The Snake and The Rabbit

A few mornings later I came down stairs to find Holmes in his dressing gown. The room filled with smoke. I coughed as I crossed the room to open a window. “Holmes, this atmosphere is positively toxic.” He continued to exhale clouds of smoke. “I am sure the fire services will be here presently.”

“What are your plans for the next couple of days?”

“Nothing pressing.”

“Will you accompany me to Wales? I have cabled Mr. Parker for permission to look around?”

“Do you think he will grant it?”

“He will. I am not so convinced about the son-in-law.”

“Are you sure you are up to this?”

It took a long time for Holmes to answer me, “no.”

The next day, having heard from Mr. Parker, we headed out for Wiltshire in Wales. I think I was more nervous than Holmes. I was all too aware of what we found at Sussex; I hoped no such tragedy befell us here. I could stand the silence no longer. “Holmes,” I asked, “how are we to stand in Wales?”

Holmes grunted. I had turned my attention to the rolling country side by the time he answered.

“The Wales and Berwick Act of 1746 states that all laws that apply to England would automatically apply to Wales. There are some exceptions; however, for our purposes all things are equal.”

“Do you speak Cymry?”

Holmes let out a deep sigh, “a little. It always eluded me.”

To my surprise, when we boarded a trap for Wiltshire we were joined by Inspector’s Lestrade and Hopkins. “Sorry we were unable to join you sooner Mr. Holmes.”

“We have a lovely invitation from the owners to spend as much time as we need.” Holmes reported, handing Hopkins the telegram.

“What do you think we will find?” Hopkins asked.

“Who knows?” Holmes remarked dryly.

Lestrade and I started a conversation. It is so tiresome for me to travel in silence. As we approached Wiltshire, the landscape became deeply desolate. I was grasped by an overwhelming since of loneliness. So much so that I pulled the collar of my great coat closer to my chin.

Wiltshire was a massive estate; gray brick and old. There was charming vegetation growing around the property; it only seemed to add to the despair around the place. We were met at the door by a horrible little man. His behavior was forced pleasant. He wanted us there about as much as we wanted to be there. We each took a direction in the house though my direction was generally toward Holmes.

“Take good notes,” Holmes encouraged me.

“Of course.” We stopped finally in a bedroom. It was pleasant enough. The first time since we had started this trip that I felt at ease. However, that feeling was short lived.

Holmes got down on his knees with his glass and studied every inch of the floor in this room. He crawled out the door to the great stair case in front of the house. Where; the horrible little man was waiting by the door to let us out, with a dog waiting as impatiently as his master, by his side. Lestrade and Hopkins were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Holmes sat on the top step for a time. Long enough for a curious cat to jump on the railing to watch him.

“My congratulations to your housekeeper; she is no doubt first rate.” Holmes spoke, seemingly into the air.

The little man looked wounded. “I do all the housekeeping sir.”

“Indeed.” Holmes scoffed as he began his descent down the stairs backwards on his knees. He stopped midway down taking a white handkerchief from his pocket then wiping it on the underside of a step. It had a little dirty smudge on it. Holmes gave it to me then I to Hopkins. I noticed the cat followed us down the stairs.

Once outside we went around the back of the house to the stable. Holmes sat in the middle of one of the cleanest stables I had ever seen in my life. It was obvious to me that no animal had been in it in a very long time, if ever. The cat followed us. Holmes got as close to the floor of the stable as he could without laying on it. He examined the floor and the beams overhead.

“Tell me sir,” he asked of the strange little man. “What animal was housed in here?”

“I was told a horse sir.”

“You never saw it?”

“No sir.”

“How long have you worked for Mr. Parker?”

“I work for Mr. Merryweather sir. ‘Bout five years sir.”

Lestrade slowly walked in, “what have you found?” Inspector Lestrade is a good person but there are times he can be haughty.

Today was one of those events. I was never quite sure why Inspector Hopkins brought him.

Lestrade held his nose, “there is a strange odor here.”

Hopkins replied, “Indeed; though, what it is I do not know.”

“Look here.” Holmes pulled our attention to the cross beam over the spot where he investigated the floor.

We all had a good look at the beam. It had wear on it; most prominent around the top sides.

“What do you make of it?” Hopkins asked.

“It is never good to speculate.” Holmes took a piece of paper from his pocket and glided it through the cracks in the floor under the marks on the beam; he produced a small dark smear on the paper. “Was this building ever used as a meat house?”

“Not to my knowledge.”  The horrible little man was never too far away, glaring at us.

We walked from the stable across the small meadow in the back of the estate, up an embankment, I thought toward the sea. With each step we took the sound of waves crashing against rocks became louder. Instead we came to a little flat spot where an old cabin sat. This was the little cabin that she had mentioned in her journal. I stood on the porch and looked back toward Wiltshire, I could not perceive in my mind how a horse could have pulled her here without doing her injury. This is the cabin.

Holmes was standing beside me. His voice was the faintest whisper when he spoke. “You make the mistake of thinking she was drug.”

“I take it by your tone you think that assumption is wrong.”

“We must work on that.”

“Alright Holmes,” called Inspector Hopkins. “What have you seen that we overlooked?”

“Comparing notes,” Lestrade asked?

“It is in the best interest of our victim.” Hopkins answered.

We all sat on the porch. The horrible little man stayed behind at the manor house. “Let us start with the estate as a whole.” Holmes started.

“Something is wrong with the picture. I am unable to ascertain what.” I spoke. “We see a house that has been taken care of though I feel is has been lacking attention.”

“I think,” Hopkins pointed a finger toward the estate, “all of those plants are new. How long did it take to get an answer back from the land owner for us to come out and look?”

“Five days.” Holmes answered.

“No, it would have taken an army of people to clean this place up, if indeed it was rundown, in five days.”

“One must define the army?” I stated.

Lestrade snickered, “did not the gentleman say he was the house keeper?”

“You assume lying is beneath people?” Holmes remarked.

Hopkins got up. “I want to run under the assumption that everything here is new. The flowers. The house has been freshly cleaned.”

“I think you are incorrect.” Lestrade countered.

“Splendid,” Holmes laughed; “on to the inside.”

Hopkins stated, “I think no one has lived in the manor house for a long time. It does not feel lived in.”

Lestrade and Hopkins started to bicker about structures with feelings. I am unsure how long the bantering went back and forth. Finally Hopkins screamed, “what is your take on it Mr. Holmes?” Holmes set silent.

“Mr. Holmes?”

“Holmes,” I called to him.

“Someone was killed in that house. Either by self-defense or murder, I am unsure. There is a coat of arms in the front parlor over the fireplace; one sword is protruding farther than the other; telling me that it has been removed then replaced. Several places throughout the house, one on the stair railing, one on the left bedroom door frame, I counted five more, there are deep indentations in the woodwork. Those indentations were made with brute force. A mirror in that same bedroom with the markings on the door frame was broken. I found glass fragments in the floor.” He pulled them from his pocket. “I think the blood on the stairs was the result of someone being pulled down the stairs either in a rug or a sheet.”

“More theories from the theorist,” Lestrade scolded. “What did the other person fight with if only one sword was removed?”

I snapped my fingers, “poker. Our set of fireplace tools has three pieces. The one in the front parlor only had two.”

“Good Watson, good,” Holmes remarked.

“What about the stables?” Hopkins asked. “I can hardly see any animal ever being in there. It was much too clean.”

“The cat and the dog,” Lestrade laughed.

Holmes got up and walked around the little cabin. I jumped to my feet when I heard him retch. When he reappeared he was as white as a ghost. “I fear someone was tortured there.” He walked away from us toward the manor house leaving the three of us to look at each other horrified.

The Stables

We followed him back to the stables. Our vile little man was waiting by the door. The good inspectors went back inside the stables. Holmes said something to the little man, but I know not what.

Holmes sat on the floor with his eyes closed. I noticed that he sat not directly under the marks on the rafters. The little man brought him a length of rope, a lantern, and a bar. He just stood in the door. Holmes bolted past him. I found Holmes behind the stable. He was squatting with his head in his hands.

“Holmes, are you alright?” I squatted next to him.

He took a deep breath. “No.”

“What is the matter ole chap?”

He clasped his hands together, “I am unable to do it Watson. I am unable to remove the boards from the floor.” He looked as if he was going to be sick again.

“What is under there Holmes?” I put my hand on his shoulder to discover he was shaking like a leaf. “Holmes?”

He stood calming himself. We both went back inside. With little effort, he used the bar to pry the boards from the floor. In total, he removed six. We were hit with a stronger version of that stench no one could define. There before us on the ground was a hole. As we got closer to the hole, the smell got stronger. Holmes hooked the lantern to one end of the rope and lowered it into the hole. I rushed outside to clear my nose and head. I heard someone heave. Soon I was joined by Hopkins. After several breaths of fresh air, we both returned to the hole. Holmes’ never said a word.

Inspector Hopkins leaned over looking down, “one of us needs to go down there?” Lestrade raised an eyebrow. Hopkins took a deep breath, “I guess it will be me.” He took off his great coat and hat, handing them to Lestrade. “Watson, will you dictate for me?”

I almost said nothing.  “Of course,” finally came out. Holmes wrapped the other end of the rope around the support beam using himself as the anchor.    

Inspector Lestrade hissed, “will you look at that. The rope fits quite nicely in the groove.”

This, I noted. As Holmes lowered Hopkins into the hole, he started talking: “one side of hole is covered with vertical indentations. They are short in length and deep. Some have a faint hint of color. The concentration is in front of me. There are none behind me.” There was a pause. “STOP!” He shouted. There was great movement on the rope. “Lower the rope some more please.” Holmes did. “Stop,” another pause. “Someone drop a pebble down here, nothing larger.” Lestrade went outside, returning with the asked for pebble. We heard a small plunk followed by a heave. “Dear God!” Another heave followed by a gag. “There is a pool of something down here.”

“Watson, lower him the longest board to see if we can measure the depth.” Holmes instructed in a whisper.

Before I did, I held the board up to myself. It came to my chest. I lowered the board, repeating the instructions to Hopkins.

“Watson, I would estimate this hole is five feet wide.” More silence. “I can just see the top of the board.” There was movement on the rope. “Watson there is a little flat dug out in the wall, maybe a foot wide.” More movement on the rope, “opposite this there are two smaller indentions below the short vertical ones maybe six inches wide and two feet apart. Holmes what do you think they are?”

Holmes did not answer. He was staring at the floor. I was beginning to think that he was ignoring Hopkins. I looked at Lestrade and he at me. Holmes closed his eyes and shook his head. “The largest of the three is for your behind. The two forward are for your feet. That would suggest this hole is not five feet wide.”

I know the expression on my face was one of horror. For I saw it in Lestrade’s eyes as well.

“I hate to say this Holmes. I think you might be right. I’m ready to come up now.” Holmes started to pull him up. “Stop!” He called again. “Watson, write down A R A. I wonder what that means.”

I heard a thud. Upon turning, I discovered Holmes on his knees, rope in hand. Lestrade threw down the contents of his hands and took the rope from Holmes. He pulled Hopkins from the pit.

“Air, sweet air.” He took many deep breaths.

Holmes was in an almost catatonic state. We led him everywhere we needed to go.

The Snake and The Rabbit