Paul Gilbert - The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘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.’