The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes--The Instrument of Death by David Stuart Davies

Author:David Stuart Davies
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

* * *

I was silent on our trip back to Baker Street, and it was only when we reached our sitting room that Holmes tackled me concerning my demeanour.

“You are angry with me, aren’t you, Watson? Angry at the way I treated the young woman.”

“Yes. Yes, I am. You behaved in an uncaring and brutal fashion in order to achieve your own ends without considering for one moment the delicacy of Miss Marshall’s condition.”

Holmes threw his arms up in the air. “You are right, of course, Watson. In such circumstances I cannot help myself. I always place my investigation first before considering the effect my actions have on others. It is a weakness and a strength, I suppose.”

“It is selfish and cruel,” I snapped. “And then you added insult to injury by spouting some kind of medical gobbledygook about the experience being cathartic and stating some nonsense about Freud in support of your outrageous behaviour.”

“I stand well and truly chastised,” sighed Holmes, dropping into his chair. “Please accept my apologies.”

“It is not I to whom you should apologise but to the old doctor, to our client, and most of all to Miss Marshall herself.”

“I don’t think I wish to go as far as that. My behaviour was perhaps a little rash but it did bear fruit. In the end, that will benefit both the young woman and our client. Perhaps now we may return to our normal civilities?”

I let out an inarticulate growl and snatched up the newspaper. I realised now that my anger had transformed itself into petulance and words failed me. I tried to read but the print swam before my eyes, and so after a while I cast the rag aside.

“Why not have a pipe, old fellow. It will put you in a better humour.”

I opened my mouth to utter a stinging rebuff, but instead I did as Holmes suggested. As I sat back in my chair, my ship’s tobacco having a soothing effect on my shredded nerves, one phrase that Holmes had used nagged at me and refused to leave my thoughts. In the end, I could not resist airing my curiosity.

“What did you mean that your visit to Miss Marshall today ‘bore fruit’?” I asked in a calm, matter-of-fact manner.

Holmes flashed me a warm smile. “I wondered how long it would be before you asked me that. Well, first of all, there were the remnants of the wound at the girl’s neck. I had seen those identical marks before. The same spacing of the spatulate fingers and, more importantly, the indentations in the flesh made by the long fingernails of the assailant. They were an exact replica of the marks left on Lady Damury’s throat.”

“What!” I cried, sitting bolt upright in the chair.

“Indeed, they were identical. I am convinced they were made by the same man.”

“That is incredible.”

“Remarkable but not incredible. Also, the girl told us he was tall, a fact that I established by studying the footprints left in Lady Damury’s boudoir. Miss Marshall also said a strange thing: that her attacker walked like a mechanical man.

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