“Why, he could be your twin,” observed Holmes. “Despite the difference in gender, your appearances seem quite similar.”
“We are indeed twins,” she replied with a shy smile.
I leaned in Holmes’ direction to view the photograph he was holding. The young man had the same firm jawline and expressive dark eyes as his sister. “You make quite the handsome pair,” said I.
This time Miss Cheek blushed crimson. “Thank you, Doctor; but pleasantries aside, my brother has gone missing, and I am quite concerned.” To my friend, she said, “I would like you to find him, Mr Holmes. I am twenty-one and due to be married shortly. Our mother and father are dead, you see, and we have only ourselves to look after each other. Worrying about poor Roderick is the last thing I want on my mind.”
Sherlock Holmes propped the photograph against a stack of books on a nearby table and, steepling his long fingers beneath his chin, leaned back in his chair.
“I live in a boarding house for women in Norwood,” Miss Cheek continued. “Roderick and I were both of age when our parents died in a terrible carriage accident. They left us a bit of money, most of which, Roderick and I agreed, was to be used for his schooling. Before he went missing, you see, he had hoped to become a barrister; and he was reading for the law at King’s College here in London. He couldn’t afford rooms in the Inns of Court, but he did find a small flat not far from Somerset House.”
“Quite ambitious,” said I.
“Indeed, Doctor,” replied Miss Cheek. “I thought my brother to be the most ambitious of students until I got a letter from him informing me that, due to a lack of funds, he had given up his studies. I possessed some money of my own, and I immediately went round to his rooms just off Kingsway to give it to him.”
“Did you find him there?” I asked.
She smiled wistfully. “No, he had already gone, and his landlord knew nothing of his whereabouts. I imagine it was just as well. If he had known where Roderick had got off to, I should think he would have tracked him down to collect the rent still owed. As it was, thanks to the money intended for my brother, I was able to settle the matter with the landlord myself.”
“Most responsible of you,” said I. One need not be versed in the field of psychology to recognise that bonds between siblings can be amongst the strongest in the world, especially regarding twins.
Blushing once more, Miss Cheek continued her narrative. “Most fortunately, a pleasant young man who had lodgings in that very building overheard my conversation regarding Roderick. Accompanying me to the street, he said that although he would never tell the landlord, he knew that Roderick had moved to new lodgings and had been tutoring young children to help pay his school costs and lower rent. But as one might expect, Roderick’s earnings didn’t amount to much; and once he ran out of money, he decided to forgo his schooling and look elsewhere for an even cheaper place to live.”
“Did this young man have any idea where that ‘elsewhere’ might be?” Holmes asked.
“All he would say was that Roderick had found a room in the East End - where rents aren’t so dear.”
“...And life is miserable,” I felt compelled to add.
“Which is precisely the reason,” added Miss Cheek in reaction to my harsh assessment, “that this otherwise kindly fellow refused to give me the exact address. He said that Roderick told him that if I ever came to ask, the gentleman should not to worry his sister.” She shook her head in frustration. “Oh, gentlemen, we are not rich people, but neither are we so impoverished that Roderick should have to take lodgings in so desperate a part of the city.”
“Obviously,” said I, “your brother has made no effort to contact you.”
“I think Roderick is too ashamed, Doctor. I know I would be if I were in similar straits.”
“However unhappy it may make you,” Holmes said, “if one has reached one’s majority - as you said you both have done - there is no crime in withholding from family members the location of one’s residence.”
At this juncture, I risk authorial intrusion to remind my readers that Holmes and I entertained any number of different investigations simultaneously. Contrary to the idea perpetuated by the many individual cases I have chronicled, significant numbers began well before others ended; and though we were simultaneously involved in the investigation of the double murders in Brick Lane, there was no reason to suspect any sort of connection between those deaths and the disappearance of this woman’s brother.
Nonetheless, with Dostoevsky’s novel fresh in my mind, various events in Miss Cheek’s account jumped out at me. For instance, before committing his horrific murders, Raskolnikov, like Roderick Cheek, had been studying for the law, had tutored children, and had moved to dingy lodgings in an impoverished area. Though not a twin, Raskolnikov too had a handsome sister, one Dounia by name. And like the attractive young woman seated before us, Dounia was also planning to marry.
Dostoevsky and his novel bedevil me! I suddenly screamed inside my head. Was I going mad? One glance at the charming Miss Cheek should have rendered me incapable of thinking her twin responsible for any sort of foul act, let alone the ghastly axe murders committed by Raskolnikov.
Still, I had to ask. “Miss Cheek, do you know if your brother ever frequented a pawn broker?”
Holmes sprang to his feet. “Really, Watson, let us not go in that direction! Let me assure you, Miss Cheek, that I have associates well placed in the East End who should soon be able to locate your brother. They know the area, and
