As for my friends, I hope they too can forgive me, for I fear I have let loose a devil amongst them. This demon took advantage of my weaknesses. He made me a fortune, knowing full well he meant to reclaim it, and he introduced me to the harlot who would ensure my downfall. I cannot be certain, but I believe he is planning the general ruin of others. Denounce ________ my dearest. The children of Israel are known for their rapaciousness, but no Jew exults so in the destruction of their victims. It is all money with them. Not so with this ghoul, this vampire: he most desires blood, not money. Warn the others to have a care. He and that gypsy must truly be infernal agents. I can fight them and my own weak nature no longer. I pray that some day the Almighty and you, my dearest, will forgive me.
With all my love,
Joseph
I shook my head. “The poor, tortured devil.”
Holmes had finished reading before I had. His lips twisted. “His brother was correct about his being long-winded. Little wonder he could not accept a note which said merely, ‘I cannot go on.’”
I shook my head. “Have you no heart at all?”
“I have heart enough, but my brain grows weary with human stupidity. All these professions of love—what good are they coming from a dead man? If he loved his wife so much, why did he not live? These pathetic, trite scrawlings are small consolation indeed.” He turned to the girl weeping on the chair. “We are nearly finished, Miss Morris, but you must honestly answer a few questions first. You had decided to blackmail him, had you not?”
She raised her head. Her eyes were red, and her nose was running. She sniffled and wiped at her face with her sleeve. “It wasn’t my idea! They told me to do it. How was I to know ’e’d kill himself?” Her hysteria had weakened her studied articulation.
“Who are ‘they’? Your aunt?”
She nodded eagerly. “Yes, and her friends. The Angels.”
Holmes frowned slightly, his gray eyes suddenly hot. “Angels? Of the Lord?”
She nodded again. “I didn’t want to do it. He was always a nice enough sort. Peculiar if you take my meaning, but harmless. Half the time he didn’t want to do nothing but stare at me. They said we could retire on the money, and so we shall.”
“How much did you ask for?”
She licked her lips. “Five thousand pounds.”
“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “And he gave it to you?”
She nodded, then her mouth twitched, and she sobbed once. “Why’d he have to do it right when I was there? Why? I didn’t mean no harm. He gave me the five thousand, then called me devil and ’ore. He had a razor, and I thought for sure he’d murder me, but he opened up ’is own throat instead. Oh God, there was so much blood! And he was choking terrible and...” She covered her face with her hands and wept loudly.
Holmes ran his long fingers up his forehead and through his oily black hair. “Yes, it is all perfectly clear. You came to collect the money, and perhaps to threaten him and ask for more.” She shook her head wildly. “Regardless, he knew you and auntie would never let go once you had your talons in him. He paid you off, then cut his own throat. You may have been upset, but you retained enough presence of mind to take this note, then scrawl ‘I cannot go on’ upon a piece of his stationery. Afterwards you fled the house.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Very well, Miss Morris. One last thing. You must tell me whose name has been scratched out on the note.”
She raised her face. Her eyes were all puffy, and she looked even younger than twenty. She was genuinely surprised. “Scratched out?”
Holmes stood up and approached the chair. She scrunched down. He thrust a finger at the paper. “Here.”
“But I didn’t do that. It was Auntie. She said we might sell the note later.”
“What was the name?”
“I don’t remember.”
Holmes gave a great sigh, folded the note and put it in an inner pocket of his jacket. “I honestly do not want to turn you over to the police.”
This brought on a renewed outburst; she covered her face again, sobs shaking her slight frame.
“Sherlock, do not bully her. She is already frightened half to death.”
He glared angrily at me. “I must have the name. Compose yourself, Miss Morris.”
“I cannot remember! Oh God, I would tell you if I could!”
I shook my head at Holmes. “You have her so upset she can hardly think.” I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Now then, Miss Morris, please calm yourself—please. We are going soon, and we will not harm you. Think, though, can you not recall the name? Please try.”
She gazed up at me, and I felt an inner pang. Perhaps I am a weakling, but I cannot bear to see a woman suffer. “I... I cannot remember it. Auntie will be very angry with me if...”
“She need not know. Please try to remember.”
She stared at me; she did seem calmer. “Turnford?” she murmured. “Turn? Or something like it. Stuh...”
Blows rained upon the door, and she clutched at my arm, wincing in terror. “Do not let them take me!”
“Open this door!” The old woman’s immense lungs made her voice boom, and I recalled the wolf in the fairy story who could blow down doors. “Your ten minutes is up!”
Holmes sighed and withdrew his revolver. Miss Morris squeezed my arm more fiercely. “Do not murder me!”
“He will not hurt you.”
Another blow made the door shudder in its hinges. “Open, I say!”
“One minute, madam,” Holmes shouted. “Turn the key, Henry, and then retreat as quickly as you can.”
I glanced down at the girl, then slipped my hand inside my coat and pulled out one of my cards. “You need to get away from that old monster. My wife and I can give you refuge. By now you must know that you have chosen wrongly.”
She nodded. “Oh, yes.”
I gave her the card, and then gently pried her hand loose from my arm. “You are very young. It is not yet too late.”
She gave her head a shake, too moved to speak.
Another crash came, louder still. “Open, by God, or we’ll break it down!”
I went to the door, turned the key, and withdrew hastily.
Holmes had the revolver aimed at the door. “Turn the knob, madam.”
The door burst open, revealing the old woman and the pugilist butler. He shrank back at the sight of the revolver, but she strode into the room.
“That is far enough, madam.”
“You’d shoot a harmless old woman?”
“Not a very apt description, madam. We shall leave now, but I warn you I need the name you crossed out of Lord Harrington’s suicide note. I shall be back for it.”
“Never set foot in this house again!”
“I prefer not to, just as I prefer not to involve the police. They might not look kindly on the activities of you, your nieces, and your angelic accomplices.”
The old woman clenched her fists. Perhaps they were mostly flesh, but they had quite a span. Holmes’ words had infuriated her all the more. “You dare not!”
“I want that name. Think upon what I said. Now stand aside, and you, sir, either come in here where I can keep an eye on you or get away while you can.”
The pugilist eagerly followed the latter suggestion; we could hear his footfalls as he went down the hallway, then down the stairs. Glowering at us, the old woman stood aside as Holmes and I circled about her. She gave us a final look of utter hatred, which chilled me, then went to the girl. “Don’t let them make you cry, dear. They can’t hurt us.”
“Oh, Auntie!” Miss Morris stood and practically fell into the old woman’s arms; they engulfed her, those sausage-like fingers digging into the blue silk of her dress.
Something seemed to catch in my throat; I had never felt such repulsion. I wished Holmes would shoot the old creature and close those dreadful, evil eyes once and for all.