The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

home was in default from the very first month and that their present address is still, alas, a complete mystery.

Holmes will always regret having underestimated Crosby’s appalling wife and most certainly this incident has done nothing to dispel my friend’s almost pathological mistrust of the female gender of our species.

THE MYSTERY OF THE MUMBLING DUELLIST

‘A third case worthy of note is that of Isadora Persano, the well-known journalist and duellist, who was found stark staring mad with a matchbox in front of him which contained a remarkable worm said to be unknown to science.’

(The Problem of Thor Bridge by A. Conan Doyle)

My initial introduction to the Isadora Persano affair occurred during the conclusion of the adventure of the Red Leech. Just a few moments before the murder of Crosby was brought to our attention I came upon Holmes, who was hunched in deepest concentration over a glass jar containing a most singular-looking worm.

The tragic demise of poor Crosby had left me with a feeling of forlorn emptiness for a while, which was only dispelled when I eventually returned to my old rooms at Baker Street, to find my friend Sherlock Holmes still engrossed by that unusual specimen.

On this occasion, however, the object of his attention was not to be found within a jar, for its dismembered parts were now dispersed amongst various items of laboratory apparatus with which Holmes had completely littered the room. Furthermore, a murky green liquid, which I subsequently discovered was a sample of the creature’s blood, was merrily simmering over a Bunsen flame The noxious smell that this emitted was overwhelming and in an instant I threw open the curtains and raised the sash to allow some of this to disperse.

Once I had recovered my breath I turned to face my friend, I found him laughing in my direction.

‘Really, Watson, it has long been a source of puzzlement to me that a man of medicine can be so encumbered with faculties as sensitive as yours. Surely a soup of worm’s blood mixed with a touch of morphine is not such a heady brew?’

‘You must have the constitution of a locomotive,’ I retorted breathlessly. Then, once I had replenished my lungs with fresh air from the open window, I asked: ‘Would you mind explaining to me the purpose behind this toxic experiment?’

‘No, not at all, old fellow. This little notion of mine has done nothing to improve my understanding of the case, so therefore I can now extinguish the flame that you find so troublesome. For me to explain the reasons for all of this might, however, take some little time.’ Holmes kept his promise, only to replace those fumes with some from his darkest old shag.

‘My practice is somewhat slack at present, so therefore I have all the time that you might need to expand upon this problem. I assume that there is a case at the root of this experiment?’ I asked whilst preparing a pipe of my own.

‘Your assumption is correct and, if I know my friend Watson and his penchant for such things, it will prove to be a case that will ultimately find pride of place amongst the crowning jewels of your collection. What do you know of Isadora Persano?’ Holmes asked of me as I took to my seat opposite his own.

‘Unless I am very much mistaken, he is a highly respected journalist who has long specialized in affairs of international intrigue,’ I replied.

‘Anything more?’ Holmes prompted.

‘I believe that he freelances, because I remember reading reports from him in both the Daily Telegraph and The Times However nothing has been received from him for some time now and he is feared lost somewhere in Central America, as I recall.’

‘Excellent, Watson! Evidently there is much to be gained from residing over the premises of a quiet practice, for you are certainly well read and your knowledge is accurate, albeit incomplete. I could also add to your fountain of understanding the fact that he is as well known, within the confines of certain clandestine circles, as being one of the last duellists in Europe. Furthermore and to complete your pocket biography of the man, you should also know that he has not disappeared in Central America as was at first supposed. He is to be found within these shores, but, sadly, he has also been diagnosed as insane!’

Before I was able to question him further, Holmes called down to Mrs Hudson for some tea and Chelsea buns. He ushered me into my old chair, before a cheery fire and relit his pipe from a small glowing coal. From the very moment that the last crumb had been devoured and the weary landlady had been unceremoniously ushered from the room, Holmes’s countenance assumed a more intense aspect and I was certain that his attention was now to be firmly focused upon the unfortunate journalist.

‘I should begin by informing you of how I came to be in possession of a sample of a worm, deemed by the authorities to be hitherto unknown to science.

‘An old acquaintance of mine, Hubbert Greene, who is currently employed as a valet at Browne’s Hotel, came upon Persano, apparently in a state of torment, as he sat at his desk in one of the more discreet suites that Browne’s has to offer.

‘Greene had been obliged to use his pass key because Persano had not ventured from his room for two full days and Greene wished to allay his misgivings without creating a furore. Upon gaining access to Persano’s suite the vision that confronted him caused Greene to collapse into a chair, where he remained dumbstruck for at least thirty-five minutes. After that he was able to gather his thoughts once more.

‘Watson, you must understand that this is a man who once served with the Fusiliers, and is therefore not usually troubled by an over-sensitive disposition. But he was deeply affected by the sight of a strong, intelligent and sophisticated man of the world sitting at his desk, rocking himself back and forth whilst mumbling incoherently into his own saliva.

‘In silence and with stealth, Greene stole towards the tormented guest in an attempt to make sense of the ramblings that he was murmuring, but in vain. He then followed the intense gaze of Persano’s reddened eyes and soon recognized the object of his unremitting glare. Amongst the clutter of spilled food and crumpled paper, all that remained of incomplete letters and abandoned articles, nestled a half-opened wooden matchbox. Therein lay the subject of the very same experiments that you have found so abhorrent today.’

‘I presume that the intention behind your experiments was to establish why a man should be driven to insanity by so innocuous-looking a creature?’ I asked.

‘Of course, although I also wished to discover why the authorities categorized it as “unknown to science”. I completed part of my task in the library at the Natural History Museum. Here I was able to establish that in the rituals of various indigenous peoples of Central America there is a form of punishment, performed on those persons found guilty of acts of infidelity, which involves the insertion of a large worm into the ear of the victim. When threatened, these creatures excrete a poisonous fluid that often induces a lingering, painful death. However, this outcome is by no means inevitable, but anyone who survives is rendered permanently insane! Rather suggestive, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Good heavens, Holmes! It is more than suggestive; surely you have the full and definitive explanation. The authorities who, I presume, retained a portion of the worm for their own investigation, obviously did not delve into the matter as vigorously as you did yourself, before dismissing the creature as unknown. Furthermore, we know that Persano’s last reports came from the very region where the worm ritual is performed. What further confirmation do you require?’

‘Watson, I am sorry to have bored you with so mundane a topic. There is surely no good reason for delving further into this affair.’ Holmes turned his head sharply away and crossed his arms in a display of feigned indignation.

‘Well, I certainly apologize for having belittled your redoubtable efforts, yet there does seem to be little point in your continuing,’ I responded.

‘Indeed, until you come to realize that my experiments here,’ he spread his arms expansively towards his apparatus, ‘have proved, beyond a doubt, that the worm in Persano’s matchbox does not contain the toxin in question. That it hails from the Americas is certain, although in point of fact it is as harmless as any that you might find in your garden!’

I mumbled an embarrassed apology, relit my pipe and then asked: ‘Might I, therefore, humbly enquire as to