Case of the Hungarian Foot

George Colkitto

Description

Sebastian Symes, rival of Sherlock Holmes, searches for a butcher's missing daughter. He and his companion Major Ritson encounter a Hungarian Count, a religious relic and a company of Hussars, in a tale of Victorian morality.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 13 décembre 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781780921068
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page

THE CASE OF THE HUNGARIAN FOOT








by
G W Colkitto




Publisher Information

Published in the UK by MX Publishing
335 Princess Park Manor, Royal Drive, London, N11 3GX
www.mxpublishing.com

Digital edition converted and distributed in 2011 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com

© Copyright 2011 George Colkitto
The right of George Colkitto to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and not of MX Publishing.

Cover layout and construction by www.staunch.com



Chapter One - The First Step

‘If only you could write Ritson.’
Symes is standing by the drawing-room window of his house in Russell Square, half supported by his left arm, while carefully examining the fingernails of his right hand.
The sunlight throws deep shadows on his angular features and, not for the first time, I am struck by the handsomeness of the man. The years have been kinder to him than to me and he still has the air of the young man with whom I had many a bout in Darcy’s.At the foil he had no equal though I did run him close but his extra three inches in height above my six foot usually carried the day. The Silver trophy in the display cabinet in the corner of the room, won outright twenty years ago, is evidence of my three successive defeats.
I parry his thrust. ‘I have been complimented on the quality of my calligraphy, Symes.’
‘You have indeed a fair hand. Slightly bent to the rococo, there is evidence of an artistic tendency in the loops, that does not appear elsewhere, but my point is that you cannot write. Where is your record of my successes? I need a diarist, a Boswell, actually a Doctor Watson. Holmes is on everyone’s lips. He is engaged by royalty and government and compared to me is a mere amateur.’
‘I thought you abhorred the self-aggrandisement of Holmes. Only yesterday you threw the Evening Bugle on the fire as the only place for such flagrant exaggeration, for its report on his recent triumph.’
‘Triumph! A minor problem of which I knew the solution a week ago. If you, Ritson, had given to me the reputation Watson has procured for Holmes it would have been to me they would have turned. As I say, if only you could write.’
Mrs Taverner, our housekeeper, enters. ‘A gentleman to see you Mr Symes.’
Symes smiles. ‘Foreign, although with little accent. Tall. Military bearing. Red hair going slightly grey.’
‘No. Mr Swinely about the butchery bill.’
‘Mrs Taverner, you deal with these domestic arrangements. I have no desire to meet with Mr Swinely.’
‘But he insists, Mr Symes. He says, if you can solve a problem he has, all outstanding amounts will be settled.’
‘See, Ritson. Holmes worked last week for a Maharajah, no doubt paid in jewels. I am asked to work for a butcher from Aldgate for the price of a lamb chop.’
‘It is several lamb chops Mr Symes. At present it is £100.’
‘I barely eat Mrs Taverner.’
‘But only of the best. And if I may say, Major Ritson has a fine appreciation of food.’
I smile and pat the Albert stretched round my brocade waistcoat, while noting that Mrs Taverner has gained several pounds in our employ.
‘A hundred pounds,’ mutters Symes and in full voice, ‘Show him up.’

Mr Swinely, to my surprise, is a dapper man of small build and, for a tradesman, rather fine features. I surmise he has not been sleeping for there are dark shadows round his eyes. He stands foursquare before the rapier figure of Symes unfazed by the searching gaze.
‘Have a chair,’ says Symes sweeping assorted papers from the seat by the little Sheraton table, which holds the tray from our morning tea which Mrs Taverner removes. She nods precisely to Symes and to me as she closes the door.
‘If you do not mind, I would rather stand. I cannot discuss the matter, on which I require your assistance, seated. It distresses me greatly.’
Symes takes the chair across from me. ‘As you wish. On what affair do you seek my assistance?’
‘My daughter, Charlotte, has been missing for two days. She left the shop at 8.00 Wednesday morning on a small errand and never returned. I have asked everyone in the neighbourhood and no-one has any knowledge of her and the police have dismissed my concerns.’
I interject. ‘The Police have made no enquiries? To whom have you spoken? Through my club I know a number of officers of the Constabulary and I believe Inspector Jessop or McIntyre have charge in your area. McIntyre is an excellent man. A little dour, as is his race, but dogged in pursuit of wrongdoing.’
‘Ah, Ritson. How often have I had you consider the inefficiency of our Police? Mr Swinely will have been rebuffed by the constable on the desk or if he managed to surmount that obstacle by the station sergeant.’ He addresses Mr Swinely. ’Your daughter I believe is a young woman, somewhere between nineteen and twenty-one. She lives with you in an apartment above your premises. She is a sole child, your wife having died at the time of her birth. Her disappearance has been dismissed as an affair of the heart or a desire to escape from the confines of the paternal home, particularly in the absence of any maternal advice.’
‘You have it exactly, Mr Symes. What you have stated is almost word for word my last conversation with the police sergeant. He told me to desist from my pestering and that it was no part of their duty to pursue wayward offspring. It is not the case Mr Symes. Charlotte and I live in harmony. I have watched her grow into the image of her mother and had the great satisfaction that not only has she the beauty of appearance but also the finest qualities to enhance that beauty.’
‘She has a young man perhaps who might lead her astray,’ I venture.
‘I doubt if any such man could lead her to cause me such distress but if there was I am sure I would have been aware.’ While he speaks I hear Mrs Taverner in conversation in the hall. I catch Symes eye and his raised eyebrow tells me he too has heard, and the slight pucker of his lips prevents me from mentioning the brief disturbance. ‘I have no wish to trap Charlotte at home. I am well equipped to look after myself and we have a maid who is reliable, hard working and while not of Charlotte’s prowess in the kitchen, would more than provide for my sustenance. There is no reason for her to leave without explanation. I tell you gentlemen, some harm has befallen her and if you cannot help me I do not know where I can turn.’
‘Rest assured, Mr Swinely, I and Major Ritson will start immediately. Return to your business and conduct yourself in as normal a manner as you are able. Outwardly express the opinion that the Police have experience in these things and that you now believe your concerns are unfounded.’ Symes stands and presses the bell for Mrs Taverner. ‘Shortly I will visit on the pretence of discussing my account and an enquiry about some of your specially cured ham.’ He extends his hand which Swinely grasps in both his as Mrs Taverner enters.
‘Excellent. I will await your visit.’
Symes moves to the bookcase and selects one of his many reference books as Mrs Taverner escorts Mr Swinely away. It is some moments before she returns. ‘You had another caller, Mr Symes.’
‘Indeed. Major Ritson and I were aware of the voices.’
‘Did he leave a card?’ I ask.
‘He did not, nor a name.