by Paul Gilbert
I observed Holmes smile at me out of gratitude, and we each lit another cigarette as we awaited her reply. We knew that our allotted thirty minutes had been reached because the maid suddenly reappeared. However, she was soon dispatched again, with as much ‘charm’ as when she had been originally summoned. The maid bustled nervously from the room and Doña Dolores turned to us once more.
‘Your information is correct, Señor and, to my eternal shame, it is true that twice I visited his room and twice I found this once magnificent man now so consumed with guilt and remorse that he could barely bring himself even to look upon me. Guilt for having betrayed the trust of a man to whom he had pledged and given his support, remorse for having slain this same man so callously, by a means masquerading as a duel. Only his misguided code of honour could have induced him to perform such a deed and this, he swore, he would now renounce. He would, henceforth, pledge himself to a life of abstinence, devoting his gift of literacy to promote goodly deeds.
‘Twice I beseeched him to reconsider his pledge, attempting to rekindle memories of the special time that we had been granted and twice he gently pushed me aside. It was not that he blamed me for that which had occurred, although all the saints know that he should have done, but because his new life held no place for a woman such as I. He spoke with such clarity and sincerity that on my second visit I promised never to return. Even now I am packed and ready to return to Cordoba, although I will not embark until I am certain that Isadora has been restored to health.’
I could sense that Holmes deplored the wretched role that Doña Dolores had played in the tragic events unfolded in her narrative. Nevertheless, when he next addressed her it was in his gentlest of tones.
‘Doña Dolores, you have already mentioned Persano’s guilt-ridden state of mind, yet he also appears to have spoken with remarkable clarity. Was there anything in his manner or appearance that left you feeling anxious for his mental well-being?’
‘Señor Holmes, although his words were not those of my Isadora of old, they were spoken with a calm serenity. I left his rooms feeling distraught and disappointed, but I did not feel anxious for him.’
‘One final question then, if you would permit, Doña Dolores?’ Holmes asked as I was closing my book. ‘Please think back carefully before you give your answer. Were there any unusual objects or artefacts in Persano’s room, that seemed out of place or inexplicable?’
A look of annoyance flashed across the lady’s face at the mere suggestion that her answer would be anything other than accurate. However she did Holmes’s bidding and certainly took her time before replying. Sadly, though her answer was in the negative. She shook her head emphatically and rang her small bell once more, indicating that our time with her was at an end.
‘I cannot assist you any further, gentlemen. I implore you, however to inform me of any news that you may be able to gather. Adios!’ She turned away from us suddenly and immediately began to scold the poor maid who had just responded to the summons of the bell. We made a hurried, unceremonious exit and a few moments later were seated in a cab bound for Scotland Yard.
Despite the unsatisfactory conclusion to the interview Holmes appeared to be surprisingly animated once we got under way. He rubbed his hands together excitedly and inclined towards me whilst leaning upon his bony knees.
‘So, Watson, you are certainly the undoubted expert when it comes to the behaviour of the fairer sex. Would you say that the intimidating Señora was telling the truth?’
‘Well, judging by your description of her it would seem to indicate that you have already drawn your own conclusions!’ I chuckled. ‘However, I would say that I have yet to hear of a more honest and heartrending account of an illicit affair than that of the Doña Dolores Cassales. Which aspect of her story do you find so hard to believe?’
Holmes stared at me in silence for a moment, and then slowly leant back in his seat once more whilst he lit his pipe. ‘All of it and none of it,’ he whispered, almost to himself.
‘Oh, come along Holmes, surely this time you go too far?!’ I cajoled.
Without replying and when we were close to our destination, Holmes suddenly rapped on the roof of the cab with his cane and asked the driver to pull over next to the Embankment.
I asked the driver to wait when Holmes leapt from the cab and then made his way to the river. He lit his pipe and gazed over the broad expanse of the Thames.
‘I had hoped that the tidal breeze might clear my head of that woman’s conundrums,’ Holmes replied to my questioning glances. I did not pursue his earlier inscrutable mutterings, for I knew that once his present state of mind came upon him a few moments of silence would be more conducive to extracting an answer from him.
‘You thought my earlier reply to be both evasive and unnecessarily enigmatic, did you not?’ Holmes asked suddenly while he was emptying his pipe against the embankment wall.
‘I cannot deny it.’
‘Well then, I shall attempt to unravel it.’ He smiled. ‘I found it impossible to doubt the validity of everything that the lady told us. It all rang true and besides, what type of mind and wild imagination could have contrived such a tale? However, her story contains nothing that can aid us in our quest for the truth. Her behaviour, upon reaching London, contradicts everything about her character that we have learnt so far. As for Persano’s transformation from a world-weary adventurer and duellist to a man devoted to abstinence and philanthropy, well that certainly beggars belief!
‘But then why should she lie, having just bared her very soul to us? Perhaps their experiences in Guahanna had proved to be an epiphany for them both? No!’ Holmes shrieked and then slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, in frustration. ‘This affair is not yet clear to me and why is there no poison in the worm?’ Holmes’s voice tailed away to a whisper and he gestured for me to follow him whilst he made his way slowly back to the cab.
Upon arriving at the Yard a short while later, we were not a bit surprised to find Inspector Morrison seated at his desk. Inspector Morrison was not a detective whose path we had not crossed very often in the past. Indeed, as he now approached his late middle age, the reputation that he had acquired for preferring his desk-bound duties to those of a more active role, was gaining more credence. However, I see from my notes that on the one occasion on which we had collaborated, a tale that I have christened the Callous Chorister, he had proved to be a most willing and able associate, if a little stolid in his approach.
He pushed back his chair and rose to attention the instant that we had entered the room and shook us both warmly by the hand. It was only when he stood up that one could observe just how disproportionately long his legs were. For when he was seated he appeared almost tiny from behind his desk, yet now he was revealed as the giant he truly was. An absurdly thin ring of red hair circled his bald pate, although this was more than compensated for by the copious amount of hair that adorned various parts of his face. The smile with which he greeted us was warm and welcoming.
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen!’ his voice boomed. ‘To what do I owe the honour of such a visit?’
‘Ha! Honour indeed, Inspector Morrison. We come regarding the Isadora Persano affair,’ Holmes cheerfully responded.
‘A tragic business, that,’ Morrison murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘Although I am surprised at your involvement. I was under the impression that the fate of Mr Persano had been a matter only for the staff of Browne’s and Scotland Yard.’
‘My involvement comes as a result of information from another source, one that I am not at liberty to divulge at present. However, with your trust and co-operation, I feel certain that a solution might be found to relieve the plight of the tragic duellist.’
‘Duellist, you say? I had no idea that such a thing existed in this day and age.’ Morrison exclaimed.
‘Ah, so you see there are ways in which we can help each other in solving this little mystery.’ Holmes smiled.
‘I was not aware of any
mystery. The man obviously had a disturbing experience, while reporting on that Central American business, and undoubtedly this has unhinged his mind. I am certain that this is not a unique occurrence.’
‘You do not regard it as unique that an intelligent man of letters and one who has experienced so much around the globe, should be suddenly reduced to a mumbling wreck within the confines of a sedate London hotel? Surely the presence of so remarkable a worm renders this affair unique? Was there any attempt made to examine the creature?’ Holmes asked.
‘Indeed there was, sir, and it was pronounced that the creature was unknown to science!’ the inspector replied with an air of sadly misplaced pride in his voice.
Holmes clapped his hands together with glee upon hearing this. ‘Oh Watson, what progress mankind would have made had it always relied upon such scientific endeavour! Surely we would still be existing in loincloths and mud huts!’
Wearing a look of confusion Morrison shrank back into his chair. He sat there in silence while Holmes explained to him the origins and significance of the worm. I, in turn, gave him a résumé of my notes from our interview with Doña Dolores Cassales, so that Morrison was now in full possession of the facts.
‘There is evidently much more to this affair than at first meets the eye,’ Morrison sheepishly admitted.
‘The untrained eye,’ Holmes reminded him. ‘However, there is still much that continues to elude even the trained eye. For example, how came the worm to be in Persano’s room in the first place?’
‘If the lady is to be believed and we have no sound reason to doubt her, it certainly was not in his room when she made her second and final visit, a full twenty-four hours before Persano was discovered,’ I ventured.
‘If, Watson, if.’ Holmes repeated quietly, whilst evidently lost in deep thought. ‘Although even should we accept her story the point you make, albeit a valid one, does nothing to solve our mystery. Do not forget that Hubbert Greene’s other duties would have prevented him from stating categorically that Persano did not receive another visitor during the intervening period. Neither can he confirm nor deny that a parcel was delivered during that time. It is inconceivable that Persano would have brought the creature with him.’
‘You are suggesting, therefore, that a third party delivered this most unusual of gifts, presumably in the box in which it was eventually discovered,’ Morrison ventured. ‘Although I cannot, for the life of me, imagine who this individual might be.’
‘Watson, what opinion do you hold as to the nature of the unknown visitor?’
I slowly lit my pipe whilst deliberating upon my reply to Holmes.
‘Well, whoever it was certainly had intimate knowledge of Persano’s intended movements. Even the press assumed that he was lost in Guahanna, until he was discovered at Browne’s. Assuming that the worm had been deposited with malicious intent, the culprit would, we must conclude, have good reason for wishing Persano dead. Your research has shown that the effect of inserting the worm only brings upon mental disturbance should the venom miss its mark. My conclusion would point to someone familiar with the rites of the indigenous peoples of Guahanna. I am certain that to anyone else the worm would appear to be nothing more than just a worm.’
By now Holmes was leaning back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing briefly around his thin lips.
‘This really is most excellent!’ he exclaimed. ‘Now, Watson, take your exposition one step further by revealing the inevitable conclusion as to who satisfies each of your criteria!’
This time I reached my conclusion in an instant. ‘Of course! It has to be Diego, Cassales’s servant!’
Holmes clapped gleefully and leapt to his feet, while the bemused inspector covered his desk with matches as he fumbled for a light for his pipe. Once alight the pipe helped him compose himself sufficiently to ask: ‘What steps do you suggest we take in order to apprehend this individual?’
‘We must presume upon his overwhelming desire for revenge. Doña Dolores told of his resentment at her affair with Persano that resulted in his intemperate ranting at her while she sat in her carriage at the site of the duel. To see his master betrayed was hard enough for him to endure, but then to witness his ritual slaughter at the hand of his cuckolder would have aroused in Diego this most vengeful of hatreds. The means of his revenge was not hard for a man from his background to arrange. I conclude he had discovered a means of extracting sufficient amounts of the poison to render the worm apparently harmless by the time I came to experiment upon it,’ Holmes concluded.
‘I understand, but how do you suggest we act upon our presumption of his revenge?’ I asked.
‘By letting it be known that Persano is now fully recovered and that his release is imminent. Inspector, I believe that a simple statement, released to all of the important newspapers, issued by the luminaries of Scotland Yard, would be sufficient, do you not think?’ Holmes suggested mischievously.
For a moment or two Morrison hesitated whilst he considered the ethical implications of this action. However, the opportunity of bringing a case to its successful conclusion at the side of Sherlock Holmes soon outweighed his initial reservations. He nodded his head emphatically.
‘You think that by making this Diego believe that all of the risks that he has taken and that all of his planning have come to nothing, you will provoke him into carrying out one final, desperate course of action against Persano?’ he asked.
‘Inspector, I am counting upon it. Irrational as his actions so far might appear to us, to leave matters unresolved would be more than he could bear. I intend to introduce myself at the asylum where I shall await Diego’s further attempt upon Persano’s life. I am certain that with the backing of a member of the police force and a respected medical practitioner, with their combined expertise and influence I shall be able to bring this to pass.’
Morrison and I both agreed that this was possible, although I had my own reservations regarding Holmes’s safety within such an institution.
‘Holmes, give this matter due consideration before you undertake this course of action. My own limited experience of such places are both harrowing and disturbing. They are not so enlightened and progressive as modern medical institutions.’ While I was speaking Morrison passed me a police report that listed Persano’s place of incarceration as St Jude’s Hospital, Hertfordshire, one of the oldest and certainly one of the worst of its kind. This was a consideration that I immediately indicated to Holmes, yet he remained undaunted.
I continued to bring my reservations to Holmes’s attention, only from a different perspective.
‘Holmes, how is it that you can be so certain of Diego’s guilt? After all, to travel halfway round the world and then to infiltrate one of the bastions of British gentility to avenge the untimely demise of his former employer, does appear to be something of an excessive reaction. Especially when you bear in mind the fact than he was only in Cassales’ employ for a relatively short period of time.’
‘Watson,’ Holmes’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. ‘There are many other forms of attachment between two men. The esteemed and now infamous Mr Wilde has most recently brought one of these under the public gaze.’
I fully understood Holmes’s meaning, yet could still not understand why he felt the need to take such drastic and unethical action merely to ensure the mental well-being of a man who had behaved so scurrilously in the first place. I soon regretted having voiced these concerns.
‘Questions! Questions!’ Holmes slammed the arm of his chair, while his eyes spat fire. ‘You both seem to have lost sight of the fact that our main objective is nothing less than the apprehension of an attempted murderer! Now unless you intend to search the length and breadth of our expanding metropolis for a single man who has already displayed much ingenuity, I strongly suggest that you both make the necessary arrangements.’
Holmes would evidently not be dissuaded, so Morrison and I had little choice but to do his bidding. I had maintained the acquaintance of
two former colleagues of mine who had diversified into the relatively new science of psychology. The combination of Morrison’s influence and Holmes’s fame meant that the arrangements were soon in place.
Morrison was proving to be almost invaluable. He arranged for the press to be notified to Holmes’s total satisfaction and he saw to it that the constabulary, nearest to St Jude’s, would set aside a room for our use should Holmes issue an urgent summons.
We checked the papers in the morning and after a light breakfast proceeded to Hanwell via Scotland Yard. As Morrison joined us in our cab he was immediately struck, as I had been earlier, by the startling change in Holmes’s appearance. Gone was his normally dapper and customary black frock-coat, the shiny black shoes and the slicked-back hair. His hair was now in a dry, tousled state of disarray, his face was made up to appear older and more worn, while his garb was now the coarse light-blue uniform of a porter.
‘Good morning, Inspector!’ Holmes’s familiar voice cheerily greeted Morrison, perhaps to reassure him that he had climbed into the right cab.
‘I must say, Mr Holmes, that I really would not have known you!’
Holmes could barely suppress a self-satisfied snigger, but then composed himself long enough to light a cigarette and to reacquaint himself with the arrangements that had been put in place.
‘Dr Watson and I will be safely ensconced at the local constabulary, which we shall pass in a few moments and which is situated but a few hundred yards away from St Jude’s. At the very hint of danger the head porter, who is now alert to your reasons for being there, will immediately dispatch a messenger to fetch us,’ Morrison offered reassuringly.
‘That is indeed most gratifying, Inspector.’ Morrison was not quite sure how to accept this comment from Holmes and we all sank back into our seats, sitting in silence for the last few moments of our journey.