The Web Weaver Read Online Free

ruffled. Can you not surmise why?”
    “Why?”
    “Because he had been lying in bed with his mistress until the last minute. He then dressed in great haste and came to see us in his disordered state.”
    I shook my head. “Perhaps he is just sloppy.”
    “Did you notice the quality of his clothes and his watch? He is a rich man of business, and he would not make it through the day in so slovenly a state. To begin with, no valet of minimal competence would let his master out the door looking that way. Even if the man’s servants were incompetent, his colleagues would have discreetly mentioned that he might straighten his tie or button his waistcoat. He also smelled faintly of cheap perfume.”
    I put my hand on my head. “I did smell something! Perhaps... perhaps he was with his wife.”
    “Could you not tell from his manner that things are amiss between them? Besides, married people do not indulge themselves in the afternoon. That time of day is reserved for expensive harlots and their clientele.”
    “Balderdash! That is simply not true.”
    Holmes’ smile vanished, and he stared thoughtfully at me. “Is it not?”
    “Well, I cannot speak for all respectable married couples, but... no, I think not.”
    Holmes looked away, then scratched briefly at his chin. “I must defer to you on this, but you said his wife is with Michelle. Besides, I doubt his wife would use such foul perfume, not if she has any taste at all.”
    I sighed wearily. I had only met Violet Wheelwright a few times, but I had liked her. Wheelwright, on the other hand... And if he were an adulterer, too... “I cannot believe it.”
    “Henry, you should know how common such behavior is.”
    “It may be common, but it is wrong . Blast it all, Violet is so pretty! Why would he trifle with a prostitute when he is married to a woman such as her?”
    “Is that not also obvious? Because he is a dullard, Henry—a blockhead. Her beauty does not matter. He wants someone equally obtuse who will flutter her eyelids and tell him how handsome and clever he is. I doubt his wife would do that.”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    “Wheelwright seems a familiar name... Of course—Wheelwright’s Potted Meats! I’ll wager he’s that Wheelwright’s son and heir. The old man has a reputation for being shrewd and ruthless. I cannot picture the son maintaining the family empire. Perhaps there is an elder brother.”
    “They are rich. Michelle commented on it, and Violet has been only too willing to purchase medicine, food, and clothing for the poor. You have put me in an awkward position, Sherlock.”
    “In what way?”
    “I do not like to keep secrets from Michelle, and what you have deduced about Mr. Wheelwright concerns her good friend. Should I tell Michelle, she may be similarly perplexed, but knowing her, she will want to tell Mrs. Wheelwright about her husband’s infidelity. Who knows what misery may then ensue?”
    “Oh, nonsense.” Holmes crossed his legs, took his pipe, and began to cram tobacco into the bowl. “If Mrs. Wheelwright is anywhere near as intelligent as you claim, she already knows about her husband’s infidelity. In my experience, the wife usually knows about the mistress, and so long as the husband is discreet, not particularlyabusive, and continues to make his income readily available, she does not much care.”
    “What a horribly cynical viewpoint.”
    “Marriage is the institution created for cynics, but do not blame me for your dilemma. Mr. Wheelwright is the guilty party. If he makes a habit of leaving his afternoon rendezvous in such disorder, then others must have remarked upon the fact. By the way, had you heard anything of this gypsy curse?”
    “Not a word. That note was certainly vile. What do you make of it?”
    Holmes drew in on the pipe. “Probably some discontented servant, nothing more. The whole business is far too melodramatic to be genuine. It reeks of artifice, of histrionics.”
    “But what about the gypsy at