"It contained our address and this reference: Psalm 143, verse eight," Holmes replied. He was not forthcoming with the text and I was not familiar enough with that psalm to be able to quote the verse from memory.

Crossing over to the open Bible, I read aloud the text. "Cause me to hear thy loving-kindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee." I raised an eyebrow quizzically at Holmes.

"It was the most concise way I could think of to thank him for his aide and direct him to meet us here tomorrow morning," said Holmes, "poetic language aside. Just think what trouble our dear lady should have had to go to had I not settled on such a concise message," he added innocently. But his face was turned to me and I could plainly see a rare jesting smile written upon Holmes's angular features.

His only answer was a soft snort of derision from the lady in question.

"Shall we try it again with something less concise then?" Holmes suggested, goading her onward. He was obviously having his revenge for something that she had either said or done during those nights that they had sat up arguing with one another while I slept.

"As I stated, Mr Holmes," she replied, fixing him with a glare that was not altogether good-natured, "if you insist upon setting the message of any other cipher, you will be enciphering it yourself, with no aide whatsoever from me."

Holmes threw back his head and laughed heartily at this fervent declaration. "I am sorry," he chortled, "but you rose marvellously to the challenge. I should not have been able to compose such a thing myself, but rather would have reverted to prose, as I have no knack with poetry at all."

Mrs Kendrick sighed and finally let small smile grow on her stern face. "I have no great skill either," she admitted, "and had to settle for only a close match at least one of the rhymes. I can only imagine that poetry would be a good sight easier if one did not always have to be concerned with both word length and rhyme."

I had laid aside coat and hat was occupied with building up the fire once again, but I could only imagine it quite a task to compose a poem bound not only by the regimented rules of rhythm and rhyme, but also constrained by the necessity of keeping nearly every word at a requisite length. "I would say that you have a good hand for it," said I, feeling that after her afternoon of hard work she was deserving of the compliment.

"More than that," Holmes declared with pride. "I would say that she has a good head for it." Valuing the mind as Holmes did, that was one of the highest compliments that he could pay to her. She obviously realized it, for she could not help but flush with well-deserved pleasure.