Outside St Pancras we hailed a Hansom and were once more on our way home. Holmes leant towards me, smiling. “That was a very adept manipulation of the sample of coke, Watson. May I see it?” I fumbled in my coat pocket and produced the three or four small pieces that I had retained. Holmes selected one and then took from his pocket his magnifying glass. Despite the movement of the cab, he studied the coke for thirty seconds or so before returning it to me. He then did the same with a seemingly identical piece that he had taken from Broad Street. “On the face of it, they do seem to be one and the same… but I must do some further analysis at Baker Street.”
Holmes has always loved the logic of Chemistry. Over the years, he has steadily increased his knowledge in fields as diverse as rare, South American poisons extracted from frogs to an encyclopaedic knowledge of tobaccos from around the world. Our lodgings have often more resembled a laboratory rather than a gentleman's sitting room.
On our return, Holmes had quickly set up two retorts, with spirit burners beneath, and was busy heating the samples of coke. From these, he drew off any gases produced, passing them through a variety of liquids. Holmes worked tirelessly. His analysis taking him most of the evening but, eventually, he slumped in his armchair. It was plain to see that, whilst he was exhausted, he was also pleased with the results of his experiments.
Sitting back in his armchair, he briefly presented his findings to me and, when he had finished, I understood. I was, of course, aware of the dangers of carbonic oxide gas poisoning from cases within my own practice and Holmes would, in due course, enlighten me further. He was now able to present his evidence in such a way that it would convince any court in Christendom. Later that evening, as I idly read the evening edition of the newspaper, I feared that he would need to do so quickly as the date for the Inquest had been set for just two days hence.
The following morning Holmes sent a message for Alfie to call at Baker Street with his cousin Lucy. At around ten o’clock the doorbell sounded in the hallway below and there was again the thunder of children's feet on the stairs. Mrs Hudson appeared, a little out of breath, and announced our visitors. Alfie had returned the umbrella and, I must admit, they both looked considerably better than the last time we had seen them. Having said that, Lucy did still look a little pale. Her face bore the expression of one who has a great weight upon her young shoulders.
Holmes stood and greeted them. Alfie, in his eagerness, burst out, “What news, Mr Holmes? When is Flora going to come home? She's going to stay with us until she can find a position.”
Holmes smiled. “One step at a time, Alfie. We have some way to go yet...but I am convinced that she is innocent and I think I can prove it.”
On hearing this, Alfie’s face lit up and, as I watched, I saw him give Lucy’s hand a squeeze, saying, “See! I told you Mr Holmes could do it.”
Holmes cautioned the pair. “We have to prepare our ground thoroughly, Alfie. It is imperative that Flora’s name is cleared. It is vital that I discover the name of the landlord of the house in Broad Street.”
Alfie smiled. “That’s easy, Mr Holmes. It’s Mr Levy. He lives just two doors away in his Mum’s old house, the one with the blue door.”
Holmes reached into his pocket and took out a sixpence. “Alfie, I want you to go and see if Mr Levy is at home and then return here and tell me.” Alfie took the sixpence, grabbed Lucy by the hand and rushed from our rooms as if a pack of hounds were at his heels. Holmes laughed heartily and returned to his armchair.
I have to say that I was somewhat puzzled by Holmes request. I lit my pipe and settled into a chair, trying to reason why knowing the landlords name and, whether he was at home, might be helpful. After five minutes I could hold back my curiosity no longer, asking, “Holmes, I fear I am at a loss to see why you should send Alfie on such an errand?”
Holmes drew on his pipe and slowly blew out a small cloud of blue smoke towards the ceiling. “I am attempting to show how Flora is in no way responsible for the death of her parents. It is vitally important that I find and talk to the previous tenant of Broad Street. I believe his actions are the key to this whole business.”
Holmes looked across at me, smiling at my expression of complete befuddlement. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Never mind. Watson. All will be revealed once the smoke has cleared!”
It was a little less than fifteen minutes before the thunder of feet once more sounded upon the stairs. Alfie burst in even before Mrs Hudson could open the door. “He’s there, Mr Holmes!” panted Alfie.
Holmes sprang from his chair, crying, “Excellent work, Alfie! Come, Watson. We must seek out Mr Levy and, hopefully, question his former tenant!” With that, Holmes gathered up his coat and was out the door. We hailed a cab and were in Broad Street in but a few minutes. The cab stopped outside a property identical to the one we had visited a few days previously. The only difference being that this property had a blue painted door.