The Spider Web (A Sherlock Holmes Uncovered Tale Book 4)
Page 15
“We were going to tell my uncle, Mr. Holmes,” said the lady. “Please, believe that. We simply never found the right moment and then with this business of the murder, we decided that complete candor would make us look guilty. At the time of the murder I was in Percy’s arms in the glen that you described. How long have you been in on our little secret, if I might ask?”
“From my first visit to the laboratory, Miss Grafton. I noted your surprise at seeing me there and you hurried me out on a pretext and paraded me about the grounds. Percy was about, as well. He was no doubt headed for the laboratory, but you made certain he saw that those plans had fallen through.”
“Quite right, Holmes,” laughed Percy. “After that close call we began meeting in the glen. I found a good spot to tie off the horse when I took the carriage out, and Jane was always wandering about the grounds. No one suspected. Or at least we thought no one suspected.”
“Will you come back for our wedding?” asked Jane.
“Certainly, dear lady, but when is the happy event?”
“Next year some time, I imagine,” said Percy. “We must wait out an appropriate time of mourning for uncle. And then again, there will be a trial before that. Do you think it will go hard on Robert? He had no hand in the murder, after all.”
“That will certainly be to his credit,” I said. “I believe his involvement will be judged a slight one in comparison to his cousin’s. Still, he is likely to be sent to prison for a short time at least. He will be a ruined man when he comes back into society.”
“I believe a woman will be waiting for him, Mr. Holmes,” said Jane firmly. “It is obvious to me that Irene and Robert are in love. Uncle John overawed her with the force of his personality, but it was Robert who had her heart. And I also believe that Robert has always needed the love of a good woman in order to keep him on the true path. Irene will be that woman.”
“And that is spoken with the logic of a woman,” said Percy, with a grin. He then turned to me. “Well, Holmes, I am afraid that I did not keep my promise to give a restful and sedate holiday, but I am thankful that you were here. I do not like to think of how this matter may have turned out without your presence. Can we consider this the first case of Sherlock Holmes?”
“Perhaps,” I said with a slight smile.
“We could call it The Mystery of Hardwick Hall,” suggested Percy.
Oh, Percy, that shows no imagination,” scolded Jane Grafton. “Remember that the hall has a fanciful name as well, and it sounds much more eerie. Let us say instead, The Spider Web. Another fly drawn to its embrace eh, Mr. Holmes.”
“Why, Miss Grafton, I believe that you have hit upon just the name.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
As Holmes finished his tale, I realized that sunlight was beginning to stream through the windows of the sitting room.
“Why, Holmes,” I cried. “This yarn has taken us through the small hours and quite into morning.”
“My apologies, Doctor,” said he. “I had no intention of keeping you so long.”
“Do not apologize, old friend. This story was just the tonic I needed. I fear I have become that oft ridiculed figure; the middle aged man who reminisces of his lost youth.”
“But surely, Watson, married life has been most convivial for you, and your practice thrives, as I understand. Is it the chase that you miss then?”
“That’s just it, Holmes,” I cried. “But enough of me. How did the events at Hardwick Hall, or shall I say The Spider Web, play out?”
“As we speculated at the time, Robert Hardwick was given a much reduced sentence for his role in the matter and was released from prison in less than a year. As prophesized by Jane Grafton, he married Irene Stuart and they left the country. They were in South America at last report. George Hardwick was not long for the world after his conviction. He contracted tuberculosis in prison and died a forgotten man. Percy Hardwick and Jane Grafton married the following year and they still reside at the hall of Sir John. I am not the most faithful of correspondents, so I fear I have lost track of all their affairs, but I do know that the hall is filled with their children and Miss Agatha Hardwick is still the stern matron of the hall.”
“Agatha Hardwick still alive after all these years?” I asked. “She must be ancient, Holmes.”
“I would not like to be the fellow who made that observation in her presence, but you are correct, Doctor.”
“I see that the Spider Diamond’s dark past has not affected their lives. Silly superstition after all eh what, Holmes?”
“Of that, we cannot be certain, Doctor. The death duties were heavy upon the estate and remember that Sir John’s fortunes were at a low ebb at the time of his death. The young couple was forced to sell the diamond, but I could not say if death has followed it. After all, Doctor, all objects of desire carry some risk, do they not? It is said that the man who marries a beautiful woman has made a deal with the devil.”
“Why, Holmes, I had no idea you had become so lyrical in your prose,” I said smiling.
“Why, Doctor, do you accuse me of growing fanciful in my own dotage?”
“Certainly not, Holmes,” said I. Holmes was not the rail thin youth that I remembered from our early acquaintance, but there was little doubt that the great detective was still in residence within 221B Baker Street.
As our conversation continued, the breakfast hour drew close and Holmes invited me to stay for the meal with him, and I gratefully accepted. Mrs. Hudson seemed delighted to find me in my former place at the table and we were soon overwhelmed by the plain English breakfast that was the dear lady’s specialty. After tucking away a generous portion of eggs, ham, toast, and jam, we retired to the sitting room once again for coffee.
As we relaxed in a companionable silence, Holmes lit his pipe and I a cigarette. I felt myself quite at home in my former haunt, and was regretting that I must soon take my leave when the page brought in a telegram for Holmes.
He read it quickly and then passed it to me. It was a missive from Inspector Lestrade. He requested that Holmes join him in Kensington, as a body had been discovered that very morning. There was little else in the way of information in the message and I looked to Holmes.
“I see that our old friend Lestrade still seeks you out in his hour of need.”
“Yes, our dear Inspector employs his ingenuity most efficiently in asking for aid and in claiming credit, rather than solving those cases that come his way. However, as does the hound when the horn blows, I am at the ready. Will you need a few moments to gather yourself or shall we leave at once?”
“You wish me to accompany you, Holmes?”
“The whole was always greater than the sum of its parts, old friend.”
“But, Holmes, I cannot,” I cried.
“Nonsense.”
“What of Mary?”
“She is away.”
“My practice?”
“There is always Jackson.”
“Ah, Jackson,” I said. “In that case I am the very man for you, Holmes.”
“Then the hunt has begun,” said the great detective, as he swept from the room with me in his wake.
The End
Special Note
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Thank you,
Steven Ehrman
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