The Adventure Of The Posthumous Apparition, Marion Smith [good non fiction books to read TXT] 📗

the body damaged?” Holmes finished. Richard looked as if he would rather have been run down by a carriage himself. I glared at Holmes.
Richard looked down toward the floor, unable to meet my gaze. “Her body... To anyone but her closest friends, it was completely unrecognisable. Her face...” We had reached the point when Richard could take no more. Tears streamed down his face, and his entire body trembled. I called for Mrs Hudson, and together we led him out of the room and down to her apartment, where I was certain my dear landlady would be able to calm him.
Returning upstairs, I closed the door behind me, and stormed over to my friend.
“Holmes!” I cried. “That was completely uncalled for! You know what a state the poor man is in!”
Holmes gazed at the wall nonchalantly.
“Really,” I continued, “Jut because you drank too much whisky the night before does not entitle you to abuse the disposition of this poor man. He’s just lost his wife, for God’s sake!”
Holmes did not reply for a good few moments. “So, are you involving yourself with this case, Watson, or no?” he finally managed by way of a reply.
“Well, I’m going to have to!” I replied, amazed at just how selfish he could be. “Who knows how the poor man will fare if I leave you to your own devices! Really, Holmes, you have surpassed yourself this time.”
Holmes sprang from his chair.
“Well, in that case, Watson,” said he, “I say we find our young friend, and head for Paddington. Trains to the North are few and far between at this time of year, so I suggest we leave as soon as is possible.” He clapped his hands together, and sighed. “At last, a case!” Holmes positively danced towards the door.”
“What exactly do you intend to do in Yorkshire?” I asked, bewildered. Holmes turned.
“My dear Watson,” he replied, his eyes shining with excitement,” I intend to go ghost hunting.”

II

“What use is there for your violin in the Yorkshire countryside?” I asked, amazed. Holmes said nothing, but hoisted the case further onto his back. Richard and I exchanged a look of consternation, but followed Holmes up the hill. It had taken us the entire day to reach Ilkley, and now we did not have long to look for Marie before the sun set. I had no idea what Holmes expected to find.
Finally we reached the summit.
“This is it,” announced Richard eventually. “This is where I saw her.”
I glanced around, half expecting a woman to dance through the trees towards us. Not surprisingly, nothing stirred.
“Holmes, what say you?” I asked, to fill the silence. There came no reply. I turned, and realized that my friend had disappeared. I shrugged at Richard, and we stood in an awkward silence, gazing at the town below. I shivered. The temperature was beginning to drop, and at this time of the year it seemed probable that we would freeze once the sun set. I wrapped my ulster more tightly around my body.
“I’m... so sorry about your wife,” I ventured.
“Thank you,” replied Richard awkwardly. “Yes, I... I miss her.”
Neither of us spoke. The wind whistled through the trees, and that, combined with recent events, began to make me feel slightly uneasy. Not that I was one to believe in matters of the supernatural, but nonetheless, there were better places that I would rather be.
“Watson! Helmsley!” Holmes cried suddenly, clapping us both on the backs. Both Richard and I jumped simultaneously.
“Holmes, where have you been?!” I asked, still startled.
“Oh, you know,” he replied, waving a hand vaguely, “Searching.” He leaned forward. “I say, this place is rather spooky, eh?”
Only too late did I realize this was a mission to mock Richard. “Oh, not particularly, Holmes,” I countered coolly. “But if you feel that way, so be it.”
“On the contrary,” returned Holmes, refusing to be outdone, “It is not my fear that I am concerned about.” He subtly turned in the direction of Richard, who seemed to be enjoying this experience even less than his previous inquisition. “Indeed,” Holmes continued mercilessly, “I am very much at ease with the paranormal. So much so,” he asserted, whilst pulling his violin out of his case, “I suggest we try to lure the ghost.”
At once, he pressed his fiddle beneath his chin, put bow to string, and began to play a haunting melody that I will never forget. It seemed to chill my very bones. All of a sudden I just wanted to be back home, away from this time wasting expedition. And, preferably, away from Holmes, his foul moods and his cruel jests.
“Stop, please, stop!” cried Richard, knocking the bow from Holmes’s hand. It fell to the ground. Richard picked it up, loosened it, and returned it to its case.
“Why must you mock me?” Richard pleaded at Holmes, who frowned back at him.
“I do not,” my companion replied haughtily, fastening the violin case once again to his back.
“If I may, Holmes, it is plainly obvious that you are!” I cannot believe you would go so far solely to mock one of your clients!”
Richard looked away, seemingly out of both embarrassment and despair. Holmes coughed abruptly, and walked over to Richard, who gradually brought himself to meet the detective’s gaze. Reaching into his pocket, Holmes pulled out a small white square, which he handed to Richard. Richard held it in his hand, silent for a moment, and then gasped.
“I found it over there,” Holmes explained to Richard, gesturing towards the trees.
“What is it?” I asked in puzzlement, walking over to Richard. He handed me the cloth. It was a handkerchief, embroidered in red along the out side with the initials of “M.H.” in the corner. The initials of Marie Helmsley.
“So she really was here...” sighed Richard, his face angled towards the sky. He shut his eyes, and for the first time Holmes and I saw a true, heartfelt smile descend onto his face. It was enough to make anybody want to help him, to solve this case, to find his wife.
Holmes interrupted the peaceful silence. “Your wife left her handkerchief on a moor. You said when you saw her she was in a shift, a nightdress, with no means of properly carrying a handkerchief, unless she was purposely trying to carry it with her. Therefore, I believe your wife left her handkerchief there-”
“On purpose,” Richard finished. “Yes, so do I. Marie’s clever. That is just the thing she would do. But I still don’t understand why she ran away from me.”
“All in good time,” replied Holmes. “I would wager that if your wife is capable enough of leaving one clue, a message for us to find, then surely she will have left more.”
“I’m sure she has,” agreed Richard. “We just need to find them.”
Glancing around, I noticed the sun was setting. We didn’t have a lot of time. Suddenly, something, gleaming in the semi-darkness, caught my eye. I walked towards it. Moving closer, I realized it was a ribbon, caught in the branch of a small tree.
“Richard?” I called, “Your wife...”
“Yes?” he replied, hurrying over.
“Did- Does she wear hair ribbons?”
“Yes, yes she does!” he cried. “Let me see that!”
Willingly I passed it to him. Carefully, Richard untangled a few strands of hair from the gleaming white fabric, and held it up to the dying light. I glowed gold.
“So it’s her hair,” announced Holmes, joining us under the tree. “But obviously, she’s not here any more. I say we head for the nearest inn before darkness falls.”
Reluctantly, we left Ilkley Moor.


We arrived at The Cow and Calf, and were met by a very welcoming landlady named Mrs Sorsby, who showed us to our rooms. After unpacking our meagre baggage, we headed downstairs to eat our meal.
Holmes and I secured a table, but Richard stayed to talk to the landlady. Glancing across to the bar, Richard seemed to be in very deep conversation with her.
“I had no idea Richard knew the landlady,” I speculated aloud.
“Nor I,” replied Holmes, which surprised me. For a moment we drank our ale in silence.
“Holmes,” I ventured, cupping the tankard in my hands, “Why did you play your violin?”
Holmes set down his ale, and gazed at me, an incredulous look on his face.
“Was it not obvious?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, irritated, “It was not.”
Holmes sighed. “Do you remember, on the journey, when Richard was babbling onto you about his wife? About the instruments she played and where she was from?”
“But how would you know that? You were asleep...” I began, it suddenly dawning on me. “Oh, but I thought you were trying to sleep off the whisky-”
“No,” replied Holmes, “I knew that Richard was not going to talk to me now unless he had to, so pretending I slept meant that he could speak more freely to you. Useful technique, Watson. Anyway, he told you that they were both musicians, yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “That they both play the violin.”
“Very good Watson, your memory really is improving,” Holmes replied, slightly sardonically. I glared at him.
“And Richard also mentioned that his wife was partly Irish, and proud of it,” Holmes continued, ignoring my gaze. I nodded.
“The tune I played was an Irish air. If his wife had been there, the chances were she would have heard the violin, and playing it herself, she would have been drawn to it. The fact the tune was Irish meant that she perhaps would have took it as a signal from Richard, as it was likely he knew the tune and could play it on the violin. The whole thing was just a method of checking if she was there,” explained Holmes.
I thought for a minute. “But, Holmes,” said I, “You didn’t know all this about Marie until you were on the train, by which time you had already brought the violin. So what was the real reason for bringing it? Just to mock Richard?”
Holmes did not answer. I sighed, stood, and walked to the counter so as to fill my tankard again. I joined Richard and the landlady.
“But when tha walked through t’door, oh!” Mrs Sorsby gushed. “I just knew you were related! I don’t doubt that you live in t’area, but I’ve never seen you here before! But you and Christopher... You look so much alike! Come to think of it, I saw him quite recently, actually. He’s earning a fair bit of money from that Duke driving his coaches, isn’t he?”
Richard nodded. “Listen, um, Helen, if you don’t mind, I really am rather tired now, so I hope you won’t mind if I go to bed-?”
“Of course not!” cried Mrs Sorsby, clapping Richard on the back. It was strenuous effort for him to stay on his feet. “I’ll see tha t’morrow!”