‘Ah, yes,’ Holmes replied unapologetically. ‘Then, my dear fellow, what?’
Before I could elucidate, his grey eyes turned to slits. Unaccountably a scowl began to cross his face. ‘No! Now I do recall. Your Codex is an acclaimed work on stiffening of the limbs upon death, is it not? From the great expertise you gained by examining many a corpse in the cholera epidemics of the 1870s?’
‘I am the author of such a report, Holmes, yes,’ I plumed, though uncertain why such medical experience should merit his accusatory tone. As a young and impoverished medical student I had fought hard to obtain fresh corpses against the larger pockets of the Burkers and their dissector clients. ‘I began my examinations in the cholera epidemics you describe, and brought my Codex to a conclusion in Afghanistan and the Forgone Valley. Those regions possess a treacherous clime, full of fever, and a population of hostile... ’
In addition to almost daily random deaths from disease and general hardship, I had added to my store of knowledge of rigor mortis from certain military events. After my release in 1880 from attachment as Assistant Surgeon to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers on account of wounds to leg and shoulder, I spent seven weeks recuperating in the Russian Hospital for Officers, near London’s Grosvenor Square. It was here I was recruited for secondment to a Russian regiment fighting Sufi rebels. I took the opportunity to conduct measured tests in the field on how quickly muscle lengthens or shortens after death. From such reports I later published my work Estimation Of The Time Of Death By Examination of Rigor Mortis In Subjects In The Forgone Valley.
Holmes’ expression had turned ugly as though his rediscovery of my expertise in rigor mortis was inflicting on him some significant harm. This was confirmed when, to my astonishment, he said, ‘So, Watson, you will be my Nemesis, not theirs.’
At this caustic rejoinder he thrust the newspaper back at me and fell into an icy silence. I stared back at him reproachfully. A furlong passed while Holmes continued to consider me without uttering a word. Seldom had my fellow lodger examined me for more than five seconds and even fewer the occasions accompanied by such a discomfiting look.
‘How do you mean, Holmes?’ I spluttered.
‘It is you the Sungazers will call to the witness stand on their behalf. The Watson Codex will be the principal weapon in their armoury. It is you who shall defeat me.’
Before I could protest my undying loyalty, he went on, ‘Remind me, what was the question which most vexed you - the fatal flaw in my supposition, I believe you called it?
‘The time of the death, Holmes. If it took place around three o’ clock today, between Lord Fusey’s sighting - corroborated by Pevensey’s painting - and the woodman finding the corpse one hour later, all four Sungazers...’
‘... were seated in rapt attention before us?’
‘Quite so,’ I responded.
He continued with his injured expression. ‘And you are prepared to state that in open Court as evidence in their favour?’
‘Under oath?’ I enquired.
‘Under oath,’ Holmes confirmed, eying me keenly.
‘I would have to.’
‘Even if it destroys our case against them?’
‘Even if, Holmes, though I wish...’
‘Do you not see it as the blackest treachery?’
‘Holmes,’ I cried, ‘I am a member of the medical profession!’
‘As you say, Watson,’ Holmes retorted with a further sullen glance, ‘I understand completely. You must do so. You might save them from the gallows on that fact alone. You shall be their hero.’
He went on, ‘Remind me, Watson, what was it your Codex contributed to the study of rigor mortis?’
‘The precise effect of the prevailing conditions on the body when death occurs.’
‘In brief?’
‘That rigor mortis does not set in at a standard rate...’
‘But varies according to...?’
‘The ambient temperature.’
Holmes threw me a puzzled look. ‘Watson, it comes back to me. I now recall your Codex won the Order of Merit for Comparative Pathology from the Karolinska Institute and a thousand kroner. Why would so unexceptional a conclusion gain you so prestigious an award? Surely you state the obvious? Even with little knowledge of the stiffening process, would not everyone anticipate a variation in onset according to the heat or cold?’
‘It would be so expected,’ I responded calmly, ‘but clearly you did not subject the tables containing my conclusions to a detailed examination.’
‘These conclusions being... ?’
It was not often I could lecture Holmes with my greater knowledge of a subject.
‘Even in the dead one might suppose the colder the surroundings the quicker muscle contraction would occur, as when we shiver....’
‘One might indeed so suppose, Watson - indeed I myself so suppose.’ A keen look had now appeared on my companion’s face. The ugly expression was dissipating with each passing second. ‘Watson, I repeat, indeed one would, whereas...?’
‘My findings showed results quite contrary to intuition.’
‘Which are?’
The opposite is true. Cold slows the onset of rigor mortis...’
‘And therefore warmth...?’
‘... causes the body to stiffen faster.’
The very instant he absorbed these words, my companion’s sullen mood was lifted.
With a loud cry he shouted, ‘Worshipper of Minerva! Watson, I rank you among the demi-gods of medicine! Of course! That’s it!’ He clapped his hand in delight. ‘That’s why they fished him from the moat and plopped him in the wagon pond!’
He leaned back with a series of loud ejaculations of interest and excitement. It was as if a set of clues was falling into place like the wafers of a Bramah lock. I started to enquire what all this meant but he clapped his hands together and exclaimed in an excited tone, ‘Watson, you have done it!’ This was followed by ‘By Jove we have them in the dock!’
Like a dashing foxhound drawing a cover, he sped on. ‘This murder is not the work of a tinder-box imagination. It has been most cleverly designed. Thanks to your Codex, we most definitely have them! I reverse my recent charge - it will be you who places the hangman’s noose around their necks. I took you and your Codex to be a most powerful ally in their favour but it has now turned King’s Evidence. It will be you, not I, who will be their Nemesis.’
With an eager look he questioned, ‘Your Codex provides proof of this, from taking the most exacting measurements on bodies in both the warm and cold?’
‘I assure you it does, Holmes,’ I responded, my dread returning.
‘Based on...?’
‘Based on my scientific study on many tens of Timurid warriors’ corpses.’
‘Then if you please, give me further instruction. There is some haste - as you remind me, we shall be at Crick’s End soon!’
I began, ‘For many months I recorded the times of onset in great detail. You say ‘on bodies’ but my investigation was not conducted on Timurids’ bodies in the sense you would assume.’
‘On what, then?’ my companion demanded.
‘On their toes,’ I replied.
Holmes’ eyes opened wide. My friend has so often astonished me in the course of our adventures that it was with a sense of exultation that I realised how completely the situation was reversed. Except for the intense but fleeting look he gave me at the very start of our acquaintance a quarter-century before, when young Stamford brought us together so fatefully, I do not believe Holmes had ever stared at me so hard, and never in such wonderment or grave suspicion as at that moment.
‘Watson,’ he exclaimed, ‘on Timurids’ toes? You surpass my own experiment beating corpses with blackthorn cudgels to ascertain if bruising can occur post-mortem! Surely you tease? If you are entirely serious I am more astonished by your words than if a Barbary ape clad in morning coat, waistcoat, and striped trousers forced his way through the windows of this carriage, settling on your knee and speaking in good English! On Timurids’ toes? Rather tell me you concerned yourself with the major limbs - the legs and arms?’