Death by Gaslight by Michael Kurland

Author:Michael Kurland [Kurland, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783293285
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

RICHARD PLANTAGENET

Don Desperado

Walked on the Prado,

And there he met his enemy.

CHARLES KINGSLEY

Quincy Hope was dead. His body, throat gashed open from ear to ear, lay supine on the floor in his consultation room, arms stretched out cruciform, feet, curiously, raised neatly up onto the seat of the leather couch. He was still in his evening dress, just as he had been when he arrived home a half hour before he was found, missing only his hat and shoes.

“I haven’t touched a thing, sir, I assure you. Not a thing. I couldn’t,” Gammidge, the valet, told Mr. Sherlock Holmes. A tall, skinny, stoop-shouldered man whose garb appeared too large for his frame, Gammidge stood right inside the room, hovering by the door, and seemed on the verge of tears. “Everything was exactly like this when I found the master, and no one has entered the room since that moment. I only left long enough to go outside and whistle for a policeman. What a dreadful thing, sir.”

“You did right, Gammidge,” Holmes said soothingly. “What sort of room is this?” It was a long, rectangular room on the ground floor, to the right of the main entrance of Quincy Hope’s large, luxurious house. Across from its paneled door was the comfortable leather couch upon which rested the legs of the corpse, from the black-trousered knees to the black silk-stockinged toes. To the left, a low table and some chairs were by the front windows; to the right, a massive flat desk and chair, flanked by a tall glass-front cabinet and a wooden examination table.

“It’s Hope’s consultation room, Mr. Holmes,” Inspector Lestrade said. “Mr. Hope would appear to have been some sort of medical man.”

“What sort?” Holmes inquired.

“Why, he was—I don’t really know,” Lestrade said. “Gammidge?”

“I couldn’t say, gentlemen,” Gammidge told them. “I served only as Mr. Hope’s valet. There were several persons who came in during the daytime and aided the master with his medical practice. I really know nothing about it.”

“What about the other servants?” Lestrade asked.

“Well, sir, Frazier, the butler, may know more about the master’s affairs.”

“Right enough. Bring him down here, then. Tell him Scotland Yard wants to talk to him.”

Gammidge shrank back slightly. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, with the air of one who knows that whatever happens, it’s all his fault, “but Frazier isn’t here this evening. He and the other servants have the night off. They have all, I believe, gone home to various relatives.”

“All gone, eh?” Lestrade asked, sticking his head forward pugnaciously.

“I believe so, sir,” Gammidge said, twisting his hands together nervously as he talked. His eyes darted about the room like a caged bird who thinks that an invisible carnivore has somehow entered his cage. “I’ll go and check, if you like.”

“What’s the matter with you, Gammidge?” Lestrade asked suspiciously. “Something on your mind?”

“No, sir; only…”

“Yes, yes; only what, Gammidge?”

“Only, Inspector, I’d like to leave this room, if I may. It’s making me quite faint, really it is; being in here with the master’s body and all.

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