The Breaking Water: Moriarty, Math, Music, and The Questions That Lie Between Them by Joshua Harvey

In a world of many Sherlocks, the game cascades.

Having reached a meta level of post-canon knowledge, compounded by The Great Game, we harbor expectations for translating a story into other mediums, holding certain guidelines, like nets, in which interpretations are revealed. Personal lines are set by individual tastes, ranges of Holmesian knowledge, life experience, and other factors. A question (to be addressed another time) is: how do we pursue such boundaries for adaptation? The answers are soritical in nature and vague. Do five pips a good interpretation make? How many monographs equal a pile of pipe ash? How many Holmesian pursuits doth a Sherlockian make? Are we owed a certain interpretation?

When it comes to character translations certain patterns seem less ephemeral. The line for Watsons, for example, seem fairly porous. We accept the variations: the vaudeville/music hall buffoonery of Nigel Bruce; the strong, kick-ass intelligence and perseverance of Lucy Liu; the subtle shades of boyish and gleeful David Burke versus the mature and capable Edward Hardwicke; the whiny emo girlishness of Shihori Kanjiya’s Wato-san; and the faithful, action-addicted, soldierly Martin Freeman.

Lestrades are most often, well, Lestrades.

But when it comes to Moriartys (Moriarties? Moriartae?), there are fewer seas to navigate.
Moriarty is inevitable. He is fate. There are many paths to Reichenbach, but they all have one terminus—a reckoning.

This is played upon in the BBC Sherlock series, where the nemesis constantly reminds Sherlock of his “I.O.U.” Moffat and Gatiss, along with script writer Stephen Thompson, call upon the old powers. The Fates, the Moirai, were the keepers of the life-line to which even the gods were bound. They created the boundary of birth, life, and death: the allotment in which every entity exists before the string is cut. This apportionment is a loan—not a gift—and, being a loan, requires a debt to be paid. Life itself is an “I.O.U.” In all instances, Moriarty becomes Moira-rty, the reckoner and debt collector of the final problem—Sherlock’s death for his life.

In the realm of BBC Sherlock, Moriarty is prefigured “mythologically” twice: in one of his many employees, the cab driver Jeff Hope, bringer of two-pilled life and death (one of the first times we hear the Moriarty musical theme); and in Mr. Ewart of two-faced Janus Cars, a for-hire faker of deaths—and new lives (and an anagram for “water,” of which Moriarty is the captain). The masking-unmasking of many faces continues with Moriarty’s Hansel-and-Gretel torturing of children with a Sherlock look-a-like as well as his creation of the “Secret Life of Sherlock Holmes”-esque Richard Brook.

Of course, this duality was pre-ordained by the canonical meeting:

‘All that I have to say has already crossed your mind,’ said he.

“Then possibly my answer has crossed yours,’ I replied. [FINA]

Subsequently the professor lists his descriptive notation of being “inconvenienced” by the detective, followed by the dire warning: “It has been a duel between you and me, Mr. Holmes….You hope to beat me. I tell you that you will never beat me. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you.” [FINA]

This tone continues in several of the new adaptations of the scene, enhanced with diagetic music (that is, music known and acknowledged by the characters within the world of the scene), whether the time, context, and locations differ.

Game of Shadows has a wide-range of Moriarty-attached musics: their initial meeting in Moriarty’s college office was soundtracked diagetically by Schubert’s Fischerweise and by low strings (a common orchestration that we will see again), and even the torture scene where Holmes is hooked like a fish is underscored by classical music. Moriarty tosses Irene’s death handkerchief on the pristine chessboard and navigates an opening gambit towards the camera. The villain’s soundtrack theme is also accompanied by a common Zimmer trope, a clock, like the ticking of fate, the limit of Holmes’ life approaching him: “The laws of celestial mechanics dictate that when two objects collide there is always damage of a collateral nature.”

BBC Sherlock has Holmes playing the violin as Moriarty creeps up the stairs to 221B Baker Street (Bach, followed by the tale of the “unfinished melody”). Throughout the series Jim Moriarty is variously tied to music like Rossini’s overture to “The Thieving Magpie” and, more tellingly, “Staying Alive” by The BeeGees. He wants to solve the final problem of their mutual existence: “Every fairy tale has an old-fashioned villain.” And he and Holmes meet to duel on the roof of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, eternally twin rivals.

Nowhere is this duality more perspicuous than in the musical clues left by BBC Sherlock’s composers Michael Price and David Arnold. The motivic themes of the two characters suggest great interconnectedness and “propinquity” (as Nero Wolfe would say).

Much has been said by Michael Price himself about the main Sherlock theme and the “hero’s theme” (the jaunty, slightly humorous call-to-action music, derived from the chords of the main opening, that accompanies the setting off of John and Sherlock in innumerable instances). The main Sherlock theme is the recognizable first few measures, played in the strings, right after the iconic drum pick-up into the iconic blurred London opening titles. Here is what it looks like, from the piano arrangements by Anthony Weeden

Contraposed to this is the Moriarty theme, heard (or felt) nearly anytime he is mentioned, but most famously employed in the “Prepared to Do Anything” cue leading up and through “the jump” scene atop St. Bart’s. It is always low strings, ominous, active, prowling (this example is both lines in the bass clef, taken directly from the original score).

When we move things about on the staff a bit, simplify meter and note length for the sake of visual patterns, take the Moriarty theme up into treble clef, then transpose it, a very clear relationship emerges.

The Moriarty theme shares the first musical intervals as his rival—but where Moriarty hangs, Sherlock, well…falls. They are two sides of a coin awaiting the toss and the landing.
And, oh, what a landing.

The interpretations of the Reichenbach scene range from the faithfulness of Granada to the (spoilers!) London-scenarios of Rathbone’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (in which Moriarty dives from the Tower of London) and The Woman in Green (Moriarty, solo, from a drainpipe); to Moriarty the Patriot’s dive from Tower Bridge under construction (this is a slight deviation in intent that, for the sake of spoilers, we won’t discuss further); to the similar Tokyo tumble of Stella Maris herself (another great play on Moriarty’s nautical name), Dr. Moriwaki of Ms. Sherlock; to the metaphorical (perceived) moral collapse of Holmes in Elementary. All feature roadblocks, rivals, and plummets. Downward.

This cascading motion is set by Granada composer Patrick Gowers in his representation of Moriarty. First appearing in the episode for “The Red-Headed League” and continuing, naturally, through “The Final Problem,” Gower’s Moriarty shares the bass clef, low strings—plus erudite church organ—with the Zimmer and Arnold/Price renditions: borrowing operatic conventions that the villain is often played by bass voices or accompanied by bass instruments, sinister and craven.

Not only does the serpentine line tumble down, it also features three groupings of the tritone, the interval which splits the chromatic octave in two: the first two separated by a middle note, the final immediately side by side. (This last is a common motive of Gowers to signify distress or darkness—to be discussed another time.)

It is this interval that ecclesiastic authorities allegedly banned for centuries due to its sinister angularity, the difficulty in singing it correctly, and its dissonance. It was, and is still, referred to as “The Devil’s Interval.” And it is in the eternal battle of angelic and demonic forces that the struggle continues.

Though it was cut from the final product, one of the original scripts floating around on the internet for the BBC Sherlock episode “The Reichenbach Fall” has a reference to "the 64,” the number of digits in Moriarty’s all-access code which the assassins are trying to gain from Sherlock. The popular Netflix show “The Queen’s Gambit” reminds us that the 8 x 8 square of chess is one of the oldest metaphors for a battle of wits between equals. The great game of chess is used just prior to Reichenbach in the Guy Ritchie film in a clear and intentional way and is even featured in the toy shop scene against Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective.

A very famous game theory problem involving an infinite chess board is the Angel problem, first proposed by John Conway—also known as the “Angel and Devil” game. This title calls to mind one of the most famous lines from the BBC show: "Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them.” Often interpreted moralistically as Moriarty tempts Sherlock to suicidal despair and ruin, with this statement Sherlock reveals that he is, indeed, “prepared to do anything” and has arranged for his own death (or at least a fall)—he will not fly. Finally beaten, Moriarty pulls the final “check” with his own suicide, but not until after thanking Sherlock for the endgame—the hero is not a “boring” angel after all. Not just heroic language, the quote may be grounded more simply in the Conway game. BBC script writer Stephen Thompson is a mathematician and was a maths teacher (and it goes without saying in a forum such as this: Moriarty is a professor of maths). In the game, the Angel can move to any square in any direction, while the Devil leaves a block for the Angel’s path. “The angel may leap over blocked squares, but cannot land on them. The devil wins if the angel is unable to move. The angel wins by surviving indefinitely.” On an infinite 2D chessboard, the Devil will always win—which seems impossible considering how the Angel can infinitely maneuver. On an infinite 3D chessboard, the Angel has been shown to be able to win. He needs an infinite height—the infinite height of the Reichenbach in our minds—and a landing spot. In the episode, Sherlock has been trying to move from Moriarty's blocks but, at the last moment, is prepared to lose/take the fall/leap on to the Devil's block by anticipating: he loses on purpose. The Devil is revealed to be only working in dualities—but Sherlock sublimates the game altogether.

"I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second I am one of them.” Checkmate.

The math no longer adds up (though the final problem is solved) and the limits of the board are shattered (though the limits are infinite); the net is cut (but is used for Sherlock to be caught). The hero chooses to sacrifice, to protect friends, and the tables are turned. As we have been expecting the duality of “So Sherlock, so then Moriarty,” we also surmise (along with Moriarty) “So not-Sherlock, so then not-Moriarty.” The excitement is to see how, in each interpretation, Holmes sidesteps the syllogism altogether. That makes us, as viewers, move from “So Reichenbach, so then The Fall” to “So Reichenbach, so how The Fall?” From our height, post-canon, we are excited to see how Holmes is the better, not the equal. How will he appear to cut his own thread?

The board is turned over completely and the great game spills over—until the next time.  

The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist: What Did She Wear? by Sonia Yazmadjian

The Victorian era was a time of growth and change. With the industrial revolution, a middle class appeared, having free time, even if less than upper classes.

Leisure activities were numerous: croquet, tennis, skating, water sports, horseback riding and, later, cycling. Initially the fad of the elite, its practice was so popular and widespread that, towards the end of the 19th century, the bicycle became a major tool of liberation for women, 

Easily acquired by men, the right to pedal was a battle for women.

Doctors predicted terrible consequences: riding a bicycle could lead to infertility, trigger orgasms, and cause permanent disfigurement due to the effort required by pedaling. 

The problem had already been raised with horseback riding. A woman of quality had to keep her legs closed and covered. To get on a horse, she would have had to pull up her clothes, revealing her ankles and calves, or even more in windy conditions. As a result, riding was only permitted side saddle and in the countryside.

In cities, women were therefore dependent on cars for long distances, which limited their freedom of movement. The bicycle had the same drawbacks as the horse, but it was so coveted that it gave rise to many inventions.

1. At the beginning

After seeing a draisine, the Scotsman Kirkpatrick MacMillan, a blacksmith by trade, began in 1839 the construction of a vehicle equipped with a system of levers connected to the rear wheel, moving rigid connecting rods for rotation.  

In 1866, Pierre Lallement, a French expatriate in America obtained the patent for a velocipede called a "bicycle".

If men could use bicycles, women were deprived of them because they wore bulky skirts and petticoats. A short outfit was invented but not adopted for reasons of decorum.

After 1870, the improvement of the velocipede continued, especially in England, aiming at gaining speed. The front wheel got bigger while the rear wheel got smaller.

The first Ordinary, created in1871, met an overwhelming success with the men of the upper-middle class who alone could afford it. It was nicknamed "penny-farthing" after the respective size of these two coins, by analogy with the wheels.

The penny-farthing was very popular among sportsmen until 1880, but not used by amateurs because of its dangerousness.

It was replaced a few years later by the so-called “safety” bicycle, invented in 1884 by John K. Starley. A gear turned the rear wheel faster than the pedals, allowing the machine to go fast even without a giant wheel.

Women were offered the tricycle (one seat) and the sociable (two seats) that could be used wearing skirts. Despite the efforts of their community to dissuade them, rich women, from 1880, took the right to use them. Chaperone associations were immediately formed to provide them with seemly accompanying. 

However, the interest of Queen Victoria herself for the tricycle did not silence all the oppositions because, obviously, tricycles and sociables allowed connections...

Anyway, heavy and bulky, they did not meet the aspirations of agility and freedom awakened by bicycles.

2. Clothing as a stage of women's liberation

In France and America, women pedaled without causing too much scandal.

In America, as early as 1849, Amelia Bloomer and Elizabeth Stanton, two suffragettes, preached against bulky skirts.

In 1851, they received the visit of Libby Miller who had come by bicycle and wore baggy pants of her design. They were later dubbed "bloomers", despite Ms. Bloomer's efforts to publicize the true designer.

The new clothing item appeared in manufacturers' advertising and dances were reserved for ladies in bloomers and their companions.

In France, from 1868, women rode velocipedes, wearing baggy pants with lace, considered rather daring.

In Victorian England, it was different: the rules of decent dressing imprisonned women in heavy petticoats and corsets. They were in fact kept away from the cycling trips that delighted men.

Fortunately, in 1889, the Starley Brothers company offered a Rover bicycle for women, with a low frame and a skirt guard. Its price was significantly more economical than that of previous models, which put it within the reach of a class of women less encumbered by conventions.

But the skirts sometimes got stuck in the mechanics. Exasperated by such illogicality, Lady Florence Harberton founded the "Rational Dress Society" dedicated to ridding women of the unnecessary fabric that encumbered them, and asserting their right to a dress code that no longer constrained their movements.

It offered "trousers", a kind of panties going to below the knee.

Public opinion was shocked and suggested that the "bifurcated" clothing would make cyclists unnatural women. At the same time, the skirts shortened a little "picking up less manure and spitting in their folds", according to the progressives, and a look under them would have revealed that the countless petticoats had remained in the closet, to be replaced by "knickers", that is to say…simple underwear.

The debates about female cyclists paint an eloquent portrait of the social anxiety caused by the increasing autonomy of women. For those who could afford it, the bicycle was more than a means of getting around and exercising; it signaled a refusal to comply with the restrictive rules of the Victorian era, and a desire to enter fully into modernity

 

3. Violet Smith’s clothes 

Violet belonged to a new generation of women who, at the end of the 19th century, began to work to be independent and move as they wanted, thanks to the advent of the bicycle.

In the Victorian era, the education of young girls was essentially limited to preparation for marriage and to the acquisition of the talents of amenity intended to enable them to decorate their husband's house with dignity, such as watercolor painting, embroidery, singing, playing the piano... As a result, a woman wishing to earn her living outside the domestic service could hardly do more than exercise the professions of schoolmistress, governess or music teacher.

In the upper class, and even in the growing middle class, homes were equipped with a piano and, depending on financial means, lessons were given either by the mother or by a teacher.

Violet's father having been a conductor, she escaped being a servant by marrying an electrical engineer. In addition, thanks to her knowledge of music, she could teach the piano. Mr. Carruthers' offer was a godsend: "He offered me a hundred a year which was, certainly, a splendid pay" and, as noted later by Sherlock Holmes, double the usual rate.

Violet wore neither a blouse nor an apron to exercise her profession, but probably the Victorian outfit in use for young girls of her condition, with a corset and long ornate skirt brushing the floor :

On the other hand, we must not forget that Violet returned every week to her mother: "You must know that every Saturday forenoon I ride on my bicycle to Farnham Station in order to get the 12.22 to town."

She covered a great distance for this, as Holmes told Watson: "What sort of a ménage is it which pays double the market price for a governess but does not keep a horse, although six miles from the station?"

For this, the clothes had to be looser than usual to allow pedaling. Here we see the illustration by Sidney Paget:

And here is an illustration from a fashion magazine:

Finally, this photograph is a good illustration of what the "Solitary Cyclist" could have worn:

A Sherlockian History of St. Louis by Peter Eckrich

A Sherlockian History of St. Louis 

by Peter Eckrich

For over a hundred and thirty years St. Louis has had a connection to Holmes and his faithful companion Watson.  Who could forget that Jefferson Hope from A Study In Scarlet was from St. Louis?  And 1890’s The Sign of Four included the phrase “the parallel cases of St. Louis and Riga.” 

Some might wonder why St. Louis would be mentioned in the Canon. The city was started by French fur trappers who traveled up the mighty Mississippi river from the port of New Orleans and down from the vastness of the Canadian wilderness. This French influence can still be seen today as we honor Laclede and Chouteau  with street names and the ever beautiful River Des Peres. St. Louis soon expanded with the ever popular fur trading and was soon sold to the still new United States from the French government. Napoleon was broke and Jefferson obviously knew a great deal when one appeared. Jefferson soon sent Lewis and Clark to explore the west and the duo of course stopped in St. Louis for supplies as would anyone following in their footsteps.  

St. Louis soon became the stop on those heading west. Some would leave St. Louis and head to Independence, Missouri, while others would make a last stop at Kansas City, but St. Louis was the place. Its location along a major river made it lucrative for the steam industry and eventually it is that industry that would stifle its growth. See St. Louis had a chance to expand and be a major player in the railroad industry. Instead it opted to stay with the steam boats and Chicago would expand with the railroad instead. Don’t worry, all was not lost with this great city. We would go on to host the 1904 World’s Fair and have a baseball team that rivals even the Yankees in World Series wins. 

Conan Doyle and Watson both would have known the importance of St. Louis in the late 1800’s. It is no wonder that Holmes would be aware of crimes committed in the Metropolis and connect them to events in Europe. Remember that Holmes kept records and notes on criminals and crime, and being the gifted detective he was, he would certainly keep tabs on crimes committed across the pond. The Holmes connection does not end with a few simple sentences in a couple of printed books. St. Louis would keep up with the study of the detective and honor his memory for many years to come.

As a child growing up in the 1980’s (born in 1979), I attended numerous Sherlock Holmes meetings. My father, Joe Eckrich, would take my brother and me along on his adventures to the Occupants of the Empty House and also to the Harpooners of the Sea Unicorn. It was an interesting time to say the least. There was so much history and knowledge packed into one room. This was the time before the internet and you didn’t know what books and information were out there unless someone shared it with you. This to me was the golden age of Sherlockiana in St. Louis. It was the time where one could attend multiple meetings in the same month. So let’s travel back in time and trace the Sherlockian Scion Societies of St. Louis. 

When Edgar Smith was in charge of the Baker Street Irregulars, he was surprised to learn that St. Louis did not have its own scion society. I mean we were the home to the famous Sherlockian Dr. Gray Chandler Briggs. Briggs had a standing letter exchange with the Chicago Bookman and literary Newspaper Man, Vincent Starrett. Chandler Briggs also traveled to London and did his own research into Holmes. Chandler Briggs was one of the earliest BSI members. Besides Chandler Briggs we also had another doctor, John Crotty, who was known for his collection of Paget illustrations. Even with these heavy hitters, it would not be until years later that a scion society would be created. 

The Watsonians of St. Louis was the first scion society in the mid 1960’s started by Country Day School teachers Robert H. Ashby and Ralph Grimes. The group did not last very long and St. Louis was once again without a local scion. That changed in 1968 when Philip Shreffler and Paul Kannapell started the Noble Bachelors of St. Louis. There were several women involved and a prominent Sherlockian suggested changing the name to The Noble Bachelors and their Concubines. The name did not stick around for long. But the group does continue to the present day and even had a woman, Mary Schroeder, leading it at one point. Talk about Sherlockian irony! 

Philip Shreffler later changed his BSI investiture to Jefferson Hope and branched off from the Noble Bachelors to form The Jefferson Hopes of Saint Louis with Karen Johnson in March of 1982. The Hopes still meet today after being resurrected in 2012. Membership is by invitation only, and limited to a maximum of 17 members, to correspond with the 17 steps, and to allow meetings to be held in members’ homes. Early members included Barry Hapner, Art and Mary Schroeder, Chuck Lavazzi, and Eric Otten. In the beginning, membership was restricted to those who already had a paper published, such as in the Baker Street Journal, or who submitted an original paper to the group’s Gasogene who would determine if the writer showed adequate skill as a serious Sherlockian. There was also a strict dress code for meetings. The rules have since been somewhat relaxed but the Hopes are still serious students of The Grand Game. The Hopes are currently run by Christopher Robertson and Michael Waxenberg.

Joseph Eckrich, another past president of the Noble Bachelors would branch off as well and start the Parallel Case of St. Louis. His idea was to have a smaller setting than the Noble Bachelor banquets in which individual stories could be discussed. The Hopes were also doing the same thing, but had a paper requirement. Everyone that knows my father, knows he does not write papers. The Parallel Case does not have much in the way of requirements. Mostly it is to show up when you can and enjoy talking about Sherlock Holmes. One of the first members of the Parallel Case was Dr. Bart Simms, who was also an early member of the Noble Bachelors as well as the Hopes. The Parallel Case is currently headed by Rob Nunn. When life allows it, I try to attend the meetings. Throw in a lunch beforehand and this will be the closest I will ever get to the Three Hour Lunch Club that Morley so famously started and enjoyed. 

Other local Sherlockian groups include The Harpooners of The Sea Unicorn in St. Charles, another Missouri city with a rich history. If you consider Southern Illinois to be close at hand, then we must acknowledge the Occupants of The Empty House started by Bill Cochran and Michael Bragg, before Bragg would go on to start the Harpooners. A prominent member of the Occupants was Gordon Speck. 

Another Illinois group was the Chester Baskerville Society. I would attend these meetings as well. This stands out in my mind for two reasons. A positive reason was that I met Eve Titus there and she signed my Basil of Baker Street books. The negative one is we were hit head on by a drunk driver coming home from a meeting. No fault to the Chester group, but it did make me nervous for many years crossing the river. 

A second golden age seems to be emerging. More people are finding Sherlock Holmes in the Greater St. Louis Area. One might wonder why so many groups are needed in one city. The answer lies in that each group offers a different way to celebrate and study the famed detective. St. Louis might not have had one of the first scion societies, but it makes up for it in interesting people and Midwest hospitality that welcomes newcomers to the study of Sherlock Holmes.  

A special thanks to Randy Getz, Christopher Robinson, Michael Waxenberg, and Joe Eckrich. 

May Meeting: The Golden Pince-Nez

A few dozen Sherlockians from St. Louis, America, and other countries met on Saturday for our discussion on The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez.  We started off with an announcement that The Noble Bachelors of St. Louis will be hosting a Victorian picnic on July 10 in Tower Grove Park.  Local Sherlockians should watch their email for more details in a few weeks.

There was a brief discussion about Netflix's "The Irregulars."  Rob reported that news outlets had originally reported that the show had been renewed for a second season and that its viewership had surpassed the other hot show of the week, "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier."  But news broke last week that Netflix has cancelled the show.  Arthur said that the show had failed to bring in new subscribers and that shows as expensive as "The Irregulars" probably won't be happening on Netflix again because they won't be able to generate new subscribers.

Nancy shared that Under a Raven's Wing by Steven Volk has recently come out and Madeline reported that David Stuart Davies just got the rights back to his Jeremy Brett biography, Bending the Willow, and it will be reissued for wide release.

Steve announced that the latest edition of "Sherlock's Spotlight" went out last week and The Beacon Society will be launching a new site soon connecting and sharing information about Sherlockian societies across America.

Karen talked about The Tea Brokers of Mincing Lane society  which reminded us of Stacey's blog post about tea.  Timothy mentioned The Sign of the Flour that just launched as well as Sherlock Holmes of Baking Street.  Rob wondered if all of this will lead to a new society for Sherlockians who need larger pants.

Madeline told us that a new podcast would be coming out soon focusing on Professor Moriarty.

Sandy announced that a new website is available that breaks the Canon into chapter and verse, aptly titled Chapter and Verse Holmes. 

And there are plenty of Zoom sessions to check out in the next few weeks:

The Sherlockians of Baltimore will celebrate their fifth anniversary Saturday, May 15.

The Harpooners of the Sea Unicorn will meet on Friday, May 21.

The Crew of the Barque Lone Star will meet on June 6.

And now, on to The Golden Pince-Nez!

Watson starts the tale off by telling us about so many cases from 1894: the red leech, Crosby the banker, the Addleton tragedy, the contents of an ancient British barrow, Huret the boulevard assassin (which won Holmes a letter from the French president), and the Smith-Mortimer succession case.  Randy wondered if this story name drops the most unpublished cases.

Rob noted that the gardener in GOLD was named Mortimer and the murdered secretary was named Smith.  Was it a coincidence that the Smith-Mortimer succession case was mentioned in this story?  Everyone decided it probably was.  John deadpanned that this was probably from the hours, days, weeks, and months that Doyle spent in his research for his Sherlock Holmes stories.

Stanley Hopkins arrives at Baker Street, making his second of four appearances in the Canon, to ask for Holmes's assistance with a murder at Yoxley Old Place down in Kent.  The house is owned by a Professor Coram, who is an old invalided man.  His secretary, Willoughby Smith, was helping the professor write a book and was murdered in the study.  Smith was a good fellow with no known enemies or even know acquaintances in the area.

The household is self-contained and no one comes or goes for weeks on end.  The only other people living in the house are the elderly housekeeper and a maid.  A gardener also lives on the property, but in a cottage.

Between 11 and 12 this afternoon, the maid heard Smith go into the study.  A minute later, he cried out and there was a heavy thud.  She ran down and found Smith with a wound gushing on his neck from a sealing wax knife, and this always made Steve think of the line from Puff the Magic Dragon.

The maid poured water on Smith's face, and he can to just long enough to say, "The professor - it was she," before dying.  Sonia wondered if this neck wound would allow for Smith to say his dying words and Nancy pointed out that it would have been in the side of the neck which probably wouldn't have interfered with his speech.

The housekeeper arrived in the room and went to tell the professor, who was still in bed.  When told of Smith's dying words, the old man didn't have any insight into what it could have meant.

Hopkins arrived soon after and ordered no one to walk on the paths.  Being proud of himself, he reported to Holmes that "[i]t was a splendid chance of putting your theories into practice, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.  There was really nothing wanting."  To which Holmes replied bitterly, "Except Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Hopkins has a chart of the murder scene showing that the study had three entrances, but the murderer had to have come in from the garden path.  The two other exits either lead to the professor's bedroom, or straight into the hallway where the maid would have been.  Hopkins reported that the garden path showed no prints but there were tracks in the grass border off to the side, but he could get no information from them.

Holmes asks, "What did you do, Hopkins, after you had made certain that you had made certain of nothing?"  Rob noted Holmes's bitterness in this early exchange, but at least Watson isn't getting the brunt of it this time.

Hopkins defends himself to Holmes and unveils his big evidence: a golden pince-nez.  Willoughby Smith had excellent sight, so these must belong to the man's murderer.

Holmes looks over the glasses, even trying them on.  He writes his deductions down instead of stating them, though as he usually does.  Madeline offered that Holmes's writing sounds like it started out as a newspaper advertisement but wasn't published.  Robin thought that Holmes changed gears halfway through his writing.  Sonia said it sounded like a profile and Hopkins could use it to share with people.  

John brought up the fact that Doyle mislabeled the prescription of these glasses, even though he was trained in ophthalmology.  Rob cited The Wrong Passage from the BSI Manuscript Series that shows that the original manuscript was changed by editors leading to even further confusion on this topic.  Michael showed his pince-nez and said that they were typically used for magnification.  

Nancy noted that pince-nezes are expandable, so how would Holmes be able to describe the woman's nose?  Shana said that Holmes's description of this woman always reminded her of Mary Sutherland from A Case of Identity.  We discussed Doyle's history as an ophthalmologist.  In fact, he even used his expertise to clear George Edalji in 1907.

Since the majority of people in our meeting were wearing glasses, we took a few minutes to look at our own spectacles and see if they gave away any telltale signs about us.  Madeline talked about the different prescription strengths in her lenses and Heather thought it could reveal the size of someone's head.  Sonia pointed out the cost of the frames could give insight to their wearer and their demeanor based off of how scratched the lenses are.  Steve's nose pieces aren't symmetrical which could help someone describe his nose.  

John brought up that this story in Granada's version of this story substituted Mycroft for Watson and Nancy remembered the great scene between the brothers where Sherlock learns that Mycroft inherited their father's magnifying lens.

Hopkins sleeps over at Baker Street, and the next morning our trio is off to Kent.  On the way, they pass the Thames, and Watson gives a nice callback to The Sign of Four, which doesn't happen too much after Holmes's hiatus.  As readers, we mostly get references to unpublished cases, so it was nice to get a shoutout to one we are actually familiar with.  Bill mentioned that if you look at the chronology of the cases, this would have taken place shortly after Mary Watson would have died, making the mention of SIGN even more important to Watson.

When they arrive at Yoxley Old Place, Holmes looks over the garden path and then into the study.  There he notes that the keyhole in the bureau has scratch marks all around it.  Hopkins dismisses this, saying all keyholes have scratches around them, but Holmes states that these are new.  

GOLD takes place in 1894, and it's nice to see that Hopkins hasn't forgotten this lesson in the following year when he and Holmes are investigating Black Peter, where another lock has been tampered with.

Holmes says that these scratches show that the woman was trying to open the bureau, got caught, and killed Smith.  He also found it very instructive that coconut matting led from the study to the garden AND to the professor's bedroom.  We spent some time talking about coconut matting and how it's still used today.

Professor Coram is described as having a gaunt, aquiline face with piercing dark eyes overhung with tufted brows.  He has white hair and a beard, which is stained yellow, with a cigarette glowing amid the tangle of facial hair.  In a bit of foreshadowing, Coram sounds a lot like the Russian author Leo Tolstoy.

Coram offers his visitor cigarettes made by Ionides of Alexandria.  This led to a short discussion on where these cigarettes were actually from.  Many folks just assume that the cigarettes are from Egypt, but Rob pointed out that Ionides was a dealer in London and that Alexandria, Virginia had a large tobacco crop, while Egypt didn't grow tobacco.  Bill noted that in this case, Alexandria, Egypt could be like the goose in The Blue Carbuncle: it had no crop.

While Coram talks about his studies, Holmes is pacing and smoking around the room.  We discussed Coram's smoking habits and wondered how large his ashtray must have been.

Coram says that his Magnum Opus may never be completed now.  It was to be an analysis of the Coptic monasteries of Syria and Egypt.  It should also be noted that later on Holmes would work on a case dealing with two Coptic patriarchs. in The Retired Colourman.  Bill talked about how the library of Alexandria would have played an important role in Coram's research and Josh connected this to the Coptic gospels.  It was also noted that Doyle spent time in Egypt with both of his wives (but not at the same time).

Holmes redirects Coram to the murder and asks him about Smith's dying words and if he was trying to identify someone.  Coram says, "Susan is a country girl and you know the incredible stupidity of that class."  We discussed if this was more foreshadowing to show that Coram is a despicable person and it is glaring to modern day readers, but would it have stood out to the original audience?  Sandy said probably not because the majority of Strand readers would have been middle class and they felt higher up than the servant class.

After Coram offers up another theory that Smith committed suicide, Holmes tells him, "I promise that we won't disturb you until after lunch.  At 2:00 we will come again."  This is so subtle and brilliant of Holmes to set his trap!

Out in the garden, the housekeeper tells Holmes that despite all of his smoking and yesterday's scandal, the professor has had quite a good appetite.  Hopkins comes back from town and announces that a woman matching Holmes's description was seen in town yesterday and the maid says that Smith was also in town yesterday morning before he was killed.  But none of this information gets much of a rise from Holmes.  In fact, Watson is disturbed by this, saying "I had never known him to handle a case in such a halfhearted fashion."

2:00 arrives and it's time to visit again with the professor.  Once again he offers his visitors cigarettes and Holmes knocks them over like they are a bowl of oranges in The Reigate Squire.  Everyone is on the floor, looking everywhere for where they rolled to, but Holmes is interested in something else on the floor.

He explains to everyone that a woman came to the house to get some documents out of the bureau in the study.  She had her own key, but was interrupted by Smith and he was killed by accident.  She lost her glasses and followed the coconut matting to what she thought was the garden but ended up in Coram's bedroom.  Coram hid the woman behind a bookcase, and she comes out of hiding right on cue.

Hopkins grabs the woman's arm to arrest her but she waves him aside.  Nobody respects Stanley Hopkins in this story!

The lady's name is Anna, and she says that everything Holmes reported is true.  She is Coram's wife from Russia.  They were Nihilists and long ago, a police officer was killed due to their actions.  Coram turned in his wife and other comrades in exchange for his own freedom and a reward.  She has finally been released from her imprisonment in Siberia, but Anna wanted the papers that Coram had that would prove a friend of hers was innocent to free him as well.

Stacey wondered how much influence Russian literature would have had on Conan Doyle as he was writing this story.  Radical Russian groups were very much in the news during the time that this story was being written and the international press had really turned against the Russian monarchy.  Robert pointed out that the Russian industrial revolution would have played into all of this.  Stacey found the last part of the story very interesting that it goes along as a regular Sherlock Holmes story and suddenly become a tale of international politics.

We discussed what an amazing detective Anna would have had to have been to track down a husband in a different country under his new name while he never leaves his house.  Very impressive!  Arthur said there is a great backstory with Anna that could be turned into its own story-within-a-story like Doyle did with some of his novels.  And Andrew pointed out that after her time in Siberia, Anna proved that revenge really was a dish best served cold.

Anna finishes her story and dies from the poison she swallowed before appearing to tell her story.  Rob cited a passage from Brad Keefauver's book, Sherlock Holmes and the Ladies, where he argues that Anna faked her death and Holmes let her get away with the ruse.

Holmes explains that he used the cigarette ashes in front of one of the bookcases that didn't have any piles in front of it as he expected there to be a hiding spot behind such a bookcase.  We all wondered if Shana's room had hiding spots behind her bookcases because her room is a bibliophile's dream, but she showed us that all of her bookcase do in fact have piles of books in front of them.  So she wasn't hiding any Russian Nihilists this weekend.  

Sonia pointed out that Professor Coram was never punished for his actions as long as we know.  It was also noted that Holmes's deductions were similar to the biblically apocryphal story of Bel and the Dragon, where David used a similar method to prove that a brass idol was not really a god.

Holmes and Watson deliver Anna's papers to the Russian Embassy as promised.  Stacey and Michael doubted that the new Russian Czar would care much about Anna's diary entries though.  Sonia pointed out that this story is ultimately a tragedy.

Reminder, there will not be a meeting in July as The Noble Bachelors of St. Louis will be hosting their Victorian picnic.  We will see everyone in September!