Dust and Shadow Read Free Page A

chaos, we arose early the next morning to stop at the inn and bid farewell to Inspector Gregson and the constable he had brought from London to aid in the investigation; they had taken over a suite of rooms, using the simple parlour as an office. The inspector, in his own unique way, expressed considerable distress at our sudden departure.
    “Well, well, you’re quite right, I suppose. Once you know a thing is over your head, you may as well act the man and own up to it. I intend to play the game to the end, though, Mr. Holmes. Simply not capable of leaving a case half finished with so much to go on.”
    “You’ve unearthed fresh leads, then?” my friend responded coolly.
    “Well, there’s that brother of the late Baron’s—a gambler and a rake, if you listen to my sources.”
    “I hardly think it likely that—”
    “And now this suicide!” Inspector Gregson proclaimed. “Under the circumstances, very black indeed.”
    “How so?”
    “Why, guilt! What does a man have to kill himself over if not guilt? Really, with all these developments, Mr. Holmes, if you remained, you might yet get a hint of what’s going on.”
    “I have word of the gem in London.” Holmes shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “A stonecutter friend of mine has given me reason to return to the city, and I find the evidence meager enough here in Colwall to justify following this fresh lead.”
    “Excuse me, sir,” interjected a voice from the side of the room. “Surely there is a great deal of evidence.”
    Holmes swung his head to regard the young constable who had ventured this remark. “Do you think so?” he queried dryly. “I call solving a crime a near impossibility when one cannot even fix the date of occurrence within a twelvemonth.”
    This retort elicited a chuckle from Gregson, who added, “Now, now, my boy, I brought you down so that you could watch a true professional in action. And Mr. Holmes here may have the odd tip as well. But you’d do better to listen, I think, and keep your opinions mum.”
    The officer appeared unperturbed. “But what of the vandalized grass plot?”
    “The grass plot?” Gregson laughed. “What can you see in that? As if gardening had anything to do with the matter!”
    “I thought it rather queer myself, before I met the boys responsible,” Holmes said swiftly. “Yesterday a brief walk through your inn’s stable yard brought me into personal contact with young Fergus MacArthur and his several associates. They were busy rubbing the guests’ saddles with tallow while the groomsman lay snoring. If creativity alone ensured success in this world, that young gang would soon enough rule the Commonwealth.”
    My friend rose gracefully and retrieved his hat from a small bench by the door. “I shan’t hesitate to forward you any news I may manage to unearth in London.”
    “Ah, well. I have no doubt but that we’ll have solved the whole matter by the time we hear from you again, but despite that—my thanks.”
    “Farewell, Inspector Gregson, and farewell to your staff. They are more promising than you realize.” Holmes gave a final nod and shut the door firmly behind us.
    “Back to London,” I mused.
    “Yes, Herefordshire has no further use for the two of us,” my friend replied. “However, I have every confidence of locating the ring through its mysterious buyer.” He patted his own breast pocket and the ghost of a smile appeared on his somber face.
     
    We had not been long in London before Holmes telegraphed Lady Ramsden with the news that her mother’s ring had been found. Not only was the household’s joy at the ring’s return buried under their misfortune, but to my friend’s evident satisfaction, so was their curiosity at its initial disappearance. Gregson’s case thus remained regrettably inconclusive, but once the ring had safely arrived via Scotland Yard escort from London at Blackheath House, the good inspector’s spirits had risen enough to compliment the private