My Dearest Holmes Page 2

  I had heard, in the midst of my sartorial struggles, the entry of Mrs Hudson into the room below and her subsequent retreat with the breakfast tray. Now I heard her stately tread upon the stair again, followed by lighter footsteps, and the murmur of feminine voices on the landing. Then came the expected knock upon the door, and Sherlock Holmes' languid response.

  'Miss Anne D'Arcy,' announced our landlady.

  'Ah, Miss D'Arcy,' I heard him say, 'so good of you to call again. Pray take a seat.'

  I waited for the sound of the door closing, and for Mrs Hudson's retreating footsteps, before descending myself.

  Miss Anne D'Arcy was seated in the basket chair in which Holmes always placed his visitors, a large black umbrella planted squarely at her side like a hefty spear. She was dressed in a dark tailored suit and hat, which I had to admit contrasted very well with her fair complexion and fine light eyes. I was rather startled, however, to read in those eyes a look of amused recognition, which confused me greatly, as I had no recognition of having ever seen her before.

  Holmes, immaculate in his frock coat, sat in the armchair opposite.

  'This is Dr Watson,' said he, 'who has been an invaluable friend and a help to me on a great many of my cases. I trust that you will have no objection to his remaining and taking part in our interview, Miss D'Arcy?'

  'No objection whatever,' replied the young lady, inclining courteously in my direction. Again I caught the amused look. I was unsure what to make of it. My own observation of her, and my knowledge of her circumstances as related to me by Holmes, made me think it unlikely that her expression was intended to be flirtatious. However, I was unwilling to take any chances. I took my seat with gravity, placing myself next to Holmes, and donned as best as I could the professional, impersonal expression that I affected when engaged in my practice. Miss D'Arcy, looking properly chastened, proceeded to confirm in more detail her story of the previous night. This morning's post had brought no word from her friend, and as well as feeling naturally very worried for her, she was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery thrown up by her disappearance.

  'Maria has been receiving these letters for years,' she said, 'at the average rate of one every three months or so. At first I used to tease her about them; then I became annoyed that she would not give me so much as a clue as to whom they were from. But it has remained the one point on which she has been absolutely inflexible, throughout our long acquaintance and intimacy. She simply refuses to disclose the name of her correspondent.

  'As time went by, and as I observed that the letters had no adverse affect on her, beyond the secrecy which they inspired, I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie, and ceased questioning her upon the matter. You can imagine how surprised I was, therefore, to discover that they came to all appearances only from her mother, who she had always given me to understand had died when Maria was only sixteen years of age. I can only assume now that she was lying--though why she should think it necessary to keep from me the fact that she had a mother, I just cannot imagine.'

  Here she paused with a sigh, and remained for some time gazing pensively at the Persian slipper which Holmes had restored to its place by the fire, as if trying to evince some clue from it as to her friend's behaviour.

  The silence was broken by Holmes, who, leaning forward with every appearance of interest, enquired, 'How long have you known Miss Kirkpatrick, Miss D'Arcy?'

  'All in all, for nearly eight years.'

  'And for how much of that time would you say that you have been on intimate terms?'

  Miss D'Arcy raised an amused eyebrow.

  'We have shared a house for the last six years.'

  'On intimate terms?'

  'Yes, Mr Holmes.'

  I saw that my friend had no idea of the dangerous waters into which he was drifting.

  'And you never had occasion, during those six years, to meet members of Miss Kirkpatrick's family?'

  'Never. Her mother, as I said, I had always assumed to be dead, and her father, I understand, lives in retirement in Sussex, where he is cared for by her elder sister, his second wife having died. At least, that is what I always understood; now I do not know what to believe! She also has a married brother. I am not sure where he lives. None of the family would welcome my acquaintance, and I do not know whether they even know of my existence.'

  Holmes rested his chin upon his hands, and raised his eyebrows.

  'Indeed. Why is that?'

  I raised my eyes to the ceiling and amused myself by counting the cobwebs overlooked by Mrs Hudson during her weekly inspection of the rooms.

  Miss D'Arcy paused before answering. I must say I thought she handled it very well.

  'I assume,' she said cautiously, 'that my circumstances--that is to say, my background--my family background, the relative poverty of my childhood and upbringing, would cause some embarrassment and disapproval. The Kirkpatricks were apparently one of the foremost Sussex families, and laid great store by their social position.'

  Brilliant. I almost uttered the ejaculation. By some instinct, she had touched on just the subject to inspire my friend's socialist tendencies. He loathed every form of Society with his whole Bohemian soul.

  'My dear Miss D'Arcy,' he murmured, 'I am so sorry. I did not mean to cause you the slightest embarrassment. I trust you have never allowed the attitude of such ignorant people to distress you in the slightest.'

  'Oh no, Mr Holmes, I can never afford to take account of the attitudes of ignorant people.'

  I smiled to myself, and, looking up, was somewhat embarrassed to catch a look of annoyance from Miss D'Arcy. A slight flush rested on her cheeks. I wished that I could find some opportunity to explain myself to her; but this was hardly the time or place.

  'You say that your companion usually destroyed these letters from her mother,' Holmes said. 'Did you observe her do so?'

  'No, she would not have wanted to provoke my curiosity by destroying them in front of me. But I would find the ashes in the grate, sometimes with a piece of the envelope unburned, but always with the letter itself completely destroyed.'

  'So that whereas she allowed herself sometimes to be careless about the envelope, she was always most careful to destroy its contents completely.'

  'Exactly.'

  Holmes thought for a moment, and then asked, 'How many servants do you keep, Miss D'Arcy?'

  'Two men, a cook and a housemaid. They have all been with us for a considerable time, and I would certainly say that each one was to be trusted absolutely. Unfortunately, one of our men, John, is leaving us in the near future to take a situation in the country, nearer his ailing mother. We will miss him greatly.'

  'You do not think that Miss Kirkpatrick would have entrusted her secret correspondence to one of the servants, unknown to yourself? She must have replied to these letters.'

  Miss D'Arcy appeared to be amused by this suggestion, but she gave it several moments' thought. At length she said, 'I do not know. It would be very strange if she did...I have already asked them all if they know of any clue as to where she may have gone, and they all appear to be as much in the dark as I am. The housemaid told me of her taking the letter with her. I really don't see how I can do otherwise than take their word in the matter.'

  'Hmm.' Holmes appeared to accept this, for after drumming his fingertips together for a while, he launched out on another track.

  'Presumably Miss Kirkpatrick did not burn her ordinary correspondence; where does she keep her letters and papers?'

  'In her desk, in her room.'

  'Is the desk locked?'

  'Yes. But I know where she keeps the key. She did not take it with her, and I have already searched the desk. I found nothing of any importance--that is, nothing that could have any bearing upon this present matter.'

  Holmes narrowed his eyes.

  'What did you find, Miss D'Arcy?'

  Our client shrugged.

  'My own letters to her from years ago. Photographs...several, of her brother, I
presume. I had no idea that she kept his picture. Some official documents, records of financial transactions...I must confess, I did not peruse them too closely.'

  Holmes was silent for a moment, then rose quickly and reached for his pipe.

  'You don't mind my smoking, Miss D'Arcy,' he informed her, as he lit it.

  'Not at all,' she agreed. (At least, I noticed, it was the briar, not the old clay.)

  Relaxing back in his chair, Holmes exhaled several clouds of acrid smoke before remarking casually, 'These photographs of Miss Kirkpatrick's brother. You express surprise over them.'

  'I must confess that I was surprised. Since I have known Maria, she has not been on speaking terms with her brother, on her own account as well as on mine. They never even exchange Christmas greetings.'

  Holmes' exhalations grew more copious. 'You have never met this brother,' he said at length, removing the pipe from his mouth, 'and yet you obviously recognise his photograph. Had Miss Kirkpatrick shown you his photograph before?'

  Miss D'Arcy widened her eyes in surprise. 'Why, no. But I naturally assumed that it was he. He looks so like her...in his eyes, the shape of his face...his hair is lighter, though. He is very young, in the photographs. In his early twenties, I mean. They must date from a time before there was bad feeling between them. He must be well on in his forties by now. He looks very...different from the way I imagined him, I must say.'

  'I see. And are all these photographs of the same age?'

  'No, there are two or three of him as a young boy.'

  'Indeed? That is most surprising.'

  'Is it, Mr Holmes?'

  'You do not think so?'

  'Well...if she has kept these early photographs I see no reason why she should not also have kept some childhood ones.'

  Holmes regarded her demurely from beneath lowered lids.

  'You are not thinking, Miss D'Arcy. Would you think me very rude if I were to enquire as to your age?'

  I am twenty-nine years old.'

  'Ah. But Miss Kirkpatrick is older than you, is she not? In her early forties, perhaps?'

  'Yes, that is true, Mr Holmes. But how did you..?'

  'Never mind, Miss D'Arcy. Now. You must do as I say. Go home, and search that desk again. You have missed something. Somewhere, among those official documents, you will find a certain paper that will reveal all. If it is not among the papers, it will be hidden somewhere in the desk. There may be a concealed drawer. There. You may take Dr Watson with you. He knows my methods, and will be able to help you. When you have found what you are looking for, return here at once. Wait for me if I am not at home. I have a few enquiries of my own to make.'

  He rose as he spoke, and made as if to turn towards his room. Miss D'Arcy rose also.

  'Just a moment, Holmes,' I said, scrambling to my feet in their wake, 'I want a word with you. Miss D'Arcy, if you would be so good as to wait here, I will not keep you a minute.'

  I followed him into his room, which I found in a remarkable state of dishevelment. A discarded syringe lay upon his dressing table, beside its morocco case. I regarded it with a look of pointed disapproval, which produced no response from Holmes except a soft chuckle. He sat upon the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands together and regarding me with amusement.

  'Well, Watson? Yes, you see that I have been indulging in self-induced lethargy. But this case has brought me out of it, so your censure would be a little too late. Now, what is the problem?'

  'Well,' I said confusedly, 'I just thought you might give me some more information. You appear to be sending me off to search for a missing document. Might I be permitted to know the nature of the said document, for instance?'

  'My dear Watson,' he said, 'you may not. If you cannot deduce it, you do not deserve to know.'

  'But damn it all, Holmes, how am I to deduce it from the fact that the lady keeps photographs of her brother? You know that you work too fast for me. Look here, I'm always willing to be of service, and you send me off on the most absurd wild goose chases. You're always taking advantage of me when I'm in the dark.'

  'No I'm not, my dear fellow,' said Holmes soothingly, 'not really.'

  I sighed heavily. He affected not to hear.

  'Now, how am I taking advantage of you,' he continued reasonably, 'in sending you off in the company of an attractive young woman to make a simple search of a lady's writing desk? Your powers of observation are as good as mine. I simply want you to bring back to me the rather startling document which I deduce you will find there. You will know what it is when you see it, so what is the point of my telling you in advance? But look now. The clue is in the telegram. What did the telegram say?'

  'Come at once need help mother,'I repeated.

  'There now,' said Sherlock Holmes triumphantly.

  I was still in the dark, and he knew it; but I was not going to give him the pleasure of teasing me further. I sniffed in an aggrieved manner, and turned to the door.

  'Very well, Holmes,' I said with dignity, 'I will see you later.'

  'You will indeed, my dear fellow,' he said, coming up unexpectedly behind me and pinching me on the arm. 'Now off you go. Our client is waiting. I'm sure she will find you much better company than me. The fair sex is your department, after all.'

  Not wishing to expose my burning cheeks to his observation, I opened the door without looking back, and entering the sitting room, closed it behind me.

  'Let us go, Miss D'Arcy,' I said rather curtly to our client, who stood tapping her foot impatiently by the fireplace.

  --III--

  I HAD INTENDED to give my ruffled feelings the satisfaction of maintaining a dignified silence en route to Camberwell, but my companion had other ideas. She hailed a hansom before I had a chance to do so, gave instructions to the driver, and almost before I had settled myself properly beside her, she thumped briskly on the ceiling with her umbrella and we were off at quite an alarming pace.

  I was still attempting to settle myself on the hard seat when she turned to survey me with a knowing look.

  'Tell me, Dr Watson,' she said, 'is Mr Holmes really as obtuse as he pretends to be?'

  I was extremely startled, and remained for some moments with my mouth open foolishly. Composure and caution, I thought as I recovered myself. That was the only approach.

  'I have no idea what you mean, Miss D'Arcy,' I said haughtily.

  She smiled. 'You don't recognise me, do you Dr Watson?' she said in a low voice.

  My haughty manner vanished in astonishment.

  'My dear madam,' I expostulated, completely out of my depth, 'I have never set eyes on you before this morning, I am sure of it.'

  Miss D'Arcy appeared to inspect the handle of her umbrella. 'No? Well, that does not say much for your powers of observation, considering that I set eyes upon you only yesterday evening.'

  Once again my mouth fell open. Composure and caution took flight. A guilty flush stole to my cheeks, as she continued calmly:

  'After my visit to your lodgings last night, and my initial interview with your esteemed companion, I decided, since I dreaded returning once more to an empty house, to make one more brief search for mine. It was still reasonably early, and I did not consider that I was taking a great risk, even in making my way to some of the--less public quarters, shall we say. My intention was to seek out certain discreet meeting places which Maria and I used to visit occasionally, and make further enquiries for her there. Gossip travels fast, and one meets people from all quarters of London--at Mr Richardson's establishment, for example. But there, Dr Watson, I am telling you what you already know. For it was there I saw you, in the company, if I am not mistaken, of a promising young member of Her Majesty's Government. Of course, I did not know it was you. I simply registered the fact that I recognised your face, having seen you in similar surroundings before, from time to time.

  'Imagine my surprise, therefore, when you walked into Mr Holmes' sitting room just now, and I heard you introduced as the celebrated Dr Watson, chronicler
of that gentleman's notable success with the Jefferson Hope affair! I must say that I read your account of that case with the greatest interest, Dr Watson; it has made me quite an admirer of Mr Holmes, as you may gather from my coming to consult him on so personal a matter. I have heard also, of course, of his many other successes; might we hope to see some of those in print one day also? Such an accomplished narrator as yourself should not leave his talent to lie fallow for too long.'

  I spent some minutes in regaining my composure, clearing my throat and moistening my lips, before I was able to favour her with a weak smile.

  'Please do understand, Dr Watson,' she said, observing my confusion, 'that I mean you to take nothing I have said in the negative sense. Quite the contrary, I do assure you.'

  'That's very kind of you, Miss D'Arcy, I'm sure,'I responded nervously. I saw that she read me too well to leave me any other option but to trust her. 'Well, we obviously understand one another,' I continued in warmer tones. 'But as for your question regarding Mr Sherlock Holmes, I am afraid that his attitude is not so much one of obtuseness as of complete unconcern. At least, that is how I read it. He does not...know certain things about my private life, Miss D'Arcy. Although we have shared lodgings for seven years, we are not--on intimate terms.'

  I spoke earnestly, for I certainly could not afford to have her misunderstand the situation. She regarded me seriously.

  'You are very fond of him, however, and would wish things otherwise,' she said.

  I gripped the edge of my seat and did not reply. Turning to look at the street, I observed that we were just passing the door of the Cafe Royal and were approaching Regent Circus. I shifted my gaze abruptly to the swaying interior of the hansom. I felt Miss D'Arcy's eyes upon me.

  'Is it so very obvious?'I said at last.

  'Only to one with eyes to see and wit to guess. I suppose we may take this to be the one situation in which Mr Sherlock Holmes has neither.'

  I sighed again and shifted my position upon the hard seat. A wave of emotion swept over me, and I could not trust myself to speak.

  'I am sorry, Dr Watson,' said Miss D'Arcy quietly, 'you must forgive me. I merely wanted to satisfy my curiosity as to the nature of your relationship with Mr Holmes--a rather vulgar curiosity, I dare say, but I felt that I had laid myself open, and received no support from you in the face of his deliberate or naif failure to grasp my situation. I do apologise.'