delivery of wine was being unloaded at Dolomore's across the road, and I made a desperate mental note to order myself a bottle of Chateau Montrose '65, if I emerged unscathed from this predicament.
Then I heard Holmes walk up softly behind me and stand so close to me that I tingled in every nerve.
'My--dear--Watson,' he hissed into my right ear, 'are you trying to tell me that you went to visit Miss D'Arcy with the sole intention of identifying her as the blackmailer of Lord Carstairs? Because if you are, let me tell you here and now that I do not believe you. Your manner when you entered the room just now was somewhat at odds with the role of successful investigator; in fact, it was more suggestive of the guilty schoolboy who has just been caught in the act.'
'Caught in the act of what?' I asked in a strained voice, as my little glow-worm of inspiration dimmed and flickered out altogether, and my bottle of claret drained upon the sands of my imagination.
I felt Holmes' cold fingers close about my wrist.
'Dear me, Watson,' he said, 'how your pulse is racing. As a medical man, you must know that deception puts a considerable strain upon the nervous system. I should definitely not advise it. Now, suppose you tell me the truth.'
There was nothing else for it but to tell the whole story, or something like it.
'I wanted to talk to her, Holmes, on a personal matter. I have a perfect right to consult her, as a friend, if I want to, and you have no right to interfere.'
'I see,' he said. He let go of my arm and I walked unsteadily back to my chair. He waited for me to seat myself, and then came and stood glaring down at me, arms akimbo.
'Very well,' he said softly. 'I have no right, as you say, to pry into your personal affairs '--he gave a most unpleasant emphasis to the word--'but I have every right to prevent you from interfering in my cases. I will not ask just what you were discussing with this notorious blackmailer, except that it had better have nothing to do with me.'
His eyes searched my face menacingly. Completely crushed, I could do nothing but stare back hopelessly until his features blurred before my eyes, and I tried to blink back the tears. I heard him sigh deeply. When I looked up again, he was seated opposite me, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching me anxiously.
'Watson,' he said gently, when my eyes met his, 'what have you done?'
'Nothing that will cause any harm to you,' I muttered.
'Why did you visit Miss D'Arcy?'
'To talk to her. We have things in common. Not blackmail.'
Holmes closed his eyes briefly and sighed again. 'Watson, Watson--do you think me completely unobservant? But did you have to give yourself away completely, and to her?'
'I haven't given anything away,' I lied desperately. 'I spoke to her as a friend. I trust her,' I added more convincingly, as I remembered her parting words. 'She promised to respect my confidence.'
'You trust a woman who is known to be a ruthless blackmailer?'
'She won't blackmail me.'
'You sound very sure of that.'
'Well,' I said, 'I am. You said yourself that the Queen Bee only stings the wealthy and the hypocritical. And besides, she has no papers of mine, or anything. And she said she has the greatest respect and affection for me.'
'And you have, in any case, done nothing for which you could be blackmailed.'
It sounded like a statement, but he raised his eyebrows questioningly. I blushed hotly and refrained from answering.
'I knew it,' he said calmly. 'My poor Watson. Why, do you imagine, do I keep myself free from entanglements of every sort? Not only because affairs of the heart are a hindrance to the logical processes of the mind, but also because I cannot afford to lay myself open in any way to the possibility that my reputation could be tarnished. I have to be above blackmail on the moral front, however unconventional I may be in the rest of my behaviour. And when it comes to morals of this particular stamp--good heavens,
Then I heard Holmes walk up softly behind me and stand so close to me that I tingled in every nerve.
'My--dear--Watson,' he hissed into my right ear, 'are you trying to tell me that you went to visit Miss D'Arcy with the sole intention of identifying her as the blackmailer of Lord Carstairs? Because if you are, let me tell you here and now that I do not believe you. Your manner when you entered the room just now was somewhat at odds with the role of successful investigator; in fact, it was more suggestive of the guilty schoolboy who has just been caught in the act.'
'Caught in the act of what?' I asked in a strained voice, as my little glow-worm of inspiration dimmed and flickered out altogether, and my bottle of claret drained upon the sands of my imagination.
I felt Holmes' cold fingers close about my wrist.
'Dear me, Watson,' he said, 'how your pulse is racing. As a medical man, you must know that deception puts a considerable strain upon the nervous system. I should definitely not advise it. Now, suppose you tell me the truth.'
There was nothing else for it but to tell the whole story, or something like it.
'I wanted to talk to her, Holmes, on a personal matter. I have a perfect right to consult her, as a friend, if I want to, and you have no right to interfere.'
'I see,' he said. He let go of my arm and I walked unsteadily back to my chair. He waited for me to seat myself, and then came and stood glaring down at me, arms akimbo.
'Very well,' he said softly. 'I have no right, as you say, to pry into your personal affairs '--he gave a most unpleasant emphasis to the word--'but I have every right to prevent you from interfering in my cases. I will not ask just what you were discussing with this notorious blackmailer, except that it had better have nothing to do with me.'
His eyes searched my face menacingly. Completely crushed, I could do nothing but stare back hopelessly until his features blurred before my eyes, and I tried to blink back the tears. I heard him sigh deeply. When I looked up again, he was seated opposite me, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching me anxiously.
'Watson,' he said gently, when my eyes met his, 'what have you done?'
'Nothing that will cause any harm to you,' I muttered.
'Why did you visit Miss D'Arcy?'
'To talk to her. We have things in common. Not blackmail.'
Holmes closed his eyes briefly and sighed again. 'Watson, Watson--do you think me completely unobservant? But did you have to give yourself away completely, and to her?'
'I haven't given anything away,' I lied desperately. 'I spoke to her as a friend. I trust her,' I added more convincingly, as I remembered her parting words. 'She promised to respect my confidence.'
'You trust a woman who is known to be a ruthless blackmailer?'
'She won't blackmail me.'
'You sound very sure of that.'
'Well,' I said, 'I am. You said yourself that the Queen Bee only stings the wealthy and the hypocritical. And besides, she has no papers of mine, or anything. And she said she has the greatest respect and affection for me.'
'And you have, in any case, done nothing for which you could be blackmailed.'
It sounded like a statement, but he raised his eyebrows questioningly. I blushed hotly and refrained from answering.
'I knew it,' he said calmly. 'My poor Watson. Why, do you imagine, do I keep myself free from entanglements of every sort? Not only because affairs of the heart are a hindrance to the logical processes of the mind, but also because I cannot afford to lay myself open in any way to the possibility that my reputation could be tarnished. I have to be above blackmail on the moral front, however unconventional I may be in the rest of my behaviour. And when it comes to morals of this particular stamp--good heavens,
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