A Farewell to Baker Street Read Online Free PDF

hinted at earlier - I do believe it would be better for all concerned, if nothing more was said about our meeting today.”
    â€œThat would be best for us all,” agreed Holmes, with a mischievous smile. “Without any disrespect to you, Mrs Aston-Cowper, I would not wish it to be known by my colleagues at Scotland Yard that I am now providing guidance on marital matters.”
    Our client left us in good humour and I looked forward to meeting her again at the wedding that October. For the next week or so, I sought regular updates from the steamship company on the likely progress of the Scotia and made plans to travel up to the Port of Liverpool to greet the arrival of the passenger liner. When it berthed at the Albert Dock on Monday, 3 rd September, I was more than prepared for the encounter with Roger Morton.
    He emerged from the dock office in the company of a porter who was pulling a hand trolley on which sat a large cabin trunk. Morton was well over six-feet tall and solidly built. He was dressed in a knee-length tweed frock coat, a white shirt and wide dark-red necktie. On his head sat a tall top hat. He looked every part the English aristocrat.
    As I stepped forward, he pre-empted my challenge. “Dr Watson, I take it? I understand that you are here to collect this from me,” said he, thrusting a large envelope into my hand. There was no warmth in his tone and his dark brown eyes fixed on mine with a degree of menace. Not to be intimidated, I continued to hold his stare and then turned my attention to the envelope. As I opened it, I could see that it contained the salacious image of the young Virginia Melrose.
    â€œOur business is concluded then, Mr Morton,” I said, turning briskly and walking away to be bemused looks of the porter.
    It was clear that Morton felt he had to have the last word. “For what it’s worth, you can tell her that she was never a great beauty!” His words echoed around the dock office. I carried on walking.
    When I arrived back at Baker Street a couple of days later, Holmes was waiting for me with a stiff glass of brandy. “Warm yourself up with this, Watson, it is unseasonably cold today.”
    I could not resist chiding him for the unnecessary display. “Holmes, I have known you too long to be fooled by any of this. You knew full well that Morton could be persuaded to hand over the letter. When I met him at the docks he already knew who is was. So, how did you do it?”
    Holmes smirked, knowing that I was more relieved than upset by his intervention. “My dear fellow, I could not send you into battle without providing you with reinforcements. A quick visit to my brother Mycroft was all that was required. Having heard the story, he travelled up to Liverpool ahead of you and arranged to be taken out by tug to the Scotia as the liner began its entry to the port. When he tracked Morton down on board the ship, he made it clear that if the rogue did not hand the photograph to you at the dockside, both he and his father, the Duke of Buckland, would be blackballed in every gentleman’s club in London. Furthermore, the Duke’s loans on the current refurbishment of his Highland estates would be called in, rendering the family bankrupt. I suspect that was sufficient to seal the matter.”
    I was warmed by the subterfuge. “Then that is an end to the matter, Holmes. A job well done - I have destroyed the photograph, Mrs Aston-Cowper can rest easy, and we can all enjoy the wedding. Let’s drink to that!”

2. The Curious Matter of the Missing Pearmain
    â€œSplendid!” exclaimed Holmes suddenly, looking over a piece that had caught his eye in the Daily Telegraph . It was a chilly, yet bright, early morning in December 1894. My colleague had asked me to call on him first thing, as he said he had a new case that required my assistance. On arriving at Baker Street, I had been offered one of Mrs Hudson’s marvellous cooked