Sherlock Holmes and The Shadows of St Petersburg by Daniel Victor (bookstand for reading TXT) 📗

the Russian crimes to which Holmes had referred, I could offer only the feeblest of retorts: “But, sadly, Holmes, murders occur so frequently. How can you be certain that the particular killings you singled out actually inspired Dostoevsky?”

Holmes emitted a dry chuckle. “Why, the parallels are obvious, Watson. In the Moscow case, the murder weapon was an axe. And as in Brick Lane, the scene of the crimes had been ransacked and the victims robbed of gold jewellery, jewellery - I might add - which had been hidden by their employer, like Dostoevsky’s pawnbroker, in an iron chest. What is more, my dear Watson, the killer, one Gerasim Chistov, was said to be a member of the religious denomination called ‘Old Believers’. Do you know the Russian word for the member of such a group?”

Needless to say, I did not - though I was beyond certain that Holmes did.

“Raskolnik, old fellow. It comes from the Russian raskol for ‘dissenter’, one who separates himself from a traditional point of view - or, at the risk of invoking the imagery of the axe - one who splits.”

I felt truly defeated. Clearly, Holmes knew that the name of Dostoevsky’s murderer was ‘Raskolnikov’.”[1]

In spite of a yawn offered up by Lestrade, Holmes continued to defend his account of the criminal behaviours that might have influenced Dostoevsky. “In the other example, I mentioned,” said he, “a Mrs Dubarasova was murdered in St Petersburg just as Dostoevsky was beginning to write his novel. What is key in the Dubarasova case, Watson - as I am sure you will not fail to note - is that the poor woman had been distracted by a false package presented to her by the killer. All the St Petersburg newspapers reported the story, and Dostoevsky was certain to have read of it.”

Lestrade mulled over the details. “The St Petersburg newspapers, you say. A false package?”

Holmes nodded. “For that matter,” said he, “I have yet to mention the traditional association, the case that most criminal experts argue shaped Dostoevsky’s thinking. How else to account for the references he recorded in his published preface to the transcripts of the trial concerning the French murderer Lacenaire?”

Lacenaire-another name I had never heard before.

“Although the Frenchman’s crimes took place some fifty years ago,” Holmes explained, “not only was he responsible for at least two deaths, one with an axe, but he also shared many similarities with Dostoevsky’s killer. Both were educated; both were poor. Both had anti-social beliefs, about which they wrote in public journals. Lacenaire challenged the penal system; Raskolnikov, you may recall, defended the very nature of crime itself in an article he wrote. As a result of their ruminations, both came to view murder as protest and hoped for the ascendancy of a superman - what the Germans call the Übermensch-to set society right. Why, Dostoevsky himself called the case more compelling than anything he had found in fiction.”

We continued eating in silence though throughout the remainder of our meal Holmes maintained a triumphant smile that seemed altogether unworthy of someone considered a friend.

Lestrade, on the other hand, seemed to be pondering my observations. Minutes passed before he spoke again. Then he asked, “Roosians, you say, Doctor?”

I nodded.

“I may have a few connections in that area,” said he, taking a final bite of his sandwich. “Just lately, many of them Russkies - anarchists and Nihilists they call themselves - have come to England to create trouble with their radical ideas. To get themselves out of tight fixes - or more than likely, to earn a few quid - a goodly number have turned informer. Now that we suspect there might be a Roosian flavour to these murders, I think I’ll just nose round a bit and see if any of them have something to say about what went on in Brick Lane.” On that note of possibility, Lestrade employed his napkin to wipe clean his mouth.

“Must get back to the Yard,” said he, rising from the table. “We have a murderer to catch.”

1 The transliteration of Russian into English is a tricky business. Whilst the spellings of Fred Whishaw constituted my initial encounter with the rendering of Russian names, I have chosen to employ the spellings of Constance Garnett in this account since hers have become much more recognizable to the English-reading public. Thus, “Raskolnikov” for “Raskolnikoff”, “Porfiry” for “Porphyrius”, “Ilya” for “Elia”, etc. (JHW)

Chapter Four: Another Case

At the door, Inspector Lestrade barely managed to avoid colliding with Billy the page.

The boy had arrived to announce a client. “Miss Priscilla Cheek,” he proclaimed.

As Lestrade made his way towards the stairs, he none too discreetly took the time to admire the lady from stately crown to dainty toe. Doubtlessly inured to such rude glances, the handsome young woman, draped in a long, black woollen coat and wearing a small, round purple hat, walked determinedly into our sitting room.

I took her coat whilst Holmes pointed Billy to the luncheon dishes left standing and, with the wave of a hand, indicated their removal. Ignoring the clatter of the table business, Holmes ushered our visitor to the chair facing the window. He sat opposite, as was his wont in hearing new cases, allowing whatever was left of the dwindling daylight behind him to hide his own facial reactions in the contrasting darkness of his silhouette.

“Miss Cheek,” said Holmes, “may I introduce to you my friend and colleague, Dr John Watson. Whatever you wish to say to me may be spoken in front of him as well.”

“Charmed,” said I, hoping my compliment had not been obliterated by the rattle of dishes as Billy vacated the premises.

Miss Cheek managed a brief smile, but then immediately turned to address my friend. In her frock of purple velvet, she presented quite the picture of a determined young lady. “It is about my brother Roderick that I have come to see you, Mr Holmes.” So saying, she removed from her reticule a photograph of a handsome young man in the