The One Hundred per Cent Society by Arthur Hall

Author:Arthur Hall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novel
ISBN: 9781787051904
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2017
Published: 2017-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

Hawksfire House

I have recorded elsewhere, that Sherlock Holmes’ interest in a case diminished the moment it was solved. In this instance, however, he suspended his activities with his quarry still at large.

“Scotland Yard can find no trace of Mrs. McLyall,” he told me over breakfast five days later, “it is supposed that she has left London. I shall continue to consult my sources regularly for news of her, and to scour the newspapers daily. Before now, we have been put off the scent and returned to the chase later.”

I finished the last of my toast. “Indeed. What will you do now, Holmes?”

“I see that you are concerned that boredom or inactivity will drive me back to the cocaine bottle, Doctor,” he said with his usual perception. “But set your mind at rest. I have a few matters on hand that will occupy me, and you are welcome to accompany me as before.”

“I am at your disposal.”

The following day Holmes satisfied himself that all he had learned was added to the archives of Scotland Yard so that Mrs. McLyall’s record should be as complete as possible. A police guard was mounted on the four remaining jurors for a while, until interest in the affair diminished. Everything stood still, pending further discoveries or news of her whereabouts. And so, for the next six months, whenever I could arrange for my practice to be covered by a colleague or locum, I accompanied my friend on further adventures.

It was during this interval that Holmes busied himself with the Two-Tailed Tiger Affair, The Adventure of the Deserted Chapel and that of the Peculiar Cousin of Mr. Darius Blair, to give these events the titles under which I have recorded them, and other problems which are described in papers that he has barred from publication.

I see from my notes that it was a morning in early spring, with the remains of the recent severe snow storms still in evidence, when a telegram from Mr. Abel Pritchard, of Hawksfire House in the county of Dorset, arrived as we were settling ourselves before a roaring fire after breakfast as was our custom.

Holmes put the envelope to one side at first, going through his usual routine of opening and discarding most of the letters that Mrs. Hudson had brought in as she came to clear away our plates. He made a pile of the various bills and expressed little interest in what remained, from which I gathered that none of it was at all unusual, far less of the bizarre nature which invariably attracted his attention.

His first glance at the telegram, however, produced a different result. My friend stared into the flames wearing an expression which told me that he was scouring his memory.

“Watson,” he said at length, “be a good fellow and hand me my index from the shelf.”

I did so and watched him turn the pages, shaking his head until he closed the volume and placed it on the floor beside his chair.

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