The Return of Sherlock Holmes: A Classic Crime Tale. Philip Harbottle

      “Very well.” Shlessinger spoke reluctantly. He looked coldly at Holmes. “Perhaps you’ll be good enough to let us know when you’re ready to leave.”

      Lady Frances turned to Watson as he brought forth a chair and invited her to sit down.

      Cecilia smiled at her sympathetically and turned to leave, followed by Shlessinger.

      “A moment, Miss Shlessinger,” Holmes said sharply. The Shlessingers stopped and turned to him. Holmes extended his right hand. “The letter, please. May I see it?”

      They glanced at each other, then at Holmes, as if mystified.

      “Letter? What letter?” Shlessinger blustered.

      “Letter, Mr. Holmes?” Cecilia frowned.

      Holmes crossed to her, continuing to hold his hand extended.

      Cecilia gave him a frozen smile.

      “If you please?” Holmes said firmly.

      Cecilia affected to suddenly realize to what Holmes had been referring to. “Oh, that letter.”

      Shlessinger became alarmed. “What is it? Some prescription or something? Give it here.” He held out his hand.

      “Isn’t it addressed to Lady Frances?” Holmes said sharply. Cecilia hesitated momentarily, then shrugged and gave the letter to Lady Frances.

      She started to open it, then handed it to Dr. Watson. “You read it for me, Dr. Watson, please.”

      Watson glanced at Holmes, who gave a nod. He took the letter and opened it. After a quick scan, he summarized its contents:

      “It is from a Mr. Tamworth, requesting an appointment. He says it’s something very confidential about which he can help you.”

      Lady Frances frowned, “But who is Mr. Tamworth? I don’t know anyone of that name.”

      “Perhaps I may explain,” Holmes interposed crisply. “‘Tamworth’ is an alias adopted by the aforementioned Mr. Milverton, who happens to be a notorious blackmailer!”

      Lady Frances looked aghast. “A blackmailer?” she whispered.

      Holmes continued his revelations. “Criminals when choosing an alias, invariably pick a name which has some connection with the crime they are planning.” He paused, and then addressed a question to Shlessinger, who, with Cecilia, had been pretending to look shocked. “What is this address, by the way?”

      “Address? Address.…” Shlessinger looked at his sister. “What does he mean?”

      “It’s the Laurels Nursing Home, Tamworth Road, of course.” Watson pointed out dryly.

      Holmes nodded. “You see, Mr. Milverton runs true to form in his choice of another name.”

      “But what am I to do?” Lady Frances faltered.

      Shlessinger attempted a bluff. “I think we should fetch the police—” he glared at Holmes—“unless you leave at once.”

      Lady Frances became alarmed. “Police! No, no, that’s the last thing you must do.”

      Holmes smiled sardonically. “Believe me, Lady Frances, it is the last thing he will do.”

      “Don’t be too sure of that,” Shlessinger snapped. He turned to his sister. “Come along, my dear, we…we must consult our solicitors about this matter.” He took her arm.

      Cecilia allowed herself to be led from the room. “Yes, yes, of course, our solicitors.…”

      “Sue for slander, that’s what we’ll do…,” Shlessinger muttered as they went out.

      Holmes moved over to where Lady Frances was sitting dazedly on the chair Watson had provided.

      “Now, Lady Frances, I’d like to look at your hands.” He glanced at Watson who was hovering solicitously at her side. “Dr. Watson?”

      Watson nodded as Lady Frances looked at him. “Mr. Holmes is an authority on poisons.”

      “Poisons?” She extended her hands quickly.

      Holmes examined them carefully.

      “The medicine you took a short while ago…,” he murmured, raising an interrogative eyebrow,

      “Which Nurse Shlessinger gave me?” Lady Frances asked, her voice wavering.

      Holmes nodded. “It made you feel cold?”

      “Yes, very cold…deathly…as I told Dr. Watson.…”

      “I’ve changed the prescription, of course.” Watson said promptly.

      “And rather dizzy?” Holmes continued, releasing her hands.

      “Yes. I couldn’t think properly.”

      “What you have been taking,” Holmes explained, “was administered to you for the precise purpose of weakening your willpower, preparatory for an attempt at blackmail.”

      Lady Frances stared at him in disbelief. “Blackmail? Oh, my God!” She swung to Watson. “Is…is this true?”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “You have been the victim of a deliberate plot,” Holmes told her. “But fortunately, your brother suspected, and came to Watson.”

      “You mean, Dr.…Dr. Shlessinger and his sister…?” Lady Frances whispered.

      “…are notorious criminals, who intend to bleed you of every penny you possess!” Holmes finished bluntly.

      “Oh!” Lady Frances slumped in her chair.

      Watson took her hands comfortingly. “You are safe now. Absolutely out of danger.”

      “What…what had the man with the two names got to do with all this?” Lady Frances asked.

      “I will explain everything later,” Holmes assured her. His tone became urgent. “But now, we must get you away from here.”

      “But where shall I go?”

      “An hotel, where your brother has arranged for you to stay,” Holmes told her. “You can stay there until all this has blown over.” He pointed to the French windows. “Dr. Watson will see you safely by way of the garden. I’ve got a cab waiting.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s all according to plan.”

      Watson and Lady Frances followed Holmes to the French windows.

      He was just opening the windows for them when Shlessinger and Cecilia came into the room. Shlessinger strode forward angrily.

      “What the devil’s going on?”

      “They’re kidnapping our patient,” Cecilia commented.

      Holmes ushered Watson and Lady Frances out into the garden. “Hurry, hurry.…”

      When they had gone he closed the windows and turned calmly back into the room.

      “Damn your eyes!” Shlessinger snarled.

      Holmes tapped his pocket where he’d put the phial taken from laboratory. “I’ve got here the poison you were giving to Lady Frances. “Evidence to jail you both.”

      “The phial! He’s got the phial!” Cecilia screeched furiously.

      Cecilia following, Shlessinger lunged forward, his hands extended. “You can’t think you’ll get away with this!”

      They halted in their tracks as Holmes suddenly produced a small revolver from his other pocket. “Put your hands up!” he snapped.

      Shlessinger started to obey, but Cecilia resumed moving forward.

      “It’s only a toy!” she cried. “He’s bluffing! Stop him!”

      Shlessinger