My Dearest Holmes Read online

  'Well, we have been lucky, and he unlucky this morning. Now, the question is, why was this certificate needed so urgently? It must have a direct bearing upon the nature of the trouble into which the said young man has fallen.'

  His eyes assumed the vacant, dreamy expression which they always carried when his mind was racing.

  'But why should Maria not come back herself for the certificate?' interrupted Miss D'Arcy. 'Why send her son to break into the house, when she could have walked in herself through the front door?'

  'Oh, that is easily answered,' said Holmes with a dismissive wave of his pipe. 'She did not want to run the risk of encountering you, or any member of the household. There is obviously some secrecy attached to the matter, over and above the fact of her son's existence.'

  Miss D'Arcy bit her lip, thought for a moment and then said in a low voice, 'Mr Holmes, I am not at all sure that I can justify asking you to continue this investigation. I can see it now in the light of an unwarranted intrusion into Maria's private affairs. If she has kept the existence of her son from me for so long, I am sure she would not want me to pry into whatever trouble has caused him to summon her to his aid like this. Perhaps it would be wisest and most honourable after all if I waited as she has asked me to do, and let her explain the matter to me in her own time.'

  Holmes listened meekly enough, but his eyes, narrowing to bright slits, betrayed his desire not to abandon the chase now that he found himself to be hot on the scent. He laid his pipe aside and placed his fingertips together.

  'You are my client, Miss D'Arcy,' he said, 'and it is certainly your right to forbid me from pursuing the case further if you wish. But I would urge you to think carefully before coming to that decision. Mr Kirkpatrick is obviously in some trouble, and it is by no means certain that his mother will be able to help him; whereas we, if we can discover the nature of his trouble, may be able to do just that. His rather desperate and surprising attempt at burglary this morning indicates that there is some fear that his birth certificate will fall into the wrong hands, thus escalating some form of crisis. To my mind, this points to only one possible state of affairs--blackmail.'

  Miss D'Arcy seemed extremely shocked by this assertion. I was myself surprised, but being used, after so many years, to my friend's rapid trains of thought and startling deductions, I tended to underestimate the effect on the uninitiated. 'Blackmail!' she repeated, in great confusion, leaning forward in her chair and fixing her gaze on my friend's face. 'But who--why?'

  'Well, Miss D'Arcy, that remains to be seen; though I think I can deduce it without too much trouble. However, I shall require proof, and I shall require authorisation from you that I continue the investigation. If you agree, Miss D'Arcy, I would advise you to remain discreet, and return home for the present, leaving the next stage to me. When I have all the information I need, I shall wire you and we can meet to discuss how best to proceed in the matter. I am sure you will agree that it is better not to involve the police at this stage.'

  He had completely cast aside his languid manner, and spoke rapidly, with urgent gestures of the hands. I could tell he was anxious to be allowed to pursue the case.

  Miss D'Arcy also seemed much agitated. She hesitated only fractionally before saying, 'Well, if things are really as you say, Mr Holmes, then--yes, I think you had better continue your investigations. But what do you intend to do?'

  Holmes relaxed visibly. 'I intend to call on Mr Maurice Kirkpatrick,' he said airily. 'And I think--yes, I think I shall take Watson with me, since he is already acquainted with the gentleman.'

  'But Holmes, my dear fellow,' I interjected, 'what is he going to think, if I turn up at his house with you? What excuse am I going to give? I have never visited him at his home before. He'll think the whole thing very suspicious.'

  'Tut, Watson, he won't know that it is I,' said Holmes with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. 'You certainly didn't think I was going to introduce myself as Mr S. Holmes, consulting detective on the trail of his missing mother? No, no, my dear Watson, we are going to use a little imagination here, a little finesse. However, Miss D'Arcy,' he continued, turning to our client, 'the best thing for you to do is, as I said, to return home. You may rest assured that I will be in touch as soon as I have proof of the matter in my hands.'

  'Very well, Mr Holmes,' said Miss D'Arcy reluctantly. 'I leave the investigation with you. But do you really think that blackmail is at the root of it?'

  'My dear lady, I am sure of it! What other explanation is there? Believe me, Miss D'Arcy, there is no more unscrupulous figure in our society than the blackmailer; this is why we must be on our guard, and proceed with the utmost discretion. The safety and happiness of at least two people depend upon it.'

  'Three people,' said Miss D'Arcy, with a sudden bitter expression.

  'Quite so. Three. Maybe four. But be patient, Miss D'Arcy. Good day to you.'

  Still she hesitated, as if wishing to say something more. But after a moment she murmured, 'Good day Mr Holmes. Good day, Dr Watson, and I thank you for your kindness and your sympathy this morning,' and left the room. We heard her footsteps on the stair, and the closing of the front door.

  'Well, Watson,' said Holmes, leaping to his feet the minute she had left and beginning to pace the room, rubbing his hands together gleefully, 'this is all very exciting, is it not? This case certainly exhibits some singular features. Would you not say so? I am glad, by the way, that Miss D'Arcy found you so supportive. I can always trust you to take care of that department. And now for the next stage...'

  'Now look, Holmes,' I interrupted sharply, feeling that such innuendos were in very poor taste, especially under the circumstances, 'I really must set you straight on all this. The way in which Miss D'Arcy found me supportive was not at all the way you imply. Heaven knows why you insist on propounding this fantasy about my susceptibility to women; but if you cannot see that Miss D'Arcy is--well, a confirmed spinster, then your powers of perception are considerably less than they're made out to be.'

  Holmes stood in front of me with his hands in his pockets, a maddening expression of pure delight upon his face.

  'My poor dear boy,' said he, 'you do underestimate me, don't you? I do assure you that I have a full and accurate grasp of the situation. There is really no need for you to lecture me about it. As for your effect on the fair sex--well, my dear Watson, you surely cannot deny they seem to find you attractive. Except for Miss D'Arcy, of course. Now, where is the inaccuracy in my stating the obvious? Hmm?'

  I clenched my teeth in frustration. It was at times like this that I most regretted the exaggerated boasts with which I had for some reason felt it necessary to regale my friends at around the time of my meeting with Holmes. What could I say? That I suspected his full and accurate grasp of the situation to be the result of his morning's research, since I had seen no evidence of it earlier? I knew he would have no hesitation in calling my bluff, and in turning the situation to his own advantage.

  'Anyway, Watson,' he continued, strolling jauntily around the room with an annoying spring in his step, 'since you're so anxious to set me straight on matters of which I am ignorant, perhaps you would care to give me a little resume of your acquaintance with Mr Maurice Kirkpatrick. I must say, it really is a lucky chance, your knowing him. Now, what do you think? Would he be surprised, for instance, at your turning up at his house in the company of a smart young companion, proposing an afternoon on the turf? Or would he perhaps prefer to make the acquaintance of an older gentleman of private means and aesthetic temperament? Which shall I be, Watson? In either case, I think that a certain air of decadence would fit the bill, don't you agree?'

  This kind of teasing made me even more uncomfortable, being nearer the mark of accuracy. I felt my complexion change, and crossed hurriedly to the window to regain my composure.

  'Tell me first,' I said, as coolly as I could, 'just why you think he is being blackmailed?'

  'Oh, I don't think he is being blackmailed at all,' said
Holmes impatiently. 'But his father undoubtedly is, and has, rather foolishly in my opinion, called on him for help.'

  'His father?' I was surprised out of my confusion. 'But he has no father!'

  'Tut, Watson, I'm surprised at you. And you a medical man! Everybody has a father somewhere. We may take that as a working hypothesis in at least ninety-nine point nine per cent of cases.'

  'Well, good heavens, Holmes, I mean of course he has a father, but surely--do you mean that you are assuming he knows who his father is?'

  'Well, I am assuming he does now. Whether he did before this present trouble, I am not yet in a position to say. But now, do you see--?' he continued, deliberately adopting the patient manner with which one explains the obvious to a child or to an idiot. 'He receives a message from a gentleman who claims to be his father, and he wishes, my good Watson, to check the gentleman's credentials, so to speak. And to whom does he apply for corroboration on the subject, do you think? Hmm? Come on now, my boy, your mental powers should be able to tackle this one.'

  'Oh stop it, Holmes,' I said feebly, for I could see he was already embarking upon a fit of hilarity and I had no desire to join him. 'So he contacts his mother. But I still fail to see why it has to be blackmail.'

  'Why, it could be nothing else,' said Holmes, controlling himself with difficulty. 'If the man has contacted neither his son nor the mother of his son for some twenty-odd years, nothing less than the threat of discovery could lead him to do so now. You see why I did not wish to go into the matter in front of Miss D'Arcy,' he continued in a serious voice, taking me by the elbow and leading me towards the door. 'The subject would naturally be upsetting for her. We had better wait until we have cleared the whole thing up. Now, Watson, up you go and change into a waistcoat that boasts its full regimen of buttons! I would fit a new shoelace too, if I were you; we may have a little walk ahead of us. And what a careless fellow you were this morning to nick your cheek like that. I meanwhile will go and don my accoutrements, and then I think we will make our way to Kensington, with a little detour for lunch en route.'

  'Might I suggest that the older gentleman would be a more suitable disguise, Holmes?' I said sweetly. 'Kirkpatrick has always looked upon me, I may say, rather as a paternal figure, and since I am your senior by a mere couple of years, we can hardly expect him to do less for you.'

  From the mischievous glint that stole into his eyes, I realised that somewhere in my little speech I had laid myself open to his repartee. I closed the door hurriedly and made my way to my room.

  --V--

  IT WAS mid-afternoon by the time we reached Mr Maurice Kirkpatrick's elegant Kensington residence. I sent in my card and we were shown into a drawing room which was decorated rather alarmingly in red and black, with white alabaster statuettes and vases in every nook and niche. I had no idea that my friend's general air of decadence extended to his furnishings in so vulgar a manner, and noted with amusement that Holmes, abandoning his customary sartorial primness, had managed, with the aid of a loosely knotted silk necktie and several rather tasteless rings, to create just such an appearance as would blend in perfectly with Kirkpatrick's decor.

  It was only a matter of minutes before the young gentleman appeared, looking surprised and harassed, although his manner was scrupulously polite as always. Holmes had chosen for some reason to adopt the pseudonym of Mr Melmond on this occasion, and I hastily introduced him as such.

  'This is really very nice of you, Dr Watson,' responded poor Kirkpatrick, 'and it is always a pleasure to meet your friends. I do hope you will excuse my rather flurried appearance. My mother is staying with me at present, and she has just received some rather worrying news about a friend. Sad news, that is. Yes, the death of an old friend. I won't bore you with the details, but I do hope you won't take it amiss if our manner is a little reserved. I should like you to meet my mother, of course; you will take some tea with us?'

  He spoke hurriedly and nervously, his long-lashed eyes darting from one to the other of us; though I noticed that the glances he flashed at Holmes bore a stamp of innocent appeal with which he had long ceased to favour me.

  'My dear fellow,' I said in a determined voice, 'we would not dream of imposing on your hospitality at such a time. Pray do accept our apologies for this unwitting intrusion. We will call another day.'

  We had both risen, and Holmes trod heavily upon my foot as he turned to admire a Greek statuette that stood upon a side table.

  'Oh, a thousand apologies, Watson,' he said in a genial voice. 'How clumsy of me! Of course, my dear Mr Kirkpatrick, Dr Watson is right. We will most certainly not intrude upon you or Mrs Kirkpatrick. But my goodness, I must take this opportunity to admire such a remarkably beautiful statuette. A miniature of Michelangelo's "David", is it not? What an exquisite copy! The proportions appear to be just right.'

  'Why, Mr Melmond, you must be quite a connoisseur!' cried Maurice Kirkpatrick in delight, a slow, winning smile forming on his face. 'Yes, this is but one of my little beauties, as you can see'--here he indicated the room with a sweeping gesture. 'I am a collector, you know, in a small way. I love beautiful things. You must stay and have tea with us, I simply cannot let you go now that you have been so kind as to admire my little David. What do you think of this figure of Achilles? I found it in a little shop in Museum Street, quite by accident. No, Dr Watson, I insist that you both take tea with us. It will lift my mother's spirits, I assure you. She shares my love of Greek culture, you know, Mr Melmond. She will be so pleased to meet you. Oh yes, you must certainly stay.'

  He rang the bell for the servant, and ordered tea on the spot. 'And please tell Mrs Kirkpatrick that my friends would be delighted if she will join us.'

  Having procured our invitation, Holmes proceeded to make his way around the room, murmuring admiringly at every fresh monstrosity, and throwing up his hands in affected delight. I comforted myself by thinking that he cut a very foolish figure in so fanciful a get-up, and by picturing to myself the reaction of Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard if he could see the great detective now.

  Kirkpatrick eventually joined me on the sofa while Holmes seated himself gracefully in an armchair.

  'But Watson here is hiding his light under a bushel!' said he with a merry laugh; it was obvious that he was greatly enjoying himself. 'If anyone has an artist's eye for beauty, Mr Kirkpatrick, it is he. As you have, no doubt, had occasion to remark. Yes, I think I can say very decidedly that my friend here has an eye for beauty.'

  He was watching Kirkpatrick as he spoke; the compliment was obviously meant for him rather than for me; and so it was received, for the affected young baggage blushed and lowered his absurd lashes in a most tasteless manner.

  As I bit my lip and tried to think of a suitable rejoinder, Holmes continued, 'You have been walking the garden this morning, Mr Kirkpatrick? And my goodness, if I did not perceive you to be a gentleman of civilized habits, I would say you had been--climbing a wall?'

  I must say that I was pleased to see the alacrity with which the smug look vanished from my young friend's face.

  'Good heavens, Mr Melmond! Why, I...yes, I believe I took a turn in the garden; but as for climbing a wall--why, what an extraordinary notion! Whatever put it into your mind?'

  'My dear sir, you have forgotten to change your shoes! There is garden earth upon them, and upon the hem of your trousers--strange, for it has not been raining lately--you must have ventured into a flower bed by mistake, I imagine, or else your gardener has been careless with some loose soil. And then, there appears to be some brick dust adhering there also and, remarkably, to the knees--I trust you do not think me rude, Mr Kirkpatrick? It is just a little trick of mine, to try out my powers of observation upon a new acquaintance. I do not mean to be offensive, I assure you, quite the opposite...And then there are your shirt cuffs, and the scuffing of your shoes...But there, I see that I have embarrassed you, and that was never my intention. My dear sir, I do not wish to pry. When a young man such as yourself has his mo
ther to stay, he has often to resort to a little--ingenuity...'

  Here, mercifully, there was a knock at the door, and tea was announced. With a watery smile at Holmes, and a most suspicious glance at me, Kirkpatrick turned his attention to the deposition of the trays, and a moment later the appearance of Miss--or Mrs Kirkpatrick, for so of course we addressed her as we rose to take part in the introductions--precluded any further allusion to our host's morning adventure.

  Maria Kirkpatrick was a tall and graceful woman, and one could tell that it was she who had given her son his beautiful eyes and complexion; although her hair was darker than his, with an interesting coppery tint. There were unmistakeable traces of sadness, even of fear, upon her face, but her eyes spoke of an already well-tested courage and a determined quality which had obviously stood her in good stead over the years. Both Holmes and I warmed to her, and I longed to have some quiet words with her, to reassure her as to Miss D'Arcy's state of mind and health; but this of course was impossible under the circumstances.

  It was made even more impossible by Holmes suddenly switching his attention, and his charm, from the son to the mother, and striking up an easy conversation with her about the literature and culture of ancient Greece (in which she appeared to be well versed); thus leaving me prey to the whispered enquiries of my former friend, Maurice Kirkpatrick. I found his persistence very awkward.

  How long had I known Mr Melmond? Where had I met him? Had he a profession, or private means? Where did he live? And by the way, how was my celebrated friend Mr Sherlock Holmes, of whom he had heard so much? Might he look forward to an introduction to that gentleman also, in the near future?

  I did the best I could, and painted a very plausible picture of a decadent gentleman of dwindling income and unreliable habits, which I fancy left my enquirer rather disappointed, if no less suspicious. As for Mr Holmes, I added casually, he was at present engaged in a case which took him from London; and really he was so busy all the time, that it was very difficult to get him to pay social calls, but I would of course do my best. Maurice Kirkpatrick sipped at his tea and continued to eye me with distrust. At last I was able to turn my attention to the other half of our party, and was interested to hear that the topic had strayed somewhat nearer home.