Holmes and I settled ourselves into the darkness of my consulting room. It had been a simple enough matter to slip in unseen through the side door, as my maid had been told she would not have to worry about her duties for a few days. "I hope," Holmes noted, breaking his silence, "that tonight's watch will prove fruitful." In the shadows, I saw him remove something from his pocket and slide it along the table between us toward me.

I picked it up, feeling the cool metal of a revolver. I was surprised to see the weapon, for I could not recall Holmes having gone near the drawer where his was kept all day. "My revolver is still in the desk at home," came my companion's voice out of the darkness, "just as your old Army revolver is no doubt locked away somewhere upstairs. But this weapon is for your use, on the off chance that we shall need it. I have another for myself."

"But from where…"

"The note I sent to my brother was more revealing than I shared initially," explained Holmes, "although there appeared to be neither rhyme nor reason to it."

"What exactly did you tell him?" I inquired curiously.

"I had him make a few discreet inquiries at the Admiralty, acquire these two revolvers, and to come to join us after he'd finished at the Diogenes Club," Holmes revealed. "Although I did rather press the final point in the manner I had earlier indicated to ensure that he wouldn't just send a messenger. I do hope that our dear Mrs Kendrick is up to defending herself against his inquiries."

For still another time, I was amazed at logical method by which my friend could deal with even the seemingly most complex problem or situation. "Is Mrs Kendrick spending her last evening at Baker Street defending herself against your brother?" I asked.

"I should imagine that she will rather enjoy it," Holmes noted. "But it will not be her last evening with us," he added reluctantly. "For all the time that we have spent puzzling over this case, I fear that we are no nearer the true situation than when we began and quite further from a solution than ever. In fact, I am beginning to fear that we have been going down the wrong course."

I was dismayed at Holmes's revelation and was grateful that the darkness hid it from my friend's keen eyes. "No nearer the true situation?" I repeated after a moment. "Do you doubt the veracity of Mrs Kendrick?"

"How dare you put such a slight upon the lady?" Holmes asked with a laugh that relieved some of the tension of the wait. "I have every confidence that Mrs Kendrick has shared with us every detail of the truth as she knows it," he continued, placing special emphasis on the last words.

The windows of the consulting room were closed against the rain and the two of us were conversing freely as we kept watch, knowing that we could not be heard beyond the confines of the room. "As she knows it?" I asked, turning my gaze from the window momentarily to look at my friend's dark form.

"I fear that she has been misled as to a few key matters," Holmes sighed. "Although I am sure that many would have been led even further from the truth than she has been." There was only admiration in Holmes's voice at this point. "She has brought us enough details to give us a start on the investigation and I am confident in stating that she has proved most troublesome for the men we are attempting to catch."

"On what matters has she been misled?" I questioned curiously.

"The true extent of that is yet to be revealed," Holmes replied cryptically. "Now, our hour approaches and we must keep a sharp watch."

We lapsed into a watchful silence as the rain continued to beat down on the roof and the wind whistled about the house, rattling the windowpanes. In the darkness, I am ashamed to admit that I began to allow my imagination quite run away with me until I imagined that we were under siege from a faerie army. In the rain falling, I could hear the battalions of elfin feet advancing upon us as we sat unaware. The wind howling down the chimney became their spectral banshee cries, calling them forward to an attack as surely as any bugle call. They besieged our windows with their fantastic artillery, attempting to breach through the perimeter of wood and glass to reach our sanctuary.

The clock in the hall chimed the hour and the distant bells could well have been taken as the advance of the faerie cavalry, so enraptured had I become with my own imaginings had Holmes's voice not broken through my reverie. I almost expected that he was giving warning of the impending attack, but of course he did nothing of the sort. "Your clock in the hall just struck half past eleven," he stated prosaically. "I suspect that the weather has kept our men away."

Although I would never have admitted it, I was grateful for the reassuring solidity of Holmes's statement and his dark form beside me. "We shall have trouble getting a cab at this hour and I don't fancy the walk," said I. "Let us turn up the lights and wait in comfort while I call for one."

Holmes struck a match and lit the lamps while I went to call for a cab. We had spent a rather unproductive evening and I only hoped that Mrs Kendrick and Mycroft had spent a more enjoyable evening than we had, sitting in the dark and making no progress at all on the case.

I returned to the consulting room with these thoughts in my mind only to find the side door open and Holmes gone. I was shocked as to the turn of events, and crossed immediately over to the door, only to encounter Holmes coming back in. He was soaked from the rain and clutched an envelope in his trembling hand. "They have bested us this time, Watson," he declared passionately. "But we will take care not to let it happen again."

Holmes explained to me what had transpired after I left the room. Once the lights were up, he had seen a bit of white sticking out from beneath one of the larger stones that lined the path leading up to the front door of the house. He knew that it hadn't been there when we began to keep our watch and had immediately darted outside to investigate. There, beneath the stone, he had found the dirt-streaked envelope he now clutched in his hand.

"This rain has prevented me from being able to see any footprints," Holmes complained bitterly, "and we have no way of knowing when the letter was placed there, but that it was not there when we approached and it was there when we turned up the lights. How could we have missed such a thing?"

"The sound of the wind and rain must have covered any noise made by the deliverer," I proposed logically.

"But what of his shape? No amount of noise should have hid that sign of his approach and work. I think, my dear Watson, that we are being watched far more carefully than we had initially thought."

I was at a loss, unable to explain how we should have missed that when we were both staring eagerly out the window the entire time we had been in the room and dismayed that we were up against such worthy adversaries. With one further clue in hand, but heavy hearts, we awaited the cab that would come to take us to Baker Street.

When we arrived back at our lodgings, we were unsurprised to find all the lights burning bright and Mrs Kendrick deeply absorbed in an argument with Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock was, however, a bit taken aback by the energy that his brother was showing.

"No, no!" Mycroft was declaring fervently as we entered, waving his hands in an attempt to demonstrate his point. "It could not have been that for the facts disallow it."

"Which facts, Mr Holmes?" Mrs Kendrick demanded archly.

"The Shipping Act of 1654 as the earliest example," Mycroft informed her testily, not taking the slightest notice of our entry. "Followed by the Reform Act of 1669, the 1703 Tax Laws, the 1715 amendments to the previous Import Acts, and eighteen other distinct pieces of legislation. Not to mention innumerable cases of legal precedent, both locally and nationally, including the Sherringworth case of two years ago!"

"I'm aware of the impossibilities," she retorted rather hotly, "but we're not discussing the possibility of the thing. Rather, we have been discussing whether or not such an action did or did not take place, impossible or not!"

"Ah," Sherlock commented to me as we removed our sodden coats, "I see that Brother Mycroft has in fact latched upon several of the facts I provided in that telegram I sent."

I could recall nothing from the telegram that Sherlock Holmes had shown me that would have led to invocations of the various acts and court cases that Mycroft was citing. "I hope that you have not been kept waiting on us for too long," said I, breaking into the conversation as soon as the two paused.

Mycroft harrumphed without bothering to look in my direction and Mrs Kendrick crossed her arms firmly over her chest and stared at him. "It did happen," she stated. "That much you can't deny."

"Whether it happened or not is irrelevant," Mycroft replied loftily. "What matters is that it was impossible."