Tuesday 21st June

With her screams resounding upon the tiled walls of the baths at Leukerbad, the victim writhed in mortal agony. Her misfortunes increased as the poor woman had to face medical examination by Dr. Watson (Charles Miller). His professional training showed; quickly producing a hypodermic, large enough to drug a hippopotamus, he administered some fearful injection. No sight could have caused me greater satisfaction; the woman was no other than Lady X, whose appearance in Charles Augustus Milverton brings the charming tale to such an abrupt closure. Dr. Watson caught her whispered words. “She wants a lion’s mane,” he announced. Could her last wish be for a brand of ice cream? Before him paddled the Canonical Crusaders, all in swimwear of a century ago and with breakfast floating on trays. Major Prendergast (Reggie Musgrave) stood out for he had thoughtfully provided himself with an orange bowler hat complete with false nose and moustache – hence easily identified in any maritime disaster. Breckenridge, the poultry dealer (Bob Ellis), could be spotted with rubber chicken protruding from his outfit. “She’s dead” was Dr. Watson’s final prognosis of his patient, announced with imperturbable good humour. This called for more champagne. In moments a pair of mortuary attendants was summoned to take away the dear departed – one wondered whether the swimming baths doubled as a municipal mortuary. What could have been the cause of death? Before Dr. Watson’s forensic skills could be applied Britannia herself (Julie Porter), armed with trident and Union Jack shield strode into the baths. In no time the terrible cause of our catastrophe was speared from the waters – cyanea capilata. The grieving crowd sang “Rule Britannia” until the noble form of Helvetia (Gloria Griffith) appeared to lead us in a rousing chorus of “the Swiss Navy”.

A brisk trade in towels soon saw the Canonical Crusaders reassemble before Peter Steiler (Albert Kunz) whose sense of distance is only matched by the excellence of his English. Reassured that it was but a few steps away, we set off for the cable car to make our ascent to the Gemmi Pass. After a couple of stops for supplies we were soon swinging into the clear Alpine air. The Gemmi pass lay before us, a wilderness of stony ledges high above as we walked by the melancholy Daubensee. I took the vanguard position. Who knows what incriminating letter might fall from a pocket book in these circumstances? Soon the landscape of flower meadow and snow was tramped by the Canonical Crusaders’ forward march. A brief stop was made at the Schwarenbach, popularly known as the Murder Inn. This remote auberge stands midway upon the route and seemed just the place for a grisly misdeed. Yet the proprietor was keen to convince us that no death had ever taken place. I considered this a cheerful precedent and might well rename my home, Appledore Towers, “Honesty” on the same basis.

Completing the Gemmi Pass I made an interesting discovery. The landscape of Switzerland is subject to change. Those who live there never notice – it needs the eye of a traveller, returning after a good few years, to tell you that both gradients and distances increase. The cable car station to Kandersteg has certainly moved uphill since my last visit. Soon we were aloft, looking over a glorious panorama of mountain and forest ravine. Kandersteg station commenced our rail journey though a wonderful landscape to Interlaken, where the King of Bohemia (Guy Marriott) had engaged the special services of the Ballenberg Dampf Bahn – a steam train to Meiringen. This ancient rolling stock complete with licensed bar must have inspired the Titchfield Thunderbolt. Raising a welcome glass of beer we looked out on the shimmering waters of the Brienzer See. At our destination a great flock of local people were ready to make us welcome. Meiringen needs not just one Mayor but two; both had dressed as the Thompson Twins from the Adventures of Tintin. The town bandleader soon succumbed to a bribe from Professor Moriarty. Alpine guides were on hand to rope up the more troublesome members of our party – I noted that Edith Presbury (Helen Dorey) had not inherited her father’s climbing skills. Meiringen is not a large town and we quickly paraded to its outer reaches. Time to turn back and parade all over again, reaching Conan Doyle Square. Here the Sherlock Holmes Museum, which our late and greatly loved president, Tony Howlett, did so much to create, occupies the shingle-clad building of a former Anglican church. Ladies in local costume showed me how to take snuff – a Swiss national habit, encouraged in the citizen’s army. Wines from the Bernese Oberland were served as we listened to speeches – including a letter from 10 Downing Street. The Mayor’s speech included a warm tribute to Tony Howlett.

Charles Augustus Milverton