CHAPTER 4
Once back in my room I found the girl standing and – apparently – ready to go. I offered to take her home and she seemed pleased with the idea. Fortunately, Holmes had no objection on her leaving, and all he requested was that she should come again tomorrow after lunch. Then, as we were going out, he began with a couple of jokes.
"I'll arrange for Mrs Hudson to get us some water", he said laughing.
We all laughed with him and, when I was about to close the door and Miss Featherstone was already out, he added:
"We'll play: Find the doped glass."
"Oh, shut up Holmes!!" I shouted without the girl noticing and slamming the door.
During the drive I didn't refer at all to the case of the blue diamond, except to remind her of Holmes' request to pay us a second visit the following day. The rest of the conversation drifted between classical music and war wounds. We knew each other for only a couple of hours and yet we seemed to enjoy each other's company as old friend do. Before I had left her she had agreed to go with me to the theatre after Holmes disposed of us.
Once back at Baker Street I found Lestrade and my friend discussing the matter at hand.
"In the fireplace!" Holmes was saying.
"Yes," replied Lestrade, "and you will agree with me that this weather hardly justifies lighting it."
"Absolutely", said my friend. "Watson, remember when I mentioned murder?"
"Naturally", I answered.
"Well, happens that Mr Wood is dead", Holmes explained. "Anyway, that much I already knew. The awful part of the story is that he burnt to death in his own room's fireplace."
"Oh!" I was amazed.
"You understand that – under that circumstances – suicide and accident are completely discarded."
"I see," I agreed, "though I don't believe it would be too easy to hold someone in the fire either. Maybe the murderer blocked Mr Wood's way out of the fireplace by placing some piece of furniture as a barricade."
"That sounds possible, but in that case the police would have found that piece of furniture you mention, burnt on one side—but they didn't."
"Well, what do you suggest then?"
"You don't see it?"
"Doped", I said realising that was the only possibility.
"Exactly", Holmes said. "And it must have been a rather strong drug. By the way, was Miss Featherstone fast asleep when you found her?"
"Yes, she took a lot of waking up."
"It must have been the same drug", he said.
"Why, that's scary!" I yelled. I was deeply concerned about this bit of news. Miss Featherstone had been drugged in the same way Mr Wood had been. But, who had doped her again? Herself! It was only then that I understood what Holmes had been trying to suggest all along. The two detectives were looking as if waiting for me to process the information.
"But," I began to say, "she couldn't have done it. She wouldn't be capable of murder."
"You're biased, I'm afraid."
I blushed, for I was guilty.
"Still, she gave me a very good reason for coming here for the diamond."
"Yes, yes, Watson. I know all about it. Now I've not made up my mind yet as to what exactly happened to Mr Wood. That's precisely what I want to find out today."
Lestrade reminded us of his presence by saying:
"We are going to the dead man's house now, doctor, in case you want to join us?"
Five minutes later we were on our way to Oxford Street, were Mr Wood had lived his last days. His house was almost in the corner of Regent Street and was one of the oldest around. Only two of its rooms called Holmes' attention during our visit, the first of them being Mr Wood's bedroom.
The body had been removed, but Lestrade explained all he knew.
"We were only satisfied it was Mr Wood after his bones were analysed", he explained. "Otherwise it would've been impossible to tell who it was."
"For how long did he burn?" I asked.
"All night. Only this morning his nephew found him dead and called us. The smell wasn't what I would call—"
"You needn't explain", I said.
Holmes checked the furniture.
"No signs of fire", he reported. "Somehow I expected the police had missed something", he said and Lestrade did not look pleased.
I looked at the night table. There was an empty bottle of whisky and a half full glass beside it, and I hastened to suggest that Mr Wood might have been drunk instead of doped.
"That's just a plant, Watson", said Holmes. "And if Mr Wood had been drunk enough to be unable to step out of the fireplace, it's hardly unlikely that he could have walked across the whole room."
I looked at the table with the bottle and then at the fireplace. The distance was at least twelve yards, and Holmes was probably right.
Afterwards we went into Mr Featherstone's room. It was very small and there was apparently nothing worth noticing in it. However, in the bathroom Holmes made a curious discovery.
"Look", he said, pointing at the wash-hand basin. We noticed it was stained, and the stains included many different colours.
"What does this mean?" Lestrade asked. "It looks as if someone had poured his watercolours in here."
"Of course!" said Holmes realising something on his own. He ran out of the house and we never saw him come back.
Puzzled as we were, Lestrade was kind enough to tell me a couple of things I had missed during my time with Miss Featherstone. It happened that Mr Wood's nephew – the gentleman who had visited Holmes – lived with his uncle and had a room on the first floor. He claimed he knew nothing about the diamond until his uncle told him of the attack on Mr Featherstone and urged him to find it before the owner was told of its disappearance. According to him, his uncle had given him a description of the jewel, which he never saw. His uncle had last seen the diamond at the front door of his very house, before Featherstone had taken it away.
It's interesting to note that Wood's nephew still believed that Holmes had the jewel, and the next day he appeared in our lodgings anxious to have it back.
"My uncle's name is at stake", he said.
But Holmes was grave and for a minute or so said nothing. Then he explained how Mr Wood had been murdered. He hadn't been doped when he got in the burning fireplace, he said to my relief. He hadn't been drunk either; neither had he been asleep, nor unconscious. He had been dead; that was the obvious explanation. Stabbed. After his body had burnt it was impossible to spot the wounds.
As for the diamond, Holmes was convinced that Wood's nephew knew all about it. The fact that he had described it to every detail accounted for it.
"I told you my uncle gave me a description of it!" the man shouted.
"That's not true", said Holmes calmly. "If he had done so, he would have described this", he added holding a strange looking stone, the size of a fist, and the shape of the moon.
After a while, Lestrade – who was present then – said:
"Does anyone else see just an Easter-egg?"
"That looks nothing like the diamond!" complained Wood.
"That's right", said Holmes. "Your uncle and Mr Featherstone took the extreme precaution of painting it", he added, the multi-coloured stone still aloft in his hand. "And it worked, because you didn't find after your attack on Mr Featherstone. He had just the time to throw it away; I found it inside a rubbish bin, one that had been clearly searched. Your uncle knew that you were guilty of the attack – being the only one who knew about the diamond beside himself – and threatened you with prosecution. After that, you killed him.
Mr Wood initially refused the charges as he was taken away, but presently he yielded.
One hour after these events, the three of us were discussing the stone.
"I still don't understand why would anyone paint a diamond?" Lestrade asked.
"It's surely damaged now", I agreed.
Holmes took the stone in his hand and started to explain.
"It's actually not all diamond. Watson, you heard Wood's description, remember? It's only blue because of the stone inside. The outer layers are made of crystal prisms, and the reason for attaching prisms to a diamond is that they deflect the light. And with properly arranged layers you can do wonders", he said, and all the time he had been rubbing some chemicals to the stone with a small cloth.
Eventually, the jewel was clean again and we could see the blue stone inside the prisms.
"That's wonderful!" I said.
"That's nothing", Holmes corrected. Then he searched it till he found the prisms joint. He pressed a sharp blade against the stone and hammered it strongly until he pierced the outer crystals.
"I hope you're not superstitious", he said when he was done. Then he opened the jewel as if it were an egg and took the small diamond from the inside. Lestrade and I looked at each other in amazement for several minutes as Holmes showed us the gem. It was red!
"Blast the prisms!" I shouted. "That is unbelievable!"
"That's not it", Holmes added smiling, and I wondered what was coming next. "This—is the Fire Crescent."
"What!!!!!" Lestrade and I screamed at the same time, jumping out of our seats.