“For God’s sake!” I cried to Lestrade. “Help me!”
We bent over and managed to pull Sabine away from Michelle and yank her to her feet. “Get the cuffs, Bradley!” Lestrade shouted. Bradley, the smaller constable, dropped his truncheon and pulled out some handcuffs. Lestrade yelled at me, “Behind her back! Behind her back!” We managed to get her hands behind her, even as she lunged and struggled and cursed us. The constable fastened the handcuffs about her wrists.
“That’s enough!” Lestrade shouted at Sabine. “That’s enough!” She responded by spitting in his face. He immediately slapped her. That finally seemed to take the fight out of her. “Behave now, or we’ll chain your feet as well!”
Michelle stood up and gave me a crooked smile. Across her right cheek were two bloody scratches. “Are you all right?” I asked.
She touched her face. “It stings, and I bruised my elbow.” She laughed. “We have both ended up on the floor tonight.” She gave Sabine a wary look, her smile fading. “She’s much stronger than she looks.”
“Putain!” Sabine snarled.
Holmes shook his head. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Lestrade raised a warning finger to her face. “Mademoiselle, Constable Bradley is an able man with a truncheon. If you cannot behave yourself, he can put you to sleep for an hour or so. The choice is yours.” He glanced at his men, then nodded at the prostrate Hodges. “Get some handcuffs on the big one there, as well. We don’t want him leaping up and starting something else.”
Holmes pulled Bromley to his feet. The man put his hand along his jaw. “I don’t feel well,” he murmured. He pulled out one of the oaken chairs and collapsed into it.
Holmes eagerly rubbed his long, thin hands together. “Now then, shall we just have that look in the safe?”
Bromley groaned softly.
Holmes turned the knob with his long fingers in four short sharp movements. In the quiet that had settled over the room, we heard a rumbling sort of click. Holmes swung the heavy door open and pulled out a black velvet case about six inches square. He opened the case, withdrew a gem and held it up before the lamp. It dangled from its chain—its original chain.
“The Moonstone,” I said. “The Moonstone.”
“Yes, Henry. The Moonstone.”
“But that’s impossible. We saw it stolen—we saw it taken. And the chain was missing. How can that one be here?”
“The stone at Tyabji’s was a fake, Henry. Bromley had substituted it for the real diamond so that on Saturday night, Mrs. Bromley was wearing the fake. Yesterday afternoon, Lestrade and I made inquiries at Bromley’s bank. He accessed a box in the vault the day before the party, then again the Monday afterwards. Mrs. Bromley and the doctor thought they were stealing the Moonstone, but they were mistaken.” He glanced down at Bromley. “Weren’t they?”
Bromley gazed up at him. At last a long weary laugh slipped from his lips. “Yes.”
“A fake,” I mumbled. “A fake. But it looked so real.”
“It was a very good fake, Henry. Harter was a master jeweler. Unfortunately, his skill ultimately cost him his life. When the news about the Moonstone being stolen came out in the newspapers, as it eventually must, he might have put two and two together and gone to the police to tell them about a fake version of the diamond. Therefore, he—like Amy—had to be eliminated. And so, Bromley’s former soldier—his butcher—was sent forth again. Harter had done business with Bromley for years, giving him commissions for his referrals. He suspected nothing. He eagerly let Hodges into his shop. Hodges is probably one of those twisted soldiers who develop a certain taste for violence and killing, a craving even. That must have finally gotten him into trouble in India. He probably fled before he could be charged for some vicious crime.”
Bromley sighed softly but did not speak.
Lestrade whistled softly. “Two murders. They’ll both swing for this.”
“And almost a third,” Holmes said. “Almost but not quite.”
Bromley slowly raised his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I substituted another bottle for the one in your wife’s room. It contained enough chloral hydrate and laudanum to render her unconscious, but not to kill her. I’m sure she will confirm in the morning that she had her drops from you and that she did not write that ludicrous suicide note.”
Bromley laughed even as he shook his head. “I said once, long ago, eons ago it seems, that I could not hide anything from you, Mr. Holmes. I was not exactly being sincere at the time, but it appears to be true, all the same.”
Lestrade was smiling broadly and gave his head an enthusiastic shake. “Masterly, Mr. Holmes, simply masterly!” He turned again to his men. “Get the woman and the bloke on the floor into the van. We’ll join you shortly.”
“I did nothing!” Sabine cried. “It was the two of them—I am not a murderer—never!”
Bromley laughed softly. Holmes stared at Lestrade. “She’s probably telling the truth about that. I’m not sure that she has committed any actual crime.”
“She was at least an accessory to attempted murder,” Lestrade said.
“I didn’t give her the drops—he did! He did!”
“Get them out of here,” ordered Lestrade.
Sabine seemed tired out at last. She followed quietly. Two of the men helped get the half-conscious Hodges to his feet. He blinked dully, struggling to focus his eyes. They led him out.
Holmes held the Moonstone up again to the light of the lamp. “It is an incredible diamond. I suspected a fake had been substituted even before the party, and I thought then that the gem was not quite as I remembered it. But I could not be positive. Now I am sure. Look at it. Do you see, Henry? During the day it is yellowish, but now it has a bluish glint.”
He was right. Again the diamond seemed to come alive in light, the facets sparkling and playing with the beams, and I could see that interior flaw, a hint of pink or red. Lestrade shook his head. “It is remarkable—absolutely amazing. I have never seen its equal.”
“I do not find it so beautiful. It is certainly not worth all the lives it has cost.” Michelle’s voice was cold.
Holmes stared down at Bromley. He was still slumped in the chair, but his brown eyes were fixed on the diamond. “I should have gotten rid of it, as I planned,” he said. “I had found a jeweler who could cut it into smaller stones. I thought I would take it to him, but I brought it back here instead. There is no hurry, I thought. I shall wait until things calm down. Then I shall be rid of it. But I don’t think I could have. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I knew from the first moment I beheld the Moonstone that I must have it. It was…” His smile was bitter. “…love at first sight, all right. I spent considerable time here in the library just staring at it. I know its shape so well, its every facet. To destroy a thing of such beauty! It would have been sacrilege.”
Holmes laughed. “Sacrilege? Your mind is truly warped.”
“Is it? You find it beautiful, too. I can see it in your eyes.”
“But it is appreciation only—not mania.”
Bromley regarded him, then nodded. “I suppose you are right.”
“It must have amused you to watch Cowen and your wife plot to steal the diamond.”
Bromley laughed. “It did! That it did. They took all the risk. I knew it would be much easier to steal the fake from Tyabji than to take it from a dinner party where the celebrated Sherlock Holmes would be attending.”
“But why did you bother to steal it from Tyabji?” I asked. Bromley only shrugged.
“The Indians would no doubt have had the diamond examined and discovered it was a fraud.” Holmes turned again to Bromley. “You overheard Cowen and your wife through the wall, then listened in periodically. She must have begged Cowen for his help, and he could not refuse her.”
“Very good, Mr. Holmes—very good indeed! Of course, I always knew Cowen was enamored of her. I wonder if he has ever realized that himself.”
>
“He has,” Holmes said.
I stared at Bromley’s handsome face. My hands were cold, and I felt slightly nauseated. I had thought I knew him, and yet I knew nothing at all—he was a complete mystery, a blank. “That story you told me about the Latin master and the caning, I suppose that was another of your lies, only a fiction?”
The corners of his lips rose. “Oh, it was a true story, true in all the particulars. However, I was the older boy who poured the ink onto the chair.”
“Of course you were. Tell me, did you ever love your wife?” My voice had an odd pitch.
His face was utterly relaxed now, calm. “No. Never.”
I put one hand on the table and leaned closer to him. “And Sabine?”
His eyes widened. “Sabine?” He began to laugh in earnest. “Are you serious, Dr. Vernier? Her? Love her? Don’t be absurd. That was never about love, but about lust.” He gave his head an appreciative shake. “She was incredible. She was insatiable, absolutely insatiable, more even than a man. She could never get enough. I have never seen anything like it. Jane was willing enough—Lady Alexander, she is now—but no one could compare to Sabine. Even the back door was always…”
I lunged forward, grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him upward. “Shut your filthy mouth!” He was surprised. “If you want—if you want to boast and vaunt about your filthy exploits, do it when my wife is not present—do it when I am not present. I will not tolerate it—I will not. Do you understand?” He nodded and I pushed him back down into the chair. I was breathing hard and felt almost dizzy.
Michelle put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, Henry. It’s all right.”
Bromley gave me a brief pained smile, then laughed softly. “Sorry, old man. I meant no harm. I have pretended for so long that… it’s hard for me to believe anyone is exactly real, if you know what I mean. In my society, Dr. Vernier, you are a unique specimen. You and your wife. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”
My hands were quivering. “You make me sick.”
He shrugged.
“I think you now have all the salient facts of the case,” said Holmes to Inspector Lestrade.
“I do, Mr. Holmes. Thank you for availing yourself of my services. This was truly a case like no other. It was a privilege to be included.”
“You are most welcome, Inspector.”
“Get up, sir,” said Lestrade to Bromley. “We have some other accommodation waiting for you.”
Bromley stared at Holmes. “One final question: When did you first suspect me? Did anything in particular give me away?”
“I suspected you from the very first. You were too charming by far, and your story was all too pat, too melodramatic. I knew the Indian was a fake. I suppose it was Hodges at the window. He must have run into the empty stables to remove his turban and make-up. And there was one small detail at our first meeting, one tiny thing which was surely not enough to build an entire case upon, but it planted the seeds of doubt.”
“What was that?”
“I asked you what color hair your wife had. You said she was light-haired, and yet a long, fine black hair was twisted about upon your white shirt collar.”
“I was a fool to come to you. I thought your reputation must be exaggerated and that I could best you. Your fame would help prove my innocence. I was a fool.”
Bromley stood at last, and we all started down the hallway. Michelle had grasped my arm loosely and stayed very close to me. We came to the sitting room. “I don’t want to ride with him,” I said. “I don’t want to be anywhere near the lot of them.”
Lestrade gave me a concerned look. “I don’t much care for the idea either,” Holmes said. “I am not particularly sleepy—too much excitement. Wait here, Henry. I shall just see Mr. Bromley stowed, then join you both.”
Michelle and I sat on the couch. I ran my hand back through my hair. “I still cannot believe it. I was so certain about him. He had me completely fooled. I was an idiot.”
“He was very charming,” Michelle said.
I stared at her. “But you had some doubts?”
She drew in her breath slowly. “I did.”
“You and Sherlock could see through him—but not I. Not I.”
“What of it, Henry? It was not some moral failing on your part—to the contrary. You could not see through him because you assumed that he was as honorable as you and that a man must love his wife and be true to her.”
I let my breath out in a muted laugh. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
“Henry—I love you so much.” She leaned over and kissed me on the lips. Her fingertips touched my cheeks. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing whatsoever.”
I sagged against her and took her hand in mine. Holmes soon returned. “I told Lestrade to keep the three of them separate and question them alone. They will turn against each other in an instant and give him all the proof he needs in court.” He walked to the sideboard, poured three glasses of brandy, then took two of them to Michelle and me. The third he picked up and slowly sipped. His lips formed a smile that came and went, came and went. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“You are far too decent a man to fathom the likes of Bromley. I should have prepared you. Perhaps I should have left you out of this.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. And if you had told me, I would undoubtedly have given something away.”
Holmes downed the glass and put it on the sideboard. He pulled out his watch and flipped open the cover. “Good heavens! After four o’clock. All the same, I am still not sleepy. Would you care for a stroll? It is pleasantly cool outside. The sun will be up soon, and it is almost time for breakfast! I know of a place which opens promptly at five thirty.”
“I don’t feel particularly hungry,” I said.
Michelle stood. She extended her hand to me. “Well, I do. Perhaps a walk will give you an appetite.”
“Perhaps.” I took her hand, then stood.
Holmes nodded. “I shall join you in a moment. There is one thing I must certainly not forget!”
“What is that?” I asked.
He smiled, his thin face showing genuine amusement. “I left the Moonstone in its case on the table in the library. I shall just put the diamond back in the safe. It will be absolutely secure there. After all, Lestrade and his men did not hear the last four numbers of the combination.” He gave a brusque laugh. “Yes, a walk, breakfast, and then we should be back in time to wake Mrs. Bromley and tell her all that has happened.”
Thirteen
Some two weeks later, I joined Holmes for breakfast. Dr. Cowen and Alice Bromley were coming to visit around nine o’clock, and they wanted to see the both of us. It was well into August by then, the morning sunny and pleasantly cool, and after we had eaten, Holmes stood before the open bow window, cup and saucer in hand, sipped his coffee, and stared down at the bustling traffic on Baker Street.
“Ah.” He turned to me. “Here they come.” He drank down the last, then strode to the small table and set down cup and saucer. He pulled off his purple dressing gown, threw it through the open doorway into his bedroom, closed the door, then put on his long black frock coat. When Mrs. Hudson showed in his visitors, his hand swept before him in a graceful pass, as if he were conducting some lyrical melody. “Do come in. Henry and I were expecting you.”
Cowen had left his hat, stick and bag near the door. His broad forehead and bald crown gleamed over his thick black eyebrows and full black beard. Alice looked very slim and tall alongside his shorter compact figure in the black frock coat. She wore a pale-blue silk with lace at the collar and sleeves, as well as the blue hat with extravagant ostrich feathers. She smiled at us both, and I noticed the color in her cheeks.
“You look well, Mrs. Bromley,” I said.
She smiled at me. “Much better than the last time you saw me, I’ll wager.”
“Yes, indeed.”
Holmes and I had been with her
that morning when the chemist’s potion had worn off. When we tried to explain what had happened, she had laughed and insisted we must be joking. She seemed muddle-headed and near hysteria. We had sent for Dr. Cowen and, alone with him, had told him everything. His usual surliness had been replaced by incredulity, amazement, and then a grudging sort of gratitude. He had stayed with Alice for most of the day.
“Please sit down,” Holmes said. They sat on the settee, each at one end, leaving space between them. Holmes flapped back his coat tails, even as he sat in his favorite chair, while I took another. A half-polite, half-mocking smile played about his mouth. “And what brings you to Baker Street this morning? How may I serve you?”
Cowen drew in his breath. “First of all, I must say that I owe you an apology, Mr. Holmes, and you, Dr. Vernier. My boorish behavior was unforgivable. I was under great duress, and I feared the worst from what I mistakenly saw as your meddling, but that does not excuse my conduct. I hope you will not hold it against me.” He did seem genuinely penitent.
“I shall not,” Holmes said.
“Nor I,” I said.
Holmes made a flourish with his slender hand. “Let us begin anew.”
Cowen nodded. “That is what I wish. And besides an apology, I must offer you my most profound appreciation for all that you have done for Alice and me. I never much liked Bromley, but I hardly imagined… Do you think he had always planned to take her life, or was it a spur-of-the-moment scheme?”
Holmes shrugged. “Impossible to say for certain. He had hoped to frighten her into suicide or madness—hence, the Indian face appearing at the library window. The meeting with Tyabji brought things to a head. He said he would put the diamond in a bank vault and arranged that final dinner party, knowing that it must drive you to action. I think he still hoped Mrs. Bromley herself might take care of matters for him. However, when I spoke with him that day and implicated Sabine, implied that Mrs. Bromley might know about their relationship, and threatened to bring in the police, that pushed him over the edge, and he decided he must be rid of her, once and for all.”
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