Sherlock Holmes and the Knave of Hearts Read Free Page B

by no small degree of paranoia.’
    Watson’s eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘And I fear that
you
, Holmes, have been reading too many of Emil Kraepelin’s papers. Kraepelin may be the founder of modern scientific psychiatry, but I must remind you that he is also roundly criticized for his wild claims that schizophrenia is a biological illness—’
    ‘—in the absence of any detectable histological or anatomical abnormalities,’ concluded Holmes irritably. ‘Yes, yes, I am well aware of that. Nevertheless, this young man is distressed. You will note that he has set himself apart from the rest of the passengers. Clearly he wishes to be alone. Furthermore, he holds himself with considerable rigidity, which is suggestive of muscle tension. He displays an unhealthy pallor and his eyes are both bloodshot and ringed with dark shadows. The fact that he is swaying slightly suggests a degree of light- headedness . He is constantly wetting his dry lips, and flexing his fingers nervously. And observe, if you will, the sorry state of his coat and trousers. The poor fellow has neglected his appearance for some time now.’
    ‘So he is not especially interested in the weather?’ Watson said, crestfallen.
    ‘On the contrary, he is fixated upon it.’
    ‘And that implies some sort of emotional distress to you?’
    ‘My dear fellow, it is beyond dispute.’
    Watson pondered this briefly before saying: ‘You are familiar with the concept of Occam’s Razor, of course?’
    ‘That one should not increase, beyond what is necessary, the number of entities required to explain anything? Of course.’
    ‘Then may I suggest that the simplest explanation is also probably the most likely? I put it to you that he has set himself apart from the crowd because he is by nature a loner. The flexing fingers could be a subconscious habit of long-standing, or signify anxiety about a forthcoming appointment – which would also explain the constant wetting of his lips. As for the muscle tension, that is most likely because his line of work requires him to sit or adopt an unusual posture for considerable lengths of time.’ He chuckled. ‘That is the problem with the layman, Holmes, and as a locum I see it on a daily basis. Based upon your observations, you could as easily diagnose that poor fellow with shingles as with a herniated disc.’
    ‘Nevertheless, he is a man with problems,’ Holmes muttered darkly.
    Watson replied profoundly: ‘Show me one who isn’t.’

CHAPTER THREE

To Absent Friends
    A miens is a picturesque city that lies north of Paris and south-west of Lille. The capital of the Somme departement of Picardy, the metropolis is filled with wide, tree-lined boulevards and narrow canals, impressive Gothic cathedrals and street after street of quaint little shops, each of which appears to lean crookedly against the next. With a population of some 90,000 inhabitants, it was built largely upon the manufacture of textiles – predominantly linen, wool, silk, cashmere and velvet.
    The rain had finally stopped by the time their train pulled into Gare du Nord amidst much belching of smoke and blowing of whistles. As they made their way out of the terminus, with its grand brick and glass edifice, Holmes and Watson were just in time to see the clouds to the west break apart and reveal a long-awaited glimpse of blue sky.
    But Holmes could only grimace. The station’s impressive façade was plastered with posters calling for the resignation of Charles de Freycinet, the country’s Opportunist Republican prime minister. ‘Now we are
guaranteed
a surfeit of political chit-chat when we see Henri,’ he lamented. ‘I am afraid I have been so … distracted … of late that it quite escaped my notice that France was in the throes of election fever.’
    ‘It isn’t,’ Watson replied. ‘At least not officially. As you know, de Freycinet has only been in power for two months, but apparently there is a feeling here that he has somehow betrayed