Sherlock Holmes and The Adventure of The Pigtail Twist by M J H Simmonds

Author:M J H Simmonds
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novel
ISBN: 9781787053052
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2018-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six - A Bad Night’s Work

It was late afternoon when I reached the sprawling estate of the Widow Fairchance. The main house was set back from the road by about twenty yards, the front garden so overgrown that the property could easily have been missed altogether. The house comprised of a single storey, with a couple of attic windows poking out from behind the abundant clematis and wisteria, which clung tightly to the walls in a rather uncomfortable looking embrace. To the right was a large and ancient barn, almost fallen to ruin. From the front of the property, I could not see the summerhouse but, to be honest, from my position I could not determine exactly the full extent or borders of the property at all. The entire area was dense with excessive growth and the visible outbuildings were all in a terrible state of dilapidation.

I edged my way along the path towards the front porch and rapped loudly upon the dark wooden door. After a few minutes, the door opened, just a few inches, and I spied a white face and a single eye of the deepest brown.

“My name is Doctor Watson, you may remember me from last night up at the Hall. I am helping the police investigate the awful events of that evening. I am terribly sorry to trouble you, as I appreciate that you have been questioned already, but might I please inquire as to whether you have had any further thoughts or perhaps remembered anything that you have not previously recounted?”

I asked this question without lengthy introduction, in the deliberately straightforward fashion that I had learned from Holmes. The idea being that the witness would have no time to prepare a deceitful answer and would perhaps let slip a truth that otherwise, given time to compose themselves, might remain hidden.

“Of course I remember you, Doctor,” Mrs Fairchance replied, quietly, as she fully opened the door and gestured that I should enter.

She led me through a dark hall and into an equally funereal parlour where she turned to address me, hands clenched tightly before her.

“I am sorry, but I really have nothing else to recount, I have told you all I know.”

“Do you live here alone? Have you no servants? I asked, already suspecting that she had none, having answered the door herself.

“To be honest with you, Doctor, all I have is what little it takes to maintain this house. If I brought in outside help, I think I would wither and die from ennui. When my husband died, half of me left with him, quite possibly the better half. I live simply, waiting for the day when I will be reunited with him.”

“You have my deepest sympathies, madam,” I replied. “But did you not, earlier, state that Mr Wergeld had charmed you into attending the evening up at the Hall?”

“Oh Doctor, I am by no means perfect. He is indeed a charming man and I did agree to attend the dinner, although without any thought of impropriety.

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