regret, Signora, that your fiancé has fallen prey to an odious band of organised criminals, commonly known in your country as the Cosa Nostra. The young gentleman here, who has taken his identity, is not entirely to blame however, for his was a simple ambition to be an opera star and he took whatever opportunity the influence of his family might present to him. He felt that crimes of bribery and deception were relatively minor.
‘I must point out, however, that even so evil an organisation as the Cosa Nostra would not carry out murder merely to advance the operatic career of one of their family. My reports indicate that Tordelli had been a witness to amurder that they had committed and they are not people who deal lightly with such matters.’
Sir James followed Holmes out, shaking his head at the loss, once again, of his opera star. It was explained to him that Tordelli or rather the impostor Guiseppe Analdo, whilst not being the murderer, would have to stand trial in Milan as an accessory to the fact.
Bradstreet also shook his head, in disbelief.
‘It is incredible, Tordelli wasn’t missing at all, and his own hotel was the perfect hiding place.’
‘I must, again, thank and congratulate you, Mr Holmes.’
‘Not at all, not at all, I merely questioned the two witnesses you, unfortunately, decided to ignore and I was ably assisted by a pair of trousers, some cigarette ash and a beard.’
‘Ah yes the beard!’ I exclaimed. ‘However did you know which one was false?’
‘Until we reached the room, I must confess, I could not be sure that either would be. I merely regarded it as possible that the other bearded gentleman leaving Covent Garden was Analdo in his Giovanni guise. When I observed the two beards in close proximity, the truth of my supposition was clear. I have noticed, in my numerous studies of the human race, that very rarely does the facial hair grow to the exact pigment as that on the head. This you can see for yourselves on this individual.’ He pointed to the large Italian bodyguard, and there was indeed a subtle difference in shade. ‘Analdo’s, on the other hand,’ Holmes continued, ‘was matched too perfectly by Covent Garden’s costume department and gave him away immediately.
‘Ah, I see your constables are ready to remove our foreign guest. Take especially good care of this fellow.’ He saidpointing to the bodyguard. ‘I fancy he is a dangerous individual and may, even yet prove to be Tordelli’s murderer.’
Holmes glanced at his watch and announced. ‘Watson, I think we now deserve that supper that Mrs Hudson will have so kindly prepared for us, and I trust you will indulge me afterwards and accompany me to what promises to be a rather splendid violin recital at eight o clock.’
‘I should be delighted Holmes, provided there is no singing!’
T HE H OODED M AN
D uring the early months of my marriage to my dear Mary, I saw precious little of my old friend Sherlock Holmes. My medical practice had been unusually busy due to an outbreak of influenza brought on by an unseasonably mild and wet January. Therefore, though I am ashamed to admit it, I had barely given him a thought. However, when Mary decided to visit her family for a fortnight and a frosty cold snap stemmed my influx of patients, my thoughts turned once more to 221b Baker Street.
So it was, that on a particularly frosty February morning I found myself staring up, once more, at that familiar building. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of the reception I might receive from my unpredictable friend, however Mrs Hudson’s cheery greeting helped alleviate these fears and I bounded up the stairs to our old rooms.
I found Holmes seated on the window ledge with his back to the door. I had not expected a warm greeting from him, but Holmes reacted to my presence as if I had not been away. He merely waved me towards him, barely giving me a glance.
‘Come and watch the poor career of a redundant crime specialist
‘I must point out, however, that even so evil an organisation as the Cosa Nostra would not carry out murder merely to advance the operatic career of one of their family. My reports indicate that Tordelli had been a witness to amurder that they had committed and they are not people who deal lightly with such matters.’
Sir James followed Holmes out, shaking his head at the loss, once again, of his opera star. It was explained to him that Tordelli or rather the impostor Guiseppe Analdo, whilst not being the murderer, would have to stand trial in Milan as an accessory to the fact.
Bradstreet also shook his head, in disbelief.
‘It is incredible, Tordelli wasn’t missing at all, and his own hotel was the perfect hiding place.’
‘I must, again, thank and congratulate you, Mr Holmes.’
‘Not at all, not at all, I merely questioned the two witnesses you, unfortunately, decided to ignore and I was ably assisted by a pair of trousers, some cigarette ash and a beard.’
‘Ah yes the beard!’ I exclaimed. ‘However did you know which one was false?’
‘Until we reached the room, I must confess, I could not be sure that either would be. I merely regarded it as possible that the other bearded gentleman leaving Covent Garden was Analdo in his Giovanni guise. When I observed the two beards in close proximity, the truth of my supposition was clear. I have noticed, in my numerous studies of the human race, that very rarely does the facial hair grow to the exact pigment as that on the head. This you can see for yourselves on this individual.’ He pointed to the large Italian bodyguard, and there was indeed a subtle difference in shade. ‘Analdo’s, on the other hand,’ Holmes continued, ‘was matched too perfectly by Covent Garden’s costume department and gave him away immediately.
‘Ah, I see your constables are ready to remove our foreign guest. Take especially good care of this fellow.’ He saidpointing to the bodyguard. ‘I fancy he is a dangerous individual and may, even yet prove to be Tordelli’s murderer.’
Holmes glanced at his watch and announced. ‘Watson, I think we now deserve that supper that Mrs Hudson will have so kindly prepared for us, and I trust you will indulge me afterwards and accompany me to what promises to be a rather splendid violin recital at eight o clock.’
‘I should be delighted Holmes, provided there is no singing!’
T HE H OODED M AN
D uring the early months of my marriage to my dear Mary, I saw precious little of my old friend Sherlock Holmes. My medical practice had been unusually busy due to an outbreak of influenza brought on by an unseasonably mild and wet January. Therefore, though I am ashamed to admit it, I had barely given him a thought. However, when Mary decided to visit her family for a fortnight and a frosty cold snap stemmed my influx of patients, my thoughts turned once more to 221b Baker Street.
So it was, that on a particularly frosty February morning I found myself staring up, once more, at that familiar building. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of the reception I might receive from my unpredictable friend, however Mrs Hudson’s cheery greeting helped alleviate these fears and I bounded up the stairs to our old rooms.
I found Holmes seated on the window ledge with his back to the door. I had not expected a warm greeting from him, but Holmes reacted to my presence as if I had not been away. He merely waved me towards him, barely giving me a glance.
‘Come and watch the poor career of a redundant crime specialist
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