Michelle stood up first. “What do you mean?”
I gave my head a shake. “She drank all the laudanum.”
Holmes nodded. “Exactly. They think she is near death. We know better. When we get there, Henry, I want you to examine her to make sure she is not in any real danger. However, I want you to tell Bromley that there is nothing you can do, that she is dying.”
I frowned, and Michelle exclaimed, “Sherlock, that would be an unbelievably cruel trick! Making the poor man think his wife is going to die—it is unconscionable.”
Sherlock stood taller, the corners of his mouth pulling outward. “If you want to accompany me, you must trust me and do exactly as I say. If you cannot, you may remain behind. There is no time now for questions or discussion.”
I gazed at him. “Very well.”
Michelle shook her head. “All right, but I do not have to be happy about it.”
Michelle and I both took our shoes and sat on the bed to put them on. We followed Holmes downstairs to the sitting room where Lestrade, Hodges and a constable waited. Hodges was clearly uneasy. “Mr. Bromley will not like this,” he said. “There’s no need for the police.”
“I shall be the judge of that,” Lestrade said. “Come along now. We can all ride in the back of the Black Maria.” This prospect obviously did not appeal to Hodges, but he had little choice.
We all went down to the street. Two other constables sat up front on top of the Black Maria, one at them holding the reins. Its rear wheels were at least four feet tall, the front ones about half that size. The carriage was, fittingly, painted black and had some small barred windows. The constable swung open the rear doors, and Michelle climbed up the metal stairs first. Hodges hesitated briefly before going up. Soon we were all seated: Holmes, Michelle and I on one side, Lestrade, Hodges and the constable on the other.
The carriage rumbled along the streets, the hooves of the horses making a rhythmic clopping. The interior was dark, but beams of yellow-white light came and went through the windows as we passed street lamps, illuminating one pale face, then another. Hodges’s eyes showed a barely repressed energy, and I noticed that his big hands were clutching tightly at his legs. Holmes seemed at ease and oddly content, while Lestrade clearly relished the thrill of the chase. Like me, he probably also wanted this business finished, once and for all. Michelle gave a sleepy yawn, and I gave her hand a squeeze.
Since it was after two in the morning, there was no traffic, and we soon arrived at the Bromleys’ townhouse. We climbed down from the van, and Hodges started quickly for the door. Holmes grasped Lestrade’s arm and said softly, “Have your biggest man focus all his attention on Hodges. He is to watch him at all times and be ready for trouble.”
Lestrade gave a quick nod, then drew aside one of the constables to speak in his ear. Holmes strode forward to catch up with Hodges, and the rest of us followed. Holmes left his top hat and stick in the usual place by the door, and I did the same. Lestrade took off his hat but did not pause. The three constables were at the rear. We went down the hallway to the sitting room. The small maid, Susan, sat in her robe weeping softly, the bottom of her face hidden in a handkerchief. Nearby were Mrs. Carlson and Sabine. The housekeeper looked distraught, but Sabine was stony-faced. Bromley had been pacing, but he spun round. He had on trousers, a white shirt and his shoes.
“Thank God, you…” He faltered at the sight of Lestrade and the constables. “What is this? Why have you brought the police?”
Holmes shrugged. “It is customary in situations such as this.”
“But so many? At this hour of the morning?”
“What have you to tell me, Mr. Bromley?”
“We cannot wake her—we cannot wake her!” He sobbed once. “She must have taken all the laudanum. The bottle is empty.” He turned and snatched up a piece of paper. “And I found this!”
Holmes took it and stepped nearer a lamp. Michelle, Lestrade and I gathered round him. The note was in rough block letters, rather than cursive.
I CAN BEAR IT NO LONGER. THE CURSE HAS WON. DR. COWEN AND I STOLE THE MOONSTONE. SABINE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. I LIED TO MR. HOLMES. THE DOCTOR WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP ME—THE BLAME IS MINE AND MINE ALONE. GOD FORGIVE ME, BUT I CANNOT FACE A TRIAL AND PRISON. GOODBYE, MY DARLING AND FORGIVE ME, ALICE.
Holmes set down the note, even as his lips twitched briefly outward. He turned to me. “You had better have a look at her, Henry.”
I nodded. Tears were streaming from Bromley’s face. “I cannot bear to come, to see her like that.”
“There is no need,” I said.
“Perhaps Sabine could assist you.” Bromley glanced at her, and she rose quietly.
Holmes shook his head. “That is not necessary, not necessary at all. The two doctors will suffice. Henry knows the way.”
I took a candle and started for the door. Michelle followed. Once we were on the stairs she said, “It does seem so cruel, so unnecessary.” I said nothing, although I shared her sentiments. We climbed the two flights of stairs and went down the hallway. Sally stood whimpering softly at the door, and she gazed up at us with a longing look.
“Good girl.” I reached down and patted her head. I hesitated before opening the door. “I suppose she can’t do any harm.” I opened it, and Sally slipped in ahead of us. She bounded up onto the bed, then curled up beside her mistress.
The lamp had been lit, and sure enough, the blue bottle sat on the night table, the cork lying next to it. An involuntary shudder brought my shoulder blades together. I knew she would probably recover, but the thought that she would have willingly drunk all of that was chilling. She lay on her back, her left arm thrown up and outward, her face slumped that same way. The long white fingers of her hand curved gently inward, and her palm had a slight rosy flush, and much of her forearm with the blue veins showed above the lacy sleeve of her gown. I picked up her other hand. It felt cold.
“Alice,” I said. “Alice.” She did not stir, but I could see her breasts slowly moving beneath the gown as she breathed, and in the hollow of her collarbones the shadow dimmed and darkened with her pulse. I placed my fingers alongside her neck, feeling for the artery. “Her pulse is slow, but strong. I think the chemist knew his trade. The chloral hydrate has done its work. She will be unconscious for a while longer.”
“Let me listen to her heart.” Michelle took a stethoscope out of my black leather bag, put the earpieces into her ears, and set the bell upon the silk fabric just between Alice’s breasts. Between her collarbone and the curve of the gown the shadowy outline of her ribs showed. Michelle frowned thoughtfully, then pulled off the stethoscope. “Yes, slow but strong. The same is true of her breathing. She has obviously been sedated, but she should be all right when it wears off.”
Sally gazed up at us and whimpered softly again. I stroked her head and ruffled one ear. “You can stay with her, girl. You watch out for her.” I turned to Michelle. “Well, let’s go give Bromley the good news.”
“You are being ironic.”
“Yes.”
We trooped back down the stairs. I came into the room and hesitated. Bromley gazed at me, his face twisted with grief. Before I could reflect, I spoke. “I’m afraid there is nothing that can be done. She is dying.”
Bromley turned away and sobbed. Michelle glared at Holmes. Lestrade had a wary look of intense concentration. Holmes had told him all about our visits of the day, including the switching of the blue bottles.
Holmes went to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. He offered it to Bromley. “Drink this, sir.” Bromley nodded, then swallowed it down. He coughed once and drew in a great shuddery breath. “How did you come to find her as you did?”
“I could not sleep, Mr. Holmes. She had behaved so oddly this evening. One moment she was laughing, then crying. I tried to calm her, but she was obviously overwrought and irrational. I told her she should be sure to take enough drops to let her sleep. Little did I think…” His voice trailed off.
; Holmes watched him closely. “You did not give her the dose yourself?”
“Of course not! Why do you ask such a thing?”
“Sabine told me sometimes that you give her the medicine when she is weary.”
Bromley glanced over at Sabine, then back at Holmes. “Yes, but tonight she was not so much weary as excited. I kissed her goodnight, then sat and smoked two cigars. I went to bed, but I only tossed and turned. Finally, at around one, I thought I would check to make sure she was all right. You… you know what I found.” He gave his head a wild shake.
Holmes glanced at the piece of paper. “Odd that she should print her suicide note, rather than writing it in her usual handwriting. Do you have any ideas why that might be so, Mr. Bromley?”
Bromley gave him an incredulous stare. “How can you ask me such a thing at a time like this? I have no idea at all!”
Holmes nodded. “What she writes makes sense. Indeed, I had already come to believe that she and Dr. Cowen worked together to steal the diamond.”
“Sherlock?” I said. I wasn’t sure I should speak, but it had slipped out.
“Yes, Henry. They were each trying to protect the other, but while neither story in itself made sense, if you merged them, things worked perfectly. The doctor said fate had given him his opportunity, but it was Mrs. Bromley who gave him his opportunity with that spectacularly staged outburst at her sister and Lady Alexander. To make it even more convincing, she actually slapped him. Then she could be sick, which was hardly acting at that point, and they could go up to her room together and be alone for a while.
“He quickly cut the hole in the window, pulled off the chain and tossed it out. The diamond was undoubtedly sitting in his medical bag, even as he gravely told us to leave her alone for a few minutes, thereby proving a gap in time for the fictional thieves to break in. It all makes perfect sense and was quite ingenious. The two of them are very creative. Cowen probably put the diamond in a package and entrusted it to a friend. He would not have told him what it was, only that it was precious. The same friend must have delivered it to Mr. Tyabji.”
Lestrade nodded eagerly. “Very good, Mr. Holmes—very good indeed! You have done it again.”
“I blame Cowen for this!” Bromley’s voice shook.
Holmes turned his slender right hand, then clapped with his left hand once, twice. “Bravo, Mr. Bromley! Bravo! You should really have been on the stage. You missed your true calling in life.”
I heard Michelle draw in her breath, and I stared myself in disbelief at Holmes. Lestrade only watched, his eyes all aglitter in the lamplight. Bromley shook his head wildly. “What are you saying! How dare you? How dare you? At such a time…” He sobbed once.
“Come now, sir. That is quite enough of the histrionics. It is nearly three in the morning. We are all tired and out of sorts. There is no need to continue with this bravura performance. You prepared a draft for your wife last night. You poured the entire bottle of laudanum into a glass, probably adding some wine to disguise the fact, then gave it to your wife to drink. I’m certain you had some consoling words for her as you tucked her in.”
Bromley’s face was red. “That is a lie—a monstrous lie.”
“And you also wrote this suicide note.”
“I did not!”
“I’m afraid I tricked you, and you have given yourself away. Mrs. Bromley said nothing to me about Sabine being her accomplice. In fact, she said nothing about Sabine whatsoever. I do not actually know if she liked or disliked her. She would not name her accomplices.”
The color slowly went out of Bromley’s face. “What?”
“You heard me, sir. You heard me well enough.”
“She must have… she must have thought that you would… that you would deduce that Sabine was her accomplice. She was—it was a final act of charity. She wanted to protect Sabine from the same sort of madness now directed at me!”
Holmes gave his head a shake. “You are very good at improvising, sir. I have never seen better, but it will not do.” He glanced at Lestrade. “Inspector, do you find his explanation very convincing?”
Lestrade was smiling. “No, Mr. Holmes, I do not.”
“But—but why would I do such a thing? Why?”
“Well, for one thing, you were weary of having to hide your sordid affair with Sabine from your wife.”
Hodges stepped forward, but the constable grasped his arm firmly, and another constable drew nearer. Bromley grew paler still, and a brief glimmer of panic showed in his eyes. “How dare you, sir? How dare you? Everyone knows Hodges and Sabine…”
“That is what you wanted everyone to believe. How convenient that your bedroom, your dressing room, and Hodges’s room were all adjoining. Sabine could go into Hodges’s room, then make her way to your bedroom. You were, I am afraid, hardly discreet. Amy must have burst in upon the two of you, in flagrante delicto, I suspect. You paid her off and had her leave, but she must have demanded a regular payment, and she could not be trusted. Best to be rid of her.” He turned to Hodges. “And so you sent your loyal servant…”
Hodges tried to lunge forward, but the two brawny constables restrained him.
“Keep hold of him!” Lestrade exclaimed.
Bromley laughed softly. “You truly think I am a monster, Mr. Holmes. You’ve constructed this edifice… What can I say?”
“And Susan—she heard you groaning in the library. You told her you had a stomach ache.” Holmes laughed. “Have you so little control that…? The library. Really, sir! You are obviously one of those men who feels a certain sensual thrill when there is the risk of discovery.”
Susan sobbed. “I don’t understand!” Her tiny hands were clenched into fists. Sabine was watching Holmes, her dark eyes showing a cold fury.
Holmes turned toward Mrs. Carlson. “There is no reason for you and Susan to remain here. Go to bed.” He nodded at Susan. “Take care of the girl, madam.” Mrs. Carlson helped Susan to her feet, then led her out of the room.
Bromley’s mouth formed a brief bitter smile as he inhaled through his nostrils. He was finally at a loss for words.
“I suspect you must have met Sabine during your time in France. You brought her back with you. It does take genuine audacity to make your mistress your wife’s maid.”
Bromley stared at Holmes. Something in his face had changed. For the first time, I felt I was seeing the real man. “Do you really think I would kill my wife just for a woman, for a mistress? Is that really much of a motive, after all?”
“It is… part of the motive. There is, of course, the other part.”
Bromley drew back slightly, his lips parting.
“Mr. Bromley, you showed me your formidable safe early in this case. I have a request for you, since you alone know the combination. I want you to open it for us.”
Bromley winced, then shook his head. “I won’t.”
“No? But why not?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Damn you—I’ll not trade wits with you an instant longer! Leave me alone—get out of my house!”
“It is too late for that now, sir. You summoned us, after all. I think we should all go down the hallway to the library.”
“I won’t open the safe. I will never open it.”
“Regrettable,” Holmes said. “Most regrettable, but let us have a look anyway.”
Holmes took one candle, Lestrade another. We all started for the door, the two constables each with a hand gripping one of Hodges’s arms. Only Sabine would not move. “Come along, mademoiselle,” Holmes said.
“I won’t.”
“You can wait for us locked in the Black Maria if you prefer.”
The fury in her eyes had become hatred. She slowly started forward. Michelle gave me a worried look, then stepped nearer to Sabine. We went down the hallway to the library. Holmes took the candle, lifted the glass shade of the lamp, then lit it. He turned up the flame to brighten the room. “By the way, Inspector, there
is a drawing room just next to this room. Mrs. Bromley often met there with Dr. Cowen. That is where they must have planned the theft.”
Lestrade gave an appreciative nod. “Did they?”
“Yes. And Mr. Bromley often listened to them through the wall using his stethoscope.”
Bromley said nothing, but his eyes showed his dismay.
“Did he now, Mr. Holmes? So he knew they were going to steal the diamond. But he did nothing? Why was that?”
“To save my wife!” Bromley exclaimed. “Because I knew the diamond was killing her! I let them take it because I loved her!”
Holmes slowly drew in his breath, then gave a nod. “Yes, your powers of improvisation are unequaled, sir. Will you please open the safe for us now?”
Bromley stood up straight, his fists clenched. “I will not. Never.”
“A pity. If I could only open the safe, I think that would perhaps finish off this case, once and for all.”
Bromley had begun to lose color again. Lestrade, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying himself. “How so, Mr. Holmes? How so?”
“Let us see now.” Holmes went round the table, grasped the gilded frame of the painting of cows in a field, then set it on the floor. Before him was the square black metal of the safe with its round knob.
Bromley smiled coldly. “You will never break into it. That is impossible. The only way is with the combination, and I am the only one who knows it.”
Holmes’s lips formed a cold smile. “Are you now?” He seemed to sink slightly, his long fingers spreading apart slightly at his sides. “I believe your birthday is in July, is it not? The second as I recall. Seven left, two right, and then…”
Bromley gave a sharp grunt, then sprang toward Holmes, who struck him square in the jaw. He went down at once. Hodges wrenched himself free of one of the policemen and punched him in the face, even as he struck backwards with his other arm at the other man. The smaller constable brought his truncheon down on Hodges’s head. The big man fell onto the library table, then slipped off, taking a chair down with him.
Sabine swept past me, but Michelle had stepped before her. “No—you are not going anywhere.” Sabine flew at her, hands extended like claws. Michelle cried out, retreated briefly, then sprang forward and caught the smaller woman in her long arms. The two of them went down onto the floor and rolled about, but Sabine could not break Michelle’s grip. Sabine was cursing in French, language worthy of a sailor or dock worker.
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