Illustration by Howard K. Elcock for The Strand Magazine (February-March, 1925)
September 12, 1902: Sir James Damery wrote to Holmes asking for an appointment. [ILLU]
“Sir James Damery presents his compliments to Mr. Sherlock Holmes and will call upon him at 4:30 to-morrow. Sir James begs to say that the matter upon which he desires to consult Mr. Holmes is very delicate and also very important. He trusts, therefore, that Mr. Holmes will make every effort to grant this interview, and that he will confirm it over the telephone to the Carlton Club.”
Illustration by Howard K. Elcock for The Strand Magazine (1923)
September 12, 1903: Professor Presbury was seriously injured by his wolfhound, Roy. [CREE]
And then in a moment it happened! It was not the chain that broke, but it was the collar that slipped, for it had been made for a thick-necked Newfoundland. We heard the rattle of falling metal, and the next instant dog and man were rolling on the ground together, the one roaring in rage, the other screaming in a strange shrill falsetto of terror. It was a very narrow thing for the professor’s life. The savage creature had him fairly by the throat, its fangs had bitten deep, and he was senseless before we could reach them and drag the two apart.
Still from “The Creeping Man” (Granada Television, 1991)
September 11, 1903: Professor Presbury received a ninth packet from Dorak. [CREE]
The marks on the envelopes showed that they were those which had disturbed the routine of the secretary, and each was dated from the Commercial Road and signed “A. Dorak.” They were mere invoices to say that a fresh bottle was being sent to Professor Presbury, or receipt to acknowledge money.
Illustration by Ralph C. Criswell for the Los Angeles Times (March, 1925)
As promised yesterday, the second in a pair of limericks about “The Creeping Man” by Sandy Kozinn (JHWS “Roxie”):
It turned out, as Presbury found,
His behavior would bother his hound.
If your nature you’d change,
You’d better arrange
Not to have your old dog hang around.
Have a limerick you’d like to share? Let us know in the comments!
Illustration by Ralph C. Criswell for the Los Angeles Times (March, 1925)
No Canonical events today or tomorrow, so we take the opportunity to present with pride the first of a pair of limericks from our dear “Roxie”, Sandy Kozinn, about “The Creeping Man”.
Presbury wanted more youth,
Unbecoming, to tell you the truth.
When he took monkey gland,
It affected him, and
Turned him into a being uncouth.
Illustration by Sidney Paget for The Strand Magazine (March, 1892)
September 7, 1889: Colonel Lysander Stark visited and hired Victor Hatherley. [ENGR]
Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with the name of `Colonel Lysander Stark’ engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the Colonel himself, a man rather over the middle size but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man. His whole face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than thirty.
‘Mr. Hatherly?’ said he, with something of a German accent. ‘You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man who is not only proficient in his profession, but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.’
September 7, 1889: Victor Hatherley took the train from London to Eyford arriving at about 11:15 pm. [ENGR]
[…] I could not think that his explanation of the fuller’s earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone of my errand. However, I threw all my fears to the winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue.
At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the little dim lit station after eleven o’clock. I was the only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed out through the wicket-gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side. Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door of which was standing open. He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the woodwork, and away we went as hard as the horse could go.
September 7, 1903: Holmes and Watson first met Professor Presbury. [CREE]
“I think, Watson, that we can catch the professor just before lunch. He lectures at eleven and should have an interval at home.”
“What possible excuse have we for calling?”
Holmes glanced at his notebook.
“There was a period of excitement upon August 26th. We will assume that he is a little hazy as to what he does at such times. If we insist that we are there by appointment I think he will hardly venture to contradict us. Have you the effrontery necessary to put it through?”
“We can but try.”
“Excellent, Watson! Compound of the Busy Bee and Excelsior. We can but try —the motto of the firm. A friendly native will surely guide us.”
Illustration by Howard K. Elcock for The Strand Magazine (March 1923)
September 5, 1903: Edith Presbury saw her father’s face outside her bedroom window. [CREE]
“I was awakened in the night by the dog barking most furiously. Poor Roy, he is chained now near the stable. I may say that I always sleep with my door locked; for, as Jack—as Mr. Bennett—will tell you, we all have a feeling of impending danger. My room is on the second floor. It happened that the blind was up in my window, and there was bright moonlight outside. As I lay with my eyes fixed upon the square of light, listening to the frenzied barkings of the dog, I was amazed to see my father’s face looking in at me.
(Source:A Day by Day Chronology of Mr. Sherlock Holmes according to Zeisler and Christ, compiled by William S Dorn.)
Illustration by Sidney Paget for The Strand Magazine (1904)
July 11, 1895: John Hopley Neligan was apprehended at Peter Carey’s cabin. [BLAC]
The nocturnal visitor was a young man, frail and thin, with a black moustache which intensified the deadly pallor of his face. He could not have been much above twenty years of age. I have never seen any human being who appeared to be in such a pitiable fright, for his teeth were visibly chattering, and he was shaking in every limb. He was dressed like a gentleman, in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with a cloth cap upon his head. We watched him staring round with frightened eyes. Then he laid the candle-end upon the table and disappeared from our view into one of the corners. He returned with a large book, one of the log-books which formed a line upon the shelves. Leaning on the table, he rapidly turned over the leaves of this volume until he came to the entry which he sought. Then, with an angry gesture of his clenched hand, he closed the book, replaced it in the corner, and put out the light. He had hardly turned to leave the hut when Hopkins’s hand was on the fellow’s collar, and I heard his loud gasp of terror as he understood that he was taken. The candle was relit, and there was our wretched captive shivering and cowering in the grasp of the detective. He sank down upon the sea-chest, and looked helplessly from one of us to the other.
July 11, 1895: Holmes sent a telegram using the name of Captain Basil. [BLAC]
“Excellent, Watson. The alternative develops. Have you telegraph forms? Just write a couple of messages for me: `Sumner, Shipping Agent, Ratcliff Highway. Send three men on, to arrive ten tomorrow morning – Basil.’ That’s my name in those parts.
Illustration by Howard K. Elcock for The Strand Magazine (1923)
July 11, 1903: Prof. Presbury was attacked a second time by his wolf-hound, Roy. [CREE]
And then in a moment it happened! It was not the chain that broke, but it was the collar that slipped, for it had been made for a thick-necked Newfoundland. We heard the rattle of falling metal, and the next instant dog and man were rolling on the ground together, the one roaring in rage, the other screaming in a strange shrill falsetto of terror. It was a very narrow thing for the Professor’s life. The savage creature had him fairly by the throat, its fangs had bitten deep, and he was senseless before we could reach them and drag the two apart.
(Source:A Day by Day Chronology of Mr. Sherlock Holmes according to Zeisler and Christ, compiled by William S Dorn.)
July 2, 1894: John Hector MacFarlane was arrested by Lestrade. [NORW]
Illustration by Frederic Dorr Steele for Collier’s (1903)
It was a clang of the bell, followed instantly by heavy steps upon the stair. A moment later our old friend Lestrade appeared in the doorway. Over his shoulder I caught a glimpse of one or two uniformed policemen outside.
“Mr. John Hector McFarlane,” said Lestrade.
Our unfortunate client rose with a ghastly face.
“I arrest you for the wilful murder of Mr. Jonas Oldacre, of Lower Norwood.”
July 2, 1903: Professor Presbury was attacked by his own wolf hound, Roy. [CREE]
Illustration by Howard K. Elcock for The Strand Magazine (1923)
The Professor squatted down very deliberately just out of reach of the hound, and began to provoke it in every possible way. He took handfuls of pebbles from the drive and threw them in the dog’s face, prodded him with a stick which he had picked up, flicked his hands about only a few inches from the gaping mouth, and endeavoured in every way to increase the animal’s fury, which was already beyond all control. In all our adventures I do not know that I have ever seen a more strange sight than this impassive and still dignified figure crouching frog-like upon the ground and goading to a wilder exhibition of passion the maddened hound, which ramped and raged in front of him, by all manner of ingenious and calculated cruelty.
And then in a moment it happened! It was not the chain that broke, but it was the collar that slipped, for it had been made for a thick-necked Newfoundland. We heard the rattle of falling metal, and the next instant dog and man were rolling on the ground together, the one roaring in rage, the other screaming in a strange shrill falsetto of terror. It was a very narrow thing for the Professor’s life. The savage creature had him fairly by the throat, its fangs had bitten deep, and he was senseless before we could reach them and drag the two apart. It might have been a dangerous task for us, but Bennett’s voice and presence brought the great wolf-hound instantly to reason.
Chips says: I included the description of what the Professor had done to torture the wolfhound in the quote for a personal reason. I am an animal person. Cruelty to an animal to me is a death offense – not to the animal, but to the torturer. I have written, amongst other Sherlockian subjects, a Defense of the Speckled Band. My cat was an abused rescued little one. Had I found the one who abused Sparky, the torturer would been tortured the same way. The Professor was lucky that I was not a local Justice of Peace in his district!
There is no event on file for August 17th or 18th. Since the last case was CREE, how about three limericks by a wonderfully talented Sherlockian and Hound of the Internet who is sorely missed? Which ending line do you like? Let me know, and on with the show!
The Creeping Man
He ventured out every ninth night,
To scramble up trees in delight.
But then he was seized
By the dog he’d teased
Whose fangs tore his throat with one bite.
-Don Dillistone, November, 2002
The Creeping Man
He ventured out every ninth night,
To scramble up trees in delight.
But then he was seized
By his dog whom he’d teased,
Who slashed his throat with a well-placed bite.
-Don Dillistone, November, 2002
The Creeping Man
He ventured out every ninth night,
To scramble up trees in delight.
But then he was seized
By the dog he’d teased,
Who ripped his throat with a savage bite.
August 7, 1888: Jim Browner mailed two severed ears to S. Cushing. [CARD] August 7, 1903: Professor Presbury took Lowenstein’s elixir of life for the fifth time. [CREE]
