive on his ships. Now he is planning a terrorist attack.
Move quickly.
OOO
The letter was sent on that morning and for a couple of days we waited anxiously for something to happen.
While Eloise read another of Perrault's tales to me and to her parents, my mind wandered to the explosive that was likely sitting right under us, in the cellar.
Was Captain Starling going to read the letter or to toss it away as the work of a madman? What would Sherlock do if the Captain didn't react?
"Your pronunciation has really improved, my dear. You just have to pay attention to the "r"s, you tend to skip them when you're reading fast" I commented. "Would you read another page for us?"
A sudden noise diverted our attention and we turned to the windows to see a cab running to the front gate. From my seat, I couldn't see who had stepped out of the cab, but Mr. Guillory turned frighteningly pale.
Could it be Penrose again?
"Who is that?" asked Eloise. Mr. Guillory appeared not to have heard her.
"I don't know, dear. We will see" answered Mrs. Guillory, her voice trembling.
We heard a knock at the door and Nancy appeared, with a worried expression.
"Sir, Madam, it's the police"
My heart was racing and I tried to keep my composure. Could that really be?
"Let them in" said Mrs. Guillory feebly. Mr. Guillory still seemed unable to react.
Two men entered. One was middle-aged and dressed in plain clothes, the other was a young blond recruit with the police uniform.
"Good afternoon, I am Captain Edmond Starling of the Metropolitan Police"
Captain Starling was lean and short, he had thinning brown hair and wore an old trench-coat, contrasting strikingly with the tall and muscular recruit who stood beside him. He was smiling wearily and looking around with a benevolent gaze. He didn't look like the stereotypical cop.
"Good afternoon, Captain. How can I help you?" said Mr. Guillory finally, standing.
"I am really sorry to disturb you for such a trivial matter. It is just a little thing, really. I was wondering if I could take a look at your cellar"
OOO
Author's notes:
The quote "we'll meet again some sunny day" comes from the song "we'll met again" sung by Vera Lynn, which was very popular during World War II. The song was recently quoted by Queen Elizabeth on her coronavirus address in spring. Vera Lynn died aged 103 one month ago.
The sentence "Je dois ranger ma chambre" means "I must tidy my room". "Je ne dois pas aller á la cave" means "I mustn't go to the cellar"
Mardi Gras is the French expression for Shrove Tuesday. In New Orleans, it is celebrated with huge parades and balls. In 1892, Shrove Tuesday took effectively place on March 1st.