Between the Thames and the Tiber

have heard much about you from my sister, Lady Maxwell.”

I saw a look of surprise move over Holmes’s face.

“I did not know that she was your sister. Indeed, I have often wondered how she fared after the terrible incidents in Calcutta.”

“She is well, and will be here shortly. She has left England and is residing in the Val d’Orcia near Pienza, just a few hours from Rome. But she will explain all to you herself. Tell me Mr. Holmes, have you discovered what the monster is?”

“No, my lady, but I have several theories. Perhaps you could relate to me your experience, however distasteful that may be.”

“I have told all to the police, but it may help if I repeat what I remember,” she began. “Sir Jaswant and I arrived here three weeks ago. We began our usual schedule, staying at the albergo while the house was readied for us. My husband in retrospect seemed preoccupied with his bank. About a week after our arrival, he informed me that Habib had wired saying that questions had arisen in Switzerland and that he would have to go to Zurich. I was disappointed of course, but I was buoyed by his belief that it would be a short trip. Nothing occurred until a week after his departure. Habib arrived with more of our belongings a few days after Jaswant left and told me that my husband would be further delayed. I was again disappointed but glad to see Habib and the safe arrival of our belongings.”

“It was just over a week ago when I heard the terrible sounds. It must have been around three in the morning when they began, low growls, moans if you will, coming from some unknown place. At first I thought they were the growls of a dog or a cat, but they soon took on the eerie sound of something I had not heard before. Terrified, I rang the bell. No one came at first. I screamed in terror, and finally the servants came. Habib was nowhere to be found. When he appeared a while later, he said that he had fallen into a deep sleep and had heard nothing.

“It was then that I insisted on a separate guard in the house. Habib made a rapid search through the house but found nothing. I went back to my room but could not sleep. I heard nothing more except rustling in the trees, which I took to be the early morning breeze.

“At daybreak, I left the house and asked the servants to make a complete search. In the afternoon, Habib reported that nothing had been found and that in all likelihood it was a stray animal and that he was convinced that the house was safe. I insisted on my stipulation that a guard be hired. The old man Amendola was employed. I felt relieved that day and laughed at my own fear. It was, after all, only another monster in the attic. But that night the growls occurred again, and when I rushed to the landing I saw Amendola bleeding badly. Poor man, he was almost unconscious when the servants rushed in and saved him. Habib this time was immediately present, terrified himself it looked. He scoured the place but found nothing.”

Holmes listened intently. She spoke without guile, but filled with dread, to me very bravely under the circumstances.

“Your account differs almost not at all with that of the others with whom we have spoken. But, tell me, is there anyone who might wish you and your husband ill and want you to abandon your beautiful villa?”

“I know of no one, Mr. Holmes. Everything has been peaceful and the local population more than generous with our eccentricities. Two years ago, my husband told me that he was having difficulty with the bank and that he would have to spend more time in Europe. He has been deeply preoccupied ever since, even though he has admitted to me that the bank has never been in better circumstances.”

“And you have no idea what preoccupies him at this point?”

“No, I do not. We have grown apart these last few years. I make no secret of it, and we were hoping to grow closer while here.”

“I assume that you did not meet in India.”

Lady Singh smiled. “No, I have never been, and my husband is hardly Indian, having lived so long in England. My sister, Lady Maxwell, is responsible for our meeting. Upon her return from India and its disastrous toll on her, she decided to live in Italy. One of the things that she inherited from her husband was a large tract of land near Pienza in the Val d’Orcia. It was an unfortunate purchase by his father for he found that he had been duped and that he had acquired a mud swamp infested with malarial mosquitoes. He himself contracted the disease, and it is our belief that his premature death was caused in part by the infection. The only good thing was the old villa which, with some repairs, could be made entirely livable.

“After her return from India, my sister decided to take it on and redeem it first from disease and then dedicate it to the longer goal of farming and horticulture. In searching for the suitable experts, she met in Florence one Jaswant Singh, who told her of his early experience as a medical researcher in malaria before he became a banker. It was through him that she found the help to redeem the land, which is now a thriving enterprise, and a husband for her sister. I shall let her fill in the story for you since you already know each other. Perhaps we might all meet tonight. Jenny is due to arrive in an hour at the hotel in Positano, and will come to the convent. Perhaps we could all meet at your albergo since the evening views are so lovely.”

We took our leave of Lady Singh and returned to our rooms. On the way back, Holmes was filled with talk of Jennifer Maxwell.

“A woman of the greatest intelligence and beauty, Watson, someone who has impressed even me, who has little time for the more tender emotions.”

On one of the rare occasions that I had observed, he seemed happy to jest about himself and the attitudes that he had publicly displayed for so long.

“I am most anxious to meet her, Holmes,” said I.

“But please, Watson, keep your well-known charms hidden. You have benefited from our adventures with the acquisition of at least one wife.”

“All right,” said I joining his laugh, “tonight at least I shall be an old doorstop.”

“Good, dear doctor, so be it. And Watson, pack your revolver, as I shall mine. It will be an evening of danger as well as good company.”

Two hours later, we received word that Lady Singh and her sister awaited us in the garden. As we descended, we could see the sisters sitting on the veranda. I followed Holmes’s quick step.

“Lady Maxwell, I presume?” said Holmes.

“Indeed,” she replied with a laugh. “Mr. Roger Lytton-Smith, I presume?” she asked, “or is it really Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

“It is he, with no disguise whatever this time. And Dr. Watson,” said Holmes, looking in my direction, “the chronicler, nay, the inventor of the great detective.”

And so it began, a long conversation in which Holmes did his best to concentrate on the case at hand, until his interest in Lady Maxwell took charge.

“Have you any idea what the wild beast is that has invaded the villa?” she asked.

“Let us say that I have several ideas, none of which is certain. I need more evidence, which I expect to come quickly.”

The conversations stretched over an hour. I am not privy to Holmes’s, for he and Lady Maxwell early on began to stroll alone together in the garden. My words with Lady Singh, as I recall, were stilted and hers not particularly memorable. We were reduced to pleasantries and then a polite silence.

As darkness fell, Holmes returned to us and said that he would walk Lady Maxwell back to the hotel and that he and I should meet at our quarters. I was surprised that Holmes would wish to walk the lady home in the dark considering the incidents that had taken place. I nodded to him, however, and accompanying Lady Singh back to her hotel in a cab, I rode back to our hotel.

By eleven, Holmes had not returned and I grew concerned. I noted belatedly that I had not seen him or Lady Maxwell on the road when I accompanied Lady Singh to her hotel. This fed my fears that something had happened. It being a short distance to the hotel and the cab driver Salvatore having retired for the night, I decided to walk down the road to see if I would meet Holmes on his return.

It was dark, but I could see the lights from Positano as I walked down the steep hill. For some reason, I began to feel uneasy and I remember shivering in the mist. I clutched my revolver to make sure that it was there. That was the last conscious thought I had, for I suddenly felt something almost feathery touch my ear. A sharp pain in the neck followed and I went into a dead faint.

I know nothing of what intervened for the next thing of which I was aware was that I had awakened in a