CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ALL WILL BE WELL
The following morning, I arose early and pulled back the curtains. The Clifton Suspension Bridge stood out against a crisp, blue sky, carriages already scurrying its length like ants.
Ridgeside Manor was quiet as I descended the stairs, this time passing the ‘Daughter of Eve’ without stopping.
I found only Lady Anna and Clifford at the breakfast table. Lord Redshaw had apparently left already to go into town, and Lady Marie was still in bed, troubled by a migraine.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” said I. “Has she tried soaking her feet in warm water?”
“Somehow I doubt it would do any good,” came Anna’s reply. “My sister’s migraines are less a malady than a convenience. It is extraordinary how easily they come on when she wishes to shut herself away from the world.”
“Now, A-Anna,” counselled Clifford. “Don’t be cruel.” It was clear, however, that the reprimand was for my benefit rather than Marie’s.
As I sat at the table, I could not help but wonder about the sound of a woman weeping in the middle of the night. Which sister had been so distressed?
“You must think us a most dreadful family, Doctor,” Lady Anna said as I tucked into a plate of kippers. “To put you through all that last night.”
“Think nothing of it. I am in your family’s debt.”
“A dangerous place to be,” commented Lady Marie as she breezed into the dining room.
I rose, dabbing a flake of fish from my bottom lip. “Lady Marie, it is good to see you. I heard that you were unwell.”
“Nothing that strong coffee and the morning papers will not cure,” the lady said, taking her seat and waiting for the footman to pour her a steaming cup from the silver pot on the table. “I trust there were no further revelations last night?”
“Only that you left poor Victor adrift,” said her sister.
“I sincerely doubt that. He will call on me later.” There was little joy in her statement.
We ate our breakfast in silence, Marie perusing the Bristol Mercury as I finished off my kippers.
“Is there any news on the missing ships?” I asked, my hunger sated.
“I’m afraid not,” Marie replied. “Although the line to Plymouth has reopened.” She turned the page and let out a surprised laugh. “Good heavens. Another one.”
“W-what is it?” Clifford asked.
Marie’s answer was not what I expected. “They’ve found another monkey.”
“Another what?” I asked.
Beside me, Lady Anna rolled her eyes. “Really, do we have to talk about this now?”
Marie ignored her. “A few weeks ago a number of chimpanzees were stolen from Bristol Zoo.”
“Chimpanzees?”
The lady’s eyes sparkled as she looked at me over the paper. “And that’s not all.”
“Marie…” Lady Anna warned.
“The monkeys have been turning up one at a time, quite dead.”
“Good Lord.”
“With their little monkey-hearts missing from their chests.”
Anna threw down her fork. “Well, now I don’t have any appetite at all. First there was Victor and his horrible stories, and now this. Marie, have you forgotten that I am eating for two?”
The impish smile disappeared from Marie’s lips and she returned her attention to the Mercury. “As if you would let me forget.”
Silence reigned once more, until Clifford was unable to resist adding: “They’re not m-monkeys anyway. They’re apes.”
Growing tired of the familial squabbling, I rose and said that I was going into Bristol. Clifford caught my eye and I confirmed our meeting with a nod before leaving the dining room.
Lord Redshaw had left instructions that I should avail myself of one of his many carriages, so I recovered my hat and greatcoat and braved a morning that was considerably warmer than the atmosphere between the Redshaw sisters.
As we rattled through Clifton village, I had a smile on my face, due in part to the telegram that had arrived before I left Ridgeside Manor.
TELL SHERLOCK ALL WILL BE WELL STOP
AM ON MY WAY TO BRISTOL STOP HIS
LOVING BROTHER STOP
I cannot describe the joy I experienced on reading the message. Although I had met Mycroft Holmes but a handful of times, I trusted the man implicitly. While the affection displayed in the telegram was surprising – neither of the Holmes brothers was what one would call sentimental – the thought that Mycroft was en route was encouraging. If any man alive could extract Holmes from prison it was Mycroft, who held a position of great influence at Whitehall. With the telegram safely tucked in my jacket pocket, I was convinced that Holmes would be free by the close of day.
With a renewed sense of optimism, I dismounted outside Lower Redland Road Police Station to be greeted by a familiar voice.
“Travelling in style, eh, Doctor?”
Inspector Tovey was walking towards me, although his handsome face showed little sign of his usual geniality.
“I am staying with Lord Redshaw,” I informed him, although it appeared my movements were already known to the man.
“So I heard.” He shot a look at the driver, who was already parking the yellow and black carriage on the other side of the road in preparation for my return journey. “Tell me, is it the madhouse that everyone says?”
“You have no idea.”
“Redshaw’s an odd one, but his heart’s in the right place. Look how he took in his son-in-law…”
“Mr Clifford.”
Tovey nodded. “Poor sod’s had no end of troubles since he took over the family business.”
“Lord Redshaw persuaded Clifford to sell his home, I understand.”
“Persuaded? From what I heard he had little choice in the matter.”
While this was all very interesting, I had other things on my mind.
“How is Holmes?” I asked.
“Do you want to see him?”
“Is that allowed?”
“No, but seeing I have nothing else to do…” He winked at me and smiled. “Come on.”
He led me into the station and past the desk sergeant, who was again nursing a cup of tea.
“Have you heard about Ebberston?” Tovey asked as he opened a door for me.
“No. Has something happened?”
“You could say that. I was forced to let him go.”
“But the poisoning…”
“Suspected poisoning,” Tovey reminded me. “We have no evidence and Father Ebberston, it appears, has no garden.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No Naked Ladies. It’s a convincing theory, but unless Ebberston found the damned flower growing on the downs, how did he get hold of the bulb? With both Ermacora and Kelleher gone, we don’t even know if he broke bread with them in the first place.”
“What has Ebberston said?”
“He’s denying everything.”
“As you would expect.”
“Trouble is, no evidence—”
“No case!”
Tovey nodded. “And with no case I have no way of keeping him under lock and key. I’ve been told to forget about the entire thing.”
“By whom?”
“By those who could have me out on my ear for insubordination. They’ve had me rounding up beggars. ‘A better use of my talents’, apparently.”
“But two men are dead!”
“Of cholera. Or so the death certificates say.”
I was unable to credit what I was hearing. “So all this was for nothing.”
We were now in the bowels of the building, little in the way of light reaching the white-tiled walls.
“Have you seen Holmes?” I asked.
“Briefly,” Tovey said, holding another door open for me. “He seems in high spirits. The other prisoners aren’t so happy though.”
“Why not?”
“Since Mr Holmes has been here, he’s provided enough evidence to hang three of his fellow inmates, all from the confines of his cell. He even located the body of a prostitute by the way her murderer coughed after breakfast. I don’t know how he does it.”
“He’s a remarkable man,” I said. “But surely if he’s bringing killers to justice…”
“He’d be acquitted of his own crime? You would think so, but Gregory Hawthorne is a stubborn beggar. He’s not going to let Holmes off the hook that easily.”
“He may not have a choice. Holmes’s brother is on his way from London.”
“A force to be reckoned with, eh?”
“Trust me, Inspector, it runs in the family.”
We were now in the station’s cell block. I followed Tovey along the passageway, ignoring the jeers aimed at me.
“I’ve a visitor for you, Mr Holmes,” the inspector said, as we approached the end of the gloomy corridor. He opened a small window in the last door and his eyes widened. “Oh my God! Mr Holmes!”
“What is it?” I asked as Tovey fumbled for the key and flung open the door. He darted inside and I followed, only to stop short on the threshold.
Sherlock Holmes lay on the floor in a pool of blood.