The Hudson Diaries Read Online Free Page B

in turn and took up the daunting task of reading each record thoroughly. Mr. Holmes left the room from time to time, taking notes or evidence with him. After nearly two hours of exhaustive study, Mr. Holmes cried out in exultation. “Aha, I believe I have found our man at last! Watson, please call on Inspector Lestrade for me. And keep your revolver ready.” As Dr. Watson left the sitting room, Mr. Holmes wrote a note and sent for a courier. After handing off the message, I asked Mr. Holmes what he knew, and he answered, “Wait but a little longer, Miss Beauregard, and I believe we shall have it out as I conjecture.”
    “But to have a revolver ready? What can you possibly…” At last I understood his plan. “You’re not planning on having the man come here , are you sir?” He grinned, and I was suddenly filled with worry. “He will surely kill you where you stand!”
    “Do not fear; I don’t believe he shall be so plucky as to try anything—and if he does, we shall be ready for him.”
    Within the hour Inspector Lestrade had arrived, and by Mr. Holmes’s planning was hidden in the next room. Dr. Watson and I were also nearby to listen and to wait for an opportune time to intervene should the need arise. Within a few minutes, the man himself was upon the porch. Mr. Holmes went to receive him, and when the introductions were given, the man stepped into the room. He was tall and pale, with fiery hair and deep, brooding eyes. He said nothing, only stared suspiciously. Mr. Holmes met with the silence by inviting the visitor to a game of whist. My master also asked for tea, and while I went to prepare it, the distinct feeling of ill boding lingered. Dr. Watson sat with me in the kitchen, and while we said nothing, we both felt the tension coming to a head.
    The conversation was light but careful; the bids were safe and ineffectual. Eventually, however, our visitor became more heated as the bids rose, while Mr. Holmes remained calm. Dr. Watson silently left the kitchen, watching intently. Flushed with anger, our visitor stood up suddenly and pointed a revolver at Mr. Holmes. He shouted, “You should have been dead the first time I shot you, but now you cannot escape!” Dr. Watson ran into the sitting room and a shot was fired. I heard a cry of pain and nearly fainted. Hearing scuffling, I ran into the sitting room. Fortunately, when I arrived upon the scene, Inspector Lestrade had the man subdued and in handcuffs. I uttered a prayer of thanks as I discovered Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson were unharmed. Our guest was taken away bleeding, and as we took in the triumph of the moment, I asked Mr. Holmes how he had known about the man.
    “His name is Henry Bertram, obliged to leave the army over the inability to pay his debts. The rifle is a Lee-Metford, and he is also a writer.”
    “A Lee-Metford?” asked Dr. Watson, confused. “But a Metford rifle is only issued to soldiers in the army. A soldier can keep the uniform, but never the gun.”
    “Indeed… He most likely used a criminal contact to get it for him, and some careless citizen is now out of work.”
    “But sir, how would you come to such separate conclusions?” I inquired.
    “The war records from our library. The Lee-Metford also uses cordite, a substance that leaves little residue, but when burned has a bright yellow flame.”
    “But what would be the motive?”
    “As you yourself have seen, he has an inherently violent nature and, I conjecture, also an inherited strain to crime reinforced by the company he currently keeps. I also have many enemies; I have no doubt that they would pay handsomely to rid the world of me. When his first attempt failed, however, Bertram’s reward would most likely be revoked—knowing this, he had all the more reason to return to Baker Street and finish the job. ”
    “And the cards?” Dr. Watson asked.
    “An educated guess; I suspected that if he could not pay his debts, he might be somewhat of a gambler.”
    “But