of it," Doyle said. "And please, call me Arthur."
"Nevertheless, I do apologize. Arthur," Holcombe said. "You are a first-rate medical man. For someone not trained in pathology, you possess remarkable skill."
"Well, it's true that I am no pathologist," said Doyle, "but I served as a ship's surgeon on several occasions, which is as good a way as any that I know to learn adaptability. And I had the good fortune to study under a most remarkable man once, Dr. Joseph Bell of Edinburgh, who taught me the value of observing, rather than merely seeing. I never knew him to make a single incorrect diagnosis. His deductive faculties were brilliant. He could tell what a man's occupation was simply by observing him carefully. In fact, I modeled Sherlock Holmes on him."
"How is it that you became a writer instead of a practicing physician?" Holcombe said.
"A peculiar trick of fate, I suppose." said Doyle. “It seems that people would prefer me to stick to writing rather than practice medicine. They pay me truly exorbitant sums for my stories, but if I had to live off my medical training, Louise and I would doubtless starve." He chuckled. "I could not get any patients, and yet sometimes it seems as if the entire world is hammering down my doors, demanding more stories about Holmes. You simply would not believe the response to my killing him off. You should see my mail. I am berated with the most outrageous accusations. One woman called me a heartless brute." He sighed.
"My own creation has me by the throat. And yet, I must confess, right now I almost wish I had him here beside me, in the flesh, to help us unravel this mystery and bring this maniac to justice."
"You think it is all the work of one man?" said Holcombe. "Another Jack the Ripper?"
"The evidence certainly seems to support that theory." Conan Doyle said, putting on his coat. "The
modus operandi
in all these grisly killings is the same, with the sole exception of the Crewe girl."
"The additional hair samples matched the ones you found beneath the fingernails of Constable Jones?" said Holcombe.
"Yes, we got some good ones off the late Mr. Tully. He must have grappled with the killer. That we are dealing with a madman, there can he no doubt, not only from the sheer brutality of these crimes, but from the strength the killer obviously possesses. To throw five men around as if they were no more than kittens takes much more than ordinary strength."
"A madman's strength," said Holcombe.
"Indeed." said Doyle. "But what puzzles me most is the manner in which the wounds were inflicted. I thought, perhaps, that our killer possessed some kind of weapon, a small club of some sort fixed with sharp animal claws, similar to those carried by some tribes of African natives. A minor example of the taxidermist's art. That might have accounted for the animal hairs—or at least hairs that appear to be very like an animal's. But then closer analysis suggests that they are human hairs, albeit unusually coarse. Consider the testimony of the eyewitnesses who saw the struggle from their windows. From the way things seem to have occurred during the struggle, it would have been necessary for our killer to use both hands during the fighting, which means that if his weapon were a club or something that he had to carry, he would have had to drop it and pick it up again several times during the fight."
"So the claws, or whatever they were, had to have been worn upon his hands, like gloves?" said Holcombe.
"That does seem to be the only possible conclusion that the evidence will support," said Doyle, "and yet, it seems to me that something worn upon the hands in such a manner would have to affect the killer's dexterity to some degree. And consider the manner in which Tully's hands were crushed. The bones in the fingers were all shattered, as if squeezed in a powerful vise. And at least two of the witnesses report seeing the killer catch Tully's fists as Tully tried to strike him and then force Tully
"Nevertheless, I do apologize. Arthur," Holcombe said. "You are a first-rate medical man. For someone not trained in pathology, you possess remarkable skill."
"Well, it's true that I am no pathologist," said Doyle, "but I served as a ship's surgeon on several occasions, which is as good a way as any that I know to learn adaptability. And I had the good fortune to study under a most remarkable man once, Dr. Joseph Bell of Edinburgh, who taught me the value of observing, rather than merely seeing. I never knew him to make a single incorrect diagnosis. His deductive faculties were brilliant. He could tell what a man's occupation was simply by observing him carefully. In fact, I modeled Sherlock Holmes on him."
"How is it that you became a writer instead of a practicing physician?" Holcombe said.
"A peculiar trick of fate, I suppose." said Doyle. “It seems that people would prefer me to stick to writing rather than practice medicine. They pay me truly exorbitant sums for my stories, but if I had to live off my medical training, Louise and I would doubtless starve." He chuckled. "I could not get any patients, and yet sometimes it seems as if the entire world is hammering down my doors, demanding more stories about Holmes. You simply would not believe the response to my killing him off. You should see my mail. I am berated with the most outrageous accusations. One woman called me a heartless brute." He sighed.
"My own creation has me by the throat. And yet, I must confess, right now I almost wish I had him here beside me, in the flesh, to help us unravel this mystery and bring this maniac to justice."
"You think it is all the work of one man?" said Holcombe. "Another Jack the Ripper?"
"The evidence certainly seems to support that theory." Conan Doyle said, putting on his coat. "The
modus operandi
in all these grisly killings is the same, with the sole exception of the Crewe girl."
"The additional hair samples matched the ones you found beneath the fingernails of Constable Jones?" said Holcombe.
"Yes, we got some good ones off the late Mr. Tully. He must have grappled with the killer. That we are dealing with a madman, there can he no doubt, not only from the sheer brutality of these crimes, but from the strength the killer obviously possesses. To throw five men around as if they were no more than kittens takes much more than ordinary strength."
"A madman's strength," said Holcombe.
"Indeed." said Doyle. "But what puzzles me most is the manner in which the wounds were inflicted. I thought, perhaps, that our killer possessed some kind of weapon, a small club of some sort fixed with sharp animal claws, similar to those carried by some tribes of African natives. A minor example of the taxidermist's art. That might have accounted for the animal hairs—or at least hairs that appear to be very like an animal's. But then closer analysis suggests that they are human hairs, albeit unusually coarse. Consider the testimony of the eyewitnesses who saw the struggle from their windows. From the way things seem to have occurred during the struggle, it would have been necessary for our killer to use both hands during the fighting, which means that if his weapon were a club or something that he had to carry, he would have had to drop it and pick it up again several times during the fight."
"So the claws, or whatever they were, had to have been worn upon his hands, like gloves?" said Holcombe.
"That does seem to be the only possible conclusion that the evidence will support," said Doyle, "and yet, it seems to me that something worn upon the hands in such a manner would have to affect the killer's dexterity to some degree. And consider the manner in which Tully's hands were crushed. The bones in the fingers were all shattered, as if squeezed in a powerful vise. And at least two of the witnesses report seeing the killer catch Tully's fists as Tully tried to strike him and then force Tully
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