How Holmes Silenced a “Sonic” Boom
Dear Detectives,
There may be some loose ends to tend to, but our villain has been apprehended, and the mystery surrounding The Murano Musician and his green glass ampoules has finally been brought to light! Holmes has also concluded his own review of the case.
If you haven’t already taken a look, then we encourage you to read on below. After all, what better way to arm ourselves for the cases to come than by observing The master sleuth’s own methods?
We’ll be in touch as always,
The Dear Holmes Team
——
13 August, 1894
Egregio Ispettore Frosali,
I trust this letter finds you well. Your detailed accounts have provided me with ample material with which to unravel this case. Allow me to present my deductions regarding the unfortunate demise of Alfonso Breccia, and the sinister plot he inadvertently brought to light.
Upon receiving your initial letter, several aspects of the case immediately commanded my attention. The first and most obvious was the simple fact that Italian Ambassador, Count Emilio de Cagliari, was personally requesting assistance. This alone made clear that this was a matter worthy of scrutiny. The descriptions of the deceased confirmed this, for the presence of bound limbs, severed fingers, and a cryptic message, all pointed to a calculated crime with a greater objective, not merely rash violence. Mr. Breccia’s death could have been tied to some sort of international intrigue too, in light of his involvement in discreet government work. Beyond this, there appeared to be scant evidence of a specific reason for the attack on him; nor was there a clearly guilty individual in sight.
The “INVECCHIATO” telegram you demonstrated to Dr. Watson was, of course, an item of note, however, at this stage, I had no semblance of its significance. And those who I considered might be involved with the crime, or otherwise hold knowledge related to it, were not few. There were seven or so individuals of whom I was wary, namely:
you, Enrico Frosali,
the neighbouring foundry worker, Grimes,
L. Fratelli,
C. Lombardi,
yet-to-be known individual(s), party to Mr. Breccia’s clandestine work for the Ambassador, and, or,
the “A” whose threatening note was uncovered near Mr. Breccia’s body.
There too was the question of the identity of “K”, and of the possibility of “A” being one of the other individuals on this list, however, with the information at hand, I could not answer any of Watson’s queries with confidence. My primary surmise was that Mr. Breccia’s death itself was unlikely to be our killer’s only objective, if it was an objective at all – which in turn, raised new concerns. Was Mr. Breccia’s murder merely part of a greater plot, and if so, was that plot still underway?
To my delight, your second letter arrived not long thereafter, allowing me to start answering these questions. Your observations at Mr. Breccia’s home and workshop, along with the insights gathered from Mr. Grimes, Mr. Fratelli, and the post office, provided crucial context for the murder. They also provided us with a number of candidates for the roles of “K” and “A”.
The books you observed at your friend’s home, coupled with the presence of his beloved Stradivarius, indicated a profound engagement with the acoustic properties of glass. This interest in sound and resonance raised curious possibilities about the true nature of his work as a glassmaker; not to mention the odd glass ampoules present in his shop. On reading of it, I hypothesised that his violin was key to the strange message Mr. Breccia had sent you – but I will return to this in due time, for your discovery of his journal provided a wealth of information as well. Thankfully, you thought to record it prior to the recent thievery.
The first remarkable feature was the entry dated August the 1st, which concerned a rendezvous with “K” related to a commission. The timing of this event was curiously aligned with that of Mr. Breccia’s death, and in addition to this, the journal hinted at Breccia’s broader network of contacts. As you well know, one of the names gleaned from it was that of Wilhelm Klein, which presented us with one possibility in so far as K’s identity. On the other hand, this letter brought forth two other persons whose names might have been shortened to K. The telegram operator, Henry Kelly, and Dr. Karl Vedder. The former seemed a plausible contact, given his position at the General Post Office, where countless messages of import are despatched daily. The latter, however, like Wilhelm Klein, only appeared relevant as a product of circumstance. There was nothing indicating a substantial relationship between Mr. Breccia and Vedder, nor was there anything supporting the theory that Klein was “K”, beyond the fact that Breccia had written his name down.
Likewise, the identity of “A” remained uncertain. I confess to first considering Alfred Grimes, especially after you noted the newly broken ampoules at Mr. Breccia’s shop. Yet, your encounter with him at the Phoenix Brass Foundry both swayed me and introduced another layer of complexity to the matter. His account of an unusual man “sniffing around” suggested that your friend, or his belongings, were under surveillance. Still, I questioned whether the mystery man was a threat. The killer would have had little reason to visit Breccia’s home and place of work unless they wished to steal something. And if that were the case, they would not have risked waiting so long after the murder to do so.
As regards Mr. Grimes, I speculated he was innocent in this matter for several reasons, which were naturally supported by the evidence incriminating others. In plain terms, his willingness to involve himself in the case and to speak with you so freely did not paint the picture of a guilty man – perhaps that of an angry man, but not a criminal. I grew all the more certain of this on reading of your conversation with Luigi Fratelli, and learning of Arturo Vicenza. The winemaker’s account of Vicenza’s anger, and the implications of Mr. Breccia’s relationship with the man’s daughter, swiftly gave rise to two thoughts. The first, “Arturo Vicenza is most likely ‘A’.” The second, “we have finally unearthed a motive, rooted in personal grievance.” I would have grown more convinced of Vicenza’s involvement were it not for your subsequent discovery of the “other” telegram, sent by Mr. Breccia to the South Place Chapel before his death. Although the contents of this telegram were yet unknown, I wagered that it was pertinent to our investigation. After all, your friend had claimed to possess critical knowledge concerning “the actions of a colonial power in Africa,” whilst the South Place Chapel intended to host controversial lectures on that very subject.
At this juncture, I had a sense of what had transpired, however, the exact motive propelling this plot, as well as the full list of those responsible, remained elusive. Nevertheless, you may anticipate my hypothesis once I explain the “key” to the “INVECCHIATO” telegram, of which I made note earlier. The significance of the telegram dawned upon me while I was reviewing it alongside my notes and your letters – precisely as I read again of Mr. Breccia’s beloved Stradivarius, and of his books, detailing the properties of glass and its function in instruments such as the glass harmonica.
Ispettore, were you aware of the fact that Stradivarius violins are but those which have been crafted by the celebrated luthier, Antonio Stradivari, or Antonio S.? Furthermore, did you know that it is customary for a violin’s strings to be tuned to the four notes, A, G, E, and D? I urge you to consider your friend’s telegram anew with these facts in mind.
As you will undoubtedly recall, Mr. Breccia’s telegram commanded, “Pensate al INVECCHIATO, ma non al vino. INVECCHIATO, soltanto in inglese. Chiedete ad Antonio S., con il suo INVECCHIATO, il numero 294.” If translating directly into English, one might write, “Think of AGED, but not the wine. AGED, only in English. Ask of Antonio S., with his AGED, the number 294.”
Now, to best comprehend the message, I suggest interpreting it as two distinct directives. Whereas the first, “Think of AGED, but not the wine. AGED, only in English”, provides the significance of INVECCHIATO or AGED, the second dictates an action you are to perform. Regarding INVECCHIATO, I have no doubt that, as the text suggests, Mr. Breccia was not instructing you to think of any sort of thing relating to wine, or the word “invecchiato” at all. Rather, he wished for you to consider the four individual letters comprising its English counterpart, A, G, E and D, which might be played upon a violin such as his (Antonio) Stradivarius. The number 294, on the other hand, is a more intricate piece of the puzzle, for even after deciphering the former parts of Breccia’s telegram, most would think, “How do I make requests of a violin?”
I posit that the number relates to the musical note “D” – specifically, what is oft referred to as a “middle D” – which corresponds to a frequency of 294 vibrations per second. This I suspect because the “D” string of a violin will produce such a musical note when openly plucked. Thus, I was able to paint a somewhat coherent picture of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Breccia’s death, but many questions, including our culprit’s identities, remained unanswered until I read your most recent letter.
In summary, I knew that Breccia claimed to have consequential information, which was likely related to the lectures at South Place Chapel; he also sent an urgent message to the chapel in the days before the contentious events were postponed. Following this, he was assassinated. This suggested to me that he had been silenced after sending a warning that delayed the chapel lectures, yet, what was he trying to avert with his desperate act? And had he truly disabled the threat, or was it still imminent?
Similarly, Breccia’s reasoning was not clear – if my theory was correct, then why did he want you to produce a middle D note using his Stradivarius? I considered the possibility of an “altered” violin, which would reveal a secret compartment upon its strings being plucked. But that seemed both impractical and overtly simple in light of the cryptic directions your friend sent you. Moreover, any aficionado of music would consider it sacrilege to alter a Stradivarius like so. Instead, I figured that Mr. Breccia’s secret was concealed elsewhere, in glass, waiting to be released by the Stradivarius “with its AGED”.
Here lies the significance of the glass ampoules. It is my opinion that the first shattered ampoules found by Dr. Watson at the shop were the result of Mr. Breccia’s experimentations. He meant to identify the thickness of glass that would vibrate just enough to burst when exposed to sounds of a particular frequency and volume. The intended frequency, needless to say, was 294; the volume was likely less precise, but upon reading your latest letter, I estimate approximately as loud as a standard phonograph.
The arrival of that letter, dated August the 10th, proved indispensable in unmasking the entirety of this plot, and in answering all lingering questions about the identities and motives involved in Breccia’s murder. It also shed much needed light on the notorious glass ampoules – for even after “translating” your friend’s instructions, I admit that I could not infer his logic. The fact he was trying to communicate an urgent message by such elaborate means made no sense, unless he had involved the ampoules for a distinct purpose. This your letter helped me to perceive.
I shall divide this, the conclusion of my analysis, into three sections, encompassing the information obtained from your visits to Carlo Lombardi, Moncure Daniel Conway, and Mr. Breccia’s vacant home and workshop, respectively.
i. Carlo Lombardi, purveyor of wine.
Your meticulous recounting of your visit to Carlo Lombardi’s shop offered pivotal insights. At first view, Antonio Kemp was a plausible candidate for both A and K, and his theory regarding the phonetic similarity between Tuoi Nove Fiori and 294 was quite striking. Still, my understanding of the “294” message, along with the other information we possessed, indicated he had nothing to do with the crime. This is not to say your conversations with him were of no use, because the small details he shared with you – relating to Mr. Schafer and “the new man” – were integral to my hypothesis.
I was not wholly convinced until reviewing Moncure Conway’s statements and the rest of your letter, but I know now. The new man who sometimes “lingers and plays music on the piano” was Wilhelm Klein, who appears to have an affinity for things musical. Though his name may suggest otherwise, Mr. Klein is not K. Instead I would look towards Mr. Schafer, who struggles to walk, and is known as “The Jaw”, or “der Kiefer” in German. Theodor Schafer, who I expect remains at the Phoenix Brass Foundry with Mr. Grimes, is not only the person who was looking for Mr. Breccia, but also the informant who helped him foresee and thwart an unbelievable orchestration.
Wilhelm Klein, known by Moncure Conway as “Mr. William”, is somebody who, like Schafer, is associated with the German Embassy. However, I suspect intentions are less pure than his interest in music.
ii. Moncure Daniel Conway, of the South Place Chapel.
Your encounter with Moncure Conway deepened our understanding of Breccia’s killer, and the “valuable” intelligence he alluded to before his death. Breccia’s telegram to the man warned that lives were in peril, should Chief Samuel Maharero and Dr. Karl Vedder deliver their lectures. I can now say with certainty that this warning, which also instructed Moncure Conway to await your arrival, came after Breccia discerned a conspiracy. With the aid of K’s information, your friend had realised that his client, Wilhelm Klein, or “gracious donor” Mr. William, intended to harm those in attendance at the South Place Chapel lectures. When they were suddenly postponed, I surmise that Klein, who was “deeply offended, angry”, grew suspicious of Breccia, who was the only one who might have caught onto his sly means of assault – glass ampoules.
iii. The home and workplace of the deceased.
The ransacked state of Mr. Breccia’s home and the theft of his journal’s final pages, are signs of Klein’s latest actions; while the fact that Mr. Schafer remains alive, in spite of his proximity to the German Embassy, is a sign of Klein’s failures and your friend’s resilience. The pages Klein stole contained names, including his own, which you discovered were all recorded in Breccia’s “clienti e commissioni speciali” list. He likely thought the list would lead him to K, or anybody else who might have known about his “special commission”.
This special commission, of which you found evidence in Breccia’s notes, illuminated Klein’s true plot. Namely, he was exploiting Breccia’s expertise to create specialised glass ampoules, which he hoped to fill with a deadly substance. These ampoules would have then been shattered, and the substance unleashed, by means of concerto at the South Place Chapel. This becomes even more plain to see upon contemplating the glass ampoules Mr. Breccia sent you, and reviewing the short documents included in your last letter’s postscript.
When I read of the parcel containing glass ampoules, some of which shattered and released an aroma in response to your phonograph, I finally understood your friend’s reasoning. His objective was to safely, discreetly entrust you with K’s identity, all the while preserving physical evidence of Wilhelm Klein’s plan and demonstrating the special ampoules’ capabilities – and by despatching the completed ampoules in any case, he was sabotaging Klein. With respect to K’s identity, I have given you ample evidence already, nevertheless, you will observe that the letters you collected from the ampoules, “O R S O H E D F A T R C E H”, can be rearranged to spell the name Theodor Schafer. I will add too that the song that shattered the ampoules may have been a serendipitous choice, however, Dvorak’s “From the New World” does conclude with a lovely D chord. So in Breccia’s cryptic terms, it would appear that in the absence of Antonio S., one can ask “whomever” of the number 294.
As for the Coroner’s discovery and Grimes’ letter... During your recent inspection of the shop, you observed that Grimes was occupied with “a guest”. In light of his letter to you, I expect you will have realised this was Schafer, whose “skulking about” suggests that he has been quietly seeking Breccia. His distress upon learning of the death, and his willingness to remain with Grimes, come as no surprises, as the notes found by the coroner tell us that Breccia was unable to deliver his final directives to you and Schafer. Had he been able to pass along those missives before his demise, there would have been far less mystery to his initial telegrams.
Ispettore Frosali, all that remains is for you and the police to determine an appropriate course of action. I have informed an associate at Scotland Yard, one Inspector Lestrade, of Mr. Schafer’s delicate situation and have been assured that he is under their watch, should anything occur. I trust that once Schafer has been questioned, you will swiftly uncover any additional conspirators, and thwart any other schemes Klein may be concocting. Lestrade and company await further word from you, or the Ambassador, at the Phoenix Brass Foundry.
With kindest regards,
to both you and The Ambassador,
