‘In order that you might not preconceive any judgement upon my family, I should immediately point out that they had experienced much anguish and no little expense in determining both my condition and how best to cope with its consequences.’
Observing my own quizzical glance at the mention of the word ‘condition’ Crosby directed his next words in my direction. ‘Even allowing for your vast knowledge and experience, Dr Watson, I am certain that not even you will have heard of “Solar Urticaria”.’
‘Upon my word, I have not!’ I exclaimed, whilst making my way towards the small remnant of my medical library that still remained in Baker Street.
Crosby called me to a halt. ‘Do not trouble yourself, Doctor, for I can assure you that my own experience has given me a knowledge of the condition that will far exceed anything that your learned volume might provide. As its very name suggests, “Solar Utricaria” is aggravated by exposure to direct sunlight. Even bright daylight might produce an effect on the skin.’
Having sensed Crosby’s hesitation Holmes prompted: ‘And what effect is this, Mr Crosby?’
‘Monstrous large red welts, the size of leeches, immediately form on every unprotected surface of my skin the very instant that it is exposed to natural light. The effect that this apparition had on any observer soon made it obvious to my parents that it would be impossible for me to leave the confines of our home during the hours of daylight.’
‘Good Lord, how awful!’ I exclaimed. ‘Of course, that would explain your unusually pale complexion.’
‘Indeed.’ Crosby gravely acknowledged my comment with a slow nodding of his head, ‘Due to the fact that these welts are slow to disappear, socializing, of every description was impossible. I was even educated at home! My beloved parents employed the very best private tutors who taught me well in every subject. However as I grew older I came to realize that the strain of the burden upon my parents, both emotionally and financially, was proving too great to bear. This despite the fact that they took great pains to conceal it.’ Crosby then paused for a moment to draw gratefully upon his cigar and to sip at his brandy.
‘Their love and compassion knew no bounds. So I then resolved to spare them further heartbreak by taking my leave of the family home. My brother, Nathaniel, was proving a great success at his chosen career of banking and I was certain that he would prove to be a great comfort to them as they mourned my departure.
‘Therefore, at the age of thirty-two, with but a few possessions and a little allowance money that I had managed to save, I found myself in an outside world of which I had very little knowledge and experience. In order to avoid the attentions of those whom my parents might set to finding me, I resolved to travel. I managed to ingratiate myself with the owners of a small travelling carnival that was, fortuitously, heading towards the West Country. I kept my head covered during the day and worked with the keeper at feeding and cleaning out the various creatures that formed part of the show. The owners, Mr and Mrs Josiah Smythe of Blackheath, were most kind to me and gave me board and a small allowance for my efforts. However there were two caravan drivers, with a leaning towards drink, whose curiosity as to my covered head was becoming increasingly difficult to ward off.
‘I had two friends among the workers with the carnival. A young lad called Tom, who had an unusually small head; he was one of the sideshow attractions under the moniker of “Pin Head”. The other was the animal keeper, “Old Ben”, an elderly fellow, from the East End of London who was half-blind. These two tried to shelter me from the attentions of the two unsavouries. However, I found myself alone one morning with the horses, and during the course of a violent scuffle with the drivers I found my head covering removed and my awful secret was exposed.
‘The drivers took great pains to reveal my appearance to all in the camp and I was resolved upon making a hasty departure, when the Smythes made me an unusual proposal.
‘Business had become quite slack of late, so they suggested that I should share his enclosure with Tom and appear as the “Red Leech”. In this way I should become one of the sideshow attractions. The idea of becoming a fairground freak appalled me at first, as you might well imagine.’
He paused for a moment, scanning our faces for signs of understanding and, perhaps, a little sympathy. I looked across at Holmes and was amazed to observe how intently my friend was gazing into the eyes of our tragic client. The man’s obvious pain was mirrored in the eyes of the habitually ice-cold Sherlock Holmes.
Then, as if remembering himself, he suddenly straightened up and remarked: ‘Although your story has a certain poignancy about it I would now appreciate it if you could proceed to the crux of the matter, Mr Crosby. You might begin by explaining why you agreed to become the “Red Leech”.’
Understandably taken aback by Holmes’s biting outburst, Crosby apologetically cleared his throat and stumbled over his first few words.
‘I could see that Tom had never been maltreated or humiliated; indeed he even regarded the carnival as a form of refuge from the somewhat harsher treatment he might have expected from the world outside. Therefore I resolved to accept the offer that I had received from the Smythes. The arrangement suited both parties; for a time. I was content with my modest accommodation and keep and the “Red Leech” was proving to be a popular and profitable attraction for the Smythes, which pleased me also. It all ended somewhat abruptly, however, when I chanced upon a week-old copy of the
‘Therein, gentlemen, almost hidden in a column listing recent deaths was the first intimation that I had received of my parent’s untimely passing. They had always been keen explorers and, as a consequence, were aboard a small steam transport, which had been wrecked but a few miles off the East African coast. No trace of them or their belongings were ever recovered.
‘I decided to return to London at once, there to seek out my brother for more information than the newspaper afforded and to discuss any family arrangements that might concern me. Ben, the old animal keeper, kindly accompanied me, as he knew of a small basement room in a run-down old building near Brick Lane. He offered to run any urgent errands that could only be accomplished in daylight. I had no great difficulty in finding my brother, as he had yet to vacate the family home, and I found his welcome somewhat warmer than I might have expected. However, he reluctantly informed me at the outset, that my parents had been so convinced either of my death or my inability ever to return to them, that no provision had been made for me in their final will.
‘To his credit, Nathaniel was not insensitive to my reaction to this news, nor could he have failed to observe the very obvious physical effects of my present situation. There and then he resolved to make me a small monthly allowance. He explained that his imminent wedding was proving to be a most costly affair and that our parents’ estate had proved in the end to be a surprisingly modest one, probably eaten away by the costs of their insatiable lust for travel. The amount was barely sufficient to keep body and soul together, but I was grateful even for that.
‘I did not wish to embarrass my brother by revealing my address to him, so it was agreed that he would deposit the money at a large newsagent’s on the Commercial Road on the first Monday of every month. My friend Ben collected it regularly and this meagre sum was supplemented by my night cleaning job and any small errands that Ben was able to run for the local traders. By these means we were somehow able to survive.
‘You may therefore understand my consternation when upon one Monday, now two months ago, Ben returned from our friend the newsagent empty-handed. I have implicit trust in old Ben and he, in turn, trusts the newsagent, so I had to assume that my brother had withheld the money for his own reasons. I decided to visit my family home once more, in the hope that the missing money was nothing more than an oversight. I was distraught to discover that the place had been boarded up and was on offer for sale, whilst the only information that I could glean from the neighbours was that my brother had been married and had moved away.
‘For reasons that I have now explained to you, I am not able to conduct any enquiries into Nathaniel’s whereabouts on my own account and the police would be aghast at the thought of granting me an interview. Although, I am sure, you will have far loftier matters that demand your attention, I turn to you, Mr Holmes, as the only recourse I have of restoring what scant means of subsistence remains to me.’ Crosby drained the last of his brandy and extinguished his cigar as he concluded his moving and remarkable story.
For a moment Holmes sat silent and still. He then jumped up and strode to the window, through which he gazed wistfully, strumming his bony fingers against its glass.
Holmes’s voice was barely audible when he next spoke.
‘You must understand, Mr Crosby, that this is not the kind of routine inquiry with which I normally involve myself. However,’ he added quickly so as not to lower Crosby’s spirits still further, ‘I am curious to discover the true reason behind the withholding of the money and you have surely suffered much already. If you give the address of your newsagent to Dr Watson here, I promise to leave word of your brother’s whereabouts there within a week.’
