Sherlock Holmes in Russia

‘I unlocked the door for him, but before he could go in, he backed away as if scalded, holding his nose. “What are you up to?” he screamed at me. “What have you been sprinkling inside?”

‘But I could only tell him what I knew.

‘Both shop assistants confirmed my story and the police officer drew up a protocol.

‘To determine what the odour was, a chemist and a doctor were summoned, but the moment they poked their noses inside, they rushed out, as though driven mad.

‘Retreating some distance from the door, they stared at each other with bulging eyes, spat and finally announced they had never come across such a foul smell in either chemistry or medicine.

‘Neither of my assistants being prepared to enter the shop, it became necessary to call out the fire brigade. They smashed the windows leading out on to the street. When the air inside had cleared somewhat, they came in to determine the source of the foul odour. Even though the shop had been ventilated somewhat, they couldn’t stay long. Emerging, they said that the odour came from the outer facing of one of the counters. The counter was then smashed and the pieces thrown out. But there were horses outside. They began to breathe hoarsely and then took to headlong flight, dragging their carriages with them … followed by the curses of the coachmen.

‘The assistants now informed me that they couldn’t work here any longer. “It’s not your apparition that scares me,” said Smith Copton. “I just don’t want to breathe such foul air. You’re being pursued by some evil genie. It would be best for you to move. Do so, and you’ll get good staff. Stay here, you won’t survive the week.”

‘Both left, wishing me all the very best.’

Terehoff fell silent again.

Sherlock Holmes listened to him attentively, very taken by the story. He refilled Terehoff’s glass and handed it to him. Terehoff drank.

‘How did it all end?’

‘After that last incident, my wife renewed her pleas even more forcefully for me to change premises,’ answered Terehoff. ‘Finally, I gave in and took the only premises left in the Commercial Centre.’

‘And then?’

‘As soon as I had vacated my premises, I still kept an eye on it. I think the apparition must have gone on strike. For a while the place remained vacant, but then some Greek called Alferakki took it over. He trades in eastern delicacies and fruit, both wholesale and retail.’

‘And how are things with him?’

‘He doesn’t know of any apparition and laughs at me when someone brings up my misfortunes,’ Terehoff said angrily. ‘Personally, I don’t believe in the supernatural. I am sooner likely to suspect some human trickery. In a word, I’m mentally confused. Then I heard that you are in Nijni-Novgorod and decided to seek your advice. Supernatural or otherwise, I want to get at the truth. I am prepared to pay you five thousand roubles.’

Sherlock Holmes smiled, ‘That would amount to five hundred pounds sterling.’

‘Absolutely so!’

‘In that case I am at your disposal. For me, as an Englishman, time and every action are measured in monetary terms. Although I took a lively interest listening to your story, I wouldn’t spend any time over it, unless I was remunerated. Please draw up a contract and … who knows? Perhaps I’ll be able to restore your former premises to you, but without the evil presence.’

The detective and the merchant sat down and began to draw up a contract.

IV

Several days passed. It was late on 27 July. The shops had long since shut for the day. The drunken revelry for which the Nijni-Novgorod Fair was famous was in full swing. The old times are gone forever, as are the old music and dancing. It wasn’t so in those days. No sooner did the shops shut for the day, than the merchants hurried to the restaurants from whence music and women’s voices were raised in song. To the sound of them (part singers, part prostitutes), business deals were transacted. Mirrors were cracked. Then was yet the time, when drunken merchants still beat up waiters for any minor blunder.

That evening, the weather was terrible. The north wind blew all day. The rain poured in buckets. It was close to midnight, and everyone had taken shelter in restaurants.

Two men emerged from one of the restaurants in the park opposite the Commercial Centre. They made their way past the Flatch clock tower towards the Oka River wharf. Despite the pouring rain, the two men did not hurry. Engrossed in conversation, they spoke in undertones.

Following them out of the same restaurant, but at a distance, was a man in a hooded waterproof cape. This was Sherlock Holmes, the famous London detective. Three days and three nights spent at the fair were beginning to yield results. He had noted a few things here and there, and now wouldn’t let the two men out of his sight.