Paul Gilbert - The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘Which enemies would these be, Doña Dolores?’ I asked quietly.

She glanced keenly towards me, as if deciding whether I was worthy of a reply. Evidently I was.

‘Doctor Watson, every ambitious politician creates enemies as he builds his career, very often unwittingly, and my dear husband Francisco was no different, in that respect, from any other. Whether or not he was correct in his assumption, Francisco gradually convinced himself that this was so. Consequently, as the People’s Revolution gathered pace his conviction transformed into paranoia and he saw a personal enemy behind the barrel of every musket. He began drinking wine most heavily and he barricaded himself in his room, while the flames of revolution erupted on every street corner.

‘It was at this time that Isadora Persano arrived in Guahanna, and he soon presented himself at our door. As a freelance journalist it was his duty to establish what steps my husband had taken to safeguard the lives and security of expatriate Spanish citizens who still lived in Guahanna City.

‘My first thought was to close the door in his face, for I was convinced that any article he might write concerning Francisco and his current condition would damage his career beyond redemption. Yet there was something in his presence and manner that evoked a feeling of trust within me. Although he was not much older than I, perhaps forty-five years of age at most, his years of travelling and the witnessing of the many harrowing events that he had reported upon had wearied his dark taut features.

‘His eyes told of a great knowledge and wisdom and the soft tones of his voice had a strangely calming effect upon both me and, subsequently, upon Francisco. Oh yes, Señores , despite the brevity of this meeting, I took a leap of faith and allowed Persano access to my husband’s room. Francisco panicked at first and refused to unlock the door. However, after a few moments of patient persuasion Persano’s voice had the same effect upon Francisco as it had done upon myself, and Francisco turned the key.

‘The transformation upon my husband, within but a half-hour of their first meeting, was nothing less than miraculous. I had not seen him for several days and throughout that time he had neither eaten nor slept. His hair was unkempt, his features had become haggard and gaunt and his eyes were painfully bloodshot. I broke down and wept at the sorry sight of him and would surely have fainted had it not been for Persano’s intervention.

‘He assumed control of the situation and immediately instructed my maid to help me to my room while he sent down for a plate of food and a barber. By the time I had returned, but an hour later, Francisco resembled his old self. Alert, assured and extremely handsome, and I saw with pleasure that the large tray, which was being removed, carried only a few remains and that the wine carafe had been replaced with one of water.’

Doña Dolores paused for a moment and smiled fondly to herself as she dwelt upon these recollections. At this juncture Holmes and I allowed ourselves another cigarette and I could sense that Holmes’s patience was thinning somewhat.

‘Madam, you seem to have forgotten that you have allowed us but thirty minutes to complete this interview and I have yet to hear even an indication of how Persano came to his present plight.’ Holmes’s blunt comment more than confirmed my misgivings as to his frame of mind. However, Doña Dolores’s response was not as harsh as one might have expected.

‘Señor Holmes, the matter is not a trifling one. I have related this story so that you might fully understand the nature and character of the man who is now reduced to the sorry state in which he finds himself. If our interview overlaps with my other plans by five or six minutes, then so be it. However should you wish to conclude prematurely…?’ Doña Dolores gestured towards the door with an elegant wave of her left arm.

Holmes laughed quietly through a plume of smoke, whilst expanding the broadest of smiles. ‘Thirty-six minutes would certainly suit me well enough. Pray continue, Doña Dolores.’ With an indignant rustling of chiffon, the lady picked up her tale once more.

‘Within a day or two of my husband’s recovery he felt able to continue with his official business once again. Persano was able to assist him in this, in an unofficial capacity of course, by virtue of the many acquaintances that he had made in Guahanna City and the local knowledge that his profession had provided him with. His influence made it possible for Francisco to convene a meeting at which he and Persano would mediate between the leaders of the various warring factions. After a few days of earnest negotiations the People’s Revolution was at an end and Francisco was proclaimed as a local hero. He even received a commendation from Madrid with the promise of a more prestigious posting within a few months, provided that peace was maintained in Guahanna.

‘As you may easily imagine, Francisco and Persano became the firmest of friends and Persano was a constant visitor at the consulate. My husband, of course, had good reason to feel kindly disposed toward his benefactor, but then everybody who came within his orbit was similarly affected. Señores , I can assure you that I was no exception!’

Doña Dolores paused once more while she lit another cheroot and the inhalation from those densely packed dark leaves seemed to ease her hesitancy.

‘Now to the shocking truth behind Persano’s almost obsessional desire to help my poor husband,’ she resumed sharply. ‘As it turned out, Persano felt no sympathy at all for my husband. He used his plight as a pretext to call upon me at every opportunity. As I have already told you, I felt drawn towards him from the moment I first opened the consulate door, an action that I curse to this very day! However, and this you must believe, Señor , my love for my husband was as strong and heartfelt as it always had been and my thoughts, in allowing Persano access to him, were that it was entirely for his benefit.

‘Persano preyed upon this weakness of mine and he set about pursuing his aim his desire for me at our every meeting. He was unrelenting and intense and gradually I could feel my resistance weakening. I instructed the servants to put him off, should he present himself, but my husband grew agitated at Persano’s absence and countermanded these instructions. By a strange irony Francisco even accused me of being selfish in my obvious dislike of the man! I did not wish to cause him distress and so I allowed Persano access to our home once again.

‘I had allowed “Diablo” the opportunity to work his evil.’ She paused for a moment, drew heavily on her cheroot and turned her head away as if deeply ashamed.

‘Our subsequent affair was passionate, intense. At every opportunity we sought seclusion and I scolded the servants for being too diligent and attentive. I began to drink Francisco’s red wine and soon lost all sense of propriety and discretion. We even found moments during the course of official civic gatherings to steal a moment or two together, and soon Francisco began asking questions. At first they were without suspicion or accusation, merely based on confusion. However, we had not allowed for the devotion of Francisco’s manservant, Diego.

‘He had observed our indiscretions on more than one occasion and eventually felt duty bound to inform his master of these. At first Francisco dismissed these allegations and accused Diego of harbouring an irrational dislike of the man. On another occasion, to his great shame, he even struck Diego across the face, such was his rage. Gradually, however, the body of evidence against us increased and Francisco’s moments of confusion suddenly began to make sense to him.