As in former cases the murderer seems to have been almost miraculously successful in securing his retreat. The public cannot fail to be impressed with one fact - the apparent bravado of the assassin. Until now the assassin has clearly baffled all ordinary means of detection, reveling in leaving behind these ominous clues to taunt the police. The patrols in the area have been trebled but a source at the highest level of government has indicated that, with the detention of Dr. Sacker, the investigation - and the killing spree - have likely come to an end.
I felt ill. My eyes blurred and I felt myself sway into Michael’s chest. All I wanted to do was to repair to our home in Norfolk where there was light dancing on the rivers and my father’s music as he tinkered on the piano, and my mother’s chattering. Michael was silent, as was I, and we remained so for several long moments.
“Would Mycroft have spoken to this reporter? Are they about to charge Uncle?”
“I don’t know. Darling, I don’t know, but I wanted to warn you. We must keep the newspapers from Aunt Susan, if we can.”
“Yes, yes of course.”
“Now, the reason I was able to catch you just now is because Sherlock told me you were coming... and about what you are up to... and I am here to put a stop to it. You are not going to the museum on this insane mission of his.”
“It was my idea, Michael, not Sherlock’s.”
“Then he has driven you to the brink of insanity as well. I’ll have none of it.”
“Michael,” I said, shoving the paper into his chest, “now more than ever, we must do everything we can to catch out the real killer. Uncle must be exonerated.”
“But the authorities-”
“The authorities-one of Her Majesty’s own - have done this to Uncle. And I am going to undo it as swiftly as possible.”
He crossed his arms and stood in front of me like a beefeater and would not let me pass.
“I shall scream, truly I shall, if you do not let me by.”
“Poppy-”
“I mean it, Michael.”
He heaved a sigh and stepped aside. I knew he was angry but I didn’t care.
Nonetheless, I had scant faith in my ability to remain composed, and even less confidence in young Archibald’s thespian ability. I doubted that he had been Sherlock’s protégé long enough to have acquired his penchant for disguises or his flair for the dramatic. As I stepped into the lab, I was very close to tears and even closer to telling Sherlock that I could not accomplish the mission.
37
Sherlock was fussing with the bow he was attempting to tie at Archibald’s thick neck. Archibald was dressed in a two-piece lounge suit made of wool twill in a tartan pattern and held a black top hat in his hands. He was tall and his arms were muscular but the rest of him was like a scarecrow.
“The single-breasted jacket is all the rage,” Sherlock said.
“I know. It’s an Albert. Michael owns several.”
I felt a tear slip from the corner of my eye.
“Poppy, what’s wrong? If I may so express it, you look positively saturated with fear.”
“Do I? It’s that I just saw the newspaper and-”
“Oh, yes, that drivel in the Evening Standard about your uncle.”
“Drivel?”
“Well, it is, is it not? Nonsense. And quite to our advantage.”
“In what possible way could public accusations of my uncle be-”
“The killer, Poppy. The killer can more easily be flushed out. The newspaper says that Dr. Sacker refuses to speak, does it not? So, if he knows anything whatsoever about the murders, he is not telling it, and now the murderer knows he is not talking. Dr. Sacker probably knows nothing about them, at all, of course. But in any event, the killer will feel free to pursue his course or he shall seize this opportunity to flee before he is found out. I have some theories about the identity-”
“Then tell me!”
“Not yet. I never guess. But we must act quickly before he is able to escape. I have my young charges all over the city. At the docks, at the railway stations - every one of them. They are keeping watch.”
“But if they do not know who to look for, Sherlock-”
“Actually, they do. Now, are you ready to proceed?”
I sighed and turned to peruse Archibald’s disguise. Though I had never met him, I knew it was a remarkable transformation from what he must look like on any given day, since he was living in the slums.
I looked down at his tubular trousers and saw that there was some revision required. They were supposed to be at equal length at knee and ankle, but one trouser puddled at the floor, covering one of the short ankle-length boots.
I took a deep breath. The youth was here at the ready, eager to do Sherlock’s bidding. I knew that I could not back out now.
“No Billy today, Archibald?”
“No, Miss. Me bruva’s wif Mum.”
“Well, that’s good.”
I had thought a baby would enhance my disguise, but we would manage, and I was glad their mother was actually looking after the little one for a change.
I dropped my bag, took off my cape and offered it to Archibald.
“Wha’ are yer doin’?” he asked.
“Put the cape around you and drop your trousers. I need to fix your pants leg.”
“Wha - ?”
“A bit of field triage, Dr. Stamford?” Sherlock quipped.
I grimaced.
“Just go along,” Sherlock said, grinning.
Archibald took off his shoes and wrapped my cape around to cover himself from the waist down, took off his trousers, and handed them to me. I retrieved a needle and thread from my bag. Archibald glanced at Sherlock in puzzlement.
“A lady always comes prepared, Archibald,”
