‘I cannot believe that that girl is a killer, Holmes, and that’s that,’ I declared, stomping into our sitting room.
‘I am delighted to hear it,’ observed Lord Goring coldly. He was waiting for us in my favourite armchair, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of Mrs Hudson’s tea. ‘It is always gratifying to know the esteem in which one’s wife is held.’
‘Lord Goring,’ I stammered, once again disconcerted by the full and chilling force of an aristocrat’s authority. ‘I’m sorry – I was merely—’
‘Pray don’t trouble yourself, Dr Watson,’ the viscount sighed. ‘It is perfectly understandable under the circumstances. A friend of my family, Lord Henry Wotton, is wont to observe that the one thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. After the past few days I feel quite confident in declaring the converse to be true.’
Urgently, Holmes asked, ‘What brings you here, Lord Goring? Has there been some development in the case?’
‘I think you could say that, Mr Holmes.’
‘Not a fatal one, I hope? It has been my experience that a single murder will frequently bring more deaths, as the killer attempts to avoid the consequences of his crime.’
‘Nothing so dramatic, mercifully,’ Lord Goring drawled. ‘The police have released Lady Goring, though they do not tell me why. I presume that it is some belated effect of Robert’s or my father’s demands. Certainly both have been petitioning the commissioner with a fervency which would have put the fear of heaven into me.’
‘More likely Inspector Gregson has new evidence,’ Holmes observed, his excitement evident in his voice. ‘I last saw him at lunchtime, when he felt quite justified still in keeping Lady Goring incarcerated. My investigations since then have taken their own peripatetic path, so if he has attempted to communicate further with me, I should expect the message to be awaiting us here.’
I glanced around but saw no such missive. It would not have been unknown, though, for our clearsighted landlady to tidy away such a note in the presence of a visitor whom she knew it might concern.
Holmes concluded, ‘Gregson would not have let Lady Goring go without some information that appeared to vindicate her.’
‘Appeared to, Holmes?’ Lord Goring looked excessively annoyed.
‘Evidence can be susceptible to multiple interpretations, my lord,’ Holmes replied steadily. ‘If some evidence for Lady Goring’s innocence were to prove flawed, that would not mean that she were guilty, merely that her innocence was unproven.’
‘Well, in any case, it is no longer your affair,’ Goring told us both firmly. ‘My one concern has been to place Lady Goring beyond suspicion, and that end has been achieved.’
‘Not through our efforts, I am afraid,’ Holmes noted.
Magnanimously, His Lordship said, ‘Regardless of whether this has been your doing, you have earned my gratitude for your endeavours, and you have earned your payment.’ He cleared his throat, annoyed at the embarrassment of having to discuss such matters. ‘What sum do I owe you?’
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ objected Holmes, ‘but I cannot regard the matter as settled. I must consult with Inspector Gregson to find out what his new view of the case is, and how it fits with what we have discovered today. I am certainly in no position to make any definitive statement about the identity of the murderer.’
‘Forgive me, Mr Holmes,’ said Lord Goring icily, ‘but I did not engage you to identify the murderer. I engaged you to establish the innocence of my wife. As that is now done, your services are no longer required.’
‘And I explained to you that I would instead make it my business to establish the truth,’ said Holmes. ‘That business has not changed. Further, I have been cooperating with Inspector Gregson in this matter, and the crime of murder is within his purview and jurisdiction. It is not within yours.’
Lord Goring considered this in chilly silence for a moment, then gave a little laugh. ‘Very well. I promised to pay you to investigate, and so I shall. Now I am offering in addition to pay you for not investigating, surely an easier and more agreeable occupation.’ He smiled his charming smile. ‘Will you take on this new commission, Mr Holmes?’
Holmes’s voice was as wintry as Goring’s had been a moment before. ‘I seem to be making a habit of being invited by the nobility to desist from my legitimate investigations. At least you are good enough not to suggest alternative hobbies with which to occupy my time.’
‘So you refuse?’ His Lordship stood, his face frighteningly impassive. He was, I supposed, unused to having his wishes defied by those whom he paid. ‘Mr Holmes, I am not without influence, both that which comes from wealth and family and that which comes through friends and connections. I might make your life distinctly less comfortable, should you refuse to cooperate. Noble bachelors and other illustrious clients would cease calling upon you, and you would find the police a great deal less cooperative than has been their wont.’
Holmes’s voice was perfectly calm as he replied, ‘I choose the cases I take on, Lord Goring, and the death at Number 149 Belgrave Square now occupies my full attention. I will be working on it until, at least, Inspector Gregson no longer requires my services, and very possibly beyond that point if it continues to interest me. Your money is a matter of absolute indifference to me.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Goring snapped, ‘I shall continue to offer it. If against my protestations you insist on honouring your commitment, then I shall honour mine. As it is I who engaged you in this case, Mr Holmes, you will continue to keep me apprised of your discoveries, or you shall reap the consequences. Good evening, sir – and Dr Watson.’ And so saying, he left.
Calmly, Holmes crossed to the mantelpiece and began to fill his pipe.
‘What extraordinary behaviour,’ I observed, not for the first time that night. ‘For him to take no further interest in the case is understandable, but urging you to let it alone seems quite excessive.’
‘Indeed, Watson, indeed. Once again I am offered money in return for my silence. The transaction appears to be a fashionable one, though I am sure that I have never asked for such a thing.’ I saw that beneath his tranquil surface my friend was, once again, quite angry at the insult that had been done to his professional integrity.
‘What will you do?’ I asked.
‘Do? I shall do nothing different from what I had in mind already. It is too late to expect to hear more from Inspector Gregson tonight, but we may visit him in the morning and request an explanation of his changed view of Lady Goring’s guilt. In the meantime, as I told Lord Goring, I cannot do otherwise than continue my investigations. If I am needed urgently, you may find me at one of the following,’ he said, and reeled off a list of locations, none of them familiar to me.
‘Are those all public houses?’ I asked.
‘They are. Ones that I know to be frequented by retired military men of non-commissioned rank.’ He considered. ‘They are rather rough places. Possibly a disguise may be in order.’
‘Should I come with you?’ I asked.
‘No, Watson, I will be better able to blend in alone. I promise I have no intention of becoming embroiled in any brawls. You will be of more benefit to me in the morning, fresh and rested. Get a good night’s sleep, and we will reconvene at breakfast.’
CHAPTER TEN
LORD ILLINGWORTH’S SECRET
I did get a good night’s sleep, but not at once. I saw Holmes off on his errand – which is to say, I saw off a tanned and weather-beaten itinerant labourer, carrying a stout ashplant and a knapsack, in whom only one who knew Holmes as well as I could have detected any degree of resemblance to my friend – then bathed and readied myself for bed.
It was past midnight and I was enjoying a final tot of whisky with a novel before turning in. Following Holmes’s comments about Mr H.G. Wells’s The Time Machine, which I remembered enjoying, I had settled down with his latest book, The Invisible Man, when I heard a knocking from the hallway. Mrs Hudson having long since retired,
I wrapped my dressing gown about myself and went downstairs.
I had not expected Holmes to return so early, but perhaps he had already discovered whatever information he sought in London’s less salubrious taverns. He had a key, of course, but it was not unknown for him to leave it behind in his own clothes when he left on such incognito outings. In areas outside those problems wherewith his mind was fully engaged, he could be surprisingly absent-minded.
When I answered the door, however, the insistent knocker was not Holmes. It was a woman, wearing a hooded cloak against the chill of the night. She stepped inside at once and removed it, surrendering it to my astonished hands.
‘Lady Goring!’ I hissed, wary of waking Mrs Hudson. ‘What are you doing here, alone and so late? It is most improper.’
‘Oh, please don’t be dreary, Dr Watson!’ Mabel Goring smiled. ‘Your reputation is perfectly safe. You are too honourable, and I too unadventurous, for any impropriety whatsoever.’ Beneath the cloak she wore a jacket and sturdy boots, and a light dress that could have afforded little protection against the chilly night air.
I said, ‘But if my landlady should find you here…’
‘Then we shall tell her that I came to consult with Mr Holmes, and in his absence am speaking to you instead, which is thoroughly respectable and has the merit of being the truth.’ Though her tone was cheerful, her pretty face was marred by lines of worry and she looked terribly tired. ‘Mr Holmes is absent, I suppose?’
‘You’d better come up,’ was all I could think to say. Before closing the door I cast a nervous glance around the street outside, but saw nothing of note except the coach in which Lady Goring had presumably arrived, waiting a little further along Baker Street.
I settled her in front of the fire and offered her a warming brandy, which she declined.
‘Does Lord Goring know you’re here?’ I asked, thinking again of the irregularity of the situation. While I had no doubt that her motives in appearing here were as innocent as she had told me, her presence in my rooms, unchaperoned, so late at night, made it easier to believe that in the past she could have behaved in an indiscreet way that might have interested a blackmailer. I peered out of the window, and this time saw a figure detach itself from the shadow of a doorway further down the road and stride away in the opposite direction from the coach.
She said, ‘Oh, he believes I’m asleep at Robert’s house.’ As she said this, I realised with fresh unease that what I had taken for an unseasonal, flimsy summer dress was actually her nightdress. ‘I pleaded nervous exhaustion this evening, and told them all that I wanted to be left alone. Robert and Gertrude have gone to a reception at the Bohemian Embassy, but poor Arthur was so attentive I eventually had to send him home. At least little Baby Arthur will see his papa tonight, if not his mama.’
‘But won’t the servants tell them you’ve been out?’ I asked.
‘Oh, nearly all of Robert’s servants are old friends of mine,’ she said. ‘Only the housekeeper and coachman know, and they won’t give me away.’
I asked her whether she had been treated kindly by the police.
‘I can’t complain of their accommodation,’ she replied. ‘They kept me in a perfectly comfortable interview room all yesterday, and the constable assigned to me was most attentive. I was remanded to Holloway Prison overnight, but they brought me back in time for breakfast. I cannot recommend the sleeping arrangements, but I was not there for long.’
I shuddered at the thought of the accommodations at Holloway, though I had no doubt that Lady Goring had been given the best of them. My respect for her fortitude was growing, nonetheless. ‘Did they give you any indication of why they released you?’
‘Only that some new evidence suggests I am not the guilty party,’ she replied. ‘Poor Inspector Gregson was apologetic and quite embarrassed.’
‘He mentioned no further particulars?’ I asked. I knew that I sounded like Holmes, questioning a young woman in this way about such upsetting experiences, but I knew too that this was information he would demand from me as soon as I told him of Mabel’s visit. Besides, after our conversation in the hall I was duty-bound to treat this as a professional consultation, insofar as my role as Holmes’s companion could be considered a professional one.
‘Nothing at all,’ she said. ‘But that’s exactly why I am here. Whatever this new evidence is, I fear it may be unreliable. I hope that I am wrong, but I do not think I am.’
The late hour and the whisky had been conspiring to make me feel rather sleepy, but this remark chased all thoughts of slumber from my brain. ‘Why would you say that, without knowing any of the details?’ I asked.
She looked at me with exceptional candour in her periwinkle eyes. ‘Dr Watson, I ask you to believe that I’m entirely innocent of this crime.’
‘I have no doubt of it,’ I declared. That, at least, was not something Holmes would have said without firm evidence to that effect.
‘Nevertheless, I am worried that the police may now be following the wrong path. And I am sorry to say that my family may be leading them along it.’
Her pretty face looked troubled now. She said, ‘I heard my husband and brother talking at the house, after Inspector Gregson released me. They were too cautious to say anything in my presence, but I was in the conservatory while they were smoking in the garden, and I could hear them well enough. I heard Robert remark, “She was telling the truth, then. Thank God for that.” And Arthur replied, “As I told you, her word may be relied upon, at least when it is to her own advantage.” Their voices sounded distant, with none of the warmth they usually show when they discuss me.
‘I could not believe that Robert would have doubted me, especially about such a matter, but I couldn’t imagine who else they might have be speaking about, so I stayed to listen. I heard Robert say, “We can only hope that Gregson will stay convinced. I’ve seen the man’s record. He is exceptionally tenacious.” And Arthur said, “Gregson is not the one who concerns me most. Holmes is. I never would have involved him had I known.”’
‘What do you think he meant by that?’ I asked her.
‘I can’t imagine. Since I’m not guilty, there’s nothing Arthur could have known that would make him think I was! But then I heard Robert say, “Can he be paid off?” and Arthur reply, “His reputation suggests not, but I had better try. The last thing we want now is his stumbling upon something that casts it all into doubt again.”’
‘“Stumbling”?’ I repeated, quite indignant on Holmes’s behalf. My friend’s approach was a painstaking one. He considered, probed, scrutinised and deduced. It was true that luck occasionally played a part in his investigations, as it might in anyone’s endeavours, but the term ‘stumbling’ made his investigations sound clumsy and aimless.
Mabel was frowning at my indignation. ‘That did not strike me as the most significant part of my husband’s statement, Dr Watson.’
‘Well, no, I suppose not,’ I agreed, slightly abashed. ‘What do you think it all means?’
She said, ‘I don’t understand all of it, but I’m worried that Arthur and Robert have contrived to have someone plant false evidence to exonerate me. They would have had the best of intentions, of course. Both of them want nothing more than to protect me. But if it could lead to another innocent person being arrested, perhaps even tried and convicted? I could never sleep easily if I were to allow that. I have little enough reason to trust the police, but I have faith that Mr Holmes will find out the truth.’
‘That is very brave of you,’ I said with sincere admiration. ‘But do you really believe that Sir Robert and Lord Goring would do such a thing? I admit I know neither of them well, but your brother, at least, has a reputation for absolute rectitude.’
She said, ‘Oh, he is a very good man! And so is my husband, though his virtues may be better known to me than to the world at large. But no man’s rectitude is absolute, no matter what his reputation may say. A short time ago – two years ago, in fact, for it was the very
day that Arthur proposed to me – Robert was offered a Cabinet position by the prime minister, and he turned it down.’
‘But he served in the Cabinet before the last election,’ I recalled, confused.
‘That is correct. He changed his mind the same day. I only know of his initial refusal because Lord Caversham, Arthur’s father, asked me to use my influence to persuade him. Of course, I was rather distracted at the time, but I was not quite so wrapped up in myself, or in Lord Goring, that I failed to notice a strange atmosphere in the house that day. I believe that Robert was ashamed of something that he had done, and that Gertrude was censorious of him, and that that was why he declined the position. Gertrude is a very moral person, and she has high expectations of others. Indeed, I believe she married Robert because nobody else could measure up to her ideals of integrity.
‘Of course, it can’t have been anything very reprehensible that Robert had done, as she soon overcame her objections, but that is why I do not believe that anybody, Robert included, is incapable of doing wrong. It is a good thing, too, for only the imperfect are capable of the virtue of forgiveness. The ideal is the enemy of the human, and I would far rather be the second than the first.
‘So yes, falsifying evidence would be a terrible thing to do. But if anything would lead Robert or Arthur to do such a thing, it would be their affection for me. At least…’ she added hesitantly, ‘…so I should have said, before I overheard them in the garden. I suppose they must be under a great deal of strain because of me, to have sounded so.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘And I have your permission to tell all of this to Holmes? You are not concerned for your brother and husband if these facts became known?’
‘It was to tell Mr Holmes that I came,’ she reminded me. ‘I am lucky to be surrounded by good men: Arthur and Robert, and now you and Mr Holmes. I know that you will not wish them to suffer for their kindness, but neither will you stand by and see an innocent person convicted. I believe that Mr Holmes is clever enough, and you kind enough, to square that circle.’
Sherlock Holmes--The Spider's Web Page 14
