Disclaimers: See Part 1.
*****
::Sherlock Holmes::
While Emily busied herself with unpacking (I was amazed at the volume of clothing that that woman unfurled from her luggage, like a stage magician producing yards of cloth from the hat of an unsuspecting bystander), I took it upon myself to explore the study. I had seen almost immediately the impracticality of both of us sharing that single bedroom, as it was indeed cozy – perfect for a married couple but quite unsuited for my purposes in this case.
The study was half again the size of the adjoining bedroom, with three of its walls lined with shelves bearing dusty tomes of varying degrees of interest, most of them literature or philosophy. Against the wall beneath the window was a writing-desk and chair. The one wall bare of books was instead dominated by another fireplace; the ashes and half-cremated logs still within and the presence of the connecting door between the study and the bedroom suggested that the original owner of the bedroom was a great lover of reading and frequently spent many long hours ensconced within.
In the middle of the room and directly in front of the fireplace was a well-used sofa, its cushions beginning to sag from many years' worth of sitting. Nearer to the fireplace was a wing-backed chair, with its accompanying footrest, both newer than the sofa but beginning to show signs of wear. The chair and footrest were positioned so that the devoted reader could warm his feet before the fire on cold evenings, such as this one was likely going to be.
As I was not unaccustomed to spending long nights sitting in my own study, I decided that this study would suffice as a post from which I could keep watch over the bedroom and my volunteer tonight. To make sure I had covered every detail in my initial examination, I checked the window and its thumb-latch. Both were in good condition, and neither the latch nor the sash showed any signs of tool-marks or tampering or any kind, nor were there scuff-marks on the sill where anyone might have stepped on it to gain entry. Adding to the puzzle was a row of prickly hedges immediately below the window, which would certainly have presented some difficult to any cat-burglar who did not have great ingenuity
I made sure the window was locked and returned to the bedroom, where Emily was halfway through hanging up a number of dresses in the wardrobe. I conceded silently that perhaps my earlier judgment of her luggage was a bit premature, as I saw only the expected number of full outfits that society decreed that a well-dressed woman required for the day – the morning dress, the day dress, and the dinner dress – multiplied by two days. The difficulty, of course, had been in the sheer volume of fabric, plus whatever arcane devices were required to accompany or augment the feminine wardrobe.
The details were, so I believed, none of my concern.
I opened the curtains (which I remembered being closed before) and examined the bedroom window, which was guarded by the continuation of the same prickly hedges. It, too, showed no signs of forced entry.
"Do you see him outside?" Emily asked from the wardrobe.
I turned. "Do I see whom outside?" I asked, and then started looking for anyone amiss out the window.
"I guess it's the gardener, Mr Fairfax. I saw him earlier when we visited the backyard, and he seemed to show an inordinate interest in me."
I paused in my search and glanced over my shoulder at her. "Inordinate how?"
She looked more than a bit disgusted. "He was staring at me, but it was like… well, it wasn't the sort of look a gentleman offers to a lady, married or not. It made my skin crawl. I don't know how the Hammonds haven't seen anything like it before."
"Was he outside just now, while I was in the study?" I asked.
"I saw him going out to the hothouse a few minutes ago, but he was looking around like he didn't want anyone to see him. I shut the curtains in case he tried to peek in."
"Well, keep your wits about you," I advised her, "He may bear watching, but just remember that people can be ill-mannered without meaning any harm."
"All right, but I'm keeping the curtains shut from now on, if it's all the same to you." She sighed and returned to her unpacking (of which she appeared to have only her unmentionables remaining), while I obliged her wishes and shut the curtains. "Did you find anything interesting in the study?"
"The bad news is that I've found no signs of past forced entry – no tool-marks or suspicious scratches or scuff-marks – by either this window or the one in the study, so we can safely eliminate those routes of entry if we make certain to lock both of them tonight."
"Do you have any good news, then?"
"I did find a place from which to keep watch tonight. The chair before the fireplace seems well-suited for a comfortable vigil."
She managed a faint smile. "Just don't go falling asleep while you're on watch."
"I won't," I reassured her, "You have my word upon that."
*****
End of Part 6.
*****
::Sherlock Holmes::
While Emily busied herself with unpacking (I was amazed at the volume of clothing that that woman unfurled from her luggage, like a stage magician producing yards of cloth from the hat of an unsuspecting bystander), I took it upon myself to explore the study. I had seen almost immediately the impracticality of both of us sharing that single bedroom, as it was indeed cozy – perfect for a married couple but quite unsuited for my purposes in this case.
The study was half again the size of the adjoining bedroom, with three of its walls lined with shelves bearing dusty tomes of varying degrees of interest, most of them literature or philosophy. Against the wall beneath the window was a writing-desk and chair. The one wall bare of books was instead dominated by another fireplace; the ashes and half-cremated logs still within and the presence of the connecting door between the study and the bedroom suggested that the original owner of the bedroom was a great lover of reading and frequently spent many long hours ensconced within.
In the middle of the room and directly in front of the fireplace was a well-used sofa, its cushions beginning to sag from many years' worth of sitting. Nearer to the fireplace was a wing-backed chair, with its accompanying footrest, both newer than the sofa but beginning to show signs of wear. The chair and footrest were positioned so that the devoted reader could warm his feet before the fire on cold evenings, such as this one was likely going to be.
As I was not unaccustomed to spending long nights sitting in my own study, I decided that this study would suffice as a post from which I could keep watch over the bedroom and my volunteer tonight. To make sure I had covered every detail in my initial examination, I checked the window and its thumb-latch. Both were in good condition, and neither the latch nor the sash showed any signs of tool-marks or tampering or any kind, nor were there scuff-marks on the sill where anyone might have stepped on it to gain entry. Adding to the puzzle was a row of prickly hedges immediately below the window, which would certainly have presented some difficult to any cat-burglar who did not have great ingenuity
I made sure the window was locked and returned to the bedroom, where Emily was halfway through hanging up a number of dresses in the wardrobe. I conceded silently that perhaps my earlier judgment of her luggage was a bit premature, as I saw only the expected number of full outfits that society decreed that a well-dressed woman required for the day – the morning dress, the day dress, and the dinner dress – multiplied by two days. The difficulty, of course, had been in the sheer volume of fabric, plus whatever arcane devices were required to accompany or augment the feminine wardrobe.
The details were, so I believed, none of my concern.
I opened the curtains (which I remembered being closed before) and examined the bedroom window, which was guarded by the continuation of the same prickly hedges. It, too, showed no signs of forced entry.
"Do you see him outside?" Emily asked from the wardrobe.
I turned. "Do I see whom outside?" I asked, and then started looking for anyone amiss out the window.
"I guess it's the gardener, Mr Fairfax. I saw him earlier when we visited the backyard, and he seemed to show an inordinate interest in me."
I paused in my search and glanced over my shoulder at her. "Inordinate how?"
She looked more than a bit disgusted. "He was staring at me, but it was like… well, it wasn't the sort of look a gentleman offers to a lady, married or not. It made my skin crawl. I don't know how the Hammonds haven't seen anything like it before."
"Was he outside just now, while I was in the study?" I asked.
"I saw him going out to the hothouse a few minutes ago, but he was looking around like he didn't want anyone to see him. I shut the curtains in case he tried to peek in."
"Well, keep your wits about you," I advised her, "He may bear watching, but just remember that people can be ill-mannered without meaning any harm."
"All right, but I'm keeping the curtains shut from now on, if it's all the same to you." She sighed and returned to her unpacking (of which she appeared to have only her unmentionables remaining), while I obliged her wishes and shut the curtains. "Did you find anything interesting in the study?"
"The bad news is that I've found no signs of past forced entry – no tool-marks or suspicious scratches or scuff-marks – by either this window or the one in the study, so we can safely eliminate those routes of entry if we make certain to lock both of them tonight."
"Do you have any good news, then?"
"I did find a place from which to keep watch tonight. The chair before the fireplace seems well-suited for a comfortable vigil."
She managed a faint smile. "Just don't go falling asleep while you're on watch."
"I won't," I reassured her, "You have my word upon that."
*****
End of Part 6.