The Snake and The Rabbit

The Forest of Dean part 2

“How would such a piece pass detection when she was first brought into the house and bathed?” I asked.

“I know not sirs.” Our guest thought for a moment. “Mother did find a little black book on her trimmed in gold. She thought it an invasion of privacy to open it. The necklace could have been in the book. I can tell you that the necklace was silver in colour.” He seemed to get lost, in the past perhaps. “Her eyes were just as remarkable as her hair. I witnessed in nature the colour of her eyes once. We were hunting, father, I, and The Lady. She was an expert marksman. A storm caught us unaware. As the blue sky of sunlight passed to the dark blackness of pounding rain, in between was the colour of her eyes. It seemed to me at that time, God plucked that very colour from the heavens and placed it there.”

I could tell by the tone of Holmes voice he was put out, “is that quite all?”

“Yes sir,” our guest seemed proud of the job he had done in telling his story, got up, and recovered his hat. “Gentleman, good day to you,” He left as abruptly as he came.

“Well, what do you make of that?” I asked.

Holmes opened the envelope. Inside was a check for L3,000 and a note. He handed the note to me. It read as follows: “ ‘I know that when you get this I shall be dead. My son is an honest person and I know will deliver this into your hands. This woman that has listed you as her benefactor has done me the greatest service another human could ever do me. She gave me back the life of my son. For that, I am grateful. Yours truly, Morse Pennington.’

Something just occurred to me Holmes; Mr. Pennington said that when she was found she had a black book with gold trim in her possession. Could it be the same black book that we now possess?” I noticed that the book I was taking notes in was lying on top of the book in question so our guest did not see the book upon the table.

Holmes stepped over to his desk retrieving a piece of charcoal. With the book in hand, he closed his eyes letting his fingered glide over the back pages. One page at a time working his way forward. At one point, he turned the page back, “here.” With great care, he rubbed the charcoal across the page. Slowly the imprint of a necklace appeared.

“What is the charm?”

“A Celtic knot.”

Holmes got up and went into his room. I did not see him for the rest of the day. I read over the book at least twice more. Trying to make sense out of what was written. There is no doubt in my mind that he got more from it than I.

We were working on three other cases when this book came into our lives. One was lackluster as my friend described it. Though I did take a few notes, there was nothing of great importance in it. He solved the little problem as if one would remove a thorn from ones finger.

As I came down for breakfast five days after the strange little book appeared, Holmes was standing in front of the far left window with a rug around his shoulders. “Watson,” he said.

“Good morning, looks like we are going to have another glorious day.”

He groaned as he pulled the rug tighter. “Watson, during our friendship I have only outright lied to you once. Not because it was the right thing to do, it was to divert attention. However, I feel that I must now come clean in order to proceed with current events.”

“The reason must have been an excellent one.” I laid the morning addition of the paper on the table as I sat down.

“You asked me who I thought our mystery author was writing to.”

The Snake and The Rabbit