the lady’s intimate companion, has gone underground. The soldiers have likewise disappeared. It will be a job to find them, but I have initiated inquiries.”
“What are your plans?”
“I shall just cast my eye over him of the menacing leather apron, as Miss Monk appears to consider him dangerous. I’ve worked out his identity, though the force are still mulling over it—he is a bootmaker by the name of John Pizer. I fear he is not the most sophisticated ofcriminals, Watson. He has mastered the rather crude technique of accosting helpless women and demanding their pennies if they wish to avoid bodily harm. The scoundrel was convicted last year to six months’ hard labour for stabbing the hand of a fellow boot finisher who dared to operate in the same neighbourhood.”
“You think him capable, then, of Mrs. Nichols’s murder?”
“I require more reliable data. I intend to pay him a call this afternoon.”
“Are you likely to need assistance?”
“No, no, my dear fellow, finish your tea and I shall regale you with the story upon my return—it is hardly an errand worthy of both our energies.”
My friend returned that evening spattered with sleet but nevertheless laughed silently as he stretched his long legs before the fire. I passed him the cigar box with an inquisitive glance.
“You have enjoyed your afternoon?”
“It was in many ways remarkably refreshing. A lower species of the thug genus I’ve never before encountered. I called upon Mr. Pizer and expressed my condolences that he was shortly to be named the first definite suspect in the Nichols case. I believe I may have startled him, but he has apparently been holed up in his house since the crime occurred, so he must have had some inkling that the local tide was against him. We had a very absorbing conversation about his boot-making income and the ways in which he supplements it. I think one or two remarks of mine may have offended him, for he took a swing at me, and I was forced to consign him to his wooden floor. He protested an alibi, and I expressed doubts as to its veracity. I then quit his establishment and wired Lestrade immediately his full name and address.”
“Then you think him guilty?”
“No, my dear Watson, I’m afraid I believe him innocent. Consider: John Pizer is a coward whose notion of commerce is to rob destitute women. Is he likely to commit an audacious murder? Further, if JohnPizer makes a living threatening those with considerably smaller musculature than his own, would he endanger that living by endowing them with a mortal terror of dark alleys and sinister strangers? Pizer had only his own income to lose.”
“Then why did you wire Lestrade?”
“Because I can hardly recall the last time I disliked a man quite so vigourously. If we are lucky, he will be arrested for some few days, which will at the very least prevent him from roaming the streets. I am not sorry to have seen him, though,” Holmes continued thoughtfully. “He clarified a valuable opinion of which I was hardly aware before.”
“What opinion?”
“Pizer and his ilk demand attention wherever they go. I would venture to suggest that any man who performs such acts as we have observed upon Polly Nichols’s corpse, and then walks off into densely populated streets without exciting remark, is of a far more colourless mien. Merely an indication, but entirely against the tack Scotland Yard and our beloved press have set themselves upon. And now, with thanks to Miss Monk for an engrossing afternoon, let us devote our entire attention to the cut of beef upon the sideboard. Cold weather, when mixed with thuggery, does try a man’s resources so.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Horror of Hanbury Street
Two days after my friend’s encounter with Leather Apron, at half past six in the morning, my sleep was disturbed by a whimpering cry, far off yet terrible in its intensity. The next instant snapped me into wakefulness and I left my room with a hastily lit taper
“What are your plans?”
“I shall just cast my eye over him of the menacing leather apron, as Miss Monk appears to consider him dangerous. I’ve worked out his identity, though the force are still mulling over it—he is a bootmaker by the name of John Pizer. I fear he is not the most sophisticated ofcriminals, Watson. He has mastered the rather crude technique of accosting helpless women and demanding their pennies if they wish to avoid bodily harm. The scoundrel was convicted last year to six months’ hard labour for stabbing the hand of a fellow boot finisher who dared to operate in the same neighbourhood.”
“You think him capable, then, of Mrs. Nichols’s murder?”
“I require more reliable data. I intend to pay him a call this afternoon.”
“Are you likely to need assistance?”
“No, no, my dear fellow, finish your tea and I shall regale you with the story upon my return—it is hardly an errand worthy of both our energies.”
My friend returned that evening spattered with sleet but nevertheless laughed silently as he stretched his long legs before the fire. I passed him the cigar box with an inquisitive glance.
“You have enjoyed your afternoon?”
“It was in many ways remarkably refreshing. A lower species of the thug genus I’ve never before encountered. I called upon Mr. Pizer and expressed my condolences that he was shortly to be named the first definite suspect in the Nichols case. I believe I may have startled him, but he has apparently been holed up in his house since the crime occurred, so he must have had some inkling that the local tide was against him. We had a very absorbing conversation about his boot-making income and the ways in which he supplements it. I think one or two remarks of mine may have offended him, for he took a swing at me, and I was forced to consign him to his wooden floor. He protested an alibi, and I expressed doubts as to its veracity. I then quit his establishment and wired Lestrade immediately his full name and address.”
“Then you think him guilty?”
“No, my dear Watson, I’m afraid I believe him innocent. Consider: John Pizer is a coward whose notion of commerce is to rob destitute women. Is he likely to commit an audacious murder? Further, if JohnPizer makes a living threatening those with considerably smaller musculature than his own, would he endanger that living by endowing them with a mortal terror of dark alleys and sinister strangers? Pizer had only his own income to lose.”
“Then why did you wire Lestrade?”
“Because I can hardly recall the last time I disliked a man quite so vigourously. If we are lucky, he will be arrested for some few days, which will at the very least prevent him from roaming the streets. I am not sorry to have seen him, though,” Holmes continued thoughtfully. “He clarified a valuable opinion of which I was hardly aware before.”
“What opinion?”
“Pizer and his ilk demand attention wherever they go. I would venture to suggest that any man who performs such acts as we have observed upon Polly Nichols’s corpse, and then walks off into densely populated streets without exciting remark, is of a far more colourless mien. Merely an indication, but entirely against the tack Scotland Yard and our beloved press have set themselves upon. And now, with thanks to Miss Monk for an engrossing afternoon, let us devote our entire attention to the cut of beef upon the sideboard. Cold weather, when mixed with thuggery, does try a man’s resources so.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Horror of Hanbury Street
Two days after my friend’s encounter with Leather Apron, at half past six in the morning, my sleep was disturbed by a whimpering cry, far off yet terrible in its intensity. The next instant snapped me into wakefulness and I left my room with a hastily lit taper
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