Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

As I murmured acquiescence I saw Charles dart a look at his sister. She maintained an impeccable composure.

"Thank you, you're very kind, but we have our own family doctor who takes care of Mother's needs."

"Perhaps you might know him, Watson. What is his name?"

"Dr Halliwell," she replied, after a brief hesitation. She was beginning to look a trifle annoyed, as well she might, by Holmes's persistence.

"I'm sure he's a very good man," I said soothingly. "And pray don't apologize for your furnishings. This is a charming room."

"You are most fortunate," added my friend, in the irrepressible role he had adopted, "in owning this delightful residence in such an elite location. Its worth must be prodigious."

Charles flushed up to the eyes. "Mother would never consider selling up. It's quite impossible."

"I've offended you," said Holmes. "My candour runs away with my discretion at times. Ah, I see the cards are on the table. I enjoy nothing so well as a good game of whist with friends."

"Shall we play?" said Charles, eagerly, drawing out a chair.

As the game progressed companionably, I felt a sense of awe at the expertise in which Holmes sustained the bogus personality of Sebastian Flood. It was evident that Charles Abernetty admired him immensely and hung on his every word. It was equally apparent that Sabina Abernetty was reserving her judgement on their new acquaintance. She was pleasant, but decidedly cool.

At four o'clock she rose from the table and pulled on a bell-rope hanging beside the fire-place.

"Are you calling for tea, Sabie?" asked Charles. "That would be welcome."

Miss Abernetty's change of position had allowed her to see the fire had fallen low. "We must ask Minter to throw on more coal," she remarked.

"No need to bother Minter. He has enough work to do. I'll attend to the fire myself," responded her brother.

Another bell rang somewhere in the house. A look of vexation crossed Charles Abernetty's face. "There's Mother," he said, tersely.

"I'll go," said his sister, serenely. "It's time for her medicine."

"I suppose," remarked Holmes, idly, as he watched our host at his fireside task, "it requires quite a few servants to maintain a household of this magnitude." Charles did not appear to hear, but Holmes persisted. "It is admirable of Miss Abernetty to take the place of a nurse."

"It's how she wishes it," replied Charles. "While my sister is away, gentlemen, I think we have time for a glass of this very excellent port." He crossed to a decanter on the sideboard.

"Not an excellent port," observed Holmes, as he sipped appreciatively, "but a superb one."

Charles flushed with pleasure. "From my own cellar. I shall fetch you each a bottle."

"Nonsense. I'll go at once."

"For shame, to leave you alone," said Miss Abernetty a moment or two later. "Where is Charles? Minter is just about to bring in the tea."

"I believe your brother has gone down to the cellar."

A coal exploded from the fire onto the rug. Sabina started violently, seized the tongs and threw it back on the grate. She spent some little time examining the rug for signs of damage while my friend sat observing her.

Charles returned presently with a bottle under each arm. His demeanour had markedly changed. His face had a pale clammy look and his hands shook as he placed the bottles on the table.

"Why, Abernetty, you are ill!" exclaimed Holmes.

"Charles, come and sit down." His sister led him to the wing chair, turning a grave face to us over her shoulder. "My brother suffers from a morbid fear of confined spaces.You should have sent Minter, Charles."

"You're right, of course," Charles mopped his brow with his handkerchief, "but he does so hate to go there himself."

"Stuffy places, cellars," agreed Holmes. "I'm distressed that your kindness has caused you such discomfort."

"My dear fellow, think nothing of it. It's a foolish whimsy of mine and will soon pass."

After tea we took our departure with the promise to return the following Sunday afternoon for another hand. Once outside, the air of bonhomie Holmes had exhibited before the Abernettys fell away and his mood became thoughtful.

"Well, Holmes," said I, "we're no closer to solving the mystery, if there is one. It all seemed perfectly straightforward to me. Devoted children, really rather a sad pair. At least we know the mother exists."

"How do we know that, Watson?"

"Why, you heard it yourself. She rang for attention."

"A bell was rung from somewhere in the house, nothing more. But you are right, they are a sad pair. But there are undercurrents, Watson, that could be sinister. There were several incidents that pointed to this which you completely overlooked."

"I wish you'd explain them to me."

"By this time next week I will have uncovered their secret and I think it will be more evil than you can comprehend."

"If you say so. But I wish you weren't so jealous with your deductions."

I feel that Holmes's overweening vanity caused him to be mysterious in case he was proven wrong, or, in the instance of proving himself right, so that he could produce his solution with a flourish like a magician producing a rabbit out of a hat.

"There's far more to be unearthed before I can confide in you. But I do value your assistance."

"I don't seem to have contributed much," I replied somewhat ruefully.

"More than you know. Are you acquainted with Dr Halliwell?" "No, but I can look him up in the Medical Register."

"Good man. There's a cab. Hail it, Watson. An early night for us, I think. There's work to be done tomorrow."

Holmes was up and about before I had stirred from my bed. When he returned at noon he made an even more astonishing figure in the rough clothes and hobnail boots of the British workman. His hat was worn on the back of his head, he wore a rakish scarf and had not shaved that morning.

"I've been out looking for work, Watson," he chuckled.

"Were you successful?"

"Not in Grosvenor Square."

"You tried the Abernettys' address?"

"I thought they might be in need of a coachman or groom. I went in through the mews. Quite deserted,Watson. No carriage, no horses, the coachman's house stood empty. Minter must have glimpsed me from the servants' quarters and came out. Sent me off with a flea in my ear. Curious, isn't it, that the only servant we've seen is the old butler? No maid, no footman, for all we know no boots."

"Mrs Bertram did mention the servants had been dismissed." "Yes, I find that useful information."

"It simply means the Abernettys could no longer afford to keep them."

Holmes chuckled. "A great deal escapes your attention, Watson."

"One thing hasn't." I was standing at the window as I spoke. "The urchin who stands across the street watching our premises. He answers the description of the lad who came to our rooms earlier enquiring about me. He wasn't in need of my services so Mrs Hudson sent him off, but he's still hanging about. He must have seen you come in, Holmes."

My friend came to stand beside me.The youth leaning against a lamp-post wore a greatcoat two sizes too large for him and a cloth cap pulled down over his ears. Between his muffler and his cap nothing much could be seen of his face, but he occasionally darted glances up at our window.

"Things are moving fast and we must move with them," murmured Holmes. "Did you check the Register?"

"I'll do so straightway after lunch."

"I'm off to the Doctors' Commons after which we'll sacrifice that bottle of cognac on the sideboard as a gift for Mr Charles Abernetty to repay him for his kindness of yesterday."

When next we met Holmes's sallow cheeks bore the flush of a grim excitement.

"Well, what did you learn about Dr Halliwell? Are we able to contact him?"