Prompt from W. Y. Traveller – Lace
AN: This one took a lot longer than anticipated but I am pleased with how it turned out.
Case of the Vague Gentleman
According to my notes, it was at the end of my day on 2 December 1893 when an unexpected visitor arrived at my surgery. In truth, I had just put the key in the lock to close up for the night when a young man called out to me.
"Doctor? Doctor Watson?"
I turned, thinking it must be a late patient. I peered through the falling snow, frowning, as I was looking forward to a warm supper and perhaps a few glasses of brandy before bedtime. I discerned a slender young man in topcoat and bowler hat trotting towards me through the ankle-deep snow, waving an imploring hand.
"Doctor Watson, have you a few minutes?" said he.
"Is it an emergency?" I asked. "I will need to get my bag."
"Not precisely an emergency, sir," said the young man, coming to a stop a few feet away. He doffed his bowler and smiled uncertainly. "Do you remember me, sir?"
"Billy?" I breathed. I had not seen him since he was a lad of fourteen and working for Mrs. Hudson when I still shared the old rooms on Baker Street with my late friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Instantly my heart soared with pleasure. "Billy! By Jove! It is good to see you!"
Taking his hand I shook it gladly, grinning, I am sure, like monkey. Billy returned my handshake with equal pleasure. Even so, I could see in his eyes that something troubled him.
"Come in, come in, lad," I said, opening the surgery door and ushering him inside. "We'll have some brandy to drive off this devilish chill and then you shall tell me what brings you."
Once seated beside the iron stove in my office with snifters of good brandy in our hands I regarded him closely. He had grown a full three inches since last I had seen him and put on at least two stone. His boyish face was no longer so boyish, but he looked the same old Billy for all that. Still dark haired and eager, hardly able to sit still. I noted, too, his change in style. No longer did he wear the uniform of a page as he had done for so many years in Mrs. Hudson's household. Now he was clad in the much finer livery of a gentleman's gentleman.
"So, young man, tell me how you have been and what errand brings you to me this evening." I said. "I heard you had secured a position as a butler. I trust it is not your master requiring my services."
"I have been well, sir," said he and sipped tentatively from his glass. "Until recently, I could have asked for no better. As to your services, I fear Mr. Oswald may well require them, Doctor. I do not know and that is what plagues me. I would have come sooner, only this is my only evening off, you see. I need your advice, sir."
"Advice? Certainly." I sipped from my brandy and set it aside, leaning forward to give him all of my attention. "Medical advice?"
"I do not know," said he, shaking his head. "It may be a police matter. I only wish I could still ask Mr. Holmes."
Those words struck at my heart, I confess, for it had been over two years since I had been able to ask my old friend anything. I sipped my brandy and gestured for Billy to go on with his tale.
"It's like this, Doctor," he said, "Mr. Oswald has been acting strangely for weeks. I don't know what has gotten into him. I don't know if there is some illness or malady affecting him. I only know that he is not himself."
"A moment, if you will," I interrupted. "Mr. Oswald is your employer. Yes?"
"That's right, sir."
"And he is acting out of character?"
"He is."
"In what way?"
"He seems absentminded and vague, Doctor. He never was before." Billy sipped more brandy and shook his head as if puzzled. "If I did not know better, I would say he had taken to the bottle, sir. Only, you see, he is a teetotaler. An avowed Methodist. Never touches a drop of anything stronger than coffee. I would swear to that."
"I see," said I, considering. "Could it be a stroke? Does he have weakness in one arm? Does one side of his face sag? Perhaps something as minor as one eye drooping?"
"Not that I have noticed, sir."
"Tell me more," I encouraged and got out my pipe. "Perhaps we will discern something useful. When did you first notice this odd behavior?"
"As I said, weeks ago, but let me think." Billy frowned at the floor, rubbing his chin. He turned his left hand palm up and seemed to count his fingers with his thumb, finally lifting his gaze to me once more. "I'd say three weeks. Perhaps a little longer."
"Had he had any accidents prior to that time?" I asked. "A fall or a hard knock on the head? Some other event? Anything that might hint at the cause."
"No accidents I am aware of." Billy paused to consider but shook his head. "He may have fallen or something at his offices, but he did not mention anything to me or Miss Farley."
"Who is Miss Farley?" I asked.
"The cook and maid," said Billy, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly. "Reminds me a little of Mrs. Hudson in her ways. Very particular about cleaning, she is. I stay on my toes, I can tell you, sir. She's a good sort, though."
"Have you discussed Mr. Oswald's behavior with her?"
"I have. She blames Mrs. Stern for it but I think that's because she does not like Mrs. Stern. Or her daughter, for that matter."
"Mrs. Stern?" I asked. Something about Billy's expression suggested he did not much care for this person either.
"Mrs. Stern is a widow, Doctor," he said and shook his head. "I suppose she is a proper lady, only pushy. She has insinuated herself into Mr. Oswald's household as if she means to stay."
"Indeed?" I asked. "Is she living in the home? What does Mrs. Oswald think of her?"
"Oh, there is no Mrs. Oswald. Never has been."
"Is he a confirmed bachelor?" I asked.
"There was a woman years ago, long before I came to work for Mr. Oswald. I believe the gentleman pines for her. Of course, he does not discuss such things with me. I only know of her because there is a portrait of the lady in the hallway and sometimes I see Mr. Oswald gazing at it with a certain look in his eye."
"I see," I said. It is a common enough occurrence that a man will pine for a woman he cannot have and consequently will have no woman at all. I have never understood why some men are like that, but there it is. "Do you believe this Mrs. Stern intends to become Mrs. Oswald?"
"Oh no, sir." Billy chuckled. "She is much too old for him. Mr. Oswald is only about forty, sir, and Mrs. Stern is close on to fifty or a little more. It's her daughter I think she means to become his wife."
"Ah. The daughter. What about her?"
"Not very much. She is somewhat more pleasant than her mother. A bit stiff around Miss Farley and me, but not bad. Mrs. Stern is near dictatorial, sir. Orders us about as if she were the mistress of the house and a good deal more."
"Ah. And, do they live at the residence? You never said."
"Sorry, sir. No. They have rooms in a hotel. I do not know which one. Have had for months, I suppose. Apparently, they came to London from Merseyside. Met Mr. Oswald through his church."
I nodded, considering and drawing on my pipe.
"We have gotten off track a bit," I said after a moment. "Other than the vagueness and absentmindedness, is there anything else? Some behavior you find out of the norm?"
"Yes. Mr. Oswald seems suggestable, sir. He was never headstrong or anything like that, but he had no difficulty making up his mind. These days he seems to need guidance. Reminds me of my gran a few years before her passing. In a way, he is childlike. Seems better in the mornings, but after elevenses, he is at his worst. Even his expression changes."
"Interesting." I settled back and drew on my pipe for a moment. Something about that was definitely odd. Tea is a stimulant, after all, and not wont to cause vagueness in anyone. "He takes tea at his home every day?"
"Not every day. Some days he meets Mrs. Stern at a café. More often lately."
"And does Mrs. Stern take tea at the house?"
"Yes sir. Most days. Not Sunday and not on the days they meet at the café. She usually arrives before Mr. Oswald. I let her and her daughter in at about half past ten and seat them in the parlor."
"Most days," I murmured. "And this has been going on for how long?"
"Four or five weeks. Mid October, I think."
"And it has been three weeks since you first noticed Mr. Oswald's behavior change. Has he been to see his physician?"
"His physician was Dr. Drumm. He has not found a new one."
I sipped more brandy and drew on my pipe. Dr. Drumm had been an elderly man, a good general practitioner, who had contracted pneumonia two years prior and succumbed to it. Mores the pity. I had liked and respected him, though I could not have called him friend. We knew each other professionally only. I must have been silent a long time for I was drawn from my thoughts when Billy cleared his throat. I lifted my gaze to find him smiling at me.
"I am sorry, Billy. I was just thinking."
"You had that look Mr. Holmes often had, Doctor," he said. "You've thought of something?"
"Yes. I must examine Mr. Oswald. These symptoms are too strange. They manifest out of nowhere and appear to coincide with the advent of this Mrs. Stern and her daughter. Could you arrange for me to call upon your master one day this week? At teatime. Make some excuse. Tell him I am an old friend and want to meet the new employer of a young man to whom I took a liking. That may do."
"I believe I could arrange it, sir," Billy said. "Any particular day?"
"This week. Send word and I will see I am there."
"Very well, sir. Is there anything else I should do?"
"Keep an eye on him, especially while Mrs. Stern is there. Keep an eye on her as well. And her daughter."
"What will you do in the meantime, Doctor?"
"Consult with Inspector Lestrade."
I walked Billy to the door and returned to my office. There were journals and books I needed to examine before I proceeded and those days I had little joy in returning home to a house with only a maid and an empty bed.
The following Monday while on my rounds I detoured to have a few words with my old friend Inspector Lestrade. I gave him a brief outline of the facts and the names of the mother and daughter and whence they came.
"Something's up with these two, you think, Doctor?" asked Lestrade.
"I am not sure of it," I admitted. "Coincidences are common, but in medicine they must never be trusted. And this coincidence is too singular."
"What about this Mr. Oswald? Is he anyone special? A government man, perhaps?"
"I know no more of him than I have told you. I did not think to ask Billy."
"Well, leave it to me, Doctor. I'll find out. I agree. This is too much of a coincidence to overlook."
We shook hands and promised to get together for dinner before Christmas. Departing, I found my step more energetic than it had been in some time. I felt the way an old hound must feel when let out of its kennel to roam the fields. I was on the trail of something, though I was unsure what I would find at the end.
When I returned to my surgery there was a note waiting for me on my desk. Billy had arranged I should join Mr. Oswald for elevenses on Thursday the seventh. Though eager to get to the bottom of things, I had to admit the extra time would allow Lestrade to do more digging.
By Wednesday, I was as ready to meet Mr. Oswald as I could be. I made certain my bag was stocked with everything I might need for a full examination, snapped it shut and was on my way to the door when the bell rang and in stepped Lestrade.
"Hello, Doctor," he greeted me. "I hoped to catch you before you left."
"Hello Lestrade," said I, suddenly eager to hear what news he might bring. "Join me in my office, won't you?"
"Actually, I haven't time right now," he demurred. "Could I convince you to share my hansom? I'll run you home and we can talk along the way."
I gladly accepted his offer and soon we two were side by side, sharing the thick woolen blanket as the cabbie bestirred his horse.
"What have you learnt, Lestrade?" I asked, all eagerness.
"About the woman and her daughter, very little," he said. "We know her hotel and that sort of thing, but where she comes from is still a mystery. The police in Merseyside never heard of either of them. It may be a false scent. However, there are a few characters that came up and I have their descriptions. I need to see the pair. That's about the size of it.
"About Mr. Oswald: He is not what I would call wealthy, but certainly, he is well off. Brings in something like two thousand pounds per year. Keeps a relatively modest household. He has a brother in Canada and a sister in Kent. The brother has three children and the sister, two. Nothing suspicious there. As far as we can determine, none of the family has ever run afoul of the law."
"I suppose Oswald has savings," I mused. "A comfortable home. I wonder if it is enough."
"Enough for what, Doctor?"
"Enough to risk one's freedom," I said.
"I've known murders bought for the price of a loaf of bread," Lestrade said grimly. "You meet with Mr. Oswald tomorrow?"
"I do."
"I would very much like to join you."
"I suppose it could be done," I said. "How would we explain your attendance?"
"Well, I knew Billy for as long as you did." Lestrade grinned. "Just say I wanted to see him again, too. I will impose myself on Oswald's hospitality. It's only tea. Should be fine. I really must see these women, Doctor. If there is something to your suspicions, I want to get to the bottom of it. I need to."
And so, it was settled. We met the next day in front of Mr. Oswald's home. Billy answered our knock and seemed pleasantly surprised to see Inspector Lestrade. They chatted amiably as Billy took our coats and hats, catching up in brief until we were interrupted by the approach of a handsome woman of fifty or so wearing a finely made dress of white wool with cream lace.
"Hello gentlemen," she said stopping a few feet away. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and something else I could not put my finger on. "We were expecting only one guest. I am Mrs. Stern. A friend of Mr. Oswald who has not yet arrived from his office."
"A pleasure to meet you, Madame," I said, giving her a slight bow. "My name is Doctor John Watson. This is my friend, Mr. Geoffrey Lestrade. He, too, knew young Billy years ago and wished to reacquaint himself. I hope it is not too much of an imposition."
"Billy?" she said, confused.
"Me, Madame," said Billy.
"Ah. Chaplin. I see." She nodded and pressed her thin lips together as if put out, but shook her head, smiled and held out an arm, indicating in which room tea would be served.
"I am sure Mr. Oswald will not mind," she said as we followed her into the parlor. "Chaplin has been such a help to him, after all. Any friend of his will be welcome. Allow me to introduce my daughter, Silvia."
More greetings were exchanged as we all settled around the small table beside a tall window looking out onto the snow-clad street. Lestrade and I explained how we had known Billy at Mrs. Hudson's house, though we did not mention Sherlock Holmes or the fact Lestrade was an inspector with Scotland Yard. The ladies exchanged glances as we spoke. Some communication went on there and I noticed the subtle increase in tension.
Mr. Oswald finally arrived and after a brief exchange with Billy, he entered the parlor. Rising, I ran my eyes over the man. About as tall as I am, Oswald appeared pale, though that could have been due to the time of year. His pose was slack with his shoulders slightly slumped and his feet braced a bit further apart than was typical. I have seen chronic drunkards assume such a stance simply to remain upright. In dress, he was neat and clean, though his cravat could have been tighter. His shave was less than perfect, a few nicks showing on his cheeks and throat. It also seemed to take him a moment to gather himself before a slack smile appeared and he held out his hand to greet me and then Lestrade, after which, he seemed at a loss.
"Oh Jeramiah, do come and take your seat," Mrs. Stern said, patting the chair beside her. "Ring for tea, Silvia. I am sure we are all ready for some refreshment."
"I was expecting only one visitor, gentlemen," Mr. Oswald said as he seated himself. His speech was slow and uncertain. "That's right, isn't it? Or did I forget again?"
"Quite right, Jeramiah," Mrs. Stern said, arranging the gentleman's napkin in front of him. She added in what I took to be a disapproving tone, "Doctor Watson brought Mr. Lestrade along unannounced."
"I see." Oswald nodded absently, his expression unchanged. "Well, I am pleased to meet you gentlemen." He stopped speaking, blinked at us and then rubbed his lips with a long finger. "You are friends of my butler, Chaplin, are you not?"
"We knew him as Billy when he was a lad," I said. Oswald's eyes flitted lazily between Lestrade and myself. "He was the page for my landlady. Mr. Lestrade visited often enough to get to know him."
"A good lad," Lestrade put in. "Just wanted see how he was getting along. Sorry if I am imposing."
"Imposing?" Oswald murmured vaguely.
"For arriving unannounced, I mean, sir," said Lestrade. I noted how Lestrade's gaze fixed on Mrs. Stern rather than Mr. Oswald and knew he was taking her measure.
"Imopsing," Oswald repeated. "Not at all, sir. Not at all. Old friends are always welcome. Not at all. Always welcome."
Billy entered then with a silver tray and China service followed by a maid carrying a tray of finger sandwiches who had to be Miss Farley, though she was much younger than I expected. Perhaps no more than twenty-five. The two of them arranged things on the table with Billy pouring and setting the cups in front of each of us. When he tried to place Mr. Oswald's cup before him, though, Mrs. Stern intercepted his hand.
"I'll take it, Chaplain," she said firmly. "I know just how Jeramiah likes his tea."
I watched unobtrusively as she prepared his cup, putting in two lumps of sugar and stirring in cream. I noted how she held onto the cup by the rim with her right hand the whole time, taking it by its handle with her left and passing it under her right only when it was ready. She set it in front of Oswald, smiled warmly at him and rubbed his shoulder in an entirely too familiar gesture.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you, sir," Lestrade said in a hard voice, eyes fixed on Mrs. Stern.
"What's that?" Oswald drawled.
"How dare you!" snapped Mrs. Stern.
Silvia's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open in surprise. As pretty as she was, she looked quite comic.
"If I were you, Mr. Oswald, I'd set that cup right down," Lestrade said.
"Who do you think you are?" demanded Mrs. Stern, rising indignantly. "You force your company upon us and now speak in such an insulting manner! Chaplin! Escort these men out! Escort them out now!"
Billy looked from the woman to me, clearly confused. Lestrade rose, reaching inside his jacket to draw out his identification. For my part, I simply reached across the table and took the teacup from Mr. Oswald's hand. He only blinked his confusion, clearly not comprehending what was going on about him.
"Chaplin!" snapped Mrs. Stern. "Take them out!"
Silvia eased her chair back as if wanting to get out of the way, but Miss Farley stepped up behind her with a very hard expression on her face.
"I'll not be getting escorted anywhere, Madame," Lestrade said, displaying his identification. "You're Lidia Strange and that girl beside you is Dominique Weathers. Both wanted for theft by deception and wanted as material witnesses in the poisoning of one Mr. Donald Pritchard."
"Preposterous!" snapped Mrs. Stern. She threw down her napkin and made to step around the table. Billy interposed himself, stopping her in her tracks.
"Not preposterous," I said, looking into the cloudy tea. There was a strange white haze at the edges of the liquid where it met the porcelain. "I watched your hands as you laced this with whatever drug you have been using. What I do not know is why you have been dosing Mr. Oswald with it."
"I know why, Doctor," said Lestrade, smiling smugly at the woman. "Mr. Oswald's bookkeeper has found it strange that the gentleman has been writing cheques for large sums of money made out to this woman. Close to twelve hundred pounds so far."
Mrs. Stern glared at Lestrade, chin held defiantly high. Silvia rose stiffly, scowling at the older woman.
"I told you it was too much!" she snarled. "I'll not hang for you, Lidia! You used too much the last time! I warned you! I warned you!"
The younger woman lunged for her "mother", fingers hooked and teeth bared. They tumbled over poor Mr. Oswald who was too stupefied to even cry out as he fell to the carpeted floor. It took both Lestrade and me to pry the younger woman of the elder and get them into their seats once more, though separated by several feet. Lestrade had Miss Farley summon constables while he and Billy kept the women apart and I attended to Mr. Oswald.
"It took me until she handled the tea that way to be sure who I was dealing with, Doctor," Lestrade explained later. The women had been led out in darbies by a pair of blue-clad constables and I had put Mr. Oswald to bed with the help of Billy. "Lidia Strange is suspected of poisoning a gentleman in Sterling two years ago. She and the other one have been deceiving men into giving them money for longer than that. Sometimes they pose as missionaries. Sometimes they pretend the young one wants a husband. It's always older men of some position. Mr. Oswald is only their latest victim. How is he, by the way?"
"Alive," I said, tucking my stethoscope into my bag. "I've given Billy and Miss Farley instructions to keep him in bed the rest of the day. I'll have to have some tests done on the tincture from that woman's bag before I know what course to take with him. I suspect it will take quite some time before it is out of his system. I only hope the stuff is not addictive, though I fear very much that it is."
"Sharp of you to figure it out before even seeing the man," Lestrade said, turning to join me on my way out of the house.
"From what Billy told me, I knew it had to be something Oswald was being dosed with," I explained. "I could not know for certain how it was done, of course. I strongly suspected it was in the tea, but like you, I had to see it first."
"Aye. Mr. Holmes would be proud of you, Doctor."
I smiled warmly and nodded.
"He would be proud of you, as well, Inspector."
And so ended the Case of the Vague Gentleman.
AN: Lace - To add something such as alcohol or drugs to a drink or food.