The Parting Glass – Part 7

Sherlock:

After my conversation with Musgrave, I went up to my bedroom and pondered on the case for several hours after, turning over the facts in my mind over and over again.

So what did I have to work with? At first glance not much, but at least the number of suspects had already been reduced to nine instead of thirty and a motive had turned up, showing the dead man in a completely new light. Yet, I could not make a connection to any of the suspects. Professor Peverell was missing and no-one knew where he had gone to, which was highly suspicious but did it prove his guilt? I had been told Sir Robert had looked at him in his last moments, but the man was a medic and it might just as well be that he had sought help from the only man of whom he knew was capable of it. - Had it not been a most potent poison. A poison, if I was right in my assumptions, of which only a small dose was needed to kill a man.

Something was nagging at the back of my mind. I felt as if I was overlooking some vital piece of information and yet I could not lay my finger on what it was. But there was something, hidden underneath all the gossip Mrs Summerly had showered me with, I was certain of it. Pondering thus I reduced my stash of tobacco quite considerably, but to no avail

xxx

It was in the small hours that I decided to rest a bit, but at first light, I was up again and ventured downstairs. As expected everything was still quiet, none of the houseguests had gotten up yet and the servants only just began to stir. Pulling the curtains of the breakfast parlour aside I saw that it was snowing heavily again, adding to the already substantial amount of snow covering the ground. It was a lovely and serene sight which made the grimness of the murder committed here stand out even more so.

Suddenly I felt a movement behind me and upon turning around was face to face with a middle-aged man with dishevelled hair and stubble on his chin, looking tired and weary. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he looked as if he had slept in his clothes. From the pocket of his waistcoat, the top of a syringe was visible and he had a stethoscope around his neck, half disguised by his untied cravat.

"I am sorry, I thought you to be the butler, but I presume you must be Mr Sherlock Holmes," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as if would help him stay awake.

"Yes, and you must be the missing Professor Peverell." I smiled.

"Missing?" he yawned. "Why? I was here all the time."

Realising where he must have spent the night I enquired: "How is the girl?"

"Dead." he shrugged. "The arrhythmia of her heart increased during the night and at last she went into cardiac arrest. I injected her with some digitalis, but her body was too weak to deal with yet another poisonous substance, I am afraid. Do you happen to know how Lady Mary is faring?"

"No, I am afraid I do not."

"Then I will check on her and hope that by the time I return I will be able to get a cup of strong coffee somewhere in this house."

I smiled, before turning around in search of the kitchen.

Returning to the breakfast room with two cups of coffee and a couple of ginger snap biscuits I waited for the Professor. He returned only moments later, his face bearing a frowning expression as if he was deep in thought.

"Oh, you are still here."

"And with coffee and biscuits." I pushed one cup in his direction which produced a small chuckle from him.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. I really appreciate it. The last twenty-four hours were rather trying and slowly but surely I start to feel my age. So, you are Mycroft Holmes' younger brother?"

Admittedly I was startled. I had had no idea that the professor knew my brother.

"Yes," I answered, surprised.

"We are both members of the Diogenes Club, you know. I am not a regular visitor there, but on occasion, I really appreciate the place." Peverell explained, eyeing the biscuits.

"Yes, sometimes it is a nice change to be completely ignored by each and everyone, while equally allowed to ignore them in turn. Being in good company without the hassle of idle conversation." I replied with a slightly sarcastic undertone.

"That was put very aptly, Mr Holmes. And while I can see that you disagree, there are times when I dislike brooding all on my own, while at the same time I am not in the mood to talk about what is going on in my mind. I think that is what we all have in common at the Diogenes. The ghosts that haunt our minds are both too fierce to deal with them alone and too complex to talk about them to anyone." he smiled.

I had never seen it this way, but now that I thought about it, it was quite an accurate description of my brother's state of mind. With his matter of fact attitude and rationality, I often forgot that underneath his rough and no-nonsense exterior there was a highly sensitive man, far more sensitive than myself. It was what made him good at what he was doing, while at the same time took a great deal out of him emotionally.

Drinking my own coffee I brought my mind back to the matter at hand and when the professor had put down his cup likewise I carefully began my enquiries.

"On the night of the murder, was there anything that struck you as being odd?"

"No, not at all. It was a pleasant party – as pleasant as dinner parties go when one is not in the mood for it."

"And you were not?"

"No." he answered flatly.

"Was there a particular reason for that?"

"Of course there was. I had just lost one of my patients - one I had great hopes of curing. But all my efforts had come to nothing. He died and I am afraid I will have to start all over again."

"What is your field of expertise?"

"Cancerous growths. A devilish malady. The death rate is incredibly high and no treatment seems to work. One can take out the tumours only to find them growing back or spreading to another part of the body. And still, like with your profession, which I can imagine is trying at times as well, someone has to do it."

"How did you know Sir Robert?" I enquired, wondering if the man had been ill after all.

"I am from Petersfield, born and bred. Our paths crossed once in a while and as we shared some interests we became friends, many years ago. I have to admit it has cooled down a bit over time. I eventually got married, moved to London and pursued my career, while he stayed – well for him there was no need to take up a profession. But we were still on friendly terms and frequently saw each other. He visited me when he was in town and I visiting him when in Petersfield, where my older sister still lives."

"How was he like?"

"Mostly cordial, but sometimes short tempered. His sense of humour was a bit peculiar, very rough and sometimes hurtful. He never knew when he was going too far, particularly of late. Should you wonder why young Charles is such a sullen young man, he has often been on the receiving end of his father's jokes. Some might think it silly, but Atwell had a habit of humiliating his son – and wife - quite frequently. Though I doubt young Charles thought them that funny. For someone on the outside, it appeared to be good-natured teases, but Sir Robert had a knack for hitting very close to home - with only the person knowing who was his target. Everyone else would have thought his to be jesting."

This indeed was news to me.

"Have you ever been on the receiving end?" I dug deeper.

"Once or twice," Peverell answered calmly. "It was one of the reasons why our friendship drifted somewhat apart. I lost my first wife due to cancer and he thought it rather hilarious that this would happen to me of all people. 'One-nil for the disease, my friend.' he had said. 'When do you go in for round two?' - that was at my wife's funeral. Needless to say, I was very angry at the time. But he at least had the decency to apologise and I left it at that for the sake of our long-standing friendship."

I was speechless. Going too far indeed.

"Is there anything else you would like to know, Mr Holmes?" Peverell, at last, asked, as we both had fallen silent, sitting at the table brooding.

"Only two more things. What do you think killed Sir Robert?"

"Judging by the girl's symptoms I would say aconite. Sir Robert's symptoms have been slightly unusual, but there might be an underlying cause for it. He was not exactly young and he did not take great care of his health. An undetected heart condition might have contributed to his quick death. Not that anyone could have helped him anyway."

"He had tiny shards of glass in his throat, the largest about a quarter inch in length. Could it have contributed to his speedy death."

"Possibly. I have to admit I cannot say for sure. You might be the better judge from what I have heard about you, Mr Holmes. And the second?"

"Do you know if Sir Charles had any enemies. - I mean real ones that wished him dead, not the ones who merely wished him far away."

"He was a powerful man, Mr Holmes. I would be surprised if he had not had any enemies. Though who would go as far as to kill him, I cannot say."

Tired he got up from his chair, stretching his back.

"These beds they have the servants sleep in are nothing but torture devices!" he mumbled before leaving me behind sitting at the table.

xxx

As the morning advanced the people within the house began to stir. Sir Robert's body was removed, as was the girl's and I had a short talk to the local inspector.

"I am very glad you have come down to help us out, Mr Holmes. Not that I think it to be a murder at all, but as the suspicion has been voiced I, of course, have to look into it. But mark my words, it will be nothing but a very unfortunate heart attack. Sir Robert was a very respected man around here and his death is a great loss for the community, there is not a man in the world who would have wanted to see him dead. I just hope his son will be just as able a man as his father was." he had told me before leaving again.

I was bewildered at such a display of ignorance, how could he completely overlook the fact that the maid who had cleaned up the poisoned drink had also died? Seeing him bustle around importantly, I decided it was not worth the hassle to argue with the man.

Continuing with my enquiries I had no more success in getting closer to the bottom of the mystery than the police at the moment, however, as neither Miss Wilson nor Mrs Coward could tell me anything of any significance. - The evening had been pleasant, the food good, the dresses of the ladies present most elegant and the alcohol plenty. Both had been quite tipsy by the time they toasted to Sir Robert's health and afterwards had been in hysterics when he had collapsed. Sighing I lit myself another pipe. If only I could recall what it was that had struck me as odd last night. But no matter how much I wrecked my brain I could not remember. Annoyed with myself I paced the room till lunch was served and only Sir James and Imogene were left to be interviewed, the latter having been busy all morning with organising the household and in Lady Mary's absence keeping everything together. I was quite impressed with my sister in law, I have to say.

Before I could rise from the lunch table the butler appeared with a letter for me. Curiously I opened it and was momentarily at a loss as to what to do. Glancing over to where Charles Atwell sat I decided that a direct approach might be best and getting up I asked him to join me.

"What is the matter? Have you found out something yet?" he enquired, looking more composed than the previous evening.

"I think you might want to sit down, Mr Atwell. I have some news for you, but they have little to nothing to do with the case."

"Then what is it?"

"You know Miss Mary Summerly, I presume?"

He looked nothing but bewildered at first, then nodded.

"What is your relationship with her, if I may ask?"

"What has that to do with the case? - Unless of course, you presume I have been the intended target… She is a very good girl, much different from her sister and this horrible mother of hers. Aside from that, we have occasionally met at the one or other party, we have been flirting a bit, but there is no relationship between us."

The slight blush spreading across his face showed that his mind had wandered in the very direction I wanted it to be in.

"But you have slept with her." This was not a question, but a statement.

His head shot up and he stared at me open-mouthed before hesitantly nodding, mouth but a thin line.

"Do you love her?"

"Let's say it that way, I appreciate her open manners and her persistence," he answered with a lopsided smile. "I like her company."

"And I take it you would not like to see her ruined?"

"Of course not!"

"Then I suggest you pack a few things and get the two of you to Scotland."

"Excuse me?" Charles Atwell gaped at me open-mouthed.

Instead of repeating myself I handed him my wife's missive and when he had finished reading it he looked up at me with an unfathomable expression.

"Good God, what have we done?"

"Nothing other young people have not done either. At least you have the means to put things to right."

"And I will, Mr Holmes. I will! It is the least I can do. I might not be a very likeable one, but I have always tried to be an honourable one. - And obviously failed. Now all I can do is try and set things to right.- but I can hardly leave now, can I?"

"Now is as good a time as any, if not better. Everyone is distracted by your father's death and if you keep to your room, no one would wonder about it. I'll make your excuses if necessary. Her parents are trapped here for the moment and will not get in the way – and her sister might be deterred by my wife if necessary. You elopement will cause a scandal, of course, but only a minor one. And I doubt very much that Lord Banbury will challenge you to a duel."

"No, me neither." Atwell grinned, "Pathetic coward that he is."

He got up and from his attitude, it was clear that he would pack straight away and leave within the hour.

"Mr Holmes?" he had turned around at the door, smiling – the first real smile I had seen on his face.

"Yes?"

"I am glad it is you Harriet has married. No lesser man would have deserved her. She is an exceptional woman, and while I greatly admired her, I would not have been able to make her happy. I can see that now."

And with that, he left the room before I could make any reply.