The Three Gables

Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1927. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.

Six more stories to go. So close to the end. I have enjoyed doing these essays, but I realized that I’ve been doing them for over a year, and it gets exhausting. Especially when you have another terrible story like this one, more “forged drivel” according to Meyer. Let’s start right in with racism.

Yes, racism. After such unusually tolerant stories about race such as “The Yellow Face” or “The Three Students,” we get Steve Dixie. He’s a negro and a thug that calls Holmes “Massar” and is described as a “savage.” Further, Holmes insults Steve’s smell and commends Watson for not breaking “his wooly head.” Some have attempted to excuse this as more relevant to Dixie’s standing as a criminal and boxer than his race. It is possible that the reference to smell is actually related to class rather than race — some parts of London, such as the Jago, were not only so notoriously dangerous that even policemen travelled in pairs, but their squalor was also legendary. Some scholars have even tried to excuse Doyle by blaming Holmes, claiming that his treatment of Dixie is consistent with the erratic behavior known to lengthy cocain abusers.¹ On the other hand, this story was written three decades after “The Yellow Face,” and we know that Doyle had very different beliefs later in life than he held when he was a younger man. But whether Doyle was being racist or classist (and I am still inclined to the former), Doyle’s writing is far less tolerant than it was previously — the sheer volume of epitaphs against Dixie in such a short space are hard to ignore.

And then we turn to the other stereotype — the exotic and evil woman. Mrs. Isadora Klein is ”[s]o roguish and exquisite did she look as she stood before us with a challenging smile that I felt of all Holmes’s criminals this was the one whom he would find it hardest to face.” Thankfully, Holmes is immune to the charms of the fairer sex (a fact which slashfic writers have eagerly leapt upon, I’m sure). She is very much the femme fatale (or, as Holmes says, the belle dame sans merci – the beautiful woman without compassion). And much like the role of the femme fatale, she uses her charms to coax the detective into committing a crime on her behalf — in this case, leading Holmes to take justice into his hands and “compound a felony as usual.” While we have seen Holmes do this several times in the canon, this time it feels wrong — Holmes is clearly taking money to cover up a crime, even if he is just passing the money on to his client.

There are other elements that make this feel more like a bad pastiche than Doyle’s work. There is the usual Scotland Yard detective, and yet he is never given a name. Is this Lestrade? Holmes also makes a number of mistakes in the story. Why does Holmes tell his client to have her lawyer stay with her? And why does she ignore this advice? He later admits that he should have had Watson stay — why didn’t he? And for all the stories in which Holmes is shown to be absorbed by the problems of these crimes, here he says “Surely no man would take up my profession if it were not that danger attracts him,” which sounds much more like Watson’s motivation than Holmes’.

No, even the introduction of the tantalizing Langdale Pike, the “human book of reference upon all matters of social scandal” into Holmes’ organization, does little to salvage this weak story. It feels like a hardboiled American detective story into which Holmes was forcefully injected rather than a classic Holmes story. Doyle does a terrible Raymond Chandler impression.

The Illustrious Client

Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1927. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.

Bonus essay! Two in one week!

On the heels of the largely-forgettable “The Three Garribs” comes one of the better stories of the collection (and one of Doyle’s personal favorites). This is actually a great story for information about the changes in the relationship between Holmes and Watson in the 20th century. Watson and Holmes are older, and this is probably part of the reason why Watson and Holmes both like Turkish baths (which was also mentioned in “Lady Frances Carfax”). Watson is again no longer with Holmes, having his own rooms on Queen Anne Street. Watson is also still a doctor at this stage, as at one point he mentions having “pressing professional business.” Holmes mentions his new assistant, Shinwell Johnson, who has started working with him at the turn of the century (which implies that Watson moved out of Baker Street at some point before the turn of the century). We learn that Watson is nearly as well-known at the Yard as Holmes. Watson even admits to editing Holmes:

“Then he told the story, which I would repeat in this way. His hard, dry statement needs some little editing to soften it into the terms of real life.”

There are some interesting parellels, however — not a complete retread like the previous story, but nice notes and elements seen again. There are mentions of Moriarty and Moran, and we learn that Moran is still alive at this point (and presumably still in jail). Holmes’ expertise with the stick keeps him in good stead again. Like “The Six Napoleons,” Holmes manipulates the press for his own ends. There is yet another woman in the canon named “Violet” — this time, Violet de Merville. There’s a reference to Simpson’s (more specifically, Simpon’s-In-The-Strand) — a popular London restaurant referenced not only a few times in the canon, but by other writers, such as E. M. Forster and P. G. Wodehouse. And Holmes’ sexism comes forth.

“Woman’s heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male. Murder might be condoned or explained, and yet some smaller offence might rankle.”

And yet, his perspective on women is more complex:

“Women of the De Merville type do not act like that. She would love him the more as a disfigured martyr.”

The exchange between the Baron and Holmes is particularly interesting to note. It is similar in civility as the one between Moriarty and Holmes in “The Final Problem” (the gentleman criminal and the gentleman detective is in full display here), but it doesn’t quite have the depths of mental chess that Moriarty’s exchange had. This might be due to the place in our collective culture that Moriarty has, but I feel that the Baron is an adequate foil for Holmes, but not the most notorious. It’s also a bit unusual that the Baron claims that his personality has caused a post-hypnotic influence. Granted, it’s indicative of the 1920s fascination with hypnotism, but otherwise it’s an odd note.

On a side note, there are a couple of other interesting cultural references, such as “nark” being a term for informing to the police even as far back as this time. Attack by acid wasn’t uncommon — it was a crime officially called “vitriol-throwing.” ¹ The reference to card-playing as an analogy for bluffing is also a nice insight into the Victorian mind: “Not a colour card there, Mr. Holmes, nothing but the smallest of the small.” ²

The most intriguing part of the story for me, though, is the continuation of the conflict between Holmes and Watson in regards to Watson’s ability to lie. In “The Dying Detective,” Holmes held back his true medical condition, because he felt Watson wouldn’t be able to convince people otherwise. This time, Holmes is asking Watson to exaggerate the nature of his injuries. Has Watson become a better liar in the intervening years? And yet, as Watson points out:

“There was a curious secretive streak in the man which led to many dramatic effects, but left even his closest friend guessing as to what his exact plans might be. He pushed to an extreme the axiom that the only safe plotter was he who plotted alone. I was nearer him than anyone else, and yet I was always conscious of the gap between.”

Watson crams on knowledge of Chinese pottery in order to carry out a task for Holmes. This is not the inquisitive, confused Watson of the early canon — he simply does as he is asked. But sadly, Holmes’ observation of Watson’s ability to lie turns out to be accurate — he bumbles the conversation with the Baron.

Finally, there is the speculation on who the titular “illustrious client” is. There are a number of theories about this, but it’s generally assumed to be King Edward — the same person implied as the client in “The Beryl Coronet” when he was the Prince of Wales.

The Three Garridebs

Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1927. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.

This isn’t one of the worst stories in the collection, but it also isn’t very original. The plot is very similar to “The Red-Headed League” and “The Stock-Broker’s Clerk” (taking an unusual aspect of an innocent man and finding an elaborate method to get them out of the way). It has a couple of interesting points, such as being the first use of a telephone and telephone directory in the canon and the interesting emphasis that Holmes places on the danger of counterfeiting (”… the counterfeiter stands in a class by himself as a public danger.”) There’s also the infamous (and fleeting) reference to Holmes refusing a knighthood, although he accepted a Legion of Honour from the French President in “The Golden Pince-Nez.” This seems less concerned with Holmes’ own personality as it is Conan Doyle’s, who felt positively forced into accepting a knighthood from Edward VII at around the same time.

However, there is one scene that makes this story worth reading. Watson is shot during the course of the story. Holmes’ reaction is wonderful, and consistent with “The Devil’s Foot”:

“You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say that you are not hurt!”
It was worth a wound — it was worth many wounds — to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

Of course, that isn’t the “one and only time,” but it is a great sentiment nonetheless.