With a wink at the knowing clerk, Sparks signed the register as "Milo Smalley, Esquire" and paid cash for two adjoining rooms near the stairs on the second floor. Baths were requested for both men and inestimably enjoyed in a communal chamber at the far end of the hall where more than a few gentlemen were taking the waters. A cursory monitoring of the room's level of chat gave Doyle to realize that, however modest its exterior, the Melwyn seemed the way station of choice for an entire class of discriminating, and sporting, men-about-town. As he emerged from the bath, for the first time since shedding his mustache and muttonchop whiskers,
Doyle caught sight of himself in a mirror. Add the cosmetic wire-rimmed glasses Sparks had lent him from his bag of tricks, plus the valet's haircut Barry had administered, trimmed to the bristle, and Doyle was greeted by a face he had to look at twice to be certain it was his own.
Heartened by the substantial changes wrought in his appearance, scrubbed, shaved, and the first to return to their rooms, Doyle was surprised to discover unfamiliar luggage near the door, fresh evening clothes laid out on the bed, and the esteemed Larry-brother-of-Barry lighting a fire in the hearth. Delighted by this unexpected reappearance, Doyle was near to the point of embracing their diminutive accomplice, who seemed as equally pleased to clap eyes once again on him. Though Doyle was unreasonably desirous of relating to Larry an account of their adventures, Larry held up a hand to silence him before he'd uttered a word.
"Beggin1 your pardon, guv, but me brother's already dealt me the hand, from soup to nuts to the hail and rain—train, that is: There's the gods smilin' if ever they hav&—and a passing strange tale it is, too, sir—and by the way, if I might comment, I do congratulate you on the haircut; I see my brother's fine handiwork in evidence here—he was apprenticed to the service of a barber for a few misguided months many moons ago; it was the barber's daughter he wished to service, truth be known—but I must say, Doctor, that with the new trim and the removal of your side levers there you have in the totality of your being more than achieved the desired effect of deflecting one's apprehension of your own true na-ture; why, truth is, if I hadn't known it was you, I'd've hardly known ya."
"You've been busy, I see, Larry," said Sparks, toweling off as he reentered the room. "Will you tell what you've discovered, or shall I?"
Larry glanced trepidatiously at Doyle.
"No confidence will be violated," said Sparks. "The Doc-:or has put down such roots into the secret soil of our campaign, it would take dynamite to dislodge him. You may speak freely—no, wait!" Sparks narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Larry, who smiled bashfully, well acquainted with the routine to follow.
"After your pleasure, sir," said Larry, and then with a wink to Doyle, "Fancy this, then."
"A survey of Drummond's house informed you the General has not returned since we last spied him departing for the north two days before Christmas. You have discovered the London address of Lord and Lady Nicholson, a yellow-brick two-story detached in Hampstead Heath, a house equally devoid of occupants at the time of your visit. You have within the hour rendezvoused with Barry at your favorite public house, the Elephant and Castle, where he told you of our recent enterprises while you drank two pints of bitters and ate a ... shepherd's pie."
Larry shook his head and smiled broadly at Doyle. "See? I love it when 'e does that."
"Come now, Larry, tell me; how have I done?"
"Spot on, sir, 'cepting it wer'n't shepherd's pie, sir; it was a bit of kate and Sydney for me tonight."
"Steak and kidney, of course, it's a holiday night; you splurged," said Sparks, as he began to dress himself, then to Doyle, "Crumbs on his jacket."
"And a spot of gravy on his cravat, here," said Doyle, pointing, up to the challenge. "Not to mention the clinging, persistent odor of stale hops and cheap rolling tobacco common to public houses."
"Mary and Joseph, don't tell me: Not you, too, sir?"
"Go on, Doyle; tell him how I arrived at my conclusions," said Sparks.
Doyle studied the incredulous Larry for a moment. "Determining General Drummond's whereabouts would have been your primary task upon returning to London. If he were in town, I doubt you'd have had time to even enjoy that drink with your brother, let alone find and fetch us fresh clothes. Therefore, the quick resolution of your first objective allowed you to proceed with the second; by no mean stretch of logic a search for the Nicholsons' London home. There is a fine yellow powder ground into the knees and elbows of your clothes, no streaks or tears indicate that any sudden or violent movements were undertaken, so the two-story house of yellow brick you then methodically climbed and gained entry to was also fairly obviously empty. The distinctive red clay on the edges and soles of your boots is peculiar to the hills of
Hampstead Heath. By the way, the Elephant and Castle is also my favorite- public house, and I have enjoyed many a fine steak and kidney pie there in my day."
"Well done, Doyle!"
" 'Cor . .. 'cor blimey .. ." Larry took off his hat and shook his head.
"If Larry's been rendered speechless, we should alert the newspapers: It's a phenomenon more rare than a full solar eclipse," said Sparks.
"And 'ere I was thinkin' me and Barry was the only twins in our immediate circle," said Larry, regaining the use of his tongue. "Two halves of the beechnut is wot we got 'ere. Romulus and Remus. Flip sides of the same shillin'. We've done more than well to have you with us, sir," he said sincerely.
"Thank you, Larry. I take that as high praise indeed," replied Doyle.
"Aren't you two the old sentimental sweethearts," said Sparks, finishing the loop on his bow tie. Larry and Doyle separated, somewhat abashed, Doyle to his dressing, Larry to the crumbs on his jacket. "Larry, what about our dinner?"
"Nine-thirty at the Criterion—oysters on the half shell, lobsters on the boil, gay and frisky and a bottle of whiskey— they're expectin' you."
They finished dressing for that happily anticipated appointment and presented themselves on the stroke of the half hour not far down the Strand at the revered doors of the Criterion Long Bar. Their elegant evening wear rendered them invisible among the flood tide of swells frequenting the dining room, the perfect camouflage on this most festive of London nights. Many was the time that Doyle, the beleaguered medical student, had pressed his nose to the windows outside, viewing the haute monde in their natural habitat with the curiosity and envy of a snubbed anthropologist, but never had he crossed over the storied threshold until this evening.
Sparks was well known to the maitre d'. Chilled champagne awaited them, a platoon of attentive captains and waiters standing by to assure that their glasses never emptied. An unctuous manager extended personal felicitations of the house, and a sumptuous, gout-inviting succession of mouthwatering comestibles proceeded to rain down on them like the fortuitous bounty of a culinary god. Doyle scarcely had breath to speak between bites and gulps, throwing himself into the consumption of the feast with bacchanalian abandon. The champagne carbonated the shadow of doom that had dogged their last few days and effervesced it to oblivion. Around them the room seemed impossibly lithe and gay and filled with light, women glowing with Athenian glamour, the men fortified by some Herculean ideal. What a place! What a city, what a dynamic race of people! It wasn't until an am-brosian flambe of cherries, meringue, and vanilla ice cream had landed in front of them that the weightless balloon of Doyle's undivided pleasure begin to sink back into the range of conscious awareness. The dinner was not yet at an end and already felt like a dream, for he knew that the moment their discussion, which up through the supernatural dessert had been as carefree as a clergyman's Monday, turned back to the life that awaited them outside of this cloistered Olympus, the bill would come due in more ways than one.