“Only because I now have an idea who might be behind it. And it isn’t anyone from Mr. Marbleton’s past, but my own.” Mrs. Marbleton smiled grimly. “Thank you, Miss Holmes. And you, too, Mrs. Watson, for your company. But I’m afraid there isn’t anything else you can do.”
“Surely we haven’t exhausted all avenues of inquiry. Mr. York’s movements can be traced. The steamers have passenger manifests and—”
“I understand, Miss Holmes. But you are assuming it isn’t a false trail that has been laid for me.”
“Even if that should turn out to be the case, the account on this room probably hasn’t been settled yet. Not to m—”
“No!” The syllable ricocheted around the room. Mrs. Marbleton took a deep breath, a deathly pallor to her cheeks and a near-frantic look in her eyes. “Please listen to me, Miss Holmes. You do not wish to go anywhere near this man. You simply do not. Do you understand?”
Mrs. Watson gripped Charlotte’s arm and answered for them. “Yes, we understand.”
With flawless courtesy, Mrs. Marbleton saw them out. Charlotte and Mrs. Watson remained silent as they made their way to Albemarle Street. But as soon as they got into a hansom cab, Mrs. Watson blurted out, “Heavens, what is going to happen to that woman?”
Charlotte had no good answer for her.
The rest of Inspector Treadles’s afternoon was spent at Scotland Yard, conferring with Sergeant MacDonald and Superintendent Croft, Treadles’s superior. Sergeant MacDonald had made little headway in discovering the purpose of Mr. Sackville’s London trips. But now, with Superintendent Croft’s blessing, they would publish the dead man’s picture in the papers, ask for help from the public, and hope that those who came forth would offer useful information.
“And we’ll have to verify Lady Sheridan’s claims of her whereabouts, too,” he said to his wife, when he was at last back home.
They would be verifying a great deal more than that. His latest conjecture was that Lord and Lady Sheridan might each have been plotting against Mr. Sackville, without the other’s knowledge. And they each had an accomplice at Curry House—though the possibility existed that they counted on the same person.
This dual-conspiracy scenario would explain the usage of both arsenic and chloral: One of the Sheridans might have opted for a slow poisoning, the other, a rapid one. Neither of them needed to be in Stanwell Moot to carry out their schemes. And their accomplices could honestly state that no one at Curry House wanted Mr. Sackville harmed.
“Have you arranged to see Mr. Holmes again?” asked Alice. “Or to be in the next room, at least, while the great man remains shrouded in mystery?”
“No, I haven’t.” He leaned in and kissed her on her jawline. “Sometimes I’d rather spend more time in my wife’s company than that of any man’s, however great.”
What he didn’t say was that he was reluctant to consult Sherlock Holmes again so soon. He couldn’t quite explain this reticence—after all, he’d been desperate to speak with the man only days before.
A rare instance of proprietary sentiments regarding his own case, perhaps. He was a thorough and competent investigator and ought to be able to handle the rest of the work without constantly leaning on someone else.
Alice returned him a kiss on the cheek. “Ha! And here I was hoping that I might receive more madeleines, if you would but pay another visit to Upper Baker Street.”
“What maddening inconstancy, Mrs. Treadles! Is your heart so easily given to a box of baked goods?”
“I never knew it either, sir. But now I at last understand the power of seduction inherent in French pastry.” She handed him two fresh shirts and a pair of beautifully shined shoes—he would be on the overnight train to Yorkshire. “So what is this Miss Holmes like? I’m curious. You saw the notice in the paper, didn’t you? Holmes is taking private clients. I’ll be surprised if Upper Baker Street isn’t inundated. And Miss Holmes is the one who must handle this tide of visitors.”
How would one describe Miss Holmes? “Do you remember the time we speculated on Sherlock Holmes’s appearance?”
“We concluded that he is likely to be dark-haired, pale from spending his days reading by a lamp, with piercing, intelligent eyes, and a somewhat impatient demeanor, since he must find the rest of us trying.” Alice thought for a moment. “I believe we also thought that he’d be dressed well but simply, since he wouldn’t preoccupy himself with frivolous concerns.”
“And if we’d known he had a sister, we’d have expected her to resemble him to a high degree, wouldn’t we?” Treadles accepted several handkerchiefs and two pairs of socks from his wife and dropped them into his travel satchel. “A mind as great as Holmes’s must be both magnetic and charismatic. A lesser sibling, without necessarily being aware of it, would choose to imitate the greater sibling—to echo his physical qualities, since those are much easier to emulate than his cognitive prowess.”
“A very fair assumption.”