Sherlock Holmes and The Shadows of St Petersburg

earlier appointment with Gottfried, was looking for something. Needless to say, the poor wretches who live in the building claim not to have heard or seen anything.”
Oh, the crime was horrible enough, but I must confess that my initial shock was not at its brutality. Rather, it was at the mention of the word “axe” - the murderer’s weapon of choice in the novel I had just completed reading. (Whishaw translated the word as “hatchet”, the same term Lomax had used in the Library to pique my interest.) And, strangely enough, in Dostoevsky’s book it was a pawnbroker in the most impoverished section of St Petersburg that had also been the major victim.
Sherlock Holmes remained unimpressed. “I was anticipating a greater challenge, Lestrade,” he yawned and stared into the fire. “Axe-murders and theft in the East End? You were quite right. ‘Routine business,’ just as you said. Certainly not stimulating enough to distract me from my scientific endeavours. I leave it to the local authorities to pursue justice for the dead.” With a tone of finality, Holmes began to rise.
At the same time, a smile worked its way across the Inspector’s face. “Save for this, Mr Holmes.” With those intriguing words, Lestrade withdrew from his jacket pocket what at first glance looked to be a small gift. Partially wrapped in brown paper and encircled by red twine, it appeared a trifle larger than a deck of playing cards. To my great surprise, it too mirrored a clue that I recalled from Dostoevsky’s novel.
At the sight of the package, Holmes’ steel-grey eyes lit up. I had seen that look of keen interest present itself before - it was the same excited expression that appeared whenever a challenging puzzle seemed imminent. Sitting down again, Holmes held out his hand and gestured impatiently for Lestrade to place the package in his open palm.
With not a little anticipation, I watched as my friend withdrew a flat block of wood from the opened bloom of paper he was holding. The wood was topped with a congruent piece of lead about one-quarter inch thick. Turning the object over in his long fingers, Holmes examined it from all sides.
“Call it a loose end, Mr Holmes,” said Lestrade. “We found it on the floor near Gottfried’s body. It was open just as it is now. It must have been in his hands when he was struck down - though I’ll be damned if I can figure out what the blasted thing is.”
I was fully prepared to shed light on the matter. Dostoevsky describes a similarly wrapped package offered by the murderer to distract his victim’s attention. But with Holmes’ examining the paper through his magnifying lens, I knew well enough to keep silent.
Nodding as he detected the tiny drops of crimson splatter, Holmes now focused his attention on the red string, which ended in tight little curls. Owing to the complexity of the knot, it was easy to conclude that the package had originally been tied very tightly indeed.
“Common wrapping paper and common-enough twine,” observed Holmes, “materials that can be purchased anywhere.”
“I thought the same,” said Lestrade.
But Holmes had not completed all his remarks. “Note that the string appears stretched and the knot remains intact. The string has been pulled down and away rather than cut or untied. There’s nothing written on the paper - no address, not even a name - so presumably the package was not meant to be posted or delivered - rather, an object to be presented.”
“Yes, yes,” said Lestrade impatiently, “but what do you make of the bloody thing itself?”
Closing his eyes as if he were conjuring a picture in his mind, Holmes formed a smile and then looked at the policeman. “Use your imagination, Lestrade. Consider the package in its original state - all wrapped up and ready to be handed to the pawnbroker. Unable to discern the contents, might he not regard it as something of value? A silver or gold cigarette case, perhaps? The size and weight are both appropriate.”
Lestrade rubbed his chin. “Yes, but he couldn’t be certain, could he? He’d have to undo the string.”
“The tightly knotted string,” Holmes added.
“Says you, Mr Holmes.” Lestrade scratched his head. “No disrespect intended, I’m sure, but in the end this thing is junk. Why would anyone tie it up like that?”
I could restrain myself no longer. “Gentlemen!” I cried out. “How better to distract the pawnbroker? Give the man something that requires time and concentration to open - then strike him down with the axe when he is preoccupied trying to unwrap it. Why, I have just read about such a crime in this book!” And I held up the thick volume I was still holding.
“A good theory, Doctor,” said Lestrade stroking his chin again. “But any wrapped bauble would do the trick. Why add the piece of metal?”
Ignoring my reference to the book I had just waved in front of them, Holmes supplied the explanation. “By itself, the piece of wood is too light to suggest anything of value. It may be an appropriate size, but it lacks the heft. Top it with a piece of lead, however, and you have an object that, when concealed in wrapping paper, might actually seem to be something of some value - a false pledge, one might call it. And whilst the poor man was fixated on unfastening the string and paper, what could be easier - as friend Watson has already suggested - than to attack him from behind?”
Lestrade bit his upper lip as he considered the theory. “Splendid!” he said at last. “Now all we have to do is track the villain down.”
“Do you mind if I take a look at the murder scene, Lestrade?” asked Holmes. “In the end, this case does seem to offer a few points of interest.”
Lestrade was quick to nod his approval. Though he never liked admitting his dependence on Sherlock Holmes, the Inspector had, after all, come to my friend for advice.
Holmes turned to me.