My Dearest Holmes (12 page)

'Yes,' I said wearily, 'Miss D'Arcy told me of it this morning.'

Even in my sorry state, I could see that once again I had surprised him.

'Miss D'Arcy? So you discussed the subject in such detail? Oh, Watson...'

For a few moments as he sat in silence nervously fingering the dead pipe in his hands, his grey eyes fixed unseeing at a point a few inches above my left shoulder, I caught an expression on his face that I had never thought to see; an expression of indecision, of wistfulness, but above all, of hopelessness. My heart lurched at the softening of his features, but sank almost immediately at the finality of the expression that settled there. As soon as his vacant eyes focussed and met mine, he dropped his gaze. He made as if to speak, and then hesitated for several long moments. At length he said, very quietly:

'My dear fellow, there is nothing I can say or do that will not--there is nothing,' he repeated, 'to be done. This hideous new law is the blackmailer's charter--it has already been called so, I believe. It will cause untold suffering, both mental and physical, and will bring about the downfall of some of the most gifted and sensitive figures of our generation. I do not intend that either you or I should be among them.

'My poor Watson,' he repeated, seeing my face, 'I see that you understand what I am trying to say. I had hoped that it went without saying. In any case, let us hope that your trust in Miss D'Arcy is justified.'

'I am sure that it is,' I said forlornly. 'She went to so much trouble to--'I could not bring myself to say what she had advised me to do, so I said,'--to impress on me the need for discretion. After all, she is on--our side.'

Holmes gave me a sharp look. 'Miss D'Arcy is protected by her sex,' he said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice. 'She is immune from the penalties of the law. She can use blackmail to protect herself from blackmail, if necessary. I suppose,' he continued, his voice softening somewhat, 'that she is in the unique position to wreak revenge upon such pillars of society as are responsible for Section 11.'

He thought about this for a while, and gave a rueful chuckle. 'However,' he continued seriously, 'blackmail will always remain for me a most despicable and cowardly practice, no matter what the motives; and in this present instance, Miss D'Arcy has been hoist with her own petard, wouldn't you say? I think it is high time to bring this sordid affair to a close. A short interview with the lady in question should suffice, I think, followed by a brief visit to Lord Carstairs to return his letters. The rest of the explanations will be no concern of ours, thank heaven.

'Now, Watson, this time I go to Camberwell quite alone. I absolutely forbid you to stir from the house until I come back to collect you for dinner this evening. We might dine out, I thought? No better way to celebrate the successful conclusion of a case. I shall be back by six-thirty at the latest.'

I followed him with my eyes as he disappeared into his room and emerged a minute later impeccably dressed in frock coat and top hat. I could hardly believe he was no longer angry with me. I realised that he was trying to soften the blow of his knowledge of all that went without saying; a knowledge that left me somewhat numb and dazed. I found myself repeating Miss D'Arcy's words in my mind: '...He will never give you more than he gives you at present.' And it was true, and he had almost explained it. Except that he had never admitted to feeling anything for me in the first place. His self-control, as always, was absolute.

'Don't be too harsh with her, Holmes,' I said. I felt that he judged Miss D'Arcy less kindly than she deserved. 'She obviously had no idea whom she was blackmailing. She must be feeling bad enough.'

Holmes raised his eyebrows. 'Harsh, with my client? Of course not. This whole investigation was carried out on her behalf. The fact that she also happens to be the villain of the piece is hardly my fault. However, I will not indulge in any gratuitous admonitions, if that is what you are afraid of. I will simply pocket my fee, assure her of my discretion--perhaps it will not be inappropriate to give her your regards on that point--and retire gracefully.'

'You don't have to fake my regards, Holmes,' I said, as he crossed to the door. 'I really do send them.
¹

He nodded briefly, and was gone.

An hour or so later, Mrs Hudson came up to light the gas, and was surprised to find me sitting alone in semi-darkness, wrapped in my thoughts.

--
XI
--

T
RUE TO HIS word, Holmes was back by six-thirty, and in excellent spirits, elated with his success and demurely satisfied with his financial rewards.

'Miss D'Arcy always prefers to deal in cash, she tells me,' said he, opening his wallet and showing me the wad of notes within. 'So I think, my dear Watson, that we shall dine well tonight. How about Kettner's? Would you care for an aperitif before we leave? Let me help you to a whisky and soda. My poor Watson, you look done up, anyone would think it was you who had been chasing all over London. Come now, my dear fellow, cheer up and put this whole business out of your mind. Drink up, and then go and dress. We have an evening of pure relaxation ahead of us.'

'What did she say?' I asked nervously, looking doubtfully at my glass; I was unsure as to the beneficial value of alcohol in my present state.

'Very little, in fact. She appeared to be expecting me. She even had the letters ready. I outlined the facts to her, she made no attempt to deny them, and asked me to return the letters at once to Lord Carstairs with the assurance that the proposed meeting at Waterloo Station tomorrow evening should be considered as cancelled, and that there would be no further communication. She took the opportunity to remind me that she was after all my client in this case, and would I respect her anonymity as regards all other persons involved, including Lord Carstairs? I of course assured her that once I had received my fee I would consider my involvement in the matter completely closed. I returned Mr Kirkpatrick's birth certificate to her care, and even left her his address, so that she could return it to him in person if she so desired; at any rate, she will want to contact her friend. I should imagine that those two ladies have each something to ask and something to tell one another. I also left her your regards, as I promised, which she accepted gravely, and asked me to deliver hers in return, by the way.

'I thought it best to leave immediately, and made my way to Lord Carstairs, who was, needless to say, delighted to see both me and his letters. He was curious, naturally, to know how and from whom I obtained them, but he accepted that it was a matter of professional confidence. I suspect, however, that he may make a call on Mrs Cecil Forrester when she returns from Paris. That should be interesting. Still, my dear Watson, any further developments are no concern of ours. Lord Carstairs, by the way, is a generous man, and insisted on my accepting a small financial token of his gratitude. Yes, we shall certainly dine at Kettner's, I think.'

He chuckled, and sauntered to the window. 'Now go and dress, there's a good fellow, and I shall do the same. I don't know about you, but I have eaten nothing all day, and it's remarkable what effect success and money can have upon the appetite!'

It is with regret that I must admit that the excellence of our meal that evening, and the elegance of our surroundings, failed to make any uplifting impression on me. It was the more distressing because Holmes obviously intended the whole extravagance as a treat for me, to lift my spirits and make amends for the afternoon. It was not often, in those days, that we could afford to eat at one of the more select establishments; and Holmes, in spite of his professed contempt for the social niceties, certainly possessed a penchant for the more civilised accessories of high society. He was in his element, impeccably dressed and debonair, all dazzling smiles and witty repartees. I did my best for him, but my heart was heavy with anticipation of what I had resolved to say to him that evening. The sparkling lights, the well-modulated tones of our fellow patrons' conversation, the tinkling of champagne glasses and of feminine laughter, all seemed to me to have an undertone of derision, to wear an insidious sneer. They mocked and condemned me.

Holmes' grey eyes that evening looked particularly soft and wistful to me, in contrast to his outer mood. His long white hands gestured delicately, precisely, in the air as we spoke. I sipped at my wine, and later at my coffee and Curasao, in a trance of melancholy; the dream-like quality of my surroundings mocking the end of my dreams. At length Holmes lapsed into silence also, lighting a cigarette from his silver case and leaning back pensively in his chair, letting the blue smoke drift between us. He said nothing, made no allusion to our conversation of a few hours ago. It was evident that he wanted the whole matter to sink quietly into the depths of the unspoken, so that it would never be mentioned again.
'Watson, Watson, do you think me entirely unobservant?'
He had known, then, all the time; at least, he had known something; how much, he was unlikely ever to reveal.
'My poor Watson, I see that you under stand what I am trying to say; I had hoped it went without saying.'
What went without saying? That he cared for me? Or just that he had to safeguard his reputation?

Either way, it was up to me now to safeguard both our reputations, and I had something to say that could not go without saying.

It was not until we were back at Baker Street, seated by the fire with our pipes, replete and drowsy, that I found my courage; and after all, Baker Street was the only appropriate context.

'Holmes,' I said determinedly, 'I have been thinking.'

'So I observe, my dear fellow. You have been lost in thought all evening, when you should have been enjoying yourself. You have not, if I may say so, been your usual scintillating self. In fact, were it not that the excellence of the establishment does much to supply any excitement that is lacking in one's companion, I would say that our dinner had been a failure.'

'Don't, Holmes,' I said quickly. 'I have been thinking that I should try to set up on my own. It would enable me to concentrate more upon my practice; it would be better for my career. And better for you, too. I know that I am often as much of a hindrance as a help to you. And then, bearing in mind what--what you said to me this afternoon, I think it would be better if both our reputations were not automatically linked.'

He said nothing, but took his pipe from his mouth and stared into the fire. I was amazed to see that a flush had spread over his thin cheeks. When, after nearly a minute, he still had not so much as turned to look at me, I continued speaking.

'I would still be your friend and chronicler,' I said. 'That is, if you will let me. I would still like to share in your cases, whenever you invite me to. I would still like to be your close associate. Only...'

Here I trailed off completely, and started again.

'I was not thinking of leaving immediately,' I said. 'I was thinking in terms of some time over the next few months. If I keep my eyes open, something might come up, some opportunity...and you see, you have become quite successful and well known, you no longer need to share lodgings for financial reasons...'

At last he turned to look at me. The flush had faded from his cheeks, and now he was so pale that his very lips looked white.

'My--dear Watson,' he began. For a moment he appeared to falter; then he recovered himself, and staring once more at the fire, he spoke with an hysterical rapidity.

'Of course, you must do what you think best,' he said. 'The reasons you have given for your decision are all excellent ones, and I can see no flaw in them. And you must, as you say, build up your practice; I have been very selfish in keeping you from it. I shall miss my Boswell, but--by all means, yes, you must start looking round tomorrow. I expect there are some excellent places at very reasonable rates. Dear me, I don't know what's come over me, but I am so tired. I think I shall turn in straight away, this has been an awful case. An exhausting case, that is. Good night, my dear Watson. We can discuss your plans further in the morning.'

He rose abruptly as he spoke, and turned towards his room. Not once did he look me in the eye.

I felt I could not let him go like this. I also rose, in some consternation.

'Holmes--' I said. He turned back to me with an expression on his face such as I had never seen there before. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed, and the firm lips were shaking. He stepped towards me and for one, brief moment laid his fingers on my lips to silence me. Then he turned deliberately and took down his cocaine bottle and the morocco case from the mantelpiece. I watched him disappear into his room with them, without a word of protest.

And this is where I must end my account of the case of the Queen Bee. It has no immediate sequel, for far from discussing my proposals next day as he had promised, Holmes did not even mention the subject, either then or subsequently. Instead, he sat in his armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceeded to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V.R., done in bullet holes. I watched him helplessly, knowing that there was nothing I could say that would not be better left unsaid.

It was not until several months later that an opportunity arose for me to put into practice not only the part that I had intended, but the whole of Miss D'Arcy's advice. But this sequel belongs to another story, and the curious reader may find the facts detailed in 'The Sign of Four', where I took pains to set them down, duly edited and acceptably presented for public consumption, and to publish them, first in
Lippincott's Monthly Magazine
and later in book form, with the help of my literary agent, Dr Conan Doyle. It was this gentleman who first introduced me to
The Strand
magazine, in which publication I was to have considerable success with what Holmes persisted in calling my 'highly romanticised accounts' of our joint adventures.