comprehend.'
'If you say so. But I wish you weren't so jealous with your deductions.'
I feel that Holmes's overweening vanity caused him to be mysterious in case he was proven wrong, or, in the instance of proving himself right, so that he could produce his solution with a flourish like a magician producing a rabbit out of a hat.
'There's far more to be unearthed before I can confide in you. But I do value your assistance.'
'I don't seem to have contributed much,' I replied somewhat ruefully.
'More than you know. Are you acquainted with Dr Halliwell?' 'No, but I can look him up in the Medical Register.'
'Good man. There's a cab. Hail it, Watson. An early night for us, I think. There's work to be done tomorrow.'
Holmes was up and about before I had stirred from my bed. When he returned at noon he made an even more astonishing figure in the rough clothes and hobnail boots of the British workman. His hat was worn on the back of his head, he wore a rakish scarf and had not shaved that morning.
'I've been out looking for work, Watson,' he chuckled.
'Were you successful?'
'Not in Grosvenor Square.'
'You tried the Abernettys' address?'
'I thought they might be in need of a coachman or groom. I went in through the mews. Quite deserted,Watson. No carriage, no horses, the coachman's house stood empty. Minter must have glimpsed me from the servants' quarters and came out. Sent me off with a flea in my ear. Curious, isn't it, that the only servant we've seen is the old butler? No maid, no footman, for all we know no boots.'
'Mrs Bertram did mention the servants had been dismissed.' 'Yes, I find that useful information.'
'It simply means the Abernettys could no longer afford to keep them.'
Holmes chuckled. 'A great deal escapes your attention, Watson.'
'One thing hasn't.' I was standing at the window as I spoke. 'The urchin who stands across the street watching our premises. He answers the description of the lad who came to our rooms earlier enquiring about me. He wasn't in need of my services so Mrs Hudson sent him off, but he's still hanging about. He must have seen you come in, Holmes.'
My friend came to stand beside me.The youth leaning against a lamp-post wore a greatcoat two sizes too large for him and a cloth cap pulled down over his ears. Between his muffler and his cap nothing much could be seen of his face, but he occasionally darted glances up at our window.
'Things are moving fast and we must move with them,' murmured Holmes. 'Did you check the Register?'
'I'll do so straightway after lunch.'
'I'm off to the Doctors' Commons after which we'll sacrifice that bottle of cognac on the sideboard as a gift for Mr Charles Abernetty to repay him for his kindness of yesterday.'
When next we met Holmes's sallow cheeks bore the flush of a grim excitement.
'Well, what did you learn about Dr Halliwell? Are we able to contact him?'
'Only if we hold a seance. Been dead a year.'
Holmes gave an odd little laugh. 'I too have just spent an informative hour. Let me don my disguise, Watson, and we'll be away.'
Miss Sabina Abernetty was not at home at Grosvenor Square, but Mr Charles Abernetty greeted us cordially although with some surprise.
'We were passing your door and hoped you would not mind us calling in with this little token of gratitude for your hospitality.' He produced the bottle with a flourish.
Charles was suitably gratified and bade us sit in the small salon while he rang for tea.
'May we enquire about Mrs Abernetty's health?' Holmes was all solicitude.
Charles studied him in silence for several minutes before he spoke. 'You know, I do believe Mother would like you as much as we do. Would you like to meet her?'
'Very much,' declared Holmes.
'I'll go and see that all is in readiness. She's very vain despite her advancing years.'
He left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. I glanced quizzically at my friend, but he was frowning into the fire.
'Let's just give Mother half an hour, shall we?' Charles said on his return. 'I warn you, you'll find her in a darkened room. She dislikes the light, even on a wintry day such as this. Invalids do have their little fancies, as the good doctor here will know.'
Charles Abernetty's manner seemed both excited and nervous. He kept rubbing his hands together and smiling, not at his new acquaintances but inwardly as if silently congratulating himself.
'I can't think what's keeping Minter with the tea,' he complained. 'Shall we have cognac instead?'
'Please don't trouble yourself,' said Holmes, hastily. 'Tell me, have you quite recovered from your indisposition of yesterday.'
Abernetty's smile faded. In fact, he looked annoyed at the reminder. 'Quite. A trifling matter. Shall we go up to Mother? I'll just ring the bell to let her know we are coming.'
He led the way up a balustraded staircase to the next floor and along an unlit carpeted passage. Away from the snug salon the air was chill, the passage gloomy and the carpet thin and worn under our feet.
'This is Mother's room,' he said with his hand on the knob. 'Do speak softly. She dislikes loud noises.'
He flung open the door. 'Mother, I've brought two gentlemen to see you.'
The room was indeed dark, unlit by fire or lamp and with the curtains drawn. In a large old-fashioned fourposter bed lay the shadowy form of an elderly woman whose features could just be made out within the frill of a large nightcap. Her eyes were closed and we could hear her stertorous breathing.
'Oh, bother,' said Charles, in vexation. 'She's dropped off.'
Sabina Abernetty had arrived home. The violence of the weather was evident in her pink cheeks and disordered hair. She had apparently just come in and discarded her coat and hat downstairs.
'Ah, Miss Abernetty, again a pleasure,' drawled Holmes.
She ignored him and continued to address her brother indignantly. 'You know how perverse Mother can be. She might have had one of her tirades.'
'As it turns out, she's asleep,' said Charles, sulkily.
'Which is as well. Do forgive my brother,' she turned to us, summoning a smile. 'He means well.'
'No harm done. I'm sorry we missed the pleasure of meeting your mother,' replied Holmes, cheerfully. 'We must take our leave, but look forward with pleasure to our game on Sunday afternoon. Come, Watson.'
Outside in the square we had to hold our hats against the blustering wind. We trudged in silence for several minutes.
'What did you make of that melodrama?' enquired Holmes, presently.
'Decidedly odd. But at least we know Lady Abernetty is alive and can set Mrs Bertram's fears at rest.'
My companion snorted. 'Did anything strike you about the sickroom?'
'I thought it uncommonly cold.'
'It was as chill as a morgue. No fire, no steam kettle, both of
which I'm sure would be recommended for a patient suffering from congestion of the lungs.'
'Indeed. Are you suggesting neglect?'
'What else struck you? Come, man, you must have been in dozens of sickrooms. That slight odour common to all…'
'… was missing. You're right, Holmes. Not even a whiff of carbolic. What does that imply?'
'I think we may receive a note from the Abernettys offering apologies for Sunday afternoon,' was his only reply.
Holmes was not often confounded, but the next event produced that effect.
We were sitting beside the fire after supper that evening when we heard a light quick step on the stairs followed by a sharp rap on the outer door.
