Holmes and I had spent a long night fruitlessly observing a house in the East End said to be the lair of a pair of notorious socialists. In Holmes view they were as dangerous a pair as could be found anywhere in Europe, but, truth to say, I did not feel that Ulyanov and Trotsky were anything more than the usual run of rabble rousers.
I took to my bed around dawn and awoke shortly after twelve and went into our sitting room, putting on my hat in preparation for going out for a substantial lunch.
As I entered I saw Holmes in the window, puffing at his pipe and chuckling at what, from the considerable noise, was a sizeable crowd in the street below.
"I say, Holmes, what is going on Baker Street?" I began. He turned to answer, only to see me dashed to the floor by a stunning impact.
I awoke, skull pounding with pain, to find Mr's Hudson dabbing at an egg-sized lump on my forehead and Holmes staring down at me with concern.
"Are you all right, old fellow?"
I nodded and struggled to my feet.
"This was the object that caused the damage," he said, hefting a cobblestone twice the size of a man's fist, "Thrown by that young lady unless I am mistaken. By Jove, we would have to put up with far less bandiage from the Australians about our Test performance if we enlisted her amongst our bowlers."
I looked out at the scene below. Several hundred women, bearing banners demanding the right to vote and chanting slogans, were struggling with a large number of policemen. The one Holmes directed my attention to, a pretty dark haired creature in a full length coat with a fur collar, was at the centre of the melee, sometimes striking at the good officers with her umbrella, sometimes felling one with a well aimed paving stone.
"A spirited creature," Holmes observed, " I should not be surprised if they were to break through and storm parliament or The Palace"
"She would be better employed about her home than engaged in the ridiculous pursuit of votes for her sex. " I observed, looking at my ruined hat with resignation. Had it not taken the brunt of the impact, I fear my friend would have been in need of a new chronicler for his exploits.
"Hullo, what can Lestrade be doing getting involved in a common street melee? By Jove, this really is better than the music hall."
Mrs Hudson brought me a large ice-pack which I applied gingerly to the injured area, and I joined the great detective at his eyrie, though being careful to keep a careful lookout for further flying objects.
Lestrade stood on a soap box for a moment and looked over the sea of protesters, then he pointed and shouted something, and led his small force of constables into the crowd to apprehend my young assailant.
Perhaps he had expected cooperation from the fairer sex, but if so he was to be disappointed, and both Lestrade and his officers received many a shrewd blow before he managed to lay a hand on the young lady's shoulder.
Even then he found he had a tiger by the tail. As they carried the handcuffed young woman from the fray it was clear from Lestrade's hunched attitude that one of her elegantly booted feet had struck home, and that the reddening bandage about his sergeant's hand obviously covered a deep bite wound.
"Inspector, come up and have a brandy to restore yourselves." Holmes called from the window.
Some time later, the young lady sitting red-faced in Holmes's chair endeavouring to conceal her handcuffed hands and the fine spirit was having its calming effect on the officers. I finished putting a plaster on the sergeant's wound and saw Holmes turn from the window as the last of the crowd passed by and begin to refill his pipe.
"I am surprised that you should occupy yourself with political protests, Lestrade."
"Political protests, Mr. Holmes? I am here to arrest her ladyship for the murder of her husband."
At this the young woman started to her feet, face white.
"Murder? Has somebody killed Hector?"
Her pleasant voice bore the unmistakable accent of the mid-western United States.
"Murdered. In his study. And there is no use you pretending to be beside yourself with grief, it is well known that you have not been living as a proper husband and wife for many months."
She put her face in her hands, "That is true. We were married after a whirlwind romance, and it was only then I knew that he was a debauched monster intent only on getting his hands on my money to repay his debts and to begin again on his life of vice. When he saw that I would use the Married Women's Property Act to protect that which was mine he became a brutal savage and I was forced to lock myself away to avoid his rage. Since the week after we were married we have not been alone in the same room as that man. I did not kill the brute, however."
"That we shall see, your leddyship."
"May we accompany you to the scene of the crime, Inspector?" Holmes asked, eyes gleaming.
The Inspector assented.
We travelled in a separate carriage to the prisoner and the two nervous constables sent to escort her.
"I expect that you will be hoping to save the young lady's neck with some more of your detective science, but even you must know, Holmes, that nine out of ten murders can be laid at the doorway of the surviving spouse."
"Perhaps we should do away with the unnecessary appurtenances of the great legal apparatus of England, retaining just the hangman?" Holmes asked, with a degree of sarcasm.
"Of course not, it would be necessary to retain a police force. We could not be doing honest bobbies out of work."
The great estates of Lord Islington were approached by a sweeping avenue lined by great oaks. The great house was flanked by a pair of Palladian wings, and a tall dome in the centre of the main building bore a great and ancient clock, which, to my surprise, displayed the correct time.
A small group of family awaited us in the great hall.
An elderly lady came to the front, "Inspector, surely you cannot suspect my daughter in law of this offence. "
"I am afraid I do, madam. Lady Hammond, this is Mr Sherlock Holmes and his colleague, Dr Watson. Lady Hammond is the aunt and only surviving relative of the victim. Mr. Holmes is interested is assisting in the case."
"May I speak to the person who discovered the body."
A stocky man in his fifties came forward, "I am Campbell, Butler to this house this fifteen years. I had gone up to his Lord Islington's study to bring him some sandwiches about eleven o'clock today. The door was locked securely, as it always is, but he did not respond to my knocking. When I finally looked through the keyhole I saw him lying dead on the chaise longue. I informed Lady Hammond, Lady Islington having gone out to her ..meeting, and summoned the coachman and two of the footmen to assist me in breaking down the door. We then sent for the police."
"Let me waste no time then in inspecting the scene. I think you may remove her ladyship's manacles for now."
From the housekeeper, standing at the front of a small huddle of servants watching from the pantry door came an outraged muttering, "Putting her ladyship in handcuffs, and her as would never hurt a fly."
Lestrade, still slightly hunched, nodded to the bandaged sergeant who rolled his eyes and reached for his keys.
The study was a singular room, a huge domed affair on the third floor. A great oaken door hung open, the splintered wood around the lock testifying to the force required to break in.
"How many keys are there for this lock?" Holmes enquired.
"Just one", the butler responded. "He had the lock changed some weeks ago and had only one key that he kept always about his person. I believe that he feared for his life at the hands of unknown individuals."
Holmes sniffed. The loose living aristocrat was notorious, and there would be any number of fathers of ruined daughters, frustrated moneylenders, and other enemies who would be delighted to see him in his coffin.
"Would his wife have had a copy of the key?"
"He often spoke wildly in his cups, making many false accusations against her ladyship and I believe she would be the last person to be entrusted with his key,"
The room, an elegant circular room with empty bookshelves, had once been a library or study. Apart from a few armchairs and the couch the aristocrat used for a bed, the only furniture was a desk covered with old issues of a famous pink sporting journal and a cupboard liberally covered with decanters and empty glasses, all bearing mute testimony to the dissolute life that had been ended in this very room.
There were six windows high on the wall, each secured with gleaming new bars of steel. Almost at the peak of the dome was a small glazed opening, which looked too small to admit a person, even were that person to have a means of climbing thirty feet to the floor.
Some trophies of swords and old guns decorated the walls.
We stood in a circle around the couch and examined the body. The man the young woman had so misguidedly wed was in his thirties, a large, muscular individual with fearsome whiskers, running somewhat to fat and with a nose that bore the marks of his overindulgence, but still powerful.
The butler informed us that the body was quite cold when found, leading to the assumption that death had taken place early the previous night.
He was slumped on his back on the couch, held in position by an unusual weapon, a weapon whose match hung by the door.
The handle was perhaps five feet long, and thick as the handle of a spade. A strong pointed blade projected a foot from the front, with a crosspiece about a foot long at it's base.
"The old lords used use these spears to hunt wild boar, " Lady Hammond explained.
Holmes took the second spear from it's mount by the door and brandished it.
"A heavy weapon, one to be used by the strongest of men. Tell me, have you a maid of perhaps the same size as her ladyship?"
He set up a test in the kitchen. A frightened maid could barely lift the weapon, and when she did managed barely to drive it an inch into the side of beef we had placed on a bench, never mind into the wood beneath.
"See Lestrade? Her ladyship would never have the strength to lay him low with one blow."
"You know what women can achieve in a fit of passion. I would not like to rely on that demonstration alone to convince a jury of her guiltlessness."
We returned to the scene of the killing, and after the most painstaking examination Holmes suffered the body to be removed.
Holmes was not a weak man, but it took all his strength to extract the spear, which had been deeply embedded in the wood.
We removed the blood soaked mattress and Holmes whipped out his glass and bent over the wood.
"Very interesting. Watson, there has been some devilry afoot here."
I looked at him curiously but, as ever, he made no explanation then of his inexplicable comment.
He spent an hour examining the room with meticulous detail.
Lestrade grew impatient after ten minutes and left to take statements from the family and servants.
When Holmes was finished he sent for Lady Hammond.
"What was the mental state of your nephew today?"
"When I last saw him he was, as usual, angry and heavily taken with spirits. He was convinced that his enemies were closing in on him. You will have seen the revolver in his dressing gown. It never left his side."
"Is it your belief that there were grounds to his fears, your ladyship?"
"Mr. Holmes, my nephew was an evil creature who drove his parents to an early grave. He had a surface amiability that seldom fooled anyone for more than a few days, after which the evil creature that lurked within showed itself. I begged that young American not to marry him, but she was infatuated just long enough for him to lead her to the altar. To answer your question, Mr. Holmes, everyone he ever met can be seen as a potential enemy."
"Do you believe that her ladyship was involved in his death?"
"I do not. She was using the power of the law to defend herself and had more than sufficient means to escape him if she needed to. I think she stayed here more to protect me and the servants than from any selfish motive."
Holmes stepped outside the grim study and nodded to a small door to one side, "Where does that lead to?"
"There is a narrow staircase within that leads up to clock. A footman uses it each week."
"May I see?"
The stairs was dark and steep and curved sharply. At the top was a narrow landing, the great works of the ancient machine to the right, ticking ponderously, counting out the days of lives of each Lords of Islington as it had for three hundred years.
Holmes mentioned something of this and the lady smiled grimly, "It shall count them no more. The title ends with my nephew."
I have always been interested in fine machinery and spent some time examining the mechanism.
"There appears to be some cord tangled in the striking apparatus." I noted.
"So there is, " Agreed Holmes, "It might be an opportune time to send for your horologer before it does any damage to the mechanism."
To the left was an aperture of maybe six inches square, leading into the dome of the room below, clearly designed to allow a certain amount of light to whoever was winding the clock.
"Do people come up here often?"
The lady shook her head. "Only to wind the clock. We have all been here at various times. The clock is a very important tradition in the family. Once each month we set it from the exact time from Greenwich and any children present in the house will usually come along to watch."
Holmes examined the aperture. It was too narrow even to put his head and shoulders through, never mind throw a massive spear.
He reached in and felt around.
"Why would there be a screw in the woodwork on either side of the frame?" he wondered out loud.
We both shrugged.
He reached again and his hand emerged, dusty, clutching a small fragment of India rubber.
"What can this be?" he asked?
I blushed furiously, but the lady smiled.
"We had a party for the families of the staff here some weeks ago. Every child was given a balloon filled with the hydrogen gas and I am afraid many of them were released. They ended up everywhere about the house, a cause of great annoyance to the housekeeper."
Holmes smiled and we followed her back down.
Holmes sent for a tall step ladder and despatched me to send a telegram.
An hour later a swarthy turbaned figure arrived by hansom cab. He followed Holmes up the stairs. Five minutes later he emerged again, shaking his head, shook hands with Holmes and left, the richer by several sovereigns.
Holmes smiled ruefully. "Another theory dashed. That was Hamid, the finest knife thrower in London, presently employed about the music halls. He says there is nobody alive capable of throwing a spear through that window to impale the unfortunate peer."
We entered the hall where a group of women were encircling a harried-looking Inspector Lestrade.
Young Lady Islington joined us.
"Mrs. Pankhurst heard of my plight and brought some of our committee down. We stayed together yesterday evening to plann today's demonstration until late into the night, and it has not taken long to convince the good Inspector that I have a complete alibi for my movements for the last 24 hours. I must thank you also for your efforts in trying to clear my name. And I believe I must also seek forgiveness, Doctor, for my assault on your person."
I could only stammer an acknowledgement of the graceful apology.
"Do you have any idea, Mr. Holmes, who could have done this deed. My husband was an evil man, but even he did not deserve such an end."
"I am afraid I am unable to enlighten you."
After some pleasantries the young lady departed. Lady Hammond asked us to join her in the drawing room for tea and we adjourned there for that most civilized on English institutions. Both Holmes and myself, having not eaten since supper the night before, set about the delicate fish paste and cucumber sandwiches before laying siege to the fairy cakes and tarts, and each of us had several cups of the exquisite Indian tea.
I listened to the conversation which ranged far and wide, from Scottish blank verse to the cave paintings of Ceylon, with both of those intelligent and well read individuals matching each other point for point.
Finally, Lady Hammond returned the discourse to the grim circumstances that had brought us to her house.
"Do you think the police will ever lay hands on the guilty person or discover how the crime was accomplished?"
Holmes stood up and walked to and fro for a moment, his angular face stern.
"The police, if I know Lestrade, will be concentrating on the force required to drive the spear home and will have in their mind's eye a man of great muscular development in his upper arms.:
He took out his pipe and raised an eyebrow. Her ladyship acquiesced to his lighting the foul smelling object and he went on between puffs.
"While Lestrade is a conscientious officer, I doubt if he has the intelligence to comprehend that even a frail female, aided by the law of gravity, could have achieved the same end. Perhaps if she had attached the spear to several gas balloons with a slip knot, and fed them one by one through the aperture in the clock chamber, guiding them with two stretched wires so that they would suspend the spear precisely above the couch. If she had ensured the precision of the mechanism by testing it when the room was unoccupied, leaving a second, identical, gash in the wood of the couch. If she then had attached a cord from the slip knot to the mechanism of the clock, so that it would become taunt during the night and drop its deadly load. Once the work was done she might perhaps have recovered the guide wires and the balloons, all but one which burst and remained on the ledge."
Her ladyship's hand shook, spilling her tea, and now she carefully put down her cup and saucer. Her face had become ashen.
Holmes resumed his pacing.
"One can only speculate at her motivation. Perhaps she had developed an affection for the new wife of her nephew, and did not want to see her young life destroyed as so many other's had. That does not matter. I do not believe that the good Inspector would be capable of constructing such a chain of reasoning, especially were the remaining traces removed, and I suspect this crime will be added to his already large file of unsolved cases."
"How can I ever thank you, Holmes?"
He took her hand for a moment and led us through the hallway to our Brougham.
The evil spear lies in the Black Museum in New Scotland Yard. Lestrade was never to make an arrest in the case. Lady Hammond died in 1913 without ever revealing her secret. Lady Islington resumed her former name of Elizabeth Porter and was later to marry a young MP of the radical persuasion.
Holmes never spoke of the case again but occasionally, when the cold winter chill makes my head ache, I think of the case of the impaled aristocrat.