Holmes took off his gloves and overcoat, then set them on the table. He stretched out his hands before the fire, warming his long fingers. He glanced at Michelle. She had shifted sideways and was fast asleep in the chair.
He gave his head a shake. “She is quite extraordinary, Henry. Rarely have I seen such grace under pressure in any man, let alone a woman.” His voice was nearly a whisper.
I smiled wryly. “Much more so than her husband, you mean.”
“I meant no such thing.”
“You need not worry about waking her. Once under, she is a very sound sleeper. It would take considerable effort to rouse her now.”
Holmes nodded. He took out his cigarette case. “Good. I have several important matters to discuss with you in private. Let us leave the fire to Michelle.” He lit the cigarette, then walked to the far end of the table near the window through which the assailant must have come.
I pulled out a chair midway along the length of the table and sat down. Stifling a yawn, I withdrew my watch. There was barely enough light to see the face. “It’s after eleven. No wonder I feel like sleeping myself.”
Holmes bent over and flicked the cigarette ash into a potted fern. “I found no sign of anyone having left through this window. There should have been some trace. The earth near the house is wet; the lightest touch would have left a print. I suppose Lovejoy and Collins might have trampled the remnants underfoot. As if this case were not frustrating enough, without them stampeding about like elephants.”
“It certainly is baffling.” Recalling the bruises on Violet’s throat, I could not repress a shudder. “He must have been a brute indeed to choke her that way.”
“Mr. Wheelwright has been generous enough to give me one final chance.” His voice was heavy with irony. “Another such incident, and I am to be dismissed.”
I shrugged. “His impatience is understandable.”
Holmes gazed out the window, his back to me. The wind had died away, and now the large, dim room was enveloped in a heavy silence. Holmes turned, then put more cigarette ash into the potted fern. “There shall be no further attempts on his wife’s life. I will see to that.” His eyes were dangerous. “Unfortunately, I have other important business here in London. I would like you to remain behind for a few days and stay in contact with Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. It is regrettable; he is a man of mediocre ability who requires supervision. You can communicate with me by telegraph if necessary. I assume it will also take time to arrange things with your practice.”
I nodded. “We certainly could not both leave tomorrow. I can cover our patients—who are mostly Michelle’s. What is this business with Lestrade?”
“I have loosed him on our Mr. Steerford and the Angels of the Lord. The Steerford matter is the simpler, being as it is a traditional swindle. Its uniqueness comes from its many illustrious participants, its sheer audacity, and the sum of money involved. I have revealed Steerford’s true identity to Lestrade, and he will be closely watched from now on.”
“Who, then, is Steerford?”
Holmes’ lips twisted briefly into a smile. “Lovejoy.”
I stared at him, the name taking a second or two to sink in. “
“Keep your voice down. None other.”
“How can you be so sure? He was nothing like Lovejoy. His voice, his appearance...”
“You are not trained in the art of disguise. I recognized him almost at once, as he most likely recognized me.”
“Can you be certain of such a thing?”
“Any lingering doubts were resolved this morning when I made a brief visit here and spoke with Lovejoy. Since they were not hidden, I had studied Steerford’s ears and hands closely, noting certain distinguishing characteristics. Lovejoy’s were identical.”
“But how...? And why?”
“The ‘why’ is simple. He was talking about raising a million pounds. As for the how, as the head servant he is not closely supervised and can frequently be out on business. He maintains the Steerford establishment conveniently nearby, but is rarely at home there. As Steerford he can use the oil well as his excuse for being absent.”
“And is Mrs. Lovejoy a party to this scheme?”
He smiled. “It is not likely they came up with two such devious schemes independently. Devious and lucrative—the Angels of the Lord dabble in at least robbery and extortion. The Lovejoys’ positions give them access to valuable information. At dinner parties they no doubt keep a sharp ear open, and the servants in higher-class households maintain a network of gossip. A talkative footman can spread a rumor about half the households of London in a mere week.”
“Then you think Mrs. Lovejoy’s hysteria is only an act?”
Holmes gave a gruff laugh. “I thought so from the first. She is a bit
“But... but this business with Violet—is it also their doing?”
Holmes frowned. “That is a puzzle. It makes little sense, as it draws attention to them and there is no profit in it. If not for the threats against Mrs. Wheelwright, I most likely would never have discovered Mr. Steerford or the Angels of the Lord. As for this evening, neither of them could be the perpetrator; a third person must be involved. However, none of the male servants were alone at the time.”
“Could the Lovejoys have some grievance against Mrs. Wheelwright?”
“If they do, they are the only people in the house—with one exception—who do. As you know, I have questioned the servants extensively. They genuinely like their mistress.”
“Who is the exception?”
“Her husband. Then, of course, we must not forget her father-in-law. I believe the old man is paying Lovejoy for information about his son’s household.”
“What!”
“This came out in my interviews with the servants. Old Wheelwright is a frequent visitor, and after his arrival he always speaks briefly and privately with Lovejoy.”
“Then it must be the old man—he is behind the threats against Violet. And perhaps it goes further still...”
“Let me remind you that the last time you were equally certain the person in question was Miss Ladell.”
“But I had never actually met her, while old Wheelwright is obviously despicable. Spying on his own son! Even so, this thing tonight remains baffling, and I suppose the old man has so much money he could not be involved in the Lovejoys’ schemes.”
Holmes gave a dry, hollow-sounding laugh. “There you are wrong. Men such as Wheelwright can never have too much money. There is no limit to their greed—it is bottomless and irrational. All the same, the Angels do not fit his style, nor does Steerford. Direct annihilation was always his stratagem in the potted meat trade, a full frontal assault upon his opponents.”
We were both silent. I could hear Michelle breathing deeply and regularly. At last I spoke. “Perhaps it is time to confront Lovejoy and his wife.”
“Absolutely not!” His voice was sharp. “Tell no one except Michelle.”
“Not even the Wheelwrights?”
“Especially not the Wheelwrights. Mr. Wheelwright would want to thrash someone. Let us keep the Lovejoys guessing. They do not know for certain whether I recognized Lovejoy.” Holmes ran his fingers back through his hair. “I shall write Lestrade a note, which I want you to deliver. He will be keeping Lovejoy under surveillance and preparing to spring a trap before the fifteenth. I am hopeful that we may finally discover the Lovejoys’ true identities; Lestrade’s clerks are searching the police files. When you depart in three or four days, Lestrade should have some news for me. He will also be pursuing my suggestions concerning the Angels of the Lord.”
“What if Lovejoy does not remain behind?”
Holmes laughed. “He will find some excuse to stay here. I only wish I could do the same.”
