Free The Lost Casebooks of Sherlock Holmes by Donald Thomas Page A

An octagonal clock-tower with a cupola dome rose above. It faced the elegant viceregal apartments across the yard with the guard-room of the Dublin garrison next to it and the headquarters of the Dublin Metropolitan Police within a few yards. On the other side of it was the arch of the castle gate, where two sentries and a policeman were on duty day and night. If they could not between them secure such treasures, I was quite sure we should never do so.
    â€˜I think, Holmes, we might leave the matter there. Anyone might have read your face like a book just now but, surely, this is the safest place in the country for the regalia. Perhaps safer than the Tower of London itself.’
    He chuckled but there was no laughter in his keen eyes.
    â€˜All the same,’ he said, ‘we must not disappoint Sir Arthur. He will die of chagrin unless we allow him to show us how well protected his treasures are.’
    We got down into the sunlit courtyard and walked across to the figure of Ulster King of Arms in his Elizabethan tabard and breeches.
    It will be as well if I say something of Sir Arthur Vicars, as he appeared to me then. He had held his office for fifteen years and lived much of his life at his Dublin town-house in St James’s Terrace. At this time, he was still a bachelor, loyal to the English cause, and a ritualistically inclined member of the Established Church. He had a bland face and wistful air, the locks and whiskers of an Elizabethan courtier. In his manner, he was apt to be pedantic, fussy and rather old-maidish.
    On that afternoon, he appeared to have stepped out of a distant costumed past as he escorted us through the Bedford Tower to his office on the first floor. There were two rooms opening off the ground-floor vestibule. The library was to the right; ahead there was the clerk’s cubby-hole office, which contained a steel door, the only way to the strong-room itself. Sir Arthur ushered us into the library, its shelves lined with handsomely bound volumes of genealogy and heraldry. Against the far wall, between two windows, stood a large ‘Model A’ Ratner safe, four feet wide and five feet tall. Sir Arthur walked across to it and then turned round to us.
    â€˜As you may see, gentlemen, we are pretty well provided for here. This is where the smaller items of the regalia are kept. The safe was installed by Ratner’s four years ago. It has walls of two-inch steel and double locks of seven levers each. It is proof against any lock-picking or forcing. Nothing short of dynamite would blow it open and the amount required would bring down the entire Bedford Tower. For good measure, the gateway arch is outside. On the other side of this wall, there are two sentries and a policeman on guard day and night.’
    â€˜I congratulate you,’ said Holmes with only the least trace of irony in his tone. ‘How many keys are there and who holds them?’
    Sir Arthur smiled. ‘Two, Mr Holmes. One is always with me. The other is concealed in a place to which I alone have access and which is known only to me.’
    â€˜But would it not be better still to have the safe installed in the strong-room?’
    A brief look of irritation disturbed Sir Arthur’s self-confidence.
    â€˜After the strong-room was constructed, it was found that the safe was too wide to pass through the doorway. I have spoken several times to the Board of Works but nothing has been done.’
    Holmes nodded and our heraldically costumed guide led us through the vestibule to the little office, which had just enough space for a chair and a desk.
    â€˜Our messenger and general factotum is here during working hours,’ Sir Arthur said, ‘William Stivey, formerly of the Royal Navy. He has been with us for six years. A conscientious worker of exemplary character.’
    â€˜Indeed?’ said Holmes politely, but he was staring at the bonded steel of the strong-room door to one side, ‘And this, I take