“You have spoken closer to one hundred words, far more than necessary to pinpoint your general place of origin and your level of education. Although in your case it is a bit more complicated, with the trace of Scottish brogue in your vowels—which, on the other hand, made it easier to conclude Barrow-in-Furness, with its large Scottish population attracted by work in the industries. As for whether it is the steelworks or the shipyard, your own expression gave away the correct answer.
“The rest is fairly obvious. You’re still a young man; to have risen to your current position indicates that you started early, but also possess a drive to succeed. Yet you are not one of those men for whom ambition is everything, or Lord Ingram wouldn’t have taken any interest in your concerns.”
She cast a look at Lord Ingram, who stirred his tea with great concentration.
“Indeed not,” said he.
Even in the midst of his own astonishment, Inspector Treadles was beginning to wonder at the nature of the association between Lord Ingram and the Holmeses. Between his lordship and Miss Holmes, especially.
Miss Holmes smiled again. “Does that answer your question?”
Treadles had to think for a moment to remember what his question had been: How Holmes could know so much about him from so little. “Not entirely.”
“Ah, your domestic situation. It is infinitely more likely that you left Barrow-in-Furness before you were married than after—you appear too prudent a man to marry early and of course it is far easier to relocate as a bachelor than with a family in tow. As for your late father-in-law’s comfortable circumstances, the fabric and cut of your garments indicate that they were made by a tailor whose work Lord Ingram’s valet would not have disdained—in other words, your late father-in-law’s tailor.
“But for all that exquisite material and equally exquisite workmanship, your clothes are two years behind fashion. The buttons have been recently replaced and the cuffs rewoven. Perhaps most tellingly, your shirt has a detachable collar. Lord Ingram, does your shirt have a detachable collar?”
“No,” said his lordship. “It does not.”
“Lord Ingram has no need of detachable collars because he can afford to launder dozens of entire shirts at a go. But a man who wears a detachable collar underneath a jacket made by one of London’s finest tailors—either he stole the jacket or his circumstances have been reduced. Since wages at the Metropolitan Police Force have not suffered a noticeable decline, one can only conclude that Mrs. Treadles’s income had been drastically cut and it seems reasonable to conclude that instead of a generous father, she now has a much less generous brother.
“With regard to her devotion to you . . . She is being punished for marrying down by that ghastly brother of hers, and yet you look impeccable—the care and skill that went into the repair of your garments nearly equals that which went into their creation. Whatever sacrifices she has had to make in the running of the household, she has made sure that they affect you as little as possible. If that is not love . . .”
Throughout her explanations, Inspector Treadles had to restrain his facial muscles from expressions of dismay and stupefaction—to have his domestic situation laid bare like this by a stranger, and before an esteemed friend, no less! But now he found himself fighting back unexpected tears.
“I am extraordinarily fortunate in Mrs. Treadles.”
“Yes, you are, Inspector,” said Miss Holmes, taking a sip of her tea.
Inspector Treadles did the same, to help recover from his sudden onset of sentiments. Dear Alice. Dear, dear Alice.
“Well, Inspector, do you feel more confident now that my brother’s abilities have not been diminished by his recent misfortune?”
Treadles wasn’t sure whether confident was the correct word. He was awed, as well as rattled. “I—yes, Miss Holmes.”
She smiled again. “Excellent. Let us proceed.”
Treadles gave a quick account of his investigation thus far. “After I left Lord Sheridan’s residence, I happened to run into Lord Ingram. Taking advantage of that, I requested his help in finding out what lay behind the estrangement between the brothers.”
“It took me a little longer to hunt down my quarry than I’d anticipated,” said Lord Ingram. “When I received word that you had telephoned, Inspector, I had just spoken to Lady Avery.”
“Lady Avery, of course,” said Miss Holmes. She turned to Treadles. “Lady Avery and her sister Lady Somersby are Society’s most accomplished gossips. They possess an encyclopedic knowledge of every affair, every snub, and every spat from the past fifty years. If anyone alive knows the reason for the estrangement, other than Lord Sheridan himself, it would be one of these ladies.”