The Confidential Casebook of Sherlock Holmes by Marvin Kaye Read Free Book Online Page A

was certain he had never opened
The Stark Munro Letters
, let alone any of the popular works penned by my literary agent. For my own part I was doing my best to stifle a smile, despite the gravity of the woman’s narrative, as it was not every day that a client failed to expressinstant astonishment at one of my friend’s personal deductions. Mrs. Doyle was either very simple—or very clever.
    â€œThis idyll, like all perfect things, could not last, I regret to say,” our visitor continued. “First, in ’93, I was diagnosed with consumption. My quiet life became enforced. In the autumn of ’96 we moved from London to Surrey, for the sake of my health. That first spring in the country, Arthur started to behave oddly. At the time of our engagement he warned me that he tended to long silences and that I mustn’t mind, but thoughtful contemplation soon all but gave way to mournful brooding. Of late, when not withdrawn in silence, Arthur has been full of restless energy. He has taken up the banjo, practicing for hours, despite an obvious lack of musical aptitude. As for golf and cricket, games at which he excels, he now plays them with an enthusiasm more befitting a youth half his age.”
    â€œPardon me, madam,” interrupted the detective, “but just how old is your husband?”
    â€œArthur turned forty-one in May.”
    â€œPray go on.”
    â€œHe has grown increasingly irritable, too. While patient and paternal as always with me and the children, he has allowed himself to get drawn into silly literary feuding.”
    â€œA pity, madam, but perhaps not so surprising for a man who has advanced in his career from provincial doctor to world-renowned author.”
    â€œYou may be right, Mr. Holmes, but there’s more.” The woman coughed into her knotted handkerchief, then took a deep breath. “In March, just before he left for South Africa—”
    â€œSouth Africa?” interjected Holmes.
    â€œYes, to join a field hospital as unofficial supervisor.”
    â€œMost admirable. Pray continue.”
    â€œAs I was saying, this past March I observed Arthur unawares in the garden at Undershaw, our house in Hindhead. He picked a snowdrop and carried it into the library. After his departure I examined his shelves and found pressed between the leaves of a volumeof romantic verses three snowdrop flowers—one fresh, the other two dried and withered.”
    My friend leaned forward, eyes glinting. This was the kind of curious detail he relished.
    â€œOh, Mr. Holmes, a man does not do such a sentimental thing unless he is in love—in love with another woman!” With this the woman broke into sobs.
    â€œWhat do you propose I do, madam?” said Sherlock Holmes after a decent interval.
    â€œPlease determine whether or not my Arthur remains true.”
    â€œAnd if I confirm your worst fears?”
    â€œOh, I do not know, Mr. Holmes, I do not know. I am ill, sir, gravely ill. My time draws short in this world. You must believe that Arthur’s happiness matters more to me than my own. That he has found room for another in that great heart of his I can accept. But, as long as I live, I shall not abide his being unfaithful!”
    Our visitor resumed her sorry weeping. I was deeply moved, and despite the mask of the perfect reasoner he affected, I knew my friend could not be untouched by such pure and intense emotion.
    â€œWhere is your husband now, madam?”
    â€œOn his way back from South Africa. His ship, the
Briton
, is due to dock next week in Plymouth.”
    â€œAh, then we have some time.”
    â€œOh, my dear Mr. Holmes!”
    â€œPlease, Mrs. Doyle. Before I can give my assent, I must first consult Dr. Watson on the ethics of my taking you on as a client. If you wouldn’t mind waiting downstairs, I dare say Mrs. Hudson should already have the water on the hob for tea.”
    After further expressions of gratitude,