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visitors, erratic hours, a refusal to eat, long periods at the
pipe, and endless hours producing peculiar noises from his
violin. Twice I had come to the cottage unannounced and
found him gone. I did not enquire into his affairs, as I knew
that he accepted only the most unusual or delicate of cases
these days, leaving the investigation of more conventional
crimes to the various police agencies (who had come to
adopt his methods over the years).
I was immediately curious as to what Holmes might
see in this case. Although Mrs. Barker was a neighbour,
and a wealthy one, that would hardly keep him from referring
her to the local police if he thought her problem
was of the common or garden variety, yet far from rebuffing
her, I could see that he was more than a bit interested.
Mrs. Barker, however, seemed puzzled at his vague manner,
and as he spent the better part of the interview slouched
down in his chair with his fingers steepled, staring at the
ceiling, she talked at me. I knew him well enough to see
that this apparent lack of interest was actually the opposite,
the first stirrings of mental excitement. I listened carefully
to her story.
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"You may know," she began, "that my husband and
I bought the manor house four years ago. We had been
living in America before the war, but Richard--my husband
--had always wanted to come home. He was very fortunate
with several of his investments, and we came to
England in 1913 to look for a house. We saw the manor
house here, fell in love with its possibilities, and bought it
just before the war started. Of course, with all the shortages
and the men off in Europe it has been slow work doing the
renovations, but one wing is now quite liveable.
"At any rate, about a year ago my husband became
ill for a few days. At first it seemed nothing serious, merely
an upset stomach, but it progressed until he was curled up
in his bed, bathed in sweat, and groaning horribly. The
doctors could find no cause, and I could see they were
beginning to despair, when the fever finally broke and he
went to sleep. In a week he had fully recovered, or so we
thought.
"Since then he has had ten episodes similar to the
first, though none as bad. Each one begins with a chill
sweat, and proceeds through cramps and delirium, and finally
a pitch of fever and a deep sleep. On the first night
he cannot bear to have me with him, but a few days later
he is restored to himself, until the next time. The doctors
were baffled, and suggested poison, but we always eat the
same foods. I watch it being cooked. It is not poison but
an illness.
"Now, I know what you're thinking, Mr. Holmes."
Holmes raised an eyebrow at this statement. "You're wondering
why I'm asking you about a medical problem.
Mr. Holmes, I have come to believe it is not a medical
problem. We have consulted specialists here and on the
Continent. We even made an appointment with Dr. Freud,
thinking it might be of mental origin. They all throw up
their hands, with the exception of Dr. Freud, who seemed
to think that it was the physical manifestation of my husband's
guilt over marrying a woman twenty years younger
than himself. I ask you, have you ever heard such twaddle?"
she asked indignantly. We seriously shook our heads in
sympathy.
Holmes spoke from the depths of his chair.
"Mrs. Barker, please tell us why you do not believe
your husband's illness to be simply a medical problem."
"Mr. Holmes, Miss Russell, I will not insult you by
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making you swear that what I next say goes no further than
this room. I decided before I came here that you would
have to know, and that your discretion in the matter was
a certain thing. My husband is an advisor to the government
of England, Mr. Holmes. He does not inform me of
the details of his work, but I could hardly miss such activities
when they are under my nose. It is also the reason
why the telephone line runs such a distance from the village
exchange. Your own telephone, Mr. Holmes, is available
because the Prime Minister needs to be able to reach
my husband at any time. Everyone assumes the line comes
this way because we were willing to spend the money for
it, I know, but it was not our idea, I assure you."
"Mrs. Barker, the fact that your husband is a government
advisor and the fact that he periodically becomes ill
are not necessarily related."
"Perhaps not, but I have noticed a very odd thing.
My husband's illnesses always correspond with a particular
weather phenomenon: It is always during a period of considerable
clarity, never during fog or rain. It came to my
attention six weeks ago, in the first week of March, I believe
it was, following that long period of rain and snow
we had. It finally cleared, and was a sparkling clear night,
and my husband became ill for the first time in more than
two months. That was when I realised, looking back, that
it had always been so."
"Mrs. Barker, when you consulted the European doctors,
did your husband become ill during that time? How
long were you there, and what were the weather conditions?"
"We were there for seven weeks, with a number of
clear nights, and his health was fine."
"I think this is not all you have to tell us, Mrs. Barker,"
said Holmes. "Pray finish your story."
The lady sighed deeply, and I was astonished to notice
that her beautifully manicured hands were trembling.
"You are correct, Mr. Holmes. There are two other
things. The first is this: He became ill again two weeks ago,
one month after I began to wonder about the coincidence
of the air's clarity. The night his illness began he asked me
to leave him alone, as usual. I left his sickroom and went
outside for some air. I walked around the gardens for a
time, until it was quite late, and when I turned back towards
the house I happened to look up at my husband's
room. I saw a light, winking on and off from the roof over
his room."
"And you think it might be your husband, secretly
passing on government secrets to the Kaiser," Holmes interrupted
with an impatient edge to his voice.
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Mrs. Barker's face went dead white and she swayed
in her chair. I leapt to my feet and held her upright while
Holmes went for the brandy. She never fainted completely,
and the spirits revived her, but she was still pale and
shaken when we sat back down in our chairs.
"Mr. Holmes, how could you have known that?"
"My good lady, you told me yourself." Seeing her
bewilderment, he said with exaggerated patience, "You told
me that his illnesses correspond with clear nights when
signals can be seen for miles, and you told me that he is
invariably alone at those times. In addition, I have seen
his distinctly Germanic features in the car. Your emotions
make it obvious that you are torn between finding the truth
and discovering that your husband is a traitor. If you suspected
someone else you would not be so upset. Now, tell
us about your household."
She took a shaky sip of brandy and continued.
"We have five full-time servants who live in the
house. The others are day help from the village. There is
Terrence Howell, my husband's man, and Sylvia Jacobs,
my maid; Sally and Ronald Woods, the cook and chief
gardener; and lastly Ron Athens, who keeps the stable and
the two cars. Terrence has been with my husband for years;
Sylvia I hired eight years ago; the others came when we
opened the house."
Holmes sat staring off at a corner for some minutes,
then leapt suddenly to his feet.
"Madam, if you would be so good as to go home now,
I think it very likely that a couple of your neighbours may
be around to your door later this afternoon. Shall we say,
around three o'clock? An unexpected visit, you understand?"
The lady rose, clutching her bag.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I hope--" She looked
down. "If my fears are correct, I have married a traitor. If
I am wrong, I am myself guilty of traitorous thoughts [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]