by Barry Day
“Gentlemen, my sense of theatre tells me that it is time for the captains to depart and leave the stage to the kings. If I had not made it an immutable rule to treat all things serious with studied triviality, I would thank you, but as it is …”
For the first time since we had known him—and possibly for the first time in his life—Wilde seemed lost for words.
Holmes made good the deficit by walking over to him and holding out his hand. The two men shook hands with a quiet formality that I personally found touching. Then Wilde left the room.
“Well, Watson?”
“Well, Holmes?”
“We have shared a few untoward adventures these last few years, old friend, but none, I think, in which more was at stake. Although I pray they will not come to know of it, never have so many owed so much to so few …”
“Why, Holmes, that is almost poetic. I must make a note of it for the day when I write the case up.”
“At which time you will undoubtedly introduce your customary element of the romantic and reduce the role played by logic and deduction.”
But for once his tone carried little conviction.
He swirled the remains of the champagne in his glass and appeared to look for something in its depths that he did not find there.
“The human mind is a disturbing thing, Watson. One moment it is capable of devising something that will benefit its fellow man—improve his lot in life or alleviate suffering for millions. The next it can focus on obliterating those same people. Even a single mind housed in one fragile person, is capable of swinging like a pendulum between Good and Evil for no apparent reason.
“Sometimes I see that little creature we call the soul lost in a maze, bruising itself on the ungiving walls of that maze, as it seeks the right path …”
“But surely, Holmes, it has always been thus?”
“I suppose you are right, old fellow, but we live in times where the old order is changing faster than at any time in the history of mankind. There was a time when a man of learning could know all there was to know. That time is long past and will not come again. Events are changing faster than man can adapt to that change—that is my concern.
“Was the evil in Cain innate or did the means to give form to that evil help create it and encourage it. Is the progress we talk about so blithely necessarily a help to improving our lot—or might it turn out to be more of a hindrance? And since none of us can turn back the clock, then where are we heading?”
Then he looked up full into my face.
“Of one thing I am certain, old friend. Whatever it portends for generations yet unborn, we, fortunately, shall not be here to see it or have it upset the even tenor of our ways.”
“And now I do believe we have earned our beds.”
With that, he did something quite untypical. He took his empty champagne glass and hurled it ritualistically into the fireplace. A moment later I found myself doing the same.
The next morning I confess I slept in but, as she served me my breakfast, Mrs. Hudson informed me that Holmes had left her instructions not to disturb him until he woke of his own accord. I was not surprised to hear it. After periods of intense activity it was not uncommon for him to sleep for a day or two at a time and I could think of no case where the tension had been greater or more sustained.
I sat with my second cup of tea and read the glowing reviews of Wilde’s play.
In The World William Archer reported that he had “sent wave after wave of laughter curling and foaming round the theatre”, while the critic from The New York Times was of the opinion that “Oscar Wilde may be said to have at last, and by a single stroke, put his enemies under his feet.” I found myself with an odd feeling that this latter verdict might be tempting providence.
Then there was a discreet cough and Mrs. Hudson announced that I had a visitor
“Don’t you mean Holmes has a visitor?”
“No, Doctor. The lady made sure Mr. Holmes was not available before she would come in. She particularly wants to see you, Doctor.”
And a moment later Irene Adler walked through the door. This was the Irene I had first met when this whole affair began—could it be just a few short days ago? It was as though the events of the night before had never happened. The woman looked like a fashion plate in the identical outfit she had worn for our lunch at Rules before our world had been turned upside down.
Even so, I could sense that her composure was only on the surface. Even though she carried herself like the actress she was, something was most definitely on her mind.
That clear, level gaze met mine for a moment, then she looked away.
“I have come to say goodbye.”
Having made the initial statement, she seemed to gain in confidence and looked at me again, as though she knew I would understand what was going through her mind.
“After all that has happened, London can never be the same for me. So many things …” her eyes flickered over Holmes’s armchair and away—“… so many things …”
“But perhaps the most important thing is that I have been forced to look at the direction of my life these past few years. John, I have been drifting—I see that now. But there must be an end to drifting. It is time to go back and find my roots and I know now that they are in America—not here.
“For good or ill, I am a woman who knows her mind and this morning she made that mind up. I have just come from the Cunard office and I sail from Southampton tomorrow morning on the S.S. Lucania for New York …”
“New York?”
“Yes, New York. Surely you would not wish New Jersey on me again?” For a moment she was almost mischievous.
“They say it has come on by leaps and bounds lately. And—who knows?—they may need a stand-in at the Met. Although I shall stay well away from the cellars!
“Dear John, you are so understanding. I only wish we had had more time to laugh as we did that day at Rules. I don’t know if you noticed but I stole the menu. I shall have it framed, so that I can remember … The Three Musketeers.”
She took my hand in hers, pressed it gently, then stretched on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.
At the door she turned.
“Say goodbye to your friend for me, please. And tell him Irene Adler says ‘Thank you’. You see, John, for a very long time now, for me Sherlock Holmes has always been the man …”
And then she was gone.
The next morning over breakfast Holmes looked up and said—
“Watson, I think we owe ourselves a holiday. Why should the criminal fraternity of London have us all to themselves. What would you say, my dear fellow, to a trip to—say—New York?”
As he got up and went over to the mantlepiece to fill his pipe, I picked up the newspaper he had been reading. It was folded so that the only item to be read was the one concerning shipping movements. I noticed that the S.S. Lucania had sailed for New York on the morning tide.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Barry Day
Cover design by Mauricio Díaz
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1651-3
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