the music's internal logic makes clear the relationship.'
'A conversation with you is most invigourating, Russell. That might have taken twenty frustrating minutes with Watson. Hello, what is this?' He pulled me to a halt in the shadow of the building we had just rounded, and we gazed across to the area where the cab and Billy had been left, seeing with sinking hearts the flicker of naphtha flares and the distinctive milling outline of many constabulary helmets and capes. Loud voices called to one another, and as we watched an ambulance pulled swiftly away. Holmes slumped against the building, stunned. 'Billy?' he whispered hoarsely. 'How could they track us? Russell, am I losing my grip? I have never come across a mind that could do this. Even Moriarty.' He shook his head as if to clear it. 'I must see the evidence before those oafs obliterate it.' 'Wait, Holmes. This could be a trap. There may be someone waiting with an airgun or a rifle.'
Holmes studied the scene before us through narrowed eyes and shook his head again, slowly. 'We were excellent targets a number of times this evening. With all these police here it would be a great risk for him. No, we will go. I only hope that someone with a bit of sense is in charge here.'
I followed his vigorous stride as best I could in my heeled shoes, and as I came up behind him I saw a small, wiry man of about thirty-five thrust out his hand and greet Holmes.
'Mr. Holmes, good to see you up and about. I wondered if you might not make an appearance. I figured you must be behind this somewhere.'
'What precisely is 'this', Inspector?'
'Well, as you can see, Mr. Holmes, the cab — May I help you, Miss?' This last was to me.
'Ah, Russell, I should like to introduce to you an old friend of mine. This is Inspector Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. His father was a colleague of mine on a number of cases. Lestrade, this is my — ' A quick smile touched his lips. 'My associate, Miss Mary Russell.'
Lestrade stared at the two of us for a moment, then to my dismay burst into raucous laughter. Was this to be the reaction of every policeman we met?
'Oh, Mr. Holmes, always the comedian, you were. I forgot your little jokes for a minute.'
Holmes drew himself up to his full height and glared at the man in icy hauteur.
'Have you ever known me to jest about my profession, Lestrade? Ever?' The last word cracked through the cold air like a shot, and Lestrade's humour was cut off in an instant. The remnant of the smile made his face sour and slightly ratlike, and he glanced at me quickly and cleared his throat. 'Ah, yes, well, Mr. Holmes, I presume you'd like to see what they left of your cab. One of the men recognised Billy from the old days and thought to give me a ring on it. He'll get a promotion out of tonight's work, I don't doubt. And don't worry about your man — he'll be all right in a day or two, I imagine. It looked like a clout on the head followed by a bit of chloroform. He was already coming around when they took him off.'
'Thank you for that, Inspector. Have you already gone over the cab?' His voice held little hope.
'No, no, we haven't touched it. Looked inside, that's all. I told you the man'd get a promotion. Quick- thinking, he is.' I noticed one of the uniformed men nearby fiddling needlessly with the horse's reins, his head tilted slightly in our direction. I nudged Holmes and addressed Lestrade.
'Inspector, that I believe is the individual over there?' The man started and moved away guiltily, busying himself elsewhere. Lestrade and Holmes followed my eyes.
'Why yes, how did you guess?'
Holmes interrupted. 'I believe you will find, Lestrade, that Miss Russell never guesses. She may occasionally reach tentative hypotheses without absolute proof, but she does not guess.'
'I am glad,' I added, 'that the gentleman is working his way back up to his former position of responsibility.
Men with his background can be a valuable model for younger members of the force.' I had Lestrade's full attention now.
'Do you know him then, Miss?'
'As far as I know I've never seen him before tonight.'
Holmes allowed his eyes to wander off to the cab, his face inscrutable.
'Then how —?'
'Oh, but it is too obvious. An older man in a low position can either have got there by being, shall we say, of limited mental resource, which according to you he is not, or by backsliding. It could not have been a criminal act that pushed him down the ladder, or he would not still be in uniform. Which personality flaw it is can readily be ascertained by the broken veins in his face, while the deep furrows around his mouth indicate either pain or sorrow in recent years. I should suspect, as his body seems unimpaired, that the latter is to blame, which would explain the abuse of alcohol, and that in turn accounts for the demotion in rank. However, his general competency and the fact that you mention the possibility of promotion tell me that he has passed through the crisis, and will now serve as an example to the men around him.' I gave the flabbergasted Lestrade my most innocent of smiles. 'It's really quite elementary, Inspector.'
The little man gaped and burst out laughing again. 'Yes, sir, Mr. Holmes, I do see what you mean. I don't know how you've done it, but it could have been you saying that. You're absolutely right, Miss. His wife and daughter were killed four years ago, and he took to drinking, even at work. We kept him on at a desk job where he'd do no one any harm, and a year ago he pulled himself together. He'll be back up there in no time, I think. Come now, I'll get a lamp so we can look at your cab.' He went off shouting for a light.
'Russell, that last line was a bit overly dramatic, don't you think?' Holmes murmured at my side.
'A good apprentice learns all from her master, sir,' I answered demurely.
'Then let us go and see what is to be learnt from this old horse cab. I greatly desire news of this person who plagues us and continually attacks my friends. I hope that the case will at last provide us with a thread to grasp.'
The cab stood cordoned off in a circle of flares, its shabby exterior even more obvious now than it had been by the streetlamps.
'This is where we found your man,' Lestrade said, pointing. 'We tried to keep off the ground right there, but we had to get him up and out of there. He was lying on his side, curled up on that old suit with a rug tucked around him.'
'What?' The suit was Holmes' cabbie outfit; the rug was from the cab.
'Yes, wrapped up and snoozin' like a baby he was.'
Holmes handed his hat, coat, and stick to Lestrade and took a small, powerful magnifying lens out of his pocket. Down on the ground he looked for all the world like some great lanky hound, casting about for a scent.
Finally he gave a low exclamation and produced a small envelope from another pocket. Scraping gently at various tiny smudges on the paving stones, he sat back on his haunches with an air of triumph, careless of the beating his back had taken.
'What do you make of this, Russell?' he asked, sketching a vague circle.
I walked over to peer at the marks. 'Two pairs of feet? One has been in the mud today, the other — is that oil?'
'Yes, Russell, but there will be a third somewhere.
At the door to the cab? No? Well, perhaps inside.' And so saying, he opened the door. 'Lestrade, your men will go over the whole cab for fingerprints, I take it?'
'Yes, sir. I've sent for an expert; he should be here before too long. New man, but seems good. MacReedy, his name is.'
'Oh yes, Ronald MacReedy. Interesting article of his, comparing whorls with the personality traits of habitual criminals, didn't you think?'
'I, er, didn't happen to see it, Mr. Holmes.'
'Pity. Still, never too late. Russell, I take it these were all your things?'
I looked in past his shoulder at the wreckage. All that was left of my lovely and exorbitantly expensive clothes were the dress and cloak I was wearing and numerous scraps of coloured fabric. Small shreds of blue wool, green silk, and white linen littered the inside of the cab, alternating with torn bits of the boxes, twine, and paper they had been in. I picked up a short bit of string for something to fiddle with. The tufted leather seat had been deeply and methodically slashed from one end to another, with the exception of approximately a foot on one end of the front seat cushion. Horsehair stuffing had sifted over everything.
Holmes got to work with his glass by the light Les-trade held for him. Envelopes were filled, notes made,
