might explain your misapprehension, but I wish you to be comfortable with whatever sum you choose to invest.”
Henry nodded. “That’s decent of you. I feel confident we shall purchase some shares.”
Holmes made his annoying cackle for what I hoped was the last time. “If this is on the level, we surely will.”
Henry stared severely at him. “There can be little question of that.”
I smiled and nodded. “Certainly not, and when the profits begin to come in, you will no longer be able to deny me the new brougham I want.”
Henry smiled. “You know I can refuse you nothing.”
Steerford rang for the butler, who, after another round of farewells, showed us to the front door. A rented four-wheeler waited for us across the street. The fog drifted lazily before the streetlamp; in the muted, dying light the carriage itself seemed almost a mirage.
Henry and I sat together on one side, Sherlock opposite us. “What a dreadful old man you make!” I exclaimed.
Holmes’ cheeks rose, the corners of his mouth hidden under the mustache. “I thought I was rather charming in a miserly sort of way. And what did you both think of Mr. Steerford’s proposal? Would you invest your every pound?”
“I must confess,” Henry said, “that I found his presentation quite persuasive. I would, of course, wish to confer with some of the people who have actually seen the well, but I was favorably impressed.” He laughed. “As I have no thousand pounds to invest, it hardly matters.”
Holmes’ thin face went in and out of light and shadow as the carriage made its way along the street. He had taken off his spectacles. “And you, Michelle?”
“It was, as Henry says, impressive, but all the same, something about Mr. Steerford did not please me. I did not exactly mistrust him, but... His voice was odd.”
“In what way?”
“It was curiously high-pitched and yet so mellifluous, so... polished. I suppose he has given the same speech dozens of times—that would explain why he almost seemed to be saying lines in a play.”
Holmes gave a sharp laugh. “Very good, Michelle! I suppose it is to be expected. Neither of you has had my experience with frauds, cheats, and charlatans. All in all, the higher classes of society are more gullible than the lower ones. If some polished rogue appears to be a fellow gentleman, he can spout almost any nonsense and be believed.”
“But the photographs,” Henry said, “and all the testimonials. He said we might even visit the well.”
“It would not be so terribly difficult or expensive to construct a false well and stock it with real petroleum.”
“But what about the men who have already made their fortune off the well? Surely if it were fraudulent...?”
“Bait, Henry—bait. Once such a scheme is going well, one can pay off the earlier investors to make the business more convincing. As I said, a certain class of people rashly assumes that a fine-speaking man with a good tailor cannot lie; and when they hear that simple Mr. Bull has already made his fortune and that Lord Twitterly has invested, all remaining doubts vanish.”
“Do you think..?” Henry drew in his breath loudly through his teeth. “Is there no possibility that he was telling the truth?”
“There might be a possibility—a slim possibility—but for one thing.”
“What one thing?”
“The fact that Mr. Steerford was not who he appeared to be—the fact that he was in disguise.”
“
Holmes laughed. “Can you both be so blind? Did you not notice his resemblance to me? I refer to the spectacles, all the false facial hair—mustache
“Ah...” I said. “And his voice...”
“Exactly. Pitched far higher than normal. He used falsetto for emphasis.”
Henry made one hand into a fist and struck his knee. “Oh, I feel like a very idiot.”
“As I said, he is quite good, and you are certainly not the first to be duped. I do believe he is close to his goal of a million pounds.”
“Good heavens,” Henry murmured. “There has never been such a theft.”
“Whoever can he be?” I asked. “And why would he need to disguise himself?”
A patch of yellow-white light suddenly illuminated Holmes’ face, revealing the fierce glee in his eyes. “I believe I know exactly who Mr. Geoffrey Steerford is.”
“
“I really must verify my suspicions. It is a bit premature to tell you.”
I reached out and squeezed his bony knee. “Sherlock—you must tell us!”
“All in good time, Michelle. All in good time.” He gave a short laugh. “And of course, I shall have to be on guard myself.”
“Why?”
“Because our friend, Mr. Steerford, undoubtedly recognized me, even as I recognized him.”
I had not seen Violet since Wednesday afternoon when she had left the clinic; Friday, after supper, I resolved to visit her. Henry was surprised but did not try to dissuade me, probably because he knew how headstrong I could be. He only said, “Try not to be too late.”
Since I worked during the day, I was spared many boring hours and the snobbish warfare of ladies’ afternoon social calls. I could avoid spurning or being spurned, and no silver tray sat near our door for ladies’ cards. Because Violet was a patient, I had a ready excuse for calling at so odd an hour.
The rain of the past week had ended, giving way to a cold, blustery wind, which howled mournfully and sent flying everything not fastened down. Someone’s newspaper had escaped, and the pages were scattered about the street. The wind seized a page and hurled it onto our neighbor’s lawn. The barren black tree branches swayed. I shivered, thought how nice it would be to spend the evening with Henry, and then stepped into the waiting hansom.
Once we were off, I leaned against the side of the swaying cab and closed my eyes. My feet hurt, and I had the beginning of a headache. The week had been so busy, and I was still tired from being up so late Tuesday night. A quiver of fear flickered about my chest as I remembered the risk Henry and Sherlock had taken. How I wished the whole wretched business with Violet were resolved, the threat against her lifted.
If only she were free. She was one of the few women whose company I enjoyed. I need not try to hide my intellect; I need not titter or giggle; I need not feign a fascination with the latest fashions from Paris or the latest gossip about Lord and Lady So-and-So. And Sherlock was a sweet man, although I could never tell him such a thing to his face. Such a curious blend of intellect and innocence. The worst of it was that they needed one another: each seemed strangely incomplete. The law and custom that bound Violet in her marriage were wrong; no good could come of it, I was certain.
Such thoughts made my head hurt all the more, and I tried to set them aside. The wheel of the hansom went through a pothole; the cab sagged, then threw me to the left, the springs groaning. I thought longingly of Violet’s carriage. No doubt she would offer to have me driven home.
The wind was even stronger before her house. The giant maple groaned and shook. A crow rose cawing from a limb, black against the pinkish-gray sky. The ivy along the brick front rustled and fluttered. I wrapped my coat tightly about me.
A shapeless, muted cry merged briefly with the wind, taking on a human timbre. I stopped and wondered what it might be. The sound ceased abruptly, leaving only the moan of the wind. It had been so faint, I wondered if
