“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “I see.” He paused but a fraction of a second and asked, “Now about the swans, Kate,” Sherlock said. “Is it you? Have you been killing the swans?”
“Sherlock,” I said, “as much as I love the swans, does that really matter right now?”
He shrugged. “Only for closure of the case, Poppy. Only to be certain I am correct.”
“No!” Kate yelled. “I was angry and hurt and did not know any other life. I hated what had been done to my father. To me. But I would never hurt the swans. I loved them. I used to lie in the grass sometimes and watch them fly. Mute Swans... their wingbeats make a beautiful throbbing sound when they fly.” Her face softened as she said this, almost as if she could hear them and this imaginary sound calmed her. “And they loved me,” she added. “I could feed them right out of my hand.”
Incredulous, Sherlock looked at me and then back at Kate. Her face flushed deep red. “I was so angry. I was forced into this. Forced into this life even though I was the best assistant swan keeper Her Majesty could have wanted. I was forced to leave before it became apparent that I was with child... and why? Why does it have to be that way?”
I had asked myself that many times. I had fought hard to become a physician, yet I was not fully accepted as such. I could never be a surgeon at St. Bart’s. I could never be a member of the College of Royal Surgeons who don’t admit women. No matter how bright or educated, there would always be doors which were closed to me.
I touched Kate’s shoulder. “You’re telling us the truth? You did not hurt the swans?”
She shook her head.”One of the males used to knock his head against my knee with his beak to get fed. I could hand feed most of them. I can’t tell you the joy those swans brought me, watching them. Oh, and the babies. And then my hands were empty and I just wanted to cry all the time. I would never hurt them. I swear this to you.”
“Then who?” Sherlock asked. “Who is doing this?”
“I tell you I don’t know.”
“We must get to the bottom of this, Poppy. But as to the murder of Cecil Gray matter... Miss Dew, you have no idea where Hopgood is, do you?”
She shook her head. “But I did hear Cecil say once that out of concern for being discovered, he often did his... his work at the home of his sister. She lives in Chippy.”
Puzzled I looked at Sherlock. “Chipping Norton. It’s a busy market town.” He turned to Wiggins, handed him several coins, and said, “Take Miss Dew and her child to Montague Street. Do not let them out of your sight and do not touch a hair on her head. You understand? You do not leave her side.”
Wiggins grimaced but nodded.
Sherlock gently touched Kate’s shoulder. “We’ll soon have matters right. I swear it.”
Chapter 22
Although I urged Sherlock to contact the authorities and let Mycroft in on what we knew, he insisted that we find Hopgood and ‘solve this case ourselves.’ He said, “When I go into a case, I do not present to the authorities half-proven theories or bits and pieces of evidence. I work out my own theories and play out the game until I know that I am correct. And it shall be so this time.
“But first a visit to Thomas Abnett is in order.”
“Abnett, the young swan keeper?”
“The same.”
“I have clearly come to a grievously erroneous conclusion as to the swan matter.”
“We both were on the entirely wrong scent, Sherlock. I also thought it was Kate.”
“It is most dangerous to reason with insufficient data. There must be someone who can get close enough to the swans to do them harm yet not be suspected. Someone who has a grievous need for revenge against the queen or the swans or both. I shall devote the same care to the Gray case as I have all cases but we must resolve this matter before we leave London.”
“Leave London?”
He did not answer. He simply prodded me along until before long, we were knocking at the door to the cottage where Abnett, the young assistant swankeeper, lived. Sherlock woke him with his pounding and he opened the door bleary-eyed. Sherlock barged in.
“Abnett, you remember me?”
“’Course I do. You’re Sherlock Holmes.”
“This is my friend and associate, Dr. Stamford. We are here to inquire again about the swans who have been mutilated.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again,” Sherlock huffed. “Now, is there anyone here who has been employed but a short time? Two years or so?”
“Well, when Deputy Dew died and then after the Dew boy left, we needed another hand. So we did hire someone. His name is Matthew Bass.”
“And what do you know of him?”
The boy shrugged. “Not much, Sir. Just that he came highly recommended. He used to tend to the swans at Bishops Palace at Wells Cathedral in Wells.”
“There are swans there?”
“Absolutely. In fact, Mr. Bass said they ring the bells.”
“What?” I gasped. “The church bells?”
“No, bells attached to them with string. That’s how they beg for food. They ring for lunch. You see, Lord Hervey, he’s the Bishop of Bath and Wells. Bass told me that one of Hervey’s daughters trained the swans - the ones in the five-sided moat at the palace. She trained them to ring bells by pulling strings, to beg for food. They eat right out of the caretakers’ hands.”
Sherlock turned to me. “So it’s just as Kate said then. They do eat out of someone’s hands. Someone they trust. It would be easy then to poison them.” He turned back to Abnett.”Good lad. Do you know why Mr. Bass left Wells and came here to tend to the royal swans?”
“He said something about his daughter
