‘No doubt, no doubt and this must be…?’ Holmes glanced briefly in Daley’s direction, but he largely ignored the Inspector’s attempts to introduce himself and his men once he became aware of Stamford’s body in the chair. He stared down at the bloodied wound whilst I repeated my diagnosis. Holmes acknowledged this with a nod of his head and then slid down to the floor with his magnifying glass in his hand.
This was a process that I had witnessed on many such occasions, although I soon became aware that to the uninitiated inspector the whole procedure might have appeared most bizarre. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and seemed both puzzled by and uncomfortable with what he was seeing.
Oblivious to this, Holmes slowly made his way across the floor towards the crutch, examining the floor meticulously. Occasionally he extracted from the boards an object, invisible to mere mortals, and slipped it carefully into a small buff envelope. He then ran his glass up and down the entire length of the crutch before standing and turning to face us.
‘Gentlemen, I must congratulate you,’ Holmes announced to my immense surprise. ‘Nothing appears to have been disturbed or moved and the evidence is as fresh as when the crime was first committed.’
‘Evidence?’ Daley queried. ‘I was not aware of any, save the body and the strange-looking crutch.’
‘Very likely not, however, I have already uncovered three separate pieces of evidence that I will need to put to the test,’ Holmes said quietly whilst the hint of a mischievous smile played briefly over his thin, dry lips.
‘Ah, the contents of that envelope!’ I stated superfluously.
Briefly raising his eyebrows in exasperation, Holmes then asked: ‘Would one of you now explain to me the exact circumstances that led to the untimely demise of the unfortunate Dr Stamford?’
Daley read from his notebook and every so often Holmes would glance at me for confirmation of the inspector’s accuracy. This I was able to provide.
‘Excellent!’ Holmes rubbed his hands together excitedly. ‘Has either of you formulated theories of your own?’ he asked, albeit with a thinly veiled air of resignation in his tone.
‘Sadly, no,’ Daley responded as he slowly shook his head. ‘My interviews with the club members have revealed nothing of significance other than the fact that none of them has any connection with the victim.’
Holmes now turned to me and I thought long and hard before answering:
‘Well, whoever committed the crime certainly had a cool head because very little time had elapsed between the attack and my arrival at the club. Yet the nature of the weapon seems to indicate that the decision to kill Stamford was made on the spur of the moment. And surely a blow of such force would have caused an indentation in a metal as light as aluminium. At least we know from this that the murderer possesses great strength.’ I concluded whilst unsuccessfully trying to conceal my confusion.
‘Your haphazard ramblings do nothing to clarify the situation,’ Holmes observed shaking his head. ‘Inspector, perhaps now I might have sight of this list of members that you hold in such reverence.’ In answer to Daley’s questioning glance Holmes continued: ‘I might learn more by comparing the signatures that it contains with the writing style of the note, than you could during all your hours of tireless questioning.’
With an air of resignation Daley passed over the blue leather-bound members’ book to Holmes, who now flattened out my note on the table next to it.
After a few moments of detailed comparison Holmes revealed nothing either in his facial expression or by other physical reaction. Nevertheless he now pronounced: ‘Inspector, in my opinion you may now safely allow the club members to go about their business. However, I would not recommend the same with regard to the staff, until such time as Watson and I return here this evening. Come, Watson!’ Holmes now hustled me from the room, leaving the forlorn Inspector Daley anxiously rubbing his chin.
‘I am not certain that our friend can be relied upon to carry out my wishes for any length of time, so I would suggest that speed is of the essence,’ Holmes said as he scoured the street for an available cab. Once one was in sight Holmes, his cane aloft, called loudly to it. ‘Watson,’ he said to me as we climbed in, ‘please give the driver the address of Stamford’s consulting room.’
‘St Bartholomew’s Hospital, please, cabby,’ I told the man.
Once we were under way Holmes held up his hand in front of my face.
‘Now please, Watson, before you start bombarding me with a myriad of questions, allow me to lay these facts before you. If you consider them logically I trust that you will soon find your questions becoming irrelevant.’ I closed my mouth immediately and nodded my agreement.
‘The points that I would commend for your consideration are the handwriting employed in the note and the nature of that most singular of murder weapons. Have you seen anything of its like before?’
‘Whilst wood is still the most common material used in crutch manufacture, aluminium is not uncommon and certainly not unique,’ I replied.
‘Ah, but did you not notice the unusual spring hinges that divided the thing? Surely they were designed and inserted to help relieve the armpit of the strain of supporting the body weight.’
As a medical man I was loath to admit that I had not thought of these as being worthy of note. ‘Carry on.’ I suggested.
‘I thought as much. Similarly I am certain that you did not notice that the rubber support, at its base, was screwed into place for easy removal and was not a permanent fixture. Your expression tells me that you find this detail of no account, however you were not privy to a minute discovery that I made on the floor of the booth.’
‘Ah, the contents of your envelope!’ I exclaimed, now hanging on to every one of Holmes’s words. Holmes carefully extracted the envelope from his inside pocket and slowly emptied its contents into the palm of his hand.
‘Come now, Holmes! You go too far. What relevance could a single tiny pellet such as this possibly have?’
‘None at all,’ Holmes calmly replied. ‘At least, not in isolation. But when you consider that this pellet is one of hundreds found inside a four-bore shotgun shell, then it acquires a greater significance.’ Before continuing Holmes studied my countenance for any signs of my comprehending. Upon observing, quite correctly, that there was none, he continued:
‘These shells are quite simple to open and to empty and the combined weight of the contents of only a few shells would be sufficient to render the base of the crutch solid enough to cause great damage.’
I shook my head in astonishment. ‘My goodness, Holmes, the things that you know! I understand now. The screw base leaves the crutch equally simple to empty afterwards.’ Then after further consideration, I added: ‘Of course, the bloodstain was only visible close to the base of the crutch!’
‘Watson, Watson, it does take a while for the pennies to drop, but when they do there is a veritable cascade.’
Ignoring Holmes’s sarcastic response I reminded him of the other notable point of reference that he had previously mentioned.
‘This point will be far easier for you to digest, because there was not one club member whose writing corresponded to that of the note, including that of its supposed author, our old friend Stamford! Therefore, we shall have to look elsewhere if we are to discover the identity of our killer. Now, I think we are close to our destination. A few discreet enquiries at this most reputable of institutions will, I think present our provincial inspector with his first case at the Yard.’
I seemed to be remembered by the officials at the entrance to St Barts and, as a consequence, we were soon traversing those hallowed corridors towards Stamford’s chambers. A colleague of Stamford’s, obviously ignorant of the events at the Holborn informed us of Stamford’s absence, but made no objections to our awaiting his return in his consulting room.