It was to a booking agency in Liverpool, giving instructions to them to book a first-class private cabin and passage on board the Empress Queen from Liverpool to New York. Parts of the note were slightly obliterated by other impressions, but it went on to say that a cheque was enclosed to pay for tickets, etc., and it was signed by J Booth. Holmes stood silently scrutinizing the paper for several minutes.
It was a well-used sheet, but fortunately the impression of the note was well in the centre, and hardly obliterated at all by the other marks and blots, which were all round the outer circumference of the paper. In one corner the address of the Liverpool booking agency was plainly decipherable, the paper evidently having been used to blot the envelope with also. “My dear Lestrade, you have indeed been more fortunate than I had imagined,” said Holmes at length, handing the paper back to him. “May I ask what steps you propose to take next?” “I shall cable at once to the New York police to arrest the fellow as soon as he arrives,” said Lestrade, “but first I must make quite certain the boat doesn’t touch at Queenstown or anywhere and give him a chance of slipping through our fingers.” “It doesn’t,” said Holmes quietly. “I had already looked to see as I thought it not unlikely, at first, that Mr. Booth might have intended to sail by the Empress Queen.”
Lestrade gave me a wink for which I would dearly have liked to have knocked him down, for I could see that he disbelieved my friend. I felt a keen pang of disappointment that Holmes’s foresight should have been eclipsed in this way by what, after all, was mere good luck on Lestrade’s part. Holmes had turned to Mrs Purnell and was thanking her. “Don’t mention it, sir,” she said. “Mr Booth deserves to be caught, though I must say he’s always been a gentleman to me. I only wish I could have given you some more useful information.” “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “I can assure you that what you have told us has been of the utmost importance and will very materially help us. It’s just occurred to me, by the way, to wonder if you could possibly put up my friend Dr Watson and myself for a few days, until we have had time to look into this little matter?” “Certainly, sir, I shall be most happy.” “Good,” said Holmes. “Then you may expect us back to dinner about seven.”
When we got outside, Lestrade at once announced his intention of going to the police office and arranging for the necessary orders for Booth’s detention and arrest to be cabled to the head of the New York police; Holmes retained an enigmatical silence as to what he proposed to do but expressed his determination to remain at Broomhill and make a few further inquiries. He insisted, however, upon going alone. “Remember, Watson, you are here for a rest and holiday, and I can assure you that if you did remain with me you would only find my program a dull one. Therefore, I insist upon your finding some more entertaining way of spending the remainder of the day.”
Past experience told me that it was quite useless to remonstrate or argue with Holmes when once his mind was made up, so I consented with the best grace I could, and leaving Holmes, drove off in the hansom, which he assured me he would not require further. I passed a few hours in the art gallery and museum and then, after lunch, had a brisk walk out on the Manchester Road and enjoyed the fresh air and moorland scenery, returning to Ashgate Road at seven with better appetite than I had been blessed with for months. Holmes had not returned, and it was nearly half past seven before he came in. I could see at once that he was in one of his most reticent moods, and all my inquiries failed to elicit any particulars of how he had passed his time or what he thought about the case. The whole evening he remained coiled up in an easy chair, puffing at his pipe, and hardly a word could I get from him.
His inscrutable countenance and persistent silence gave me no clue whatever as to his thoughts on the enquiry he had in hand, although I could see his whole mind was concentrated upon it.
Next morning, just as we had finished breakfast, the maid entered with a note. “From Mr. Jervis, sir; there’s no answer,” she said. Holmes tore open the envelope and scanned the note hurriedly and, as he did so, I noticed a flush of annoyance spread over his usually pale face. “Confound his impudence,” he muttered. “Read that, Watson. I don’t ever remember to have been treated so badly in a case before.” The note was a brief one: The Cedars, Fulwood. September sixth Mr Jervis, on behalf of the directors of the British Consolidated Bank, begs to thank Mr Sherlock Holmes for his prompt attention and valued services in the matter concerning the fraud and disappearance of their ex-employee, Mr Jabez Booth. Mr Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, informs us that he has succeeded in tracking the individual in question who will be arrested shortly. Under these circumstances they feel it unnecessary to take up any more of Mr Holmes’s valuable time.