"BUT THAT FELLOW DOES PUZZLE ME."

 

"An instant later the tutor returned, bringing with him the student."

Well, it is not exactly in an instant, but the tutor, otherwise known as the clever and funny Rich Krisciunas, has announced he is serving as the John H Watson Society Treasure Hunt master again this August; therefore, the student, me, is coming right along to see what craftiness he has planned for this year's hunt. He always teaches me something I didn't know about the Sherlock Holmes Canon, and invariably does so in an engaging and pleasant way. His quiz-ending ciphers are mind-boggling for a few of us. Rich turns up everywhere--what a gift he is to the Sherlockian community, and especially to the small but loyal Treasure Hunt community.

As I've mentioned before, the first JHWS "Buttons" Don Libey was a dear friend to me, and I've been a supporter of the Treasure Hunt since he created it in 2013. Don was a smart and funny and kind man who managed to accomplish a lot of work.  Rich seems very much like him. I think the two would have liked one another. I'm certainly grateful to have had a friendship with Don, and I'm very grateful to now be friends with Rich. 

I'm not sure my Sherlockian world would have ever grown far from my home group of The Sound of the Baskervilles if it had not been for Don and those early Treasure Hunts. I'm not sure if the SOBs will have a team competing this year but I'm hopeful. I'm also hopeful some of the TH stalwarts return, including Michael Ellis, Steve Mason, Paul Thomas Miller and Brad Keefauver, among others.

Rich posted five warm-up questions this past week. I spent a little time working on them over the weekend.  I enjoyed the process. I've put my answers below; I think they are correct. Only #5 gives me a little worry; the TH style wording makes me think I might have missed something as my answer seems mostly on point but doesn't feel 100% on point.   

Maybe someone will review my answers and let me know how I did.

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1. What object did Watson see on top of a bookcase?

Answer: Bust of Athene

Opposite was a large bookcase, with a marble burst of Athene on the top. --"The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton"

2. Who besides the King of Bohemia had the chest and limbs of a Hercules?

Answer: The pretend Russian Nobleman's companion who visited Dr. Percy Trevelyan

He was an elderly man, thin, demure, and commonplace-by no means the conception one forms of a Russian nobleman.  I was much more struck by the appearance of his companion.  This was a tall young man, surprisingly handsome, with a dark, fierce face, and the limbs and chest of a Hercules. --"The Adventure of the Resident Patient"

3. A store selling maps had the same name as a man arrested by Watson. 

Answer: Stamford's and Stamford

 As Annotated at  The Arthur-Conan-Doyle Encyclopedia: 

«After you left I sent down to Stamford's for the Ordnance map of this portion of the moor, and my spirit has hovered over it all day. »--The Hound of the Baskervilles

«'Stamford's' in the Strand and American versions. The real name was Edward Stanford's, map sellers, 26 Cockspur Street, Charing Cross.»

You remember, Watson, that it was near there that we took Archie Stamford, the forger. --"The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist"

4. What was the make of the car driven by Watson?

 Answer: Ford

The secretary lay back in the cushions of the luxurious limousine, with his thoughts so full of the impending European tragedy that he hardly observed that as his car swung round the village street it nearly passed over a little Ford coming in the opposite direction.

He was just in time to see the lights of a small car come to a halt at the gate.  A passenger sprang out and advanced swiftly towards him, while the chauffeur, a heavily built, elderly man, with a grey moustache, settled down, like one who resigns himself to a long vigil.

The thick-set chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table, pushed forward his glass with some eagerness. 'It is a good wine, Holmes.' 'A remarkable wine, Watson.'-- "His Last Bow"

5. He taught him how to convert stolen property into money.

Answer: Maudsley taught James Ryder

I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him, so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. -- "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle"

A FEW WORDS MAY SUFFICE

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

22 May 1859 - 7 July 1930

As I had my customary toast to Arthur Conan Doyle today in remembrance of his death ninety-three years ago, I did the silly thing that I often do on July 7: I compared what I am doing to what he was doing at my age. The good Sir Arthur and I were born 100 years (plus a couple of months) apart so my knowing his age at a point in time is fairly easy math for me.  He was 64 years old in July 1923 and in the last decade of his life. (I think about that, too, hoping that this is not my last decade.)

As always, anything I'm doing pales in comparison to what he was doing at my age. He spent that last decade doing what he always did: writing, campaigning on someone's behalf and carrying the Spiritualist message to the world. If I remember correctly he traveled in America in 2023. His life is so often a blur when I try to remember beyond his early years. He always did so much. Even when I can't agree with what he did I'm still in awe of his ability to be so alive, so involved, and so caring in many ways.

I do not say he is "the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known" but he is on my list. I'm grateful to spend part of my life engrossed in his life and work.

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[When I first tried writing fiction about Doyle, I made a little playlet about the day Arthur Conan Doyle died for a book for Doyle's Rotary Coffin. I've attached it below.]

 

SOME COMMON THREAD

A play in one scene

CHARACTERS

PHINEAS— Lilliputian-sized elfin creature. Very formally dressed. Fussily and excessively respectable.

ALVISS—Lilliputian-sized elfin creature. Dressed in pajamas. Bemused and emotive.

SETTING/TIME

A comfortable tiny sitting room situated inside a mouse hole in the attic of Windlesham Manor, Crowborough, East Sussex. Afternoon tea-time.  July 7, 1930                                                              

SCENE ONE

(ALVISS is sitting in an easy chair, in pajamas and robe, with a glass of wine. A carafe sits on an ottoman to his right. PHINEAS enters the room, with notes and pencil in hand, drops a small bag by the door.)

ALVISS:  I thought you were never coming back. Tea-time is a good half hour gone. I started without you.

PHINEAS: Tea? Looks more like Tokay. The time got away from me.  There is so much activity in the house. I needed to take notes.

ALVISS: Yes, Tokay. Seemed appropriate.  As our friend said. (Lifts the glass in a mock toast and continues in an exaggerated stage voice.) “’Another glass, Watson,’ said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the bottle of Imperial Tokay.”  (Sips at his wine and then sighs heavily.)  Why the notes? The gent is dead. Therefore, Holmes and all the others are dead. Makes me wish I had helped him with his ridiculous British Campaign in France and Flanders.

PHINEAS: (Removes nonexistent lint from his coat, sits in the other easy chair, smooths his trousers, and accepts a glass of wine from ALVISS.)

Your Brobdingnagian-sized efforts with The Great Boer War, and, indeed, with Holmes himself, earned you the right of a Lilliputian-sized effort with that hopeless Flanders debacle.

ALVISS: Oh, Phineas.  You always come back to Swift.  Always.  (Lifts the glass in a mock toast again.) I can’t hold it against you. It was a good run with Swift.  We were inspired with that one.  One of the highlights of our long career.  (He sighs heavily again.) The gent is dead. I know he never rose to the revered strata of some of our more…um…shall we say illustrious clients…but he has been good fun to work with. And we’ve been very comfortable here these few years, especially since we moved from the hut to the house.  I was cold every seemingly endless day we toiled with Chaucer.

PHINEAS: (Laughs in the noiseless fashion peculiar to him.) I hated the distempered red paint in the hut.  Why did he want to write there? And, yes, Chaucer: travel, travel, travel.  We had a bit of fun with him at that wedding listening to the Petrarch fellow.  It is a shame we were never assigned to him. I simply couldn’t resist adding him to Holmes’s pocket.

ALVISS: (Stands, holds up an imaginary book, speaks in a deep, slightly mocking theatrical voice.) “No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us.  And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action.”

PHINEAS: (Laughs again.) How do you remember all the text?  What is that, Boscombe Valley? Our little Adventures certainly changed the gent’s life.  Despite his prodigious output, he needed income. Working with an underfunded client is so vexing. (Goes to the door and brings the bag to the ottoman.) Here, I’ve brought some brown bread and butter.  I tried for something more but the infernal dog interfered.  Dogs! They always know we are here.  I enjoyed suggesting ways for the gent to knock them off: poison, a stinging jellyfish, dispatching by gun fire.  Those were delicious, as I hope this bread will be.

(They take some bread each, refill their glasses, and sit in the armchairs.)  

ALVISS: You really shouldn’t be too hard on old Paddy.  Despite being the girl’s dog, he is fond of the gent.  The dog will be sad. He hasn’t chased us in years, and he rarely disturbs us here. Remember that awful Crab in Shakespeare’s company. (Shudders.) The old bard has certainly become our most illustrious and long read client to date.  I hardly expected it.  I wonder if any of the gent’s works will survive the test of human time and imagination.  I suspect Holmes might.  He is, apparently, much admired. This bread is good. I wonder what we will eat with the new host.

(Each stare wistfully into space, chewing silently, lost in thought.)

PHINEAS: Wherever we go, I hope the host is as receptive as the gent.  I’ve become quite accustomed to having my ideas accepted without question as his own.  I never want another one like that Bulwer-Lytton—he wouldn’t listen to anything. Remember his “It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—” and onto the other forty-six words of that ridiculous opening sentence. (Voice rises stridently.)  The only time we’ve ever had to leave early. Our history is storied—if you’ll pardon the pun—and there we were. Out! The first time in a thousand years of work as humans measure it. Shameful.   

ALVISS: Phineas, please. Let’s not go over it again.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the name of our new host arrives today.  It seldom takes long for the light to appear. Let’s hope we get to stay in the British Isles.  Can you imagine if we had to go to America?

PHINEAS: No, no, no.  I wouldn’t stand for it. (Sniffs.) They hardly have the history or talent for the likes of us.

ALVISS: I don’t know. I can’t imagine it.  Did you hear anything interesting when you were out today?

PHINEAS: Oh, yes! (Gathers his notes.)  His last words were to the lady, of course.  He said, “You are wonderful.” He did love the lady. I immediately thought we should construct a proper death for Holmes—not that silly thing the gent did when we were feverish—but a proper send off.  I can hear him saying those exact words to Watson.   Can you imagine it?

ALVISS: Yes, I can.  Our Dr. Watson.  I’m going to miss him too. 

(A ray of light suddenly appears in the room, exploding into tiny stars which then meld into one floating piece of parchment.  PHINEAS and ALVISS stand, take a deep breath.)

PHINEAS: It is here! Now! Already!  Hurry! Read it!

ALVISS: Yes, yes. Oh, where are my glasses?! (ALVISS fumbles with a pince nez for a few seconds, finally resting it on his face.)  I have it.  I don’t know exactly how to say this name.  I will spell it for you:  T-O-L-K-I-E-N.

THE END