The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [28]
“Mrs. Barker, when you consulted the European doctors, did your husband become ill during that time? How long were you there, and what were the weather conditions?”
“We were there for seven weeks, with a number of clear nights, and his health was fine.”
“I think this is not all you have to tell us, Mrs. Barker,” said Holmes. “Pray finish your story.”
The lady sighed deeply, and I was astonished to notice that her beautifully manicured hands were trembling.
“You are correct, Mr. Holmes. There are two other things. The first is this: He became ill again two weeks ago, one month after I began to wonder about the coincidence of the air’s clarity. The night his illness began he asked me to leave him alone, as usual. I left his sickroom and went outside for some air. I walked around the gardens for a time, un-til it was quite late, and when I turned back towards the house I hap-pened to look up at my husband’s room. I saw a light, winking on and off from the roof over his room.”
“And you think it might be your husband, secretly passing on gov-ernment secrets to the Kaiser,” Holmes interrupted with an impatient edge to his voice.
Mrs. Barker’s face went dead white and she swayed in her chair. I leapt to my feet and held her upright while Holmes went for the brandy. She never fainted completely, and the spirits revived her, but she was still pale and shaken when we sat back down in our chairs.
“Mr. Holmes, how could you have known that?”
“My good lady, you told me yourself.” Seeing her bewilderment, he said with exaggerated patience, “You told me that his illnesses corre-spond with clear nights when signals can be seen for miles and you told me that he is invariably alone at those times. In addition, I have seen his distinctly Germanic features in the car. Your emotions make it obvious that you are torn between finding the truth and discovering that your husband is a traitor. If you suspected someone else you would not be so upset. Now, tell us about your household.”
She took a shaky sip of brandy and continued.
“We have five full-time servants who live in the house. The others are day help from the village. There is Terrence Howell, my husband’s man, and Sylvia Jacobs, my maid; Sally and Ronald Woods, the cook and chief gardener; and lastly Ron Athens, who keeps the stable and the two cars. Terrence has been with my husband for years; Sylvia I hired eight years ago; the others came when we opened the house.”
Holmes sat staring off at a corner for some minutes, then leapt sud-denly to his feet.
“Madam, if you would be so good as to go home now, I think it very likely that a couple of your neighbours may be around to your door later this afternoon. Shall we say, around three o’clock? An unex-pected visit, you understand?”
The lady rose, clutching her bag.
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I hope—” She looked down. “If my fears are correct, I have married a traitor. If I am wrong, I am myself guilty of traitorous thoughts against my husband. There is no win here, only duty.”
Holmes touched her hand and she looked up at him. He smiled with extraordinary kindness into her eyes.
“Madam, there is no treachery in the truth. There may be pain, but to face honestly all possible conclusions formed by a set of facts is the noblest route possible for a human being.” Holmes could be surpris-ingly empathetic at times, and his words now had a gentling effect on the lady. She smiled wanly, patted his hand, and left.
Holmes and I proceeded with our odoriferous experiment and at two o’clock left the cottage, leaving the windows and doors full open, to walk to the manor house. We approached it casually, from cross-country rather than along the road, and studied the setting as we walked up the hill towards it.
The three-storey house dominated the area, built as it was atop one of the tallest hills. Moreover, at one end was a tall, square