Sherlock Holmes in Something the Cat Dragged In by Lyn McConchie

precipitate a war?”
    â€œI do,” Holmes said decisively. “And I think that if we do not recover them they well may do so.”
    â€œI tell you, Holmes. I do not wish to see our country embroiled in another war. Is there nothing we can do?”
    He nodded. “We have done much already. We know there was no dishonest servant, and even Brand was tricked. We have recovered a portion of the papers, perhaps a fifth of them. We know that the agent who has the rest is likely Liebowitcz. Brand’s description fits the man, who was injured and dishonorably discharged from his country’s army—although that was kept quiet because of his influential family—hence his walk which has been described as ‘waddling’ or a ‘funny walk.’ His hip was badly damaged by a bullet and the joint flexes less freely than it should, so that he seems to roll when he walks. He retains still some of his military habits. And we know too that there has been some holdup in Liebowitcz’s departure or his disposition of the papers.”
    â€œWhy was Liebowitcz discharged? Could that lead us to him in some way?”
    â€œUnlikely. He was found to be cheating at cards. He may have continued to do so at Siddons’s place, but I think that will lead us nowhere.”
    â€œSo we must find Liebowitcz and the papers, or if one of those two only, then we must retrieve the papers,” I announced. “England depends on us.” My shoulders slumped. “But how are we to do that?”
    â€œCome, Watson, I have my spies, and an acquaintance of yours has his in places other than mine. I think he may be prepared to assist if asked.”
    I brightened. “Western, you mean? Yes, whatever else the man may be, he strikes me as competent and patriotic. Do you know where we could find him now?”
    â€œWhy, in the same hotel as you did, Watson.”
    And so we did. He was propping up the bar with an elbow, a glass of cider in one hand while he expounded on the principles of free trade to a scruffy-looking man who watched him suspiciously. Holmes caught me by the arm as I would have advanced.
    â€œLet the man finish his business, Watson,” he murmured. “He won’t thank you for making him conspicuous.”
    I stood aside while Western handed over what I took to be money, receiving in turn a small flat case in rubbed crimson leather with gold lettering. Such cases usually contain valuable jewelry, and I had no doubt that this was so. I was disappointed that a man I liked remained dishonest, but once his confederate was gone I approached with a smile.
    â€œMr. Western. Here is my friend Sherlock Holmes. Would you care to join us for a drink?”
    Western nodded to Holmes. “Brandy if you can afford it, sirs. And shall we sit over here?”
    Once we had our drinks, he led us to a secluded table in the far corner of the room, where none could approach without being seen, nor could we be overheard. “I suppose you would like information of some sort?”
    Holmes placed his glass on the table and nodded. “You have it right, Mr. Western. Firstly, allow me to bring you up to date on events. Thanks to your good offices we found Persimmon Brand—who is now dead—murdered, we believe, by his employer.” I could see that Western was not surprised, and assumed that he must have already heard the news. Holmes continued, laying out all the events that had resulted from Brand’s information, including Holmes’s own belief that the agent in question was Maximillian Liebowitcz, the recovery of a portion of the papers, and our fears that there were still a sufficient number to sell for a high price and enough provocation therein to start a war if the buyers were looking for an excuse—as it was feared they could be.
    Western drained his glass, called for another, and when it arrived, sipped thoughtfully. “What you need is to lay hands on this