THE IRREGULAR CASEBOOK OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by Ron Weighell Read Free Book Online

and is envious of every call on his attention; she hates me, and knew that the loss of my pet would hurt me deeply. My brother’s recent return gave her another rival.
    ‘I live in fear of her, Mr Holmes. From my childhood she has sought to do me harm. She was my nurse when mother was alive. I saw her administering her drugs to my mother in the last days of her illness. For all I know she may have killed mother, and may hold my father in thrall with them. I do know that she has tried to poison me.
    ‘She began giving her potions to me when I was very young. The excuse she used was that I suffered nightmares and troubled sleep. For all I know it might have been the drugs that caused it. I would be locked up in a stupor for days at a time. When I refused her “medicines”, as she called them, she simply slipped them into my food and drink. But I suppose you will think me foolish and deluded.’
    ‘I think nothing, Miss Sturleson, save that the time has come to meet your father.’
    She led us back through the hall and up the stairs to the very top of the house.
    ‘Forgive me,’ I said, ‘but if your father is an invalid, would it not be easier to locate his room on the ground floor?’
    ‘There is good reason for his choice of room, as you will see, doctor.’
    She opened a door and gestured us in. The room was a species of studio, with a skylight that let in little radiance, as the expanse of glass was covered with snow. In the grey light stood many canvasses covered by dust-sheets. Under the skylight sat a giant of a man, lean-jawed, grizzled of beard and mane, staring at us balefully with deep-set eyes whose unhealthy, ivory-yellow tinge gave him the malevolent gaze of some beast of prey. He lay upon an upholstered reclining chair with winged dragons for front legs, double foot stools supported by gryphons, and a movable reading desk whose stem was a coiling serpent. The desk held a half-finished watercolour of the Fenris Wolf of Norse legend. Within arm’s reach on either side stood canvasses depicting in gruesome detail wolf packs at hunt and the kill. Miss Sturleson ran to him and they embraced tenderly. He whispered some words, and she left us with the words: ‘I will be next door in my room if you want me.’
    ‘Mr Holmes,’ bellowed the man, after she had gone, ‘welcome to my house. But I fear yours has been a wasted journey. My daughter meant well in bringing you here, but it is useless, unless you can defeat the power of an ancient curse.’
    ‘I make no claim to supernatural powers, yet I have helped in many cases where all hope seemed lost.’
    ‘Then hear this, Mr Holmes. In the dark forested regions of Norway an ancestor of mine was once savaged by an albino wolf. Thereafter his village suffered periodic depredations by some wild beast. When at last the creature was wounded, my ancestor was found maimed and bleeding in his bed. From that day my family has been under the shadow of the wolf. Mr Holmes, that curse has returned to plague this house, and I fear for my wife and daughter. I have done terrible things in my attempt to fight it, but to no avail. It was I who killed my son. Oh, I see the look on your faces. You do not believe in werewolves. Well, you will learn. I only wish my daughter might be spared this. All my children . . . it is too cruel. Please guard her, and my wife, Mr Holmes. And when the time comes, put an end to me.’
    Holmes allowed himself the briefest of smiles.
    ‘Let us hope things may never come to such a pass. I have rarely had to resort to such action. By the way, Mr Sturleson, you have a rare gift for art. Might you not choose a less depressing subject? Excuse us.’
    As we left the room, Holmes said quietly, ‘Yes, it has some similarities to that case, Watson, but this is a good deal simpler than the affair of the Hound.’
    ‘Would you say so? I would—but Holmes, how did you know . . .?
    ‘Not mind-reading my dear fellow. You could hardly fail to note that