by John Hall
I nodded. “I think so, Holmes. Oh … that quarrel the Gerards had?”
Holmes looked at Ingham. “Superintendent? Was that ever cleared up?”
Ingham laughed. “Yes, Charles Gerard explained, a little shame-faced. Apparently his wife wanted to move to her sister’s, or to the ‘Raffles’. He wanted to stay where they were for the time being.”
“And that was all?” asked Holmes. “You never married, then, sir?”
Holmes laughed. “Never, and if that’s the sort of trivial thing that a man and wife argue over …”
I laughed with him. “You miss a lot of good things as well, though, Holmes. Anyway, everything’s clear now. Another successful case.”
“Indeed. And now, perhaps, we can do what you planned for us all along, Watson, and have a good long rest here at the ‘Raffles’.”
I gazed at him. “You saw through our scheme, then? Yes, of course.” I stretched luxuriously. “Well, Holmes, you can rest all you want to, but I have a busy night ahead of me.”
“Oh? Going to a party, then?”
“Not a bit of it. I shall be sitting up on the veranda with a rifle, and a glass of something or the other. Not sure just what, but it’ll probably contain a high proportion of gin.”
