Sherlock Holmes Case 02: The Rag-and-Bone Man of Paris E-Book

Marc Gruppe

• Herausgeber: Titania Medien
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 125

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

An unsolved murder. A banker's son goes missing. A case for Sherlock Holmes. Paris, at the end of the 19th century: When a cash courier is found hanged in the attic of the reputable banking house Beaumont Frères, the police suspect suicide and close the case. Years later, Maurice Beaumont, junior partner of the firm, disappears without a trace while on vacation – another mystery with no solution. And all the while the brutal murder of a rag-and-bone man, contemporaneous with the hanging, raises no suspicions. However, precisely this event could hold the key to the solution of the other cases. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson travel to the French capital; in the depths of the Paris police archives they stumble upon a clue that leads their investigation in a new direction...

Leseprobe

Arthur Conan Doyle

Amy Onn

The Rag-and-Bone Man of Paris

Imprint

Copyright © 2025 Titania Medien GmbH

Elberfelder Straße 47, 40724 Hilden, Germany

Book editor: Stephan Bosenius

Translation: Dr Kornel Kossuth

Copy editors: Dr Daniela Stöger/Marc Gruppe

Illustration: Bastien Ephonsus

Layout: Lars Auhage

Sherlock Holmes logo and frame: Firuz Askin

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This work is based on true events, but is nonetheless fiction. Any similarities between non-historical characters and situations and living or dead persons are unintentional and purely coincidental.

978-3-69027-003-8

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Content

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Preview

Chapter 1

My name is Dr John Hamish Watson. Although I am nothing more than a simple military doctor, my name is now known all over the world. I owe this solely to one circumstance in my life – and it has nothing whatsoever to do with my actual profession. For many years I enjoyed the privilege of accompanying the investigative work of my friend Sherlock Holmes as a chronicler. It was always a pleasure to amaze my readers with the details of the master detective’s adventures.

Occasionally, however, there were cases whose reports were initially expressly not intended for publication for a variety of reasons. This was usually due to the client’s wish for discretion, or simply because of the explosive nature of the events described. These reports were sealed and stored in an archive until the time would finally come to relate these secret cases of the master detective.

The case of the rag-and-bone man of Paris was one of those cases that involved a big name in the financial world and therefore had to be kept under lock and key until the matter had been fully resolved. My friend Sherlock Holmes himself had suggested at the time that we should tell the press only the bare minimum. It is only now am I permitted to report on this truly scandalous case, in which the master detective was once again able to demonstrate his unique abilities.

It was the end of summer in the late 1880s when, after a night shift at my surgery, I went home to 221b Baker Street with the intention of finding out the latest news over a cup of tea. On arriving I was, however, surprised by a rather bizarre scenario, even by the standards of our rather unusual household. Mrs. Hudson opened the door to me with a bright red face, and I immediately realized that she felt she had been grossly wronged – yet again.

»I’m glad you’re here, Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes is tearing the whole upstairs rooms apart because he’s looking for some ominous tickets that I’m supposed to have – misplaced – imagine that: me – misplaced! How could I even have got hold of these … these travel documents from Mr. Holmes?«

I suppressed a grin as I imagined the scene she described. »But my dear Mrs. Hudson, please calm down! I’m sure he didn’t intend any reproach! You are such a paragon of reliability.«

»You seem to be the only one to hold that opinion. The things I’ve had to listen to today! Tell that, that person upstairs that I expect an apology from him immediately!«

»Of course I’ll talk to Mr. Holmes and see if I can help him find those tickets.«

I made my way up the stairs, and when Holmes invited me in at my timid knock, I found the famous detective surrounded by papers, books and other objects, which he was searching through diligently – and apparently not for the first time that day.

»Good to see you at last, Watson!« he said with a concentrated look on his face.

»That’s the second time I’ve heard that today. What’s going on, Holmes? Are you aware that Mrs. Hudson is very upset about you – again?«

»Mrs. Hudson? She’s upset?!«

»But of course! Extremely so, in fact.«

»I’m the one who should be upset! – See that chair there with the towels?«

»Of course, I’m not blind. What about it?«

»Take a closer look: the towels are flattened and have small indentations. So a laundry basket was placed on them. Some of my clothes have also disappeared from the wardrobe. What do you make of that?«

»That Mrs. Hudson once again had the goodness to take your clothes to the cleaners.«

»Precisely! And in so doing she also took the tickets to Paris to the cleaners. I’ve searched everything here several times, but they’re nowhere to be found. Mrs. Hudson has the cheek to persist in denying her guilt – even though she should know very well that nobody can pull the wool over my eyes once I’ve reconstructed a course of events.«

»She won’t have noticed that the tickets were in the jacket.«

»That is certainly conceivable. But ‘ignorantia legis non excusat’, as the Romans said. And I doubt that ignorance protects against punishment in this day and age in England.«

»Be that as it may, you should apologize to her. At least for the vehemence with which you put her through the wringer.«

»Bah!«

Before Holmes could say anything else, we were interrupted by a hesitant knock. Holmes stood up triumphantly.

»Come right in, Mrs. Hudson. I very much hope that you have come to eat humble pie – it’s been waiting for you for quite a while.«

»Mr. Holmes!« Unusually meek and somewhat out of breath, our landlady entered the room with her head bowed. »I hereby admit that you were right: here are your tickets. The lady from the dry cleaners found them in the laundry basket when she was sorting your laundry.«

»Ha! – I’m always right,« gloated Holmes. »And who has to apologize to whom now?«

»Sadly me to you,« said Mrs. Hudson, visibly contrite.

»Then don’t let me stop you – I’m listening.« A smug smile spread across my friend’s face as he revelled in his superiority – a little too much for my taste.

»I’m … I’m really very sorry that I doubted you,« stammered Mrs. Hudson.

»Why are you going to Paris anyway?« I changed the subject.

»I’ll be happy to tell you all about it once we’re on the ship, if you’ll be so kind as to accompany me. We leave immediately.«

»Unfortunately I currently have a few appointments which are hard to reschedule …«

»I’m sure you’ll find someone to stand in for you, old friend; you always do. You won’t want to miss the trip to Paris: my client is Monsieur Beaumont.«

»What, the senior manager of the Beaumont Frères bank?« I exclaimed in astonishment.

»The very one.«

»Oh. If that’s the case, I’ll be happy to come with you right away!«

»That’s my Watson! I’ve already packed, and I suggest you quickly gather your belongings; then we might still reach the ship in Dover, just as planned.«

»It seems I got home just in time to hear of Monsieur Beaumont’s invitation. Why on earth didn’t you send me a message, Holmes? You couldn’t have known that I would be closing my practice early today.«

»My dear Watson, of course I knew you would be home early! As you may recall, you yourself had recently mentioned that the director of the museum was waiting for a new medicine and that you intended to bring it to him personally one lunchtime. Yesterday afternoon, the director happened to meet Mrs. Hudson’s enervating cousin, Miss Mapleton, and mentioned your forthcoming visit. As usual, Miss Mapleton immediately gossiped this news to Mrs. Hudson, who in turn told me. It doesn’t take much deduction to foresee that you would arrive in Baker Street directly afterwards.« As he spoke, he threw on his Havelock coat and heaved his suitcase to the stairs, so that I was forced to pack my own things as quickly as possible and follow him, somewhat dismayed by this new demonstration of his mental gifts.

The voyage across the Channel went without incident, which is why I will refrain from writing a detailed report here. Thanks to the stable weather conditions I only suffered a little from seasickness, and was therefore able to spend most of the journey in the company of the master detective – and not at the railing as usual.

When we arrived in Paris, we immediately took a hansom cab to 24 Rue Gustave Charpentier, where stood an impressive multi-storey building, the upper floors of which were apparently the Beaumont family’s private rooms. The lower floors housed the offices of the distinguished banking house. The senior partner of Beaumont Frères, a charismatic older gentleman, greeted us in an elegantly furnished room with a powerful and warm handshake. He had a grey, well-groomed Van Dyke beard and was almost two heads shorter than my companion, as I noticed with some amusement. The master detective had his dark hair simply parted and looked down on our interlocutor with his watchful grey eyes, which gleamed almost cordially.

»Thank you! A thousand thanks, my dear, honoured Monsieur Holmes!« exclaimed Mr. Beaumont. »I can’t express in words how relieved I am that you travelled to France so promptly at my request. I know how busy you are, and that you never abandon a matter once begun.«

»That is certainly true,« Holmes confirmed, unable to conceal a certain touch of pride. »But your message, Monsieur Beaumont, was quite enough for me to drop everything and set off immediately. And as you can see, Dr. Watson didn’t hesitate either to accompany me here and be at your service. – After all it was you who, when I was still an inexperienced and largely unknown detective, placed your unwavering trust in me and hired me without a reference to catch the thieves who had broken into the large iron safe of the Banque de Paris. You gave me the opportunity to make my name known and gain a foothold as a consulting detective. The credit for solving the murder of Mr. Drebber, the account of which Dr. Watson later published under the title A Study in Scarlet, went to Inspectors Lestrade and Gregson of Scotland Yard – much to my chagrin. In that respect, I remain in your debt for the rest of my life.«

»It’s the other way around,« Beaumont replied. »I am indebted to you, my dear Monsieur Holmes. It was thanks to your ingenuity that the thieves were behind bars after just a few days. And that is precisely why I wrote to you and asked you to come to Paris as soon as possible. Please take a seat, gentlemen. I hope you will forgive me for not putting you up myself, but reserving rooms for you in the Westminster Hotel instead. You understand that I cannot jeopardize your mission by having my staff broadcast your stay here to the world.«

»That suits me very well,« said my friend with a smile. »If it is a criminal matter that you wish me to investigate then Dr. Watson and I will look for new accommodation under a different name as soon as possible anyway. I must strike from the darkness like a bolt of lightning: that’s the greatest guarantee of success.«

»What a fitting image, Monsieur Holmes. And I assure you that, no matter what you do, I will back you fully and offer you whatever support you may require. But now please listen to what has prompted me to summon you to Paris so urgently.«

»My money is on embezzlement or some other fraudulent activity in your extensive financial business,« I interjected.

»Or are you being blackmailed?« added Holmes.

Beaumont shook his head sadly. »No, gentlemen. Nothing of the sort. It is much worse, more urgent and more painful to me than any crime that merely revolves around money.«

The master detective pulled his pipe out of his pocket and tapped it questioningly, and when Mr. Beaumont nodded in agreement, he filled it and immediately began to smoke. He leaned back a little, as he often did in such situations, and closed his eyes. »Tell me all.«

»I need to talk to you about a very bitter matter that touches my family’s honour. You probably know that I am very successful professionally. From meagre beginnings, I have become the owner of one of the most prestigious banking houses in France, with business connections throughout Europe and even beyond the borders of our continent. This has made me rich, very rich, so God knows I have every reason to be satisfied with my life. But nothing in the world is perfect, and human happiness the least. Heaven has sent me a trial that has weighed heavily on me for many years and now risks to crush me completely. My wife, who unfortunately passed away ten years ago, gave me only one child: a son called Maurice. As a boy, he showed the most delightful promise, developed brilliantly, mastered his studies with flying colours, and when he joined the management three years ago at the age of eighteen, I secretly congratulated myself on having such a son. At the time I thought that when I retired one day, I could be certain that everything I had built up was in good hands so that it could be preserved and developed further. But what are human hopes and plans? They are no more stable than a house of cards that can be blown over by the slightest breeze.« Beaumont rose, went to the bar and poured himself a brandy with a trembling hand. »Will you join me for a glass, gentlemen?«

We nodded silently.

»So Maurice didn’t develop as expected?« Holmes concluded.