“The room is covered with blood,” Lestrade said.
“It was paint, sir,” said the convict.
Sherlock Holmes stared at the actor in astonishment. Then he burst out laughing. “Oh, it will not do,” he cried.
“I think it will do perfectly well,” Pennyfeather said. “There’s no body, is there? The hearse was empty when the coppers found me. No Albert.” He chuckled. “As you know, I am an actor. I was applying my makeup in the inn, just as you said, and the box of paints got upended.”
“How do you explain the bullet in the wall?”
“Could have been there for years.”
“What do you make of it, Mr. Holmes?” Lestrade said after they left the cell.
“A lie. A cunning lie.” He scratched his chin. “No sign of Albert Cubby’s body? Pennyfeather could have dumped him anywhere.”
“It’s going to be hard to prove a case for murder without a body, Mr. Holmes. He’s artful on the stand, very plausible. That’s why we couldn’t get a hanging conviction last time.”
“The blood in the room should suffice – as long as we can prove it is not paint, as he says. It is now almost twenty-four hours old – the Guiacum Test will be useless. Hmm . . . It may be possible to develop a reagent to identify haemoglobin. Do you have Mr. Winkle’s jacket?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. I shall do some reading, and then try some experiments in Barts. I shall be in touch, Lestrade.”
The following morning as he prepared to leave, Mrs. Prescott trapped him in the hallway. “Well, now, Mr. Holmes,” she said, “I gave you fair warning. You have one week to find yourself other accommodation.”
There was no point arguing with her. She returned to the breakfast room and slammed the door behind her. Well, that was that. Holmes flung open the front door and collided with a visitor. It was obvious from her expression that she had heard the exchange.
“Mrs. Hudson,” he said, “I beg your pardon.”
“Good morning, Mr. Holmes,” she said. “Perhaps I’ve come at a bad time.”
“I am sure Mrs. Prescott will be happy to see you. Her quarrel is with me alone.”
He was about to leave, but she caught his arm. “Perhaps my timing is fortuitous, after all, Mr. Holmes. You see, I came to tell Mrs. Prescott my good news. I have taken a lease on a house in Baker Street and I mean to rent it.”
He stared at her.
“You must remember advising me to invest, Mr. Holmes. And since I owe you so much, I should like to offer you first pick of the rooms, if you are interested. At a discounted rate, of course.”
He arrived at Barts slightly later than he had planned. Stamford came down to the lab and nodded good morning.
“What’s that you’re working on, Mr. Holmes?” he said.
“A twofold problem, Doctor. I am trying to develop a chemical reagent that reacts to haemoglobin, even degraded haemoglobin. I should have it by lunchtime and then a very charming villain shall hang. I am also pondering the difficulty of finding comfortable rooms in London at a reasonable price. I have found a rather nice suite, but it is a bit rich for my purse, even with the generous discount I have been offered.”
“You need someone to go halves with you,” Stamford said. “Perhaps someone who could be a friend as well as a flatmate.”
Sherlock Holmes chortled. “Ha! Who would want me as a flatmate?”
APPENDIX
No. 24 Montague Street:
A Neglected Stop on the Sherlockian Pilgrimage
by David Marcum
Editor’s Note: A slightly different version of this essay appeared in The Baker Street Journal
Vol. 66, No. 2, Summer 2016
Sherlock Holmes’s Other London Residence
Since the Sherlock Holmes stories first gained popularity in the late 1800’s, there has been an ongoing debate as to the true location of 221b Baker Street, the location most clearly associated with Holmes. But there are other residences where he lived as well. One can debate in what county or shire or town he was born and raised, or where in Sussex he spent his retirement years. (I can argue passionately for Hodcombe Farm near Birling Gap, but that is the subject of another essay.) However, there is another definite Holmesian location, as related by the Master himself in the story “The Musgrave Ritual”, and this locality needs to be a prime Sherlockian destination: Montague Street.
Montague Street
In explaining to Watson the origin of the artifacts that he has retained in connection to the Musgrave Ritual, Holmes states:
When I first came up to London I had rooms in Montague Street, just round the corner from the British Museum, and there I waited, filling in my too abundant leisure time by studying all those branches of science which might make me more efficient.
Here, directly from Holmes’s mouth, is the statement indicating where he lived after moving up to London to learn his craft. From this drop of water, it should not be too difficult to infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara, and thus narrow down where in Montague Street Holmes resided.
Montague Street is located immediately east of the British Museum (see map). It is bounded on the north by its intersection with Russell Square, and to the south by Great Russell Street, where the main entrance of the Museum is located.
Montague Street is in the Bloomsbury section of London, a part of the overall Bedford Estates, which has been in the Russell family since the mid-1660’s. The Russell family was responsible for initially building a large number of the structures in the vicinity, including Covent Garden to the south, which they owned
