In a way Holmes was even more irritating when he capitulated; you wanted to rage at the man and all he could do was nod and admit he was annoying. If there was a better way of taking the wind from a man’s sails I didn’t know of it.
“You are quite the most irritating man I know.”
“I excel in all things then,” he replied and chuckled. “But come! Tell me of your adventures.”
Seeing little point in arguing further, I did as he asked. I picked up the folder containing Prendick’s account and the papers I had been given by Mitchell.
“Watson,” Holmes announced once I had finished, “if I ever suggest you are anything less than a marvel remind me of today, you have done extremely well.”
Despite my previous irritation I couldn’t help but be pleased. “I must admit that I was concerned that I was hardly farther forward than when I began,” I admitted. “The mystery seems thicker rather than clearer.”
“These matters are murky indeed,” he admitted, “but you have certainly gathered data that solves some of the loose ends. In fact you have given me most of what I need to complete my own deductions.”
“Complete them?”
“Indeed. Prendick’s death seemed deeply unsatisfactory to me and that is at last brought into clarity.”
“Unsatisfactory?” That seemed hardly a humane word to use in the context.
He tutted at my faint disapproval. “You know full well what I mean,” he said. “Viewed from a purely logical perspective—as I always must, these matters will not solve themselves by my emoting all over them—it presented a number of complications. Why was acid used? It immediately made one suspect that the body was not that of Prendick but rather someone else entirely, the acid an attempt to disfigure the corpse so extensively it would be impossible to tell.”
I admitted that the thought had occurred to me.
“Of course it had, Mycroft too I have no doubt. But it would seem from what Inspector Mann tells us that the face was perfectly clear. So why such a painful method?”
“I had wondered whether there was a degree of self-hatred involved,” I said. “He chose a painful method because he believed he deserved to suffer.”
Holmes shook his head. “Someone who wishes to suffer does not end their life.” He suddenly clapped his hands. “Of course! It was a preventative measure! He wanted to destroy his organs so that they would be of no further use. He was terrified of some part of him ending up inside another creature.”
“It’s a possibility,” I agreed.
“A certainty, he must have had a good reason to endure such suffering and it’s the only one that fits.”
I began to leaf through his account of matters on the island. “This is quite the most bizarre thing you’ll ever read,” I said.
“No,” said Holmes, fetching his hat and coat, “for one day you’ll write its sequel! Gather yourself, Watson, we should begin preparations for this evening.”
I folded Prendick’s account into my pocket and within moments we were in a cab and on our way to a hotel on The Strand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“We need to enlist the rifle of Mr Carruthers,” Holmes explained. “It would be foolishness indeed to take on such ferocious beasts without it. While we travel let me tell you how I’ve occupied my own time, for you can rest assured neither of us have been idle.
“I decided to investigate the two animal dealers Johnson mentioned. Perhaps a trail could be established, leading from the ledger book of one to the illicit laboratory of the other. It was a worthwhile thread to follow.
“Of the two businesses, that of the Welshman, Thomas, seemed the most likely. Johnson had already established that the majority of his trade was to the scientific community. The business is run from a small shop on the Commercial Road. It presents itself as a most innocent affair, a general store like any other.”
Holmes gestured offhandedly out of the cab window to illustrate his point.
“A small bell above the door alerted Thomas that he had a visitor,” he continued, “and he emerged from a back room while I was perusing his stock.”
Holmes smiled, clearly working his mental way along the memory of the man’s shelves.
“He seemed to carry a little of everything as the most successful of those shops inevitably do—from basic ironmongery to reams of cloth; tinned groceries to children’s toys. And if you couldn’t see it, instructed several hand-printed signs dotted around the place, all you had to do was ask and the management would track it down for you.”
“A bold claim!” I said.
“Indeed,” Holmes agreed, “though I had little doubt it was true, indeed Thomas repeated it as he emerged through a pair of bead curtains and onto the shop floor.
“‘Good morning, Sir,’ he said. ‘Whatever it is that you’re hunting for, merely give the word and I shall find it.’
“I had been browsing through the children’s toys at the time, a wooden ark complete with its biblical cargo. I placed a small carved lion on the palm of my hand and showed it to him. ‘Might you have any bigger specimens?’ I asked.”
“Subtle,” I laughed.
“We haven’t time to waste on pussyfooting around,” Holmes replied, “brazen enquiries were the way forward. Thomas was only too happy to match my candour.
“‘How big did you have in mind?’ he said.
“‘I had heard you might be able to provide a full-size example,’ I told him, gathering more of the carved animals and holding them out. ‘In fact I was led to believe you could provide full-size examples of pretty much any animal I chose to name.’
“He smiled, not willing to admit to anything until he had some assurances. ‘As the signs say, Sir, I pride myself on being able to find anything my customers wish to buy. These are difficult times for small businesses and many have chosen to specialise in order to survive in today’s modern financial world. I have taken the opposite route. If you want it, I can get it.’
“‘Regardless of the law?’ I asked.
“He shrugged at that and made a show of disapproval. ‘Naturally, Sir,’ he said, ‘I make it a rule never to come to the attention of the police force. I am merely a businessman doing his best to earn a living.’ A nebulous answer!”
“And one designed to reassure the law-breaking customer,” I noted.
“Most certainly,” he agreed. “I was being invited to commit myself! So I decided to press the point. ‘If I, as a gentleman of science, wished to procure experimental stock—live specimens— then you would be able to help me?’
“‘Nothing illegal in that,’ he said. ‘I do a great deal of work with gentlemen of learning such as yourself. It’s a noble business, expanding one’s knowledge.’
“‘Indeed,’ I said—in full agreement with that sentiment at least—‘but sometimes one might want to circumnavigate some of the legal procedures, the paperwork in particular. I have no great desire for my rivals to know what sort of experiments I am conducting. In fact I would prefer for nobody to know the details.’ Here I decided to leave no room for misunderstanding. “Besides the kind gentleman that might procure such specimens for me in the first place of course.’
“‘Naturally,’ he replied, ‘that could hardly be avoided.’ He laughed a little and then decided to try and gain one more piece of security as to my credentials. ‘Who was it that suggested I might be able to offer such a service?’ he asked. I gave him the name of Moreau and that was enough, Mr Thomas was more than happy to help me and, in so doing, he proved himself the man we were after.”
“Amazing that the man’s name might be deemed any sign of security,” I said.
Holmes nodded. “But you must remember we are dealing with a community that would either endorse Moreau’s work or, in Thomas’s case, simply not care. These are unpleasant waters.” He sighed. “And I’m afraid they remain hard to navigate. The animals are shipped—to Rotherhithe, naturally—and the exchange made at the docks. Thomas retains no paperwork, nor does he have any knowledge of where the animals will end up. It’s a blind sale and therefore no use to us in tracking the purchaser down. Nonetheless the encounter answered a number of questions, most particularly with regards his acknowledging the name of Moreau.”