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“Don’t be foolish, Miss Abernetty,” said Holmes, quietly. “You haven’t yet committed murder.”

Her face was a mask of cold, calculating fury. “There’s no proof that you’ve been at Grosvenor Square. You didn’t even hire a cab.”

Holmes’s hand moved swiftly to his lips. He blew three sharp blasts on his police whistle. “Inspector Lanner and his men will be here soon. Put away the pistol, Miss Abernetty. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

In her rage she fired at him. The expression on her face changed quickly to one of chagrin as the pistol misfired. I quickly brought up my stick, taking advantage of her confusion, and knocked the weapon from her grasp. Holmes kicked it out of sight as Inspector Lanner and two constables burst into the room.

“Good afternoon, Mr Holmes,” the inspector nodded cheerfully at my friend. “How may I assist you?”

“I think if your men pry up the flagstones of the cellar floor and dig about a little you’ll discover, as I suggested in our earlier conversation, the body of Alice Abernetty.”

“Murdered?”

“No. I’m sure Lady Abernetty died of natural causes. Concealment of death and wrongful disposal of a body is the only crime here.”

“I fear I shall not be the hero of this chronicle should you set it down on paper.” Holmes stretched his slippers towards the fire and leaned his cheek pensively on his hand. “I have disinherited brother and sister for the sake of a greedy, already wealthy woman, who seeks to impress and snare a younger man with a fashionable address. The terms of Sir William Abernetty’s will, now a matter of public record, gave me the answer. The house in Grosvenor Square only belonged to Lady Abernetty during

her lifetime. On her death it passed to his eldest child Mabel from the first marriage. Charles and Sabina Abernetty were to be dispossessed. There was very little real money. They were, shall we say, in an unenviable position. There were many times, Watson, when I nearly abandoned the case, but I was drawn on to its fascinating and macabre conclusion.”

“The law must be upheld, Holmes.”

“Oh, yes, the law,” he retorted, bitterly. “There are other laws, natural laws, that have been broken here.”

Since our return he had fallen into a mood of black depression and I was worried that he might disappear into his room and seek solace in his unfortunate addiction to cocaine. I therefore attempted to distract him by laying before him the points of the case I did not yet fully understand.

“Who was the woman we saw in the sick-bed on our second visit?”

“That I suspect was Mrs Minter, the cook. However unwilling they may have been, the Minters were accomplices to all that occurred. They probably agreed to the conspiracy knowing they could find no other place at their time of life.

“Charles thought he was very clever with that little ruse, but it only served to convince me further that Lady Abernetty was dead. Of course, he wasn’t aware of my identity then. But Miss Abernetty had already confirmed her suspicion of me. She was the youth watching our premises, Watson. When she burst into the sickroom later that day she was wearing a dress I had seen hanging up in the coach-house on my earlier visit as the groom in search of work. In their loveless, friendless childhood and youth they turned to a world of acting and make-believe. I’m quite sure Charles had his mother’s character down accurately in that little display today. Can you imagine, Watson, their bleak, deprived existence, reviled by the one person who might be expected to give them affection. It makes my blood run cold to think of it.” He leaned forward, his elbows hunched on his knees.

“What will become of them?”

“I can only hope the law will be kinder to them than I have been.”

“Come, Holmes, you deal with yourself too harshly. Things would have gone much harder for Miss Abernetty if you had told the inspector she attempted your life. It was only pure luck that the pistol misfired.”

“It was probably an old weapon that had