The Perils of Sherlock Holmes by Loren D. Estleman Page B

retiring.”
    “You’re certain they’re in it together? Richard and Lady Chislehurst?”
    His expression was grave.
    “It was she who insisted her husband prepare his will without delay. She is the beneficiary, but Richard is the Svengali in our little melodrama. ‘What evil one may do compounds when they are two.’ They already have our unfortunate client walking the streets in his sleep—mark you his sopping slippers! Who is there to say, when he is found some night murdered in an alley, that he was not set upon by some anonymous ruffian while in the somnambulant state?”
    “Good Lord! And in the season of love and mercy!”
    Holmes hissed for silence. Motioning for me to follow, he crept along the inside wall, and I realised belatedly that he was measuring the distance. Presently he stepped away as far as the outside wall would permit, scrutinising the other from ceiling to floor. He seized a stony protuberance and, with a significant nod towards the revolver in my hand, pushed with all his might. Again there was a grating noise, and then a section of wall eight feet high and four feet wide swung outwards upon a hidden pivot. Light flooded the passage. Together we stepped through.
    We were in a chamber slightly smaller than Lord Chislehurst’s, with a cosy fireplace, a bed piled high with pillows and canopied in chintz and ivory lace, a dressing-table, and a huge oak cabinet quite as old as the house, before which stood a tall, handsome woman ten years our client’s junior, fully dressed and coiffed in a manner both expensive and tasteful. She appeared composed, but upon her cheeks was a high colour.
    “Lady Chislehurst, if I may be so bold?” Holmes enquired.
    “That is my name, sir. Who are you, and what is the meaning of this invasion?”
    “My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is Dr. Watson, and unless I am very much mistaken, the gentleman hiding in the cabinet is named Richard.”
    Her hand went to her throat. She took an involuntary step closer to the cabinet. “Sir! You are impertinent.”
    “Just so; and yet so far it has not proven a failing in my work. Will you open the door, or has the gentleman the moral fibre to present himself and spare you that indignity?”
    At that moment, the door to the cabinet opened and a slender young man stepped out. I recognised Lord Chislehurst’s clerk, dressed in black from collar to heels. I raised my revolver.
    “That won’t be necessary, Doctor. I am unarmed.” He spread his dark coattails, revealing the truth of his assertion. I returned my weapon to my pocket, but kept my hand upon it warily.
    “I fled from the passage when the fireplace opened,” Richard explained. “Not knowing who might be in the hall, and fearful of compromising Lady Chislehurst, I took refuge in the cabinet. I thought perhaps it was the earl, and that we had been found out.”
    “So you have. You admit that you were conspiring to murder Lord Chislehurst?” Holmes’s tone was sepulchral.
    The woman gasped and swayed. Richard put out his arm to steady her. His face was white. “Good heavens, no! However did you form that conclusion?”
    “Come, come, young man. There is the business of the will, the paraphernalia in the passage between the walls, and your own admission just now that you feared you had been ‘found out.’ I suggest you hold your defense in reserve for the Assizes.”
    “Thank you, Richard. I am quite well now.” The lady relinquished her grip upon the young man’s arm. Her expression was resolute. “You are quite mistaken, Mr. Holmes, as to our motives and intentions. I have been after Timothy for years to arrange his estate. I saw no reason that the fortune he has worked so hard to build should be dissipated in the courts. To whom he decided to leave it was his own affair, but I thought it would be appropriate if he named Richard as executor.
    “I have known Richard for two years. I don’t think my husband realises how valuable he has been to the firm,