Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

harried by spirits. The facts are less dramatic, but, to me, perhaps more disturbing. I should explain that I am the heir

to the very substantial estate of my late father, Sir Maximilian Traill, whose will makes me master of the entire fortune upon attaining the age of twenty-five. That birthday is months past: yet here I am, still living like a remittance-man on a monthly allowance, because I cannot sign a simple piece of paper."

"A legal document that confirms you in your inheritance?" I hazarded.

"Exactly so."

"Come, come," said Holmes, reaching for a quire of foolscap and a pencil, "we must see this phenomenon. Pray write your name here, and Watson and I will stand guard against ghosts."

Traill smiled a little sadly. "You scoff. I wish to God that I could scoff too. This is not a document that my hand refuses to touch: see!" And, though the fingers trembled a little, he signed his name bold and clear: Martin Maximilian Traill. -

"I perceive," said Holmes, "that you have no banking account."

"No indeed; our man of business pays over my allowance in gold. But – good heavens – how can you know this?"

"Yours is a strong schoolboy signature, not yet worn down by repeated use in the world, such as the signing of many cheques. After ten thousand prescriptions, Watson's scrawl is quite indecipherable in all that follows the W. But we digress."

Traill nervously rubbed the back of his right hand as he went on. "The devil of it is that Selina… that my elder sister talks to spirits."

I fancied that I took his point a trifle more quickly than the severely rational Holmes. "Séances?" I said. "Mischief in dark rooms with floating tambourines, and the dead supposedly

called back to this sphere to talk twaddle? It is a folly which several of my older female patients share."

"Then I need not weary you with details. Suffice it to say that Selina suffers from a mild monomania about the ingratitude of her young brother – that is, myself. Unfortunately she has never married. When I assume formal control of our father's fortune, her stipulated income from the estate will cease. Naturally I shall reinstate and even increase the allowance… but she is distrustful. And the spirits encourage her distrust."

"Spirits!" snapped Holmes. "Professor Challenger's recent monograph has quite exploded the claims of spirit mediums. You mean to say that some astral voice has whispered to this foolish woman that her brother plans to leave her destitute?"

"Not precisely, sir. On the occasion when I was present for sisters must be humoured – the device employed was a ouija board. You may know the procedure. All those present place a finger on the planchette, and its movements spell out messages. Nonsense as a rule, but I remember Selina's air of grim satisfaction as that sentence slowly emerged: beware an ungenerous brother. And then, the words that came horribly back to mind on my twenty-fifth birthday: fear not the hand that moves against its own kin shall suffer fire from heaven.

"And my hand did suffer, Dr Watson. When I took up the pen to sign that paper in the solicitor's office, it burnt like fire as though in my very bones!"

I found myself at a loss. "The pen was hot?"

"No, no: it was a quill pen, a mere goose feather. Our family lawyer Mr Jarman is a trifle old-fashioned in such matters. I do not know what to think. I have made the attempt three times since, and my hand will not sign the document. Jarman is so infernally kind and sympathetic to my infirmity, but I can imagine what he thinks. Could some kind of mesmerism be in operation against me? What of the odic force? Some men of science even give credence to the spirit world – "

"Pardon me," said Holmes, "but with my colleague's permission I would like to administer two simple medical tests. First, a trivial exercise in mental acuity. This lodging is 221b Baker Street, and it is the seventeenth of the month. How rapidly, Mr Traill, can you divide 221 by seventeen?"

As I marvelled and Traill took up the pencil to calculate, Holmes darted to his cupboard of chemical apparatus, returning with a heavy stone pestle and mortar. In the latter he had placed a small mirror about three inches square. Looking at Traill's paper, he said: "Excellent. Quite correct. Now, a test of muscular reactions – kindly shatter this glass now."

Traill performed the feat handily enough, with one sharp tap of the pestle, and stared in puzzlement. It resembled no medical procedure that I knew.

Holmes resumed his seat, rubbing his hands in satisfaction. "As I thought. You are not in the slightest superstitious, Mr Traill; I guessed as much from the tone in which you spoke of spirits. A mathematical result of thirteen does not make you flinch, nor did you hesitate before breaking a mirror. You are masking your real concern. Why do you consult a doctor? Because you fear madness."

With a sob, Trail buried his face in his hands. I stepped to the gasogene and spirit-case, and mixed him a stiff brandy-andsoda with Holmes's nodded approval. In another minute our client had composed himself, and said wryly: "I see that I have fallen among mind-readers."

"My methods, alas, are more prosaic," said Holmes. "Inference is a surer tool than wizardry. I now infer that there is some special circumstance you have yet to reveal to us, for I recall no history of insanity in the family of Sir Maximilian Traill."

"You are troubled and overwrought," I put in, "but speaking as a doctor I see no sign of madness."

"Thank you, Dr Watson. I will begin again, and tell you of the red leech.

"My lodgings are in Highgate and – since the allowance from my father's estate frees me from the need to seek employment – I have fallen into the habit of walking on Hampstead Heath each morning, in search of inspiration for the verses by which I hope one day to be known. (The Yellow Book was good enough to publish one of my triolets.) Some friends used to chaff me for being a fixed landmark at luncheon-time, when I generally enjoyed a meal of sandwiches and a bottle of Bass in the vicinity of the Highgate Ponds." Traill shuddered. "Never again! I remember the day quite vividly: it was a warm Tuesday, perhaps six months ago…"

"Prior to your twenty-fifth birthday?" asked Holmes sharply.

"Why, yes. I sat on the grass in a reverie, idly watching someone's great black retriever splash in and out of the water. I was thinking of foolish things… my sister's maggot of distrust, and the structure of the sestina, and The Pickwick Papers – you will remember Mr Pickwick's investigations of tittlebats and the origin of the Hampstead Ponds which lie across the heath. My thoughts were very far away from the heath. Perhaps I even dozed. Then I felt a hideous pain!"

"On the back of your right hand?" said Holmes.

"Ah, you have seen me rub it when troubled."

"Already my methods are transparent to you," Holmes remarked with pretended chagrin.

I leaned across to look. "There is a mark resembling a scald, or possibly an acid-burn."

"It was the red leech, doctor. You will surely have heard of it. A repulsive, revolting creature. The thing must have crept on me from the long grass; it clung to my hand, its fangs – or whatever such vermin possess – fixed in me."

"I know of no such leech," I protested.

"Perhaps it is a matter which does not concern a general practitioner," said Trail with a hint of reproach. He plucked a folded piece of paper from his wallet, and handed it to me; it was a newspaper clipping. I read aloud: "Today a warning was issued to London dwellers. Specimens of Sanguisuga rufa, the highly poisonous red leech of Formosa, have been observed in certain parkland areas of North London. The creature is believed to have escaped from the private collection of a naturalist and explorer. A representative of the Royal Zoological Society warned that the red leech should be strictly avoided if seen, for its bite injects toxins with long-lasting effects, which may include delusions, delirium or even insanity. The leech is characteristically some three to four inches in length, and is readily distinguished by its crimson hue."