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Authors: Roy Templeman
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the steps leading to the overseer’s observation cabin I felt a sort of mounting drama was about to be revealed. I was not wrong.
When we were all assembled, Holmes turned to the party and began.
‘I think in the next fifteen minutes, Prime Minister and gentlemen, you will observe better than any way I could describe in words, what happened that evening at Halam Hall between the time Rodger Hardy and Sir Simon inspected the Chinese junk and when they returned two hours later.
‘The Chinese junk was much larger and therefore the time took longer, whereas this vessel is much smaller and therefore will take much less time, a quarter of an hour perhaps. The method, though, is identical to that carried out at Halam Hall.’
Holmes paused and looked at his watch. ‘It is a minute to the hour, gentlemen!’ We waited, the suspense towards the end of that minute was indescribable. I reasoned that whatever Holmes had in store for us to observe, it could not compete with the present tension, but again I was wrong.
We saw Holmes step forward and strike a gong, a gong I had failed to notice before, and as the last of the sound faded away, the door at the far end of the workshop burst open and ten Chinamen with huge flashing machetes ran down the side of the vessel. One Chinaman pushed the poles and wires back against the walls. The others began slashing and demolishing the vessel. Under the weight of this onslaught, the sides of the vessel collapsed, the deck sagged. All this went on at a frenzied pace impossible to describe.
A few of the Chinamen were gathering up the pieces and were carrying them away through the connecting door into the middle workshop and so out of sight.
It seemed incredible that what had minutes before been a solid-looking brand-new iron vessel was collapsing before our eyes, as the Chinamen continued to slash, rip and carry away the huge chunks of cardboard and paper from which it was constructed.
We watched fascinated, spellbound would be a better description. I tore my eyes away for a moment from the noise and mayhem of the frenetic activity to stare at Lord Bellinger. I shall never forget the child-like look that the elder statesman had on his face. It was, I imagine, the joy of observing such unbounded energy being released and seeing the problem which had so wracked him over the past few weeks, dissolving before his eyes.
The fifteen minutes were almost passed away and the Chinamen were putting back into place the poles and wires again. The last scraps of paper and cardboard were swept from the floor. A few moments later and the Chinamen lined up at the far end of the workshop, bowed slowly from the waist and, grinning, filed out closing the door behind them.
The whole demonstration had been pure theatre. The build-up of the tension and expectation was superb, the following performance magnificent.
The look on the faces of all present was a sight I shall always remember. It had been said Lord Bellinger never smiled, didn’t even know how to. Now his face was wreathed in them. He turned to Holmes and held out his hand. ‘Mr Holmes, never in my whole life have I experienced an occasion remotely like this. Certainly I have never witnessed such a sight of sheer exuberant activity.’
Holmes smiled and shook the outstretched hand. ‘I think we can all rest assured in our beds tonight, knowing the threat to Queen and Empire is no longer with us from the Rodger Hardy “Transposer”,’ replied Holmes.
The Cabinet ministers babbled and laughed like school children after seeing a pantomime as Holmes accompanied the Prime Minister to his coach.
The Prime Minister held out his hand once again, shook hands with Holmes, and then with me. ‘Perhaps Mr Holmes and you, Dr Watson, will have dinner at No. 10 tomorrow, and afterwards, behind closed doors, my Cabinet colleagues and I might be given the facts of how you solved, what I must confess, appeared to be the unsolvable.’ He put one foot on the
When we were all assembled, Holmes turned to the party and began.
‘I think in the next fifteen minutes, Prime Minister and gentlemen, you will observe better than any way I could describe in words, what happened that evening at Halam Hall between the time Rodger Hardy and Sir Simon inspected the Chinese junk and when they returned two hours later.
‘The Chinese junk was much larger and therefore the time took longer, whereas this vessel is much smaller and therefore will take much less time, a quarter of an hour perhaps. The method, though, is identical to that carried out at Halam Hall.’
Holmes paused and looked at his watch. ‘It is a minute to the hour, gentlemen!’ We waited, the suspense towards the end of that minute was indescribable. I reasoned that whatever Holmes had in store for us to observe, it could not compete with the present tension, but again I was wrong.
We saw Holmes step forward and strike a gong, a gong I had failed to notice before, and as the last of the sound faded away, the door at the far end of the workshop burst open and ten Chinamen with huge flashing machetes ran down the side of the vessel. One Chinaman pushed the poles and wires back against the walls. The others began slashing and demolishing the vessel. Under the weight of this onslaught, the sides of the vessel collapsed, the deck sagged. All this went on at a frenzied pace impossible to describe.
A few of the Chinamen were gathering up the pieces and were carrying them away through the connecting door into the middle workshop and so out of sight.
It seemed incredible that what had minutes before been a solid-looking brand-new iron vessel was collapsing before our eyes, as the Chinamen continued to slash, rip and carry away the huge chunks of cardboard and paper from which it was constructed.
We watched fascinated, spellbound would be a better description. I tore my eyes away for a moment from the noise and mayhem of the frenetic activity to stare at Lord Bellinger. I shall never forget the child-like look that the elder statesman had on his face. It was, I imagine, the joy of observing such unbounded energy being released and seeing the problem which had so wracked him over the past few weeks, dissolving before his eyes.
The fifteen minutes were almost passed away and the Chinamen were putting back into place the poles and wires again. The last scraps of paper and cardboard were swept from the floor. A few moments later and the Chinamen lined up at the far end of the workshop, bowed slowly from the waist and, grinning, filed out closing the door behind them.
The whole demonstration had been pure theatre. The build-up of the tension and expectation was superb, the following performance magnificent.
The look on the faces of all present was a sight I shall always remember. It had been said Lord Bellinger never smiled, didn’t even know how to. Now his face was wreathed in them. He turned to Holmes and held out his hand. ‘Mr Holmes, never in my whole life have I experienced an occasion remotely like this. Certainly I have never witnessed such a sight of sheer exuberant activity.’
Holmes smiled and shook the outstretched hand. ‘I think we can all rest assured in our beds tonight, knowing the threat to Queen and Empire is no longer with us from the Rodger Hardy “Transposer”,’ replied Holmes.
The Cabinet ministers babbled and laughed like school children after seeing a pantomime as Holmes accompanied the Prime Minister to his coach.
The Prime Minister held out his hand once again, shook hands with Holmes, and then with me. ‘Perhaps Mr Holmes and you, Dr Watson, will have dinner at No. 10 tomorrow, and afterwards, behind closed doors, my Cabinet colleagues and I might be given the facts of how you solved, what I must confess, appeared to be the unsolvable.’ He put one foot on the
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