Some Observations on "His Last Bow"

This is the text of a talk I gave on the evening of December 7, 2017 as part of the program for the annual holiday dinner of the Norwegian Explorers of Minnesota, our Sherlockian scion society of the Baker Street Irregulars. Other papers were given that evening by Julie McKuras, former president of the Norwegian Explorers, and Steven Schier, Dorothy H. and Edward C. Congdon Professor of Political Science, Emeritus at Carleton College, Northfield, Minnesota.

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By my count—and absent a current functioning online concordance of the Tales—there are ten references to “spy” in the Canon (The Sign of Four, Missing Three Quarter, Second Stain, Hound, Valley of Fear, and His Last Bow—which contains two instances) and another six for “spies” (Red Headed League, Copper Beeches, Priory School, Second Stain, and the Bruce-Partington Plans). Sixteen total occurrences out of a total of 667,793 Canonical words—according to Christian Peccei’s “A Statistical Analysis of the Sherlock Holmes Stories." So why do I think “His Last Bow” is all about spies, spying, and the intelligence services of His Majesty’s government?

In short, because there was a need for such an operation. Mycroft Holmes knew of this need, as did his brother. Consider the opening words of “His Last Bow.” “It was nine o’clock at night upon the second of August–the most terrible August in the history of the world. One might have thought already that God’s curse hung heavy over a degenerate world, for there was an awesome hush and a feeling of vague expectancy in the sultry and stagnant air.”

We know from basic sources that the Security Service (MI5) and the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) mark their beginnings with the Secret Service Bureau, which was authorized and created in October 1909 by the War Office. William Melville (1850 – 1918) was an Irish law enforcement officer and the first chief of the British Secret Service Bureau. Melville concentrated on looking for German spies. After the outbreak of World War I, the Secret Service received more funding. Melville also recruited more personnel, especially after it was attached to the newly founded G-section which concentrated on investigating suspected agents. In addition, Melville founded a spy school opposite the War Office at Whitehall Court. Surely, in those orbits around Whitehall, Melville was known to, and in conversation with the Holmes brothers. And we can imagine, most certainly, that as Melville built the Bureau in the late days of 1909 or early 1910, looking for new recruits, he didn’t have to look far in acquiring the services of the country’s most well-known consulting detective. One wonders, especially after events chronicled in “His Last Bow,” if Holmes offered the occasional course at Melville’s school.

According to Rupert William Simon Allason, writing under his pen name Nigel West in The Telegraph, the “foundations [of MI5, the United Kingdom’s counter-intelligence agency] were inauspicious to say the least. The perceived intelligence disaster of the Boer War—here one wonders if Doyle’s book on the Boer War contributed to this perception—prompted the Committee of Imperial Defense to review the failure of the British Secret Service. However, it was discovered that no such organisation existed. So the CID recommended the creation of a new branch of government, the Secret Service Bureau, the origins of MI5.”

“The Security Service was headed by Captain Vernon Kell, a veteran of the Boxer rebellion in China (and an occasional Telegraph correspondent); while Director-General, he was known simply as "K". The Bureau launched with a tiny staff consisting of a single ex-Scotland Yard detective (Lestrade, perhaps?) and three clerks.” The first director of what would become MI6, the Secret Intelligence Service, was Captain Sir Mansfield George Smith-Cumming, who often dropped the Smith in routine communication. He typically signed correspondence with his initial C in green ink. This usage evolved as a code name, and has been adhered to by all subsequent directors of SIS when signing documents to retain anonymity.

The Secret Service Bureau was a joint initiative of the Admiralty and the War Office to control secret intelligence operations in the United Kingdom and overseas, particularly concentrating on the activities of the Imperial German government. There was a special interest from the Admiralty in knowing the maritime strength of the Imperial German Navy.

In this milieu, we are introduced in “His Last Bow” to two German agents: Von Bork and his “handler,” Baron Von Herling in the embassy. Their names and titles tell us that they are part of the German aristocracy. “A remarkable man this Von Bork—a man who could hardly be matched among all the devoted agents of the Kaiser. It was his talents which had first recommended him for the English mission, the most important mission of all (emphasis mine), but since he had taken it over those talents had become more and more manifest to the half-dozen people in the world who were really in touch with the truth.”

Von Bork and Von Herling display a mix of confidence and uneasiness, characteristics common to intelligence agents. Baron Von Herling, the chief secretary of the German legation, differs with his countryman in their views of the English. Von Bork thinks the English “not very hard to deceive….A more docile, simple folk could not be imagined.” Von Herling counters: “I don’t know about that….They have strange limits and one must learn to observe them. It is that surface simplicity of theirs which makes a trap for the stranger. One’s first impression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly upon something very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact.”

Von Herling goes further, echoing and contrasting Britain’s own intelligence abilities, perceptions, and realities. “[W]e live in a utilitarian age. Honour is a mediaeval conception. Besides England is not ready. It is an inconceivable thing, but even our special war tax of fifty million, which one would think made our purpose as clear as if we had advertised it on the front page of the Times, has not roused these people from their slumbers….I can assure you that so far as the essentials go—the storage of munitions, the preparation for submarine attack, the arrangements for making high explosives—nothing is prepared. How, then, can England come in, especially when we have stirred her up such a devil’s brew of Irish civil war, window-breaking Furies, and God knows what to keep her thoughts at home.”

Similarly, Von Bork’s safe illumines both German and British intelligence interests and activities. “The light shone vividly into the opened safe, and the secretary of the embassy gazed with an absorbed interest at the rows of stuffed pigeon-holes with which it was furnished. Each pigeon-hole had its label, and his eyes as he glanced along them read a long series of such titles as “Fords,” “Harbour-defences,” “Aeroplanes,” “Ireland,” “Egypt,” “Portsmouth forts,” “The Channel,” “Rosythe,” and a score of others. Each compartment was bristling with papers and plans.” It took the German agent four years—1910 to 1914—to gather such information; the same period in which British intelligence services begin to bloom. “But the gem of my collection,” Von Bork continued, “is coming and there is the setting all ready for it.” He pointed to a space over which “Naval Signals” was printed.” Von Herling replied, “But you have a good dossier there already.” To which the agent responded: “Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed. It was a blow, Baron–the worst setback in my whole campaign. But thanks to my check-book and the good Altamont all will be well to-night.”

Little did they know, as we do who are familiar with the tale, the true identity of the Irish-American Altamont. Or Martha, the personification of Britannia. It is only in hindsight that we recognize Martha’s extinguishing of her lamp as a signal to her compatriot, in the same way we comprehend Altamont’s chauffeur, “a heavily built, elderly man with a gray moustache, settled down like one who resigns himself to a long vigil” as Dr. Watson. Did they learn their tradecraft at Melville’s school? Or was it the result of a long, rewarding companionship with the Master?

Altamont's mention of failures in Von Bork’s network: Jack James, Hollis, Steiner—especially the latter—shook the German’s confidence, even as he prepared his departure for Berlin.

Well, they’ve got him, that’s all. They raided his store last night, and he and his papers are all in Portsmouth jail. You’ll go off and he, poor devil, will have to stand the racket, and lucky if he gets off with his life. That’s why I want to get over the water as soon as you do…. My landlady down Fratton way had some inquiries, and when I heard of it I guessed it was time for me to hustle. But what I want to know, mister, is how the coppers know these things? Steiner is the fifth man you’ve lost since I signed on with you, and I know the name of the sixth if I don’t get a move on.

(Fratton—home to Altamont’s landlady—is a very interesting passing reference in the tale. At the time of this story it was an industrial area—now residential—in Portsmouth. If you ever find yourself in Portsmouth, I recommend a visit to St. Mary’s Church or the Carnegie Library, both on Fratton Road.) These failures, and Von Bork’s eventual demise, are linked with reality.

History tells us that together Kell, i.e. “K” and Smith-Cumming, i.e. “C” enjoyed great success in a combined operation of the security and intelligence services, resulting in “the arrest in the opening days of the First World War (emphasis mine) of the entire German spy ring in Britain, which conveniently centered on a barber's shop in north London. The arrest of Karl Gustav Ernst, his assistant Wilhelm Kronauer, and 21 of their network effectively eliminated what had been intended as a large enemy operation.” One is tempted to ask: were these arrests the results of Holmes’, Martha’s, and Watson’s activities?

Eleven of the spies were executed, as was Sir Roger Casement, found guilty of treason in 1916. Materials in the British Library document Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s interest in Casement, including Doyle’s privately printed (in an edition of twelve copies) A Petition to the Prime Minister on behalf of Roger Casement.

The security service's performance during the First World War was mixed, because it was unable to establish a network in Germany itself. Most of its results came from military and commercial intelligence collected through networks in neutral countries, occupied territories, and Russia. As Holmes noted near the end of the tale, “Things were going wrong, and no one could understand why they were going wrong. Agents were suspected or even caught, but there was evidence of some strong and secret central force. It was absolutely necessary to expose it. Strong pressure was brought upon me to look into the matter. It has cost me two years, Watson, but they have not been devoid of excitement.”

The excitement continued, and with it, another war. Russia, a conduit for British intelligence in this war and an uneasy ally in the next, was the focus of Holmes’ final observation in “His Last Bow.” In a prescient moment, Holmes knows what will happen—at least in its broad outlines—in Saint Petersburg in 1917 and in the years to follow. “There’s an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson, and a good many of us may wither before its blast.” Given his experience and elevated expertise—even in retirement—one wonders if, on a later date, having survived the blast, Holmes might be found wandering the halls of MI5 or MI6, consulting with those in need.