by L. E. Smart
"I trust that we are not too late," said she. "I think, Mister Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in."
It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone.
"There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Mister Hunter's intentions and has carried her victim off."
"But how?"
"Through the skylight. We shall soon see how she managed it." She swung herself up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," she cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how she did it."
"But it is impossible," said Mister Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away."
"She has come back and done it. I tell you that she is a clever and dangerous woman. I should not be very much surprised if this were she whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready."
The words were hardly out of her mouth before a woman appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly woman, with a heavy stick in her hand. Mister Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of her, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted her.
"You villain!" said she, "where's your son?"
The fat woman cast her eyes round, and then up at the open skylight.
"It is for me to ask you that," she shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve you!" She turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as she could go.
"She's gone for the dog!" cried Mister Hunter.
"I have my revolver," said I.
"Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly woman with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door.
"My God!" she cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"
Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while she writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of her neck. With much labour we separated them and carried her, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid her upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to her husband, I did what I could to relieve her pain. We were all assembled round her when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt man entered the room.
"Mr. Toller!" cried Mister Hunter.
"Yes, mister. Ms. Rucastle let me out when she came back before she went up to you. Ah, mister, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."
"Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at him. "It is clear that Mr. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else."
"Yes, madam, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know."
"Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark."
"I will soon make it clear to you," said he; "and I'd have done so before now if I could ha' got out from the cellar. If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Mister Alec's friend too.
"He was never happy at home, Mister Alec wasn't, from the time that his mother married again. He was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never really became bad for him until after he met Ms. Fowler at a friend's house. As well as I could learn, Mister Alec had rights of his own by will, but he was so quiet and patient, he was, that he never said a word about them but just left everything in Ms. Rucastle's hands. She knew she was safe with him; but when there was a chance of a wife coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give her, then his mother thought it time to put a stop on it. She wanted him to sign a paper, so that whether he married or not, she could use his money. When he wouldn't do it, she kept on worrying him until he got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door. Then he got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with his beautiful hair cut off; but that didn't make no change in his young woman, and she stuck to him as true as woman could be."
"Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains. Ms. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?"
"Yes, madam."
"And brought Mister Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable persistence of Ms. Fowler."
"That was it, madam."
"But Ms. Fowler being a persevering woman, as a good seawoman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as her."
"Ms. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed lady," said Mr. Toller serenely.
"And in this way she managed that your good woman should have no want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your mistress had gone out."
"You have it, madam, just as it happened."
"I am sure we owe you an apology, Mr. Toller," said Holmes, "for you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes the country surgeon and Mr. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had best escort Mister Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a questionable one."
And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in front of the door. Ms. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken woman, kept alive solely through the care of her devoted husband. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that she finds it difficult to part from them. Ms. Fowler and Mister Rucastle were married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their flight, and she is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Mister Virgil Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in him when once he had ceased to be the centre of one of her problems, and he is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that he has met with considerable success.
Author's Note
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes represents a change in how I normally select a novel to regender. It’s the first time I’ve returned to an author whose work I’ve already regendered, not to mention a specific character. My reasons for doing so are not too different from the reasons I chose Sherlock Holmes in the first instance: Sherlock remains one of the most iconic figures in literature, and given how regularly his exploits are adapted, narratives in general.
I was also a little unsatisfied with the story of the first Sherlock Holmes novel I regendered, A Study in Scarlet. While it’s a fine story in its own right, it’s not really what I think of when I think of a Sherlock Holmes mystery, particular when it diverges into the prolonged backstory. I believe these shorter stories are more indicative of a Sherlock Holmes story.
Being a collection of short stories, there’s also quite a divergent number of topics and themes covered. The main one I wanted to explore was to see how a woman can perform the prominent role of a leading detective investigating crimes. To some degree this might not be necessary given how many women perform such roles in narratives already. Literature is filled with examples such as Nancy Drew and Miss Marple, while in television we have Veronica Mars, Kate Beckett and Olivia Benson. Yet, despite this, I continue to read news stories and articles about the struggles w
omen have in pursuing careers in law enforcement, which suggests we still have a long way to go.
As usual, I encountered a number of specific issues while regendering these stories but the one that stands out is a scene from The Boscombe Valley Mystery. In the original, Sherlock is able to deduce some of the circumstances of his new client based on the way he shaved his face. Usually I can adjust any references to beards or shaving by editing a word or two. In this case, it comprised the better part of a paragraph and required significant rewriting in order for the deductive reasoning to apply to a woman.
Finally, I’d like to point out how much I like the new opening to this regendered novel. It now begins with, ‘To Sherlock Holmes he will always be THE man. I have seldom heard her mention him under any other name. In her eyes he eclipses and predominates the whole of his sex.’ I think this quickly establishes the regendering that has occurred and how different this world is compared to the original.
Other Works
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Other Works by L.E. Smart
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
A Study in Scarlet
Around the World in Eighty Days
The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Miss Hyde
The Happy Princess and Other Tales
Billy Budd
The Scarlet Letter
The Prince and the Pauper
War of the Worlds
Persuasion
The Secret Agent
The Jungle Book
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