The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes (5 page)

‘If I am to be of assistance in clearing up this matter, I feel it is necessary.’ I replied.

‘Unfortunately this information is not mine to divulge and, equally, its very nature precludes us from taking any further interest in this matter and makes any action an impossibility. I think, perhaps, I am best left to my own company for the time being.’ Holmes suggested, smiling briefly, and enigmatically.

Reluctantly I agreed. ‘Perhaps after some rest, and once the effect of the journey, and the contents of the wire have worn off, your judgement will return, and your decision alter.’

‘Oh Watson!’ He cried out, raising his right arm above his head in agitation. Then he added quietly. ‘Perhaps you are right. We shall see.’ He returned his gaze to the window, and assuming this to be by way of my dismissal, I returned to my room, and proceeded to dress for dinner.

The Colonel and I dined alone and, although I thought it prudent not to enquire as to his wife’s whereabouts, I found it most unusual that she chose not to join us. The dining room was as large and sumptuous as the drawing-room and I was amazed to discover that the Colonel’s allusion to a round table was no jest. He sat on a tall throne-like carver and the Arthurian subject dominated our
conversation
. Any mention I might have made of his wife and the murderous attacks she had experienced, were met by polite rebuffs from my host, while his enquiries as to the state of Holmes’s health, were met similarly by myself. No mention was made of his earlier violent display, and it seemed that none of these issues would be resolved until Holmes was fit and well once more.

Once we had partaken of an excellent meal, the Colonel led me back to the drawing-room where we enjoyed some fine cigars and an extremely old port. As the evening
progressed, however, I become aware of my host’s growing agitation. He continually withdrew his watch, which, on each occasion, he examined at some length, almost as if he expected the time to suddenly change. I excused myself at an early hour and decided to look in on Holmes before retiring for the night.

He was as I had left him, seated motionless before the window, yet when he turned towards me, I could see that some of his earlier agitation had been replaced with one of his dark moods.

‘Have you been privileged enough to make the
acquaintance
of our charming hostess yet?’ he asked with surprising sarcasm in his voice.

Whereupon I narrated to him the strange interview I had experienced earlier with the Colonel and its most singular conclusion. I also voiced concern at his unusual behaviour during the course of the evening, with allusion to his constant time watching.

‘I am afraid that the situation is very much as I suspected.’ Holmes said while withdrawing his old clay pipe and a pouch of shag from his jacket pocket.

‘Suspected!?’ I queried excitedly. ‘I was under the
impression
that you had formulated no theory on the subject, due to sparse information.’

Holmes sat smoking in silence for a moment or two, while he was, no doubt, reaching his decision as to whether to confide in me or not. He obviously reached an
affirmative
decision, for he turned his chair around and motioned for me to assume the chair opposite his own.

‘My suspicions were born simply by possessing prior knowledge and experience of the character, and behaviour of Alice Dunwoody.’

Though I am somewhat ashamed to admit it, for a moment I suspected that a fever, or the shock he had received in the wire, had somehow damaged Holmes’s wonderful mind.

‘Oh Watson, you look so bemused! Surely I am referring to the maiden name of the Colonel’s wife. The very
information
I have received in that infernal wire.’

‘Yet why should that information have had such a profound effect upon you? Besides, what prior knowledge could you possibly have of Mrs Masterson’s character and behaviour?’ I asked.

Holmes smoked again, before continuing. ‘On more than one occasion, within your most excellent, yet over-
dramatised
journals, you have referred your readers to my machine-like exclusion of all emotion and feeling. Repeatedly you have expressed surprise at my abhorrence of emotional expression and romance and my disregard of any praiseworthy qualities the female of our species might possess. Save, of course “The Woman” Irene Adler and even in her case, as you correctly pointed out, my interest was of a more professional leaning.

‘I assure you, Watson, that had I been in your place, upon being confronted with such a singular trait in an
acquaintance
, I would have used my method to unravel the chain of events that might have resulted in such a characteristic. Perhaps it has not occurred to you that this, supposed abhorrence of both female kind and the idea of close attachment, is nothing less than a fear of the same.’

‘No, Holmes.’ I admitted. ‘In all honesty, I cannot say that it has.’

‘Well, friend Watson, although it shames me to admit to such a thing, that is the truth of the matter.’

I emitted a long whistle, and sank back in my chair in disbelief. I studied Holmes, in a moment of contemplation and realized that, since we had started this conversation, his nerve had become steadier than before and his voice stronger, he was surely telling me the truth. My surprise at this revelation can be well understood, under the
circumstances
. From the day of our very first meeting and up to the moment of Holmes’s revelation that he had a brother, I was under the illusion that Holmes was unlike other men. No family, no friends, no romantic attachments, in fact the sublime professional. An emotionless, dedicated, logical pure mind in human guise. Mycroft’s existence was a
disillusioning
revelation in itself, but this!

‘This woman has, clearly, caused you considerable pain.’ I announced solemnly.

‘It is not a subject on which I wish to dwell; indeed I only mention it now because of its relevance to the problem on which we are now engaged. Suffice it to say that bitter experience has shown to me the depraved nature of this woman’s character. She has reinvented the meaning of the words; deceitful, and promiscuous and that her guile and charms would have subjugated stronger men than Masterson and myself.’

‘My dear fellow, I had no idea. I quite understand and agree with your decision to return to London forthwith, as, I am sure will our client.’ I replied.

At this Holmes became quite agitated. He stood up, suddenly, and began pacing the room.

‘Watson, understand me well. Under no circumstances can the Colonel learn the truth about my prior
involvement
with his wife. This would surely jeopardise any chance we may have of success in this matter. Now I must
rest, for I will require all my physical resources for the day’s work ahead.’

I got up, and walked to the door.

‘I take it we shall not be returning to London in the morning.’ I asked, turning back. In the time it had taken me to walk to the door and turn around, Holmes had lain himself on the bed, fully clothed and on his back, already in deep slumber. This, I felt, boded ill for any foe that Holmes had set his mind on hunting down.

Having left Holmes in such a state of exhaustion, I was more than a little surprised to discover that he was up, had breakfasted and gone out, a full half hour before I had even reached the dining-room the following morning. It was not unusual for Holmes to go about his work without consulting me beforehand, but on this occasion I was
clueless
as to what direction his inquiries were to take. I took my breakfast alone, for word came to me that the Colonel was indisposed, and had decided to keep to his room. Any inquiries I made of the staff, as to the nature of his illness, or to the whereabouts of his wife, were met with a stony silence.

I took the papers into the drawing-room with my pipe and was resolved to spending the morning exploring the estate alone, when Holmes suddenly burst in upon me. The old, familiar gleam of excitement was in his eyes once more, and I knew he had discovered some clue.

‘Ah, Watson, I see that you have finally decided to emerge from your bed.’ Was his jovial greeting. ‘You will be glad to hear that I have succeeded in locating your legendary cave of King Arthur, and I am certain that the Colonel can help us identify its contents!’

Whereupon I explained to him what little I knew about
the Colonel’s illness. Yet, undaunted, Holmes hastily scratched out a brief note, and dispatched this to the Colonel’s room by way of a pageboy. Not sharing Holmes’s confidence, I was most surprised when, after little more than ten minutes had passed, Colonel Masterson shuffled into the room, betraying every sign of being a broken man.

‘I was a fool in attempting to outwit the illustrious Sherlock Holmes.’ The Colonel mumbled apologetically.

This compliment was not lost on my friend, who, with a dramatic flourish, waved the Colonel to one of his own chairs. Holmes, in turn, took up a position by the fireplace, whilst lighting his pipe. A glance from Holmes prompted me to take out my notebook, and pencil.

‘Even the sparse contents of your note have shown to me the futility of any further deception on my part.’ The Colonel stated. ‘However, I am at a loss to understand how a single morning’s investigation could have revealed so much to you. What glaring error have I committed?’

‘You have allowed pride to cloud your reason.’ Holmes replied. ‘Why else should you go to such lengths in concealing your wife’s infamous behaviour? I can assure you that I have performed no miracle. Such indiscretions, as perpetrated by your wife, can not go long unnoticed in so small a community, I assure you. The few inquiries that I made this morning have shown me how affairs really stand. Yet these discoveries alone would have proved nothing, in themselves, save only your wife’s lack of
scruples
. However a small hoard of treasure, removed from your own home, that I discovered in the, supposed, cave of King Arthur, indicate to me that her affair with the
shepherd
has progressed further, and deeper than any on which she has previously embarked. The haul in the cave was
intended to have been their nest-egg and their means to flight. So determined were you not to be revealed as a cuckold to this shepherd that even this violation was left unreported to the police. For only then would it have been seen that your wife was not the victim, in fear of her life, acting under coercion, but a more than willing accomplice.’

‘Mr Holmes you have described my predicament with remarkable clarity, and, I might add, with a deep insight and understanding.’ The Colonel responded.

I could see Holmes becoming increasingly agitated at these words, no doubt concerned that the genuine reasons for his understanding might now become clearer to the Colonel. To ease his discomfiture, I made my own
contribution
.

‘Colonel, my own experience of the fairer sex has shown that you are not the first, nor will you be the last, to succumb to the wiles of such a woman. They are driven along their treacherous path by something from within and her behaviour reflects on you not at all.’

He bowed in acknowledgement, and then asked, ‘Mr Holmes, you have failed to explain how you were so successful in locating this cave, whereas the regular police force, with their superior numbers, failed so abjectly.’

‘It was not I who located the cave.’ Holmes replied.

‘Oh, come along Holmes! You just said …’ Holmes would not allow me to complete my protest.

‘Watson, surely you remember our investigation of the most singular problem posed by the Sign of Four?’ Then upon noting my nodded affirmation, ‘Well, then you will also doubtless recall the more than significant
contribution
made by our canine friend, Toby. I simply put that method to use once more. In my experience, there is no
more loyal or perceptive a beast than the sheep dog, and so it proved. I merely removed a well worn boot from the shepherd’s lodge, and presented this to the animal’s nose. In consequence it was he who presented me with the cave.’

‘Holmes,’ I then inquired. ‘This is all very well, but surely this new information, as to the true nature of Mrs Masterson’s amour, clouds still further the central issue of who perpetrated the murderous attacks upon her?’

‘Watson I see that, even now, you still cling to your
original
hypothesis regarding the shepherd. It is now patently obvious. There have been no attacks made upon the life of Mrs Masterson, merely attempts to make it appear as if there had been. How else could the Colonel incriminate the shepherd, and hope to win back his wife? By seeking my assistance, he intended to confirm, and consolidate the case for the slow-moving police,’ Holmes replied.

‘Surely you are merely making an assumption on this point? The police could not discover a single clue at the scene of either attack. Therefore, even if the attacks were not genuine, the identity of the attacker must remain a mystery.’ Even as I spoke, I immediately regretted my use of the word ‘assumption’.

Holmes turned on me at once and with venom. ‘I never guess … or assume, Watson! Whilst it is true to say that no clues were to be found at the scene of the first attack, there was certainly some information to be gleaned outside the conservatory.’ He paused for a moment, to draw long and hard on his pipe.

‘I do not understand, Mr Holmes.’ The Colonel began, taking advantage of the momentary lull. ‘The police drew a line that corresponded to the trajectory of the arrow, and
searched the ground most thoroughly along that line until they were out of range. They were unsuccessful in finding a mark, or print of any description.’

‘Ah, but Colonel, that is exactly what made me
suspicious
!’ Holmes surveyed the bewildered looks on both our faces, and evidently drew some amusement from the sight. ‘There should have been some footprints there, for they showed quite clearly immediately outside the conservatory door. The route, back to the house, crosses the line along which the arrow was fired. Therefore, someone had gone to great pains to obliterate those prints. The same person, of course, who had removed the crossbow from your armoury, Colonel.’