Of the many and various cases which were brought before my friend Sherlock Holmes, it was most fortunate that he and I, his conscientious recorder, had to experience the true depths of evil of which the human condition is capable as rarely as we did. Nevertheless, when we did have to confront it in its many forms, it always left a sense of horror such as I will never forget. What always shocked me to the heart, more than any other feature, was the inherent contradiction between the fierce irrational rage and the calm deliberation and logic applied to the task of removing the cause of the rage. One such case that demonstrates this is, is one I have not yet published and which I am about to relate. The reason for my silence was recently removed by a certain Miss Alexandra Wilding, the famous opera singer, who has finally given me permission to publish my account of the case, in which she is deeply involved. I would also like to congratulate Miss Wilding on her recent engagement to a most estimable gentleman of my closest acquaintance.

It was the June of '04, at that time in the evening when a man begins to think of his upcoming evening meal, when there came a sharp knock at the door. 'Who can that be, at this time?' remarked my wife in a quizzical voice, glancing at the clock. We heard the door open downstairs, frantic footsteps on the stairs to our living room, and in burst my old university friend, Joseph Wilding. 'My dear Wilding!' I exclaimed standing up to greet him, but the rest of my greeting stuck in my throat as I beheld his whitened face, and pallid expression.

Joseph Wilding was a tall man, with a rounded oval face, neatly cropped and combed sandy yellow hair and sharp features that had somewhat softened with age and good living since I had last seen him. He had studied mathematics and economics at the University of London whilst I was studying medicine and we had soon become companions, bonding over our shared taste in good food. He had since become a profitable banker and had taken up a very senior post at none other than the Bank of England. Now he stood before me, looking like a man struck down with grief and worry. 'What is it, my dear Wilding?' I said.

'Can you come at once, with me, Dr Watson, I am in great need of your expertise, I shall explain on the way.'

'Why, of course.' I exclaimed, and within twenty minutes, I was inside the carriage he had waiting outside and on the way to his home. 'Well,' said I, 'for what can you need my services with such urgency?'

Jospeh Wilding started as if jerked from a reverie of fear. 'Of course. You will remember that five years ago I met and married a widow, and took her two daughters, both of whom took my name when I married their mother, as my own. There is Victoria, the elder who is now eighteen and very recently married and the younger, Alexandra, who is now sixteen. Recently, Alexandra, has fallen horribly ill with a terrible infection for the third time in a year, and none of us have the remotest idea what the matter is, so this night I decided to seek help of the most expert medical mind of which I am aware which is yourself, Watson.' I confess I was flattered by Wilding's consideration of myself as the greatest medical mind of his acquaintance but was equally concerned at his worry and his description of his stepdaughter's ailment. 'What afflicts your stepdaughter?' said I, 'How does the illness manifest itself?'

'It begins with the most terrible pains in her head, she becomes confused and so weary that she can hardly participate in any activity of any nature. Then, within a few days, she suffers terrible convulsions and cramps of the abdomen which one can scarcely behold. She fell ill for the third time two days ago and so has not experienced yet the terrible convulsions characteristic to the sickness. We have consulted countless doctors but so far no one has been able to shed any light on the illness. Fortunately, on the previous two occasions, Alexandra has recovered but I believe it is beyond her strength to recover again without the help of modern medicine. So I have come to you to beg you to come and save her.'

I was most struck by his apparent great concern for this Miss Alexandra Wilding of whom he just spoken, who was after all, only his stepdaughter but I promised him that I would endeavour to the greatest of my abilities to treat the young lady in question.

Within an hour, with the carriage being driven worryingly fast and causing me some alarm as to my old friend's state of mind and that of his coachman, we arrived at the Wilding house, which was a substantial house, situated in a particular area of Chelsea known for its wealthy inhabitants. The house was built in a style favoured about halfway through the previous century, which showed me just how successful my friend Wilding had been in his banking career. We got out of the carriage and went inside the house, where we were met by Wilding's wife whom he introduced to me as Ksenia Wilding. She was a woman of the greatest beauty, despite her age being of about forty-five, with curled golden hair, a pure white complexion, wonderfully soft features and eyes of the palest azure. At least in one respect my old friend, had not changed; his reputation of being a man with a great love of female company had been was well established by the time he had graduated from the university at which we had both attended. However, despite her beauty, Mrs Wilding's gold and white appearance seemed to me at least, to a kind of shield or mask, that hid the fact that she was clearly a woman capable of great emotion and self control. She met me with a polite smile but seemed somewhat perturbed by my presence. 'I am afraid, Dr Watson', she said, taking my arm as she walked me to the room of the young lady, 'that we may have put you to some inconvenience. I am sure that little Sasha's illness is of no real concern and if it were up to me, or had Joseph consulted me before going to you, I would have saved you such a wasted journey.'

'From what your husband has told me, Mrs Wilding,' said I, 'I think your daughter's illness is of some concern and my journey will not have been wasted.' Privately, I pitied the poor woman, who was clearly trying to deny the severity of her daughter's illness to preserve her composure and remain a pillar of support for both her husband and her daughter, unlike Wilding himself, who seemed to have collapsed into pit of concern and worry for his stepdaughter. By the end of this exchange the three of us were on the first floor. 'Here is the poor girl's room,' said Wilding, opening the second door on the right hand side of the corridor and leading me and Mrs Wilding inside and there, lying pale as death on the bed was my patient.

There were two things that struck me in that room.

The first, was the occupant of it. If her mother was beautiful, Alexandra Wilding if not the most beautiful, was without a doubt the most striking girl I had ever seen, a girl whose appearance would catch and keep the attention of even the most casual observer. She was certainly no delicate beauty but she had vibrant silky black hair, a prominent classical nose, full symmetrical rosy lips despite the severity of the illness from which she suffered, and large expressive black eyes all set in a sharpened pale face. Her whole countenance suggested strength of character, an independent spirit and a tendency to passion which I found it both surprising, in a girl of only sixteen and disturbing in the obvious power her appearance had and would have over men of every age and class, which far surpassed the effect of even the most perfect beauty.

The second was the state of the room itself. Every surface from the dressing table to the armchair was covered with little possessions such as jewellery, brooches, porcelain ornaments, sweets, and all manner of things that a young girl would delight in. However it did occur to me that not even the most indulgent young woman, which Miss Alexandra Wilding certainly was not, would want such an wanton excess of possessions. The walls were covered in a wallpaper of a bright emerald green which seemed to cast it's green ligt over every white surface in the room, including the skin of Miss Wilding, giving her ivory complexion an unhealthy green tinge.

Wilding went over and knelt beside the bed, placing his hand on Miss Wilding's silky head, upon which she turned away. 'She has become confused again,' he said quickly, 'she doesn't remember who I am.'

'I know exactly who you are.' Replied Miss Alexandra Wilding sharply in a high, harsh voice. 'There is no need to blame insanity for my lack
of reciprocal affection'. I realised that Mrs Wilding, unlike her husband, was still standing by my side and not gone to tend her so clearly ill daughter.

'Now then,' said I, 'to examine Miss Wilding, I would be very grateful if you both leave the room for a moment.' When both Wilding and his wife protested strongly, I persuaded them that patients respond much better when the exact details of their ailments remain confidential between themselves and their doctor. When they had both left I examined her and asked her a variety of questions about her feelings and responses. When I had satisfied myself with her answers and my examination, I gave her a solution to help her sleep before returning to her anxious parents outside. 'I cannot give any definite answers as to what the cause of the illness is as of yet,' said I, 'but I will return tomorrow and study the progress of the affliction.'

'Can you give us no satisfactory answers yet?' Said Wilding restlessly.

'Alas, no,' said I, 'I dearly wish I could.'

But as I left the Wilding household after having made arrangements to call on my patient at three in the afternoon the next day, I was not at ease. There was something exceptionally odd about Miss Wilding's illness that struck me deeply. In my long medical experience, people rarely contracted the same sickness on three separate occasions, as the body learnt to defend itself against the same infection, let alone no one else in the household contracting the same illness. I felt as I took cab home, that something was very wrong in that house.