Holmes turned.
'Ah, Russell,' he said lightly, 'do you always make such a habit of sleeping in chairs? I doubt your aunt would approve. Mrs. Hudson definitely would not.'
I rubbed my eyes and glared at his ever-tidy person bitterly. 'I take it that your revolting good humour means that something from last night's exercise has pleased you?'
'On the contrary, my dear Russell, it has displeased me considerably. Vague suspicions flit about my mind, and not one of them pleases me.' His manner had grown distant and hard as he gazed unseeingly at the slides sprawled out on the workbench. He looked back at me with his steely eyes, then relaxed into a smile. 'I shall tell you about it on our way to the park.' 'Oh, Holmes, be reasonable. You may be presentable, if a bit idiosyncratic in topper and tails, but how can I go out like this?' He took in my rumpled gown, my town stockings and impractical shoes, and nodded. 'I'll ask if there's a matron who can help us.' Before he could move, there was a knock at the door.
'Come in.'
A tense young PC with an untamed cowlick stood in the doorway.
'Mr. Holmes, Inspector Lestrade asked me to tell you that there's a parcel for the young lady at the front desk, but — '
Holmes exploded out of the room, giving lie to any rumours of slowness, pain, or rheumatism. I could hear his voice shouting 'Don't touch that parcel, don't touch it, get a bomb disposal man first, don't touch it, did you catch the person who brought it, Lestrade — '
His voice faded as I followed him down the hall to the stairs, the young policeman jabbering away at my side.
'I was going to say, but he left, the package is with the bomb squad now, and Inspector Lestrade would like Mr. Holmes present at the questioning of the young man who brought it in. He didn't give me a chance to finish, sir.' This last to Lestrade, who had intercepted Holmes in his precipitous flight. We could see the men at work downstairs, one with a stethoscope to the paper-wrapped parcel on the desk. We watched tensely, and I became aware of the unaccustomed silence. Traffic had been diverted.
Holmes turned to the inspector.
'You have the man who brought it?'
'Yes, he's here. He says a man stopped him in the street an hour ago, offering two sovereigns to deliver this package. Small, blonde man in a heavy coat, said it was for a friend who needed it this morning but he couldn't take it himself. Gave him a sovereign then, and took his address to send the second after he'd confirmed delivery.' 'Which will never arrive.'
'The boy expects it to. Not too bright, this one. Not even sure he knows what a sovereign's worth, just likes the shine.'
We had watched the two men work this whole time, their strain palpable as they gently snipped twine, cut away paper, and uncovered the contents, which had the appearance of folded clothing. Gently, slowly, the package was disassembled. In the end there lay draped over the police desk one silk shirt, a soft wool jacket, matching trousers, two angora stockings, and a pair of shoes. A folded note fell out of this last set of items and fluttered to the floor.
'Use your gloves on that,' called Holmes.
The puzzled but relieved bomb man brought the note to Lestrade in a pair of surgical tweezers. He read it, handed it to Holmes, and Holmes read it aloud in a voice that slowed and climbed in dismay and disbelief.
— An admirer'
Holmes blinked several times and hurled the note at Lestrade. 'Give this to your print man,' he snarled. 'Give the clothes to the laboratory, check them for foreign objects, corrosive powder, everything. Find out where they came from. And, for the love of God, can someone please provide Miss Russell with 'suitable clothing' so this case will not come to a complete standstill?' As he turned away in a cold fury I heard him breathe, 'This becomes intolerable.'
A variety of clothing appeared, part uniform, part civilian, all uncomfortable. We set off for the park in a police automobile, Lestrade in front with the driver, Holmes beside me, silent and remote and staring out the window while his long fingers beat a rhythm on his knee.
He did not divulge his laboratory findings. At the park he dashed up and down the paths for a very few minutes, nodding to himself, then bundled us brusquely back into the car. He turned a deaf ear to Lestrade's questions, and we rode in silence back to New Scotland Yard to make our way to Lestrade's office, where we were left alone.
Holmes went over to Lestrade's desk, opened a drawer, took out a packet of cigarettes, removed one, lit it with a vesta, and went to the window, where he stood with his back to me, staring unseeing out onto the busy Embankment and the river traffic beyond, smoke curling around him in the thin winter's sunlight that seeped through the dirty glass. He smoked the cigarette to the end without speaking, then walked back to the desk and pressed the stub with great deliberation into the ashtray.
'I must go out,' he said curtly. 'I refuse to take any of these heavy-footed friends of yours with me. They will send the wildlife scurrying for cover. While I am away, draw up a list of necessities and give it to the matron.
Clothing for two or three days, nothing formal. Men's or women's, as you like. You'd best add a few things for me as well — you know my sizes. It will save me some time. I shall be back in a couple of hours.'
I stood up angrily. 'Holmes, you can't do this to me. You've told me nothing, you've consulted me not at all, just pushed me here and there and run roughshod over any plans I might have had and kept me in the dark as if I were Watson, and now you propose to go off and leave me with a shopping list.' He was already moving toward the door, and I followed him across the room, arguing.
'First you call me your associate, and then you start treating me like a maid. Even an apprentice deserves better than that. I'd like to know — '
I had just come up to the window when a sound like a meaty palm slapping a table came from just outside the wall, followed a split second later by a more familiar report.
Holmes reacted instantly and dove across the room at me just as the window imploded in a shower of flying razor- sharp glass and a second slap came from the opposite wall.
We both came up in a crouch, and Holmes seized my shoulder.
'Are you hit?'
'My God, was that — '
'Russell, are you all right?' he demanded furiously.
'Yes, I think so. Do you — ' but he was sprinting low towards the door as it opened and an inspector in mufti looked in open-mouthed. Holmes gathered him up, and they pounded off down the stairs in pursuit. I steeled myself to creep around to the broken window and edge one eye over the lower corner. A steam launch was making its rapid way downriver, but there was also a mother with a pram stopped on the bridge, turned to look at a retreating taxi cab, her shoulders in an attitude of surprise. Inside of a minute Holmes and the others had swept up to her, and she was soon surrounded by gesticulating men pointing east over the river and south across the bridge. I saw Holmes look unerringly up to where I stood in the window, turn to say something to the tweedy inspector, and then set his shoulders resolutely and walk, hatless and head down, back to the Yard.
With typical police efficiency and priorities, Les-trade's office was filled with people measuring angles and retrieving bullets from the brickwork, none of whom had a dustpan or a means of blocking the icy air from the window.
I retreated into the next office but one, a room with no window. As soon as Holmes appeared I knew there would be no arguing with him, although I intended to try.
'I think you'd best change that order to clothing for several days, Russell,' were his first words. 'Stay away
