December 3: "Watson has a moment of joy" (from YoughaltheJust)
Continued from December 2.
We were alone in the waiting room, and had not sat for more than twenty minutes before we were shown in to see Dr. Wright. He proved to be a robust, kind faced man with a bushy mustache and sidewhiskers. He held our two calling cards between his index and middle finger.
"There is only one matter about which a detective would be calling upon me," he said grimly. "I heard the news just an hour ago, and would have gone to my poor Elizabeth at once had I not been in the midst of seeing my morning patients. As a doctor, my first duty, of course, must be to them."
"Quite right," I replied.
"And you are a medical man as well," said he, glancing at my card.
Before I could make a reply, Holmes spoke again. "Yes, yes, but let us avoid idle chatter," said he, "now that your waiting room is free of patients, would you be willing to spare some few minutes to answer any questions I might put to you about the events of last night?"
"Certainly," he replied. "I should like to aid the police efforts in whatever way I can."
"I should mention that we are not strictly with the police," said Holmes, "though I am assisting Inspector Lestrade in this case."
"That's all right," said the doctor. "Ask what you will and I will answer truly, though I confess I cannot see what light I could shed on the matter as I left the house shortly after dinner."
"In the first place," said Holmes, "what is your opinion of the kitchen staff?"
Dr. Wright's brow furrowed. "It is hardly my place to speak ill of other people's servants, but I said I should answer any question, and I am a man of my word. The cook is excellent at her trade but leaves something to be desired when it comes to her, well, what we would call in my business her bedside manner. She is a cold, sour woman, and metes out punishments freely upon the poor maid who assists her. It is true that the girl is a little forgetful and rather foolish, but she is young, and I have always thought the cook far too hard on her."
"And what brought you to the kitchen door yesterday afternoon?"
Our man gave such a start that he nearly fell from his chair, then burst into a hearty laugh. "Well! my secret is out then. Yes, I had tended to her bloodied knuckles enough times that I did not want to see them inflicted upon her again, and offered to run some little errand that the cook demanded of her while she finished some cleaning duties she had neglected, as she would not have time to do both before preparing dinner. It isn't proper, I know, and not even my Elizabeth knows, but I stand by it. But how on earth did you know I came in through the back door?"
"I have my methods," Holmes replied mildly. I confess that I had to fight to keep the smile from forming on my lips at that. Dr. Wright masked it well but I could see the ghost of frustration flit across his features. Many a time had I been in that position myself, attempting with my own logical faculties to follow the steps made by my friend only to find that his brain had gone where mine could not follow unaided. It brought me no little joy to be on the other side, aware of all the details necessary to draw the conclusion and able to do so. For my friend could only have deduced as much by comparing the footmarks outside the kitchen door with the shoes of the house's occupants and upon finding a set that did not match any of those present, and combining that information with the insight into the doctor's sympathetic disposition toward the kitchen maid, came to his conclusion.
"Now," Holmes continued, "I should like a full account of your movements upon first arriving at the house, through dinner, and to your final departure."
"Certainly," he replied. "I had made plans to dine with them at around six, but came early, around half past three, when I had no more patients to tend to. I am always welcome there and it is not unusual for me to arrive early. I was let in by the butler, who told me Elizabeth had gone out. That was all right; I would while away my time somehow or other. I amused myself for some minutes by playing upon the piano, and stopped when I heard the familiar scolding of the cook. I made my way in that direction, and when I was quite sure the cook was out of earshot, I inquired as to the nature of the scolding. She confided in me, and as you already know, I left out the back way to retrieve a few groceries on her behalf, returning some forty-five minutes later, the cook none the wiser. I returned to the main part of the house by way of the kitchen.
"I know the propriety of my actions is questionable, but I could not stand by and do nothing if by my inaction the poor maid would suffer more pains from the cook. I mean no slight to Sir Carter when I say this, but no servant in my household should ever find herself so ill-treated by their superiors. In any event, I made my way to the sitting room, and after a short wait, Elizabeth arrived home and joined me, with her lady's maid also, so that we might have a chaperone. This was perhaps a quarter to five. We were joined by Sir Carter and his wife some twenty minutes before dinner. We dined, and I would have been happy to share a brandy with Sir Carter afterward but he was feeling a little under the weather, so I bid Elizabeth farewell and departed."
"Did you return home by cab?" Holmes asked.
"Yes, a hansom."
"And did not leave again till morning?"
"I have not left even now. My rooms are above my practice."
"Ah, I see," Holmes replied. "That will be all. Thank you for your time, Dr. Wright."
The doctor extended his hand, but Holmes had already turned on his heel. I shook the proffered hand myself, and followed after.
To be continued...