The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [139]
“That was when I called in the County Officer of Health. We went over everything, the food and drink at the Goat, the water, the bedding, everything. There was nothing to find, the place was as clean as a whistle.”
“Your Medical Officer seems to think the disease is water-borne,” said Holmes.
“Rubbish!” said Leary. “He says that because he can’t think of anything else. We have deep limestone wells here. I’ve had the water under a microscope, Mr Holmes. There’s nothing in it except a few extra salts that people pay for in fancy spas.”
“And what do you make of it, Dr Leary?”
“I’ve racked my brains for ten years,” he said. “I know no more about that disease now than I did then, except one thing. As well as the deaths we had a few cases that were milder. When the deaths and the sickness stopped we thought it had gone, but then there came the births you have heard about. I didn’t see how it could have been the same thing, but now I’m sure it was.”
“And what made you so sure?” asked Holmes.
“Geography,” said Leary. “Lewis died in the ‘Goat’ the boot boy died in the ‘Goat’, McSwiney drank in the ‘Goat’, those who had the sickness drank in the ‘Goat’, though not so much as McSwiney, Lord save him. When the stillbirths and the deformities occurred I saw the same pattern. They were all at that end of the village, close to the ‘Goat’. And I’ll tell you one more thing. All of the women were already pregnant when Lewis died.”
He knocked out his pipe on the fender. Holmes steepled his fingers in front of his face for a moment, then looked up at the Irishman. “Is it over?” he asked.
“Oh yes. It’s over – for now. But we don’t know what it is or how it came here. I can’t tell my people that it won’t happen again.”
“I hope,” said Holmes, “that I can give you that assurance in the very near future. Is there anything else at all that you believe may help us?”
Leary laughed. “They say there’s a bright side to everything. You won’t have seen it in the papers, for they only deal in bad news, but we did have two miraculous cures at the same time.”
“What were they?” said Holmes.
“One was Mary Cummins, the daughter of the landlord at the ‘Goat’. She was seventeen at the time, a sweet, pretty thing, but she started with blinding headaches, dizziness, fainting. This was before the barrow was opened, when there was no thought of a new sickness. Nothing I could do for her made any difference. Soon she had spells when her mind wandered. I began to wonder about a tumour on the brain, but do you know that while others were sickening she suddenly got well? She lost all her symptoms and she’s as right as rain to this day.
The other was old Mrs Henty, next door to the pub. Her daughter-in-law was the mother of one of the deformed babies, but Mrs Henty had a persistent eczema on both forearms. She’d had it all her life, she told me, but it vanished in days.”
“Astonishing,” said Holmes. “Now, Doctor, we have taken up enough of your time. I assure you again, that I believe I am well on the track of this thing and will let you know my conclusions.”
We dined that night at our inn and had the good fortune to be waited upon by the same Mary Cummins that Dr Leary had mentioned to us. Whatever her difficulties of ten years ago, she was now a buxom, raven-haired countrywoman in her middle twenties, vigorous and witty.
After dinner we established ourselves beside the fire in the back parlour, where Mary brought us our drinks.
“Miss Cummins,” said Holmes, “may I ask if you know why Dr Watson and I are in Addleton?”
She smiled. “ ‘Tis no business of mine,” she said, “but I hear tell you’ve come about the Black Barrow.”
“Perhaps you would sit with us for a moment,” he suggested. “You are right that we are investigating the singular disease that affected the village when the barrow was opened.”
She took a chair and he continued. “I believe that, so far from being one