Dear Investigators,
Now that the truth behind The Fallen Photographer is out in the open (to us, anyway), we're able to move on to whatever mystery next comes calling.
Until that moment arrives, it's prudent we continue to hone our skills. A review of Holmes' thoughts on this case wouldn't be a bad start...
We'll send word soon,
The Dear Holmes Team
——
9 March, 1902
My dear detective,
I have now returned from Portsmouth and, as promised, have devoted my attention to the singular affair of Henry Bamford and the previous murder in Hackney. I am most grateful to all three of you, for the correspondence which I found awaiting me at Baker Street was both detailed and illuminating. Having reviewed the evidence in its entirety, I believe the matter may now be explained.
The difficulty presented by this case lay not in a scarcity of clues but rather in their abundance. Indeed, so numerous were the suspicious circumstances and apparently unrelated facts that it was easy to mistake consequence for cause and witness for culprit. It was only by considering the evidence in the order in which it came to light that the true shape of the affair became apparent.
When Watson first described Mr. Bamford’s visit to Baker Street, my attention was immediately drawn to the fragment of red glass recovered from the scene in Hackney. At that stage it was merely a curiosity. We knew that the victim had worn spectacles, for the marks upon the bridge of his nose made that plain, yet no spectacles were found amongst his possessions. We therefore had a missing pair of spectacles and a fragment of red lens, but nothing more. Such a clue may tempt the imagination, yet a detective must resist the temptation to build theories before sufficient evidence exists to support them.
Far more striking, at least initially, was the attack upon Bamford himself. Here was a man assaulted in broad daylight, his photographic plates smashed and his prints removed. The obvious conclusion was that his assailants feared something he had photographed at the murder scene. Yet even then there were indications that the matter was not so simple. One of the attackers asked, "Is this everything?" It is a small detail, but a significant one. Had their purpose merely been destruction, there would have been no need for such a question. It implied uncertainty. The attackers believed there was something specific amongst Bamford’s possessions and were anxious not to overlook it.
At the time, however, we lacked sufficient information to determine what that object might be.
The second letter supplied much of what was missing. However, before addressing the principal mystery, it is first necessary to dispose of several persons whose conduct naturally invited suspicion.
Nathaniel Reed concealed his acquaintance with the deceased and proved reluctant to speak openly regarding his conversations with him near Weymouth. Such behaviour is undeniably dubious, particularly when we later learn that a foreign gentleman approached him carrying a photograph of Bamford and making enquiries concerning the photographer’s movements. Yet Reed’s importance lies not in his guilt but in his position within the chain of events. The first victim questioned him extensively regarding the coast, the harbour, and local industry. Later, the foreign gentleman questioned him regarding Bamford. Reed therefore became an unwitting bridge between the two murders. His deception arose from fear and embarrassment rather than criminal intent.
Madame Vardin occupies a similar position. She admitted knowing the deceased under another name and concealed the true extent of their acquaintance. Still her testimony ultimately proved among the most valuable in the entire affair. She revealed that the victim had become increasingly fearful, believed himself to be under observation, and intended to leave England altogether. These facts do not point towards Madame Vardin’s guilt. Rather, they confirm that the victim himself understood that danger was closing around him. Her significance lies not in what she did but in what she witnessed.
Colonel Pembroke was perhaps the most enticing suspect of all. A military man, reluctant to answer questions and plainly withholding information, he naturally drew attention. Yet his secrecy was official rather than criminal. Indeed, when he finally admitted that the deceased had been engaged in work of significance to the Crown, he inadvertently provided another integral piece of evidence. The Colonel was not concealing a murderer. He was concealing an operation.
Having dismissed these possibilities, we are left with a single figure whose presence recurs throughout the affair with remarkable persistence.
At first he appears only as a reflection in Bamford’s photograph. The photographer himself dismissed him as a curious bystander peering through a window. Such an explanation was perfectly reasonable when the image was first examined. It ceased to be reasonable only as further evidence accumulated. Madame Vardin described a man watching the victim. Reed encountered a foreign man seeking information regarding Bamford. And Watson and Locard later identified an Otto Keller, occupant of Kensington Court. What first appeared to be three or four separate individuals gradually resolved themselves into one. The reflected figure emerged from the background of the mystery and steadily advanced towards its centre.
Holding all three of your letters, it became evident that the man known to his landlord as Mr. Keller was therefore not merely another suspect amongst many. He was the thread that bound the entire case together.
The mistake made by almost everyone involved in the affair was to assume that the murder in Hackney was the central event, and that Bamford's death was merely a consequence of it. In reality, the reverse is nearer the truth. The first murder explains why Keller was in England. The second explains who Keller was.
The deceased man in Hackney was a double agent. For some time he had been passing information to German intelligence services concerning British naval developments. To his handlers, the information appeared genuine. In truth, it had been carefully selected by British authorities. Through him, false intelligence could be fed directly into German hands whilst simultaneously revealing what information our adversaries most wished to obtain.
This explains Colonel Pembroke’s involvement. It explains Mycroft’s interest. It explains why the victim lived under an assumed identity. Most importantly, it explains why he had become frightened.
At some point Keller began to suspect that he was being deceived. Whether inconsistencies appeared in the information supplied to him, whether independent enquiries raised doubts, or whether he simply lost confidence in his source, we cannot know with certainty. What is clear is that the victim realised his position had become untenable. Madame Vardin told us that he wished to leave England. He spoke of mistakes that could not be undone. He believed himself to be under observation. In this belief, he was entirely correct.
The significance of Weymouth now becomes apparent. The district was not merely the setting of Bamford’s holiday. Whitehead’s works, the harbour, and the surrounding naval activity were, and are, of considerable interest to German intelligence. Keller’s task was no doubt to gather information relating to those matters. The double agent’s task was to ensure that the information reaching him was carefully controlled. It was for this reason that Bamford had been employed by the Crown.
The authorities knew that a German agent was active. What they lacked was a reliable identification. Bamford, with his profession providing a perfectly innocent reason to move about the district carrying a camera, was sent in the hope that he might casually capture an image of the individual with whom the double agent was meeting. It was an assignment dependent as much upon patience and good fortune as upon skill.
Remarkably, it succeeded.
In many respects Bamford was uniquely suited to the task. A photographer may linger where a policeman would attract attention. He may observe where a soldier would provoke suspicion. He may record details which others overlook, all whilst appearing to do nothing more sinister than pursue his profession. But the qualities that made Bamford useful to the authorities also exposed him to danger. He was observant, methodical, and conscientious. Had he been less diligent, he might never have noticed the lens fragment in Hackney. Had he been less professional, he might not have preserved the photographic evidence which ultimately exposed Keller. In fact, I believe it is no exaggeration to say that the case was solved largely because Bamford continued to perform his duties thoroughly even when he failed to appreciate the significance of what he had discovered. The great irony of the affair is that Keller understood the value of Bamford's photographs better than Bamford himself.
The fragments recovered during the investigation deserve particular attention. Watson and Locard correctly realised that they represented far more than evidence of a struggle. The scrap found in Bamford’s hand and the matching fragment recovered from Keller’s rooms demonstrate that both men possessed portions of the same image. This is an extraordinarily revealing circumstance. Had Keller merely wished to destroy photographs, he could have burned them. Had he merely wished to prevent their circulation, he could have stolen them. Instead, we find him retaining part of one image whilst searching desperately for the remainder.
The significance of the attack upon Bamford now becomes clear, and with that, the question, “Is this everything?” assumes its proper importance. Keller was not concerned with photographic plates in general, nor with Bamford’s holiday views of Weymouth. He sought one image alone. Every subsequent action undertaken by him confirms this conclusion. He attacked Bamford, searched his possessions, pursued him after the initial assault, and finally murdered him because he could not be certain that the photograph had been fully recovered.
His downfall lay in the fact that he understood the value of the photograph too well. In attempting to erase the evidence, he revealed precisely where the evidence was to be found.
Now, the final clue in this matter, I would posit, is also the oldest. When Watson first described the fragment of red lens recovered in Hackney, there was insufficient evidence to interpret it confidently. Yet each subsequent letter added another piece to this puzzle. We learned that the victim had worn spectacles. We learned that those spectacles had disappeared. We learned from an optician that an unusual pair, incorporating a red lens, had been supplied. Finally, Watson and Locard discovered an empty spectacle case in Keller’s rooms together with a minute grain of red glass.
Considered individually, each of these facts is weak. Considered collectively, they admit of only one reasonable interpretation.
The spectacles linked Keller to the deceased. The red lens linked the deceased to specialised activity conducted in darkness. Combined with the intelligence operation centred upon the south coast, the most plausible explanation is that the victim had entered the country by clandestine means and that his handlers wished to preserve his ability to operate at night. The lens therefore does not prove submarine travel, but it strongly suggests it. With this knowledge in hand, the events themselves may be reconstructed with reasonable confidence.
The double agent– or, the Hackney victim– met Keller and supplied him with information which he believed to be false. Keller’s suspicions gradually increased until he concluded that he had been betrayed. Determined to eliminate the source of the deception, he murdered the agent and removed the spectacles which might reveal something of his methods and movements.
Unfortunately for Keller, another danger now confronted him. Bamford had succeeded where others had failed. Somewhere amongst his photographs was an image capable of identifying the German agent. Keller therefore arranged the attack upon Bamford and attempted to recover every trace of the incriminating photograph. When uncertainty persisted, he resolved to eliminate the photographer himself. What followed is already known to you. Watson and Locard traced Keller through the surviving fragments, the soil evidence, the witness accounts, and his own repeated appearances throughout the affair. By the time he fled Kensington Court, the net had effectively closed around him.
Presently, you may rest at ease. Before writing this letter, I communicated my conclusions to a reliable friend at Scotland Yard. Keller’s known associates are presently being sought and his description has been circulated both at home and abroad. Thus, there is little else for you to concern yourself with, as it pertains to this case.
Whether Keller is ultimately captured in England or upon the Continent remains to be seen, though I confess I would not willingly exchange places with him. Men who spend their lives hunting others rarely enjoy being hunted themselves.
With great esteem,
