"Very nearly," Holmes responded easily. "Lestrade will move his men into position at dusk. In a moment we three shall hold a council of war as to how best receive our nocturnal visitor, assuming he comes tonight, and also assuming he comes at all. If I were he, I would be halfway to St. Petersburg by now.
"But before that: I have received these cables." He took them out of his breast pocket. "I'm afraid Tufts was disappointing. They tell me they have not had a student named Cordelia Smith or Cordelia Smith-something within the last fifteen years."
"But that can't be!" began my patient.
Holmes held up a hand. "My New York correspondent, however, tells me that a gentleman by the name of Lt. Oser of the New York Police Department has been searching high and low for over a month for a lady by the name of Cordelia Naismith, who disappeared one night along with one Dr.James Helmuth and his private secretary, named Orville Sandeman, both of whom are desired urgently by the New York Police for questioning."
The lady sank back into her chair with a long, low sigh. "Calvin Oser," she breathed. "Thank God."
Holmes gave a little bow. "The gentleman is a friend of yours, I take it. In that case you will be happy to know that he took ship for London from New York last night."
"An old friend," she replied, pleased relief upon her features. "I can't recall now how I first met him, but he was my friend in New York. I went to him when I first began to suspect about-James Helmuth, yes, that was his name-when I began to suspect there was something peculiar going on from his laboratory. I kept my eyes open and reported to him, hoping to pick up something that would be concrete evidence. I can remember telling him at the last not to make a move until he heard from me." She rubbed her forehead. "What happened after that, now?"
"Presumably, this Garnett-Helmuth fellow suspected you were a spy," I interjected.
"Yes," she replied. "It is just on the tip of my memory, I can feel it." "Perhaps Helmuth himself will tell us, if we can but lay hands upon him tonight," said Holmes. "To turn for a moment from speculation to the practicaclass="underline" presumably he will come in by the back, so as to remain unseen, or so he thinks. Now it is not my wish to expose Miss Naismith to any more physical danger than absolutely necessary, therefore.
He was interrupted by a ring at my front door. "Now who can that be?" "Probably a patient," I replied, rising. "Don't get up, my dear fellow.
I've made arrangements to send all my emergencies today to Anstruther down the way. I'll just send him along."
I opened my front door to disclose a tall, clean-shaven gentleman of about fifty-five, dressed with great neatness and propriety. His bright eyes met mine with congenial directness. A cab waited in the street behind him.
"Dr. Watson?" he inquired politely.
"Yes, but Dr. Anstruther is taking my calls today," I replied. "A family emergency. He is just down the street-Number 114."
"Ah, how disappointing. You were particularly recommended to me. Well, my case is not urgent. Might I step in and make an appointment for another time? Thank you."
I closed the door behind him and turned to lead the way to my consulting room, which adjoined my study and was where my books were kept. As I entered the room ahead of him I felt something cold brush the back of my neck. Turning, I found myself looking down the gleaming barrel of a well-oiled revolver.
"Ah," I cried in a good, loud voice, after an instant's pause. "Dr. James Helmuth, is it? We were not expecting you to call so early."
"I imagine not," he agreed affably. "But it's no good, I'm afraid; I know there's no one here but you, my friend Miss Naismith, and that old man who came in a while ago. Now, I have no desire to inconvenience you in any way. Kindly do me the favor of calling down Miss Naismith, and we will just be on our way." His pistol never wavered from my head.
"Not so fast, Dr. Helmuth," came Holmes's voice suavely as he stepped into the consulting room from the study, his cocked revolver in his hand and Miss Naismith at his shoulder. His face abruptly went cold and still as he saw my predicament. Miss Naismith neither screamed nor shrank, but her eyes widened, then narrowed to a freezing watchfulness.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, is it?" inquired the hawk-faced doctor. "What a surprise. A privilege to meet you, I'm sure."
"I'm sorry I cannot say the same," returned Holmes, covering Helmuth with the same still intensity with which Helmuth covered me.
"What a piquant situation," continued Helmuth, unruffled. "A Mexican standoff, in the vivid phraseology of my adopted country. Just take your pistol by the barrel and lay it on the desk over there, will you? Ah, you wish to point out that if I shoot Dr. Watson you will surely shoot me. True, but would it not be rather cold consolation for the death of such an old and dear friend? And really, no shooting need take place at all. I was sure you would see reason.
This last as Holmes, grey with anger, mortification, and a cold suppressed fear, placed his pistol upon my consulting room desk.
"Very good. Now just stand in the middle of the room over there." He took a hypodermic from his pocket and tossed it lightly to land upon an easy chair near Holmes. "Now, Cordelia, my pet, Mr. Holmes is just going to give you an injection to calm your nerves. Go to him."
No one moved. "Now, really, anyone would think I was intending to carry you off to do you harm instead of good. Nonsense. Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, I would no more intentionally injure this lady than I would take a penknife to the Mona Lisa. It would be aesthetic sacrilege. You are all making a great deal of fuss over very little."
"Not a penknife," replied Miss Naismith, a kind of Arctic light in her eyes. "But I can very easily imagine you taking a brush and palette to her, to 'improve' the picture."
"I'm waiting," replied Helmuth coldly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his finger tighten on the trigger.
Miss Naismith shrugged, and started to walk in front of the desk toward Holmes. As she passed it she whirled softly and aimed Holmes's pistol toward us. "Lewis Brookman!" she cried.
Astonishment filled the doctor's eye a moment, and his pistol wavered toward her an uncertain instant. She fired.
His gun went off by my head, but the bullet buried itself in the ceiling as he staggered backward, blood spattering from his shattered arm. Holmes and I were on him in an instant and wrested his pistol from his broken grasp. He tried to fight us, but his wound was too much for him and he passed out. I applied a tourniquet as Holmes hastily called the Yard.
"My dear friend, I owe you my profoundest apologies," Holmes said earnestly later, when Lestrade had carried off his unconscious prize and we were left alone once more. A reaction had come upon me when it was all over, I am unashamed to report, and I poured us each a stiff whiskey with hands that shook. Miss Naismith as usual refused spirits.
"My miscalculations were only exceeded by Helmuth's own," Holmes continued. "I never imagined he would walk into our trap before it was set. A just Providence must have heard me twitting Lestrade. And yet when you think about it, his approach was most logical, if bold. Why should a man his age take up the techniques of a car burglar?"
"He was always smooth like that," put in Miss Naismith. "He would be under your guard and through your heart before you knew he'd drawn steel. It's how he took me in."
She sighed. "It's been coming back to me, bit by bit. It was my own fault, really. Sheer stupidity.
"I'd been watching his operation for some time. I thought Calvin Oser and I would be able finally to nail him on the possession of certain poisons. I was going to steal Cal some samples for comparison analyses. That, plus my testimony on what I'd seen and overheard in my time there, would be enough to go to court.
"Then one evening as I was about to leave for my rooming house, Helmuth astonished me utterly by coming up to the lab and asking me to marry him. I didn't quite know what to say."