Here I paused to think. Like Holmes I too had been a student of chemistry, and it came to me in a flash.
“The fine shredding, I said, increases the surface area, so the water extraction of the leaf is more efficient”.
“Yes,” said Holmes, “no doubt the extraction process applied to this material was in fact made more efficient by the fine shredding. And you are also correct in saying the purpose of the shredding is to increase the surface area. However the extraction process to which this material was applied, is not its intended use. The shredding’s purpose is not to make an extraction process more efficient.”
These words of Holmes shed no light whatsoever for me on the matter. The material’s nature and function, if any other than to confuse me, remained a complete mystery, and I said so..
“My dear Watson,” said Holmes, “you surprise me.” The material we are discussing is not rare or unusual. In fact it is an item of commerce. Common commerce.”
Item of common commerce! I could barely restrain myself.
“Holmes,” I said, “for the love of God you must tell me what it is at once. At once!”
“So I shall, Watson, so I shall, and at once, as you so forcefully request. But before I do, have you anything further to add towards the solution of this mystery? Anything at all?”
“Not a thing. If I may be allowed a pun, not a shred more can I add towards the solution of this mysterious material’s identity. Holmes, please do tell me what it is, before I burst. You must tell me at once”
“Watson, I shall do as you demand. But rather than tell you, I will show you. Your own eyes will provide everything necessary.”
I impatiently waited for the coming revelation. Holmes spoke.
“Concerning this material, Watson, I believe you have some right there, in your vest pocket. Be a good fellow and check in there.”
I did as Holmes directed. I put my finger in the pocket and found nothing unusual there. “Nothing there,” I said.
“Not quite, old fellow, not quite. I have observed your habits for some time now, and in fact there is something there. Don’t you feel it? Come now, check again in your vest pocket.”
Again I put my finger in the pocket. Nothing was there except my old drawstring pouch. I said as much.
“Yes,” said Holmes, “only that. Please do take it out.”
I removed my little drawstring tobacco pouch and laid it on the table.
“But,” I said, “that is only my tobacco pouch. You can’t mean that-.”
“Precisely, old fellow, precisely. That is just what I mean.”
“But,” I said, “there is only tobacco in there. You aren’t saying that…but it’s dry, not wet. I don’t understand”
“What you say is quite correct,” said Holmes. “The material in your tobacco pouch is dry, and this specimen of tobacco I showed you is quite wet. But consider for a moment from where I obtained this wet specimen of tobacco.”
“May the Devil take it, just where did you get it from?”
‘It came from poor Mr. Fletcher’s teapot. From where he made the deadly brew that killed him. Did you not notice he had been served tea?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, I did see a tea service. That jailer was seemingly an accommodating fellow. Or did he poison Mr. Fletcher?”
“No, Watson, there was no reason for the jailer to do so. There was no motive for the jailer to kill Mr. Fletcher, and murder without a motive is as likely as a hen’s egg with hair. And, there was no attempt to conceal what happened. The tea service was left out, in plain sight. No doubt Mr. Fletcher poisoned himself. His death was a suicide.”
“But,” I asked, “how do you know for sure that Mr. Fletcher was not given the tobacco extract in his tea by the turnkey, or perhaps someone else, and drank it unknowingly?”
“Watson, Mr. Albert Fletcher could not drink tobacco extract in his tea unknowingly, because the taste is extremely unpleasant, it is very bitter. In his agitated state of mind he must have wanted to escape the memory of his terrible experience so badly, that death was preferable. He died of acute nicotine poisoning. A fact only we will know.”
Holmes reflected on that for a moment, and then went on.
“At autopsy the brown liquid stomach contents will no doubt be passed off as tea, and with no signs of foul play, death will be certified as due to natural causes, and left at that. By now the teapot’s contents have been discarded, and it and the teacup are no doubt washed, and ready for service again. All the evidence other than ours has been destroyed. I was careful to leave some tobacco in the teapot, more than enough for identification, should the idea of looking there ever occur to the authorities. Oh, what fools they are! Watson, scientific crime investigation is still in its infancy.”
However I was not yet fully convinced, and gave voice to my doubts.
“How can you be sure it was tobacco, and not something else that killed Fletcher? And what induced you to look in the teapot?”
“Ah,” said Holmes, “I see doubt still lingers in your mind. Then let these facts put it to rest. Regarding the tobacco, there is no other leaf that merits the application of first large scale drying, and then expensive shredding machinery, in order to produce such fine, uniform shreds.” Holmes paused briefly, and then went on.
“The drying is by wood fire, rather than the more convenient and readily controlled natural gas, because the very large quantities involved make gas drying prohibitively expensive, and some in the industry believe drying by wood fire adds to the product’s flavor.
The shredding’s purpose is to increase the leaf’s surface area, so that when packed in a pipe or cigarette, it still accesses enough air to continue burning, that is, to be smoked.
On testing the leaf I obtained a positive test for nicotine. Nicotine, the natural alkaloid ingredient that gives tobacco its soothing and addictive properties. Nicotine, a deadly poison in quantity, the basis of the widely used, powerful agricultural insecticide Black Leaf 40.
With no signs of foul play on the body, I immediately suspected poison. He had pipe and matches, but his tobacco pouch, by the way bigger than yours, Watson, was empty. There was no tobacco on his lips, or in his mouth. Then I looked in the teapot, and there it was. Obviously the tobacco pouch’s contents had been emptied into the teapot, and with a little stirring the hot tea had efficiently extracted the deadly nicotine poison.”
I was fully convinced by Holmes’s detailed explanation, and proceeded to say so.
“Holmes,” I said, “I have never witnessed a finer piece of detective work. You have solved the case, and are to be highly commended for doing so.”
“Thank you, Watson,” Holmes said, “but I fear your heartfelt congratulation is a bit premature.”
Why premature? It came to me that there was still a question as to motive. Why did Mr. Fletcher kill himself? According to the information we received, he was a sober, steady man. What was the reason for his death? I must have been speaking out loud again, because Holmes immediately replied.
“Yes,” he replied, “the reason is somewhat puzzling, but not entirely so. For a man of sober and steady habits as Mr. Fletcher was, and a bachelor to boot, the experience he described must have been very disturbing. And then in addition, finding himself alone in the gloomy Cheltenham jail cell, may well have been enough, to make him decide to kill himself. Mr. Fletcher’s suicide is tragic, but no reason to keep the case open.”
“Holmes, you have indeed solved the case. And, if I may say so, brilliantly.”
It seemed to me everything that needed to be said had been said, and the matter was closed, to everyone’s satisfaction, including Holmes’s. Imagine my great surprise at the next words that issued from Holmes’s lips, words that I had never heard before, and that I hope never to hear again. Holmes first pursed his lips together, and then he spoke to me at once, with great force.