Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

give you away. I would entrust Watson with my life, if necessary.’
    Holmes’s assuring smile only intensified my feeling of being trapped. ‘With how many of your friends did you plan to share my secret, Mr Holmes?’ I asked coldly.
    His eyes narrowed and he replied in the same chilly tone, ‘I had not planned to share your secret with anyone. Although, I must admit, it was a mistake to assume you would, for your own sake, maintain the male masquerade, and not risk your career out of pure vanity.’
    Outraged, I shot up from my seat. ‘Mr Holmes, I beg you to control yourself! My lifestyle is nothing I ever wish to discuss with you. I used to live quite safely before I met you.’
    His gaze softened a fraction. ‘You are free to go.’
    ‘You know perfectly well that it is too late for that already,’ I replied. Huffing, I sank back into the armchair and rubbed my brow. ‘Dr Watson will surely be shocked,’ I remarked.
    Holmes’s mouth twitched.
    ‘Wonderful!’ I said, trying to disguise the queasy feeling in my stomach.
    At that, Holmes gave a single nod and shouted, ‘Watson, you may come back in.’
    Watson emerged and Holmes said, ‘My dear friend, this is Dr Kronberg.’
    The man was obviously shaken. He merely nodded, then sat down on the coffee table, as there was only that or the floor to sit upon and he needed something to support his buttocks momentarily.
    ‘You really mean to say that…? That this…?’ He was looking at Holmes now. ‘You are,’ he looked back at me, ‘Dr Anton Kronberg from Guy’s? I mean, I kind of thought so as you entered. But…’ He shook his head and stared at me, then back at his friend.
    ‘Have you ever met Dr Kronberg, Watson?’
    ‘Er… In fact, I went to one of his talks on the works of Dr Snow. I mean, one of…her…her talks.’
    The poor man was completely dumbfounded and I started to feel sorry for him.
    ‘Ah! Watson, my friend.’ Holmes leaned over to clap his friend on the shoulder. ‘Even a man like me came to accept that there are indeed women with a sharp mind. Although quite rare specimens, one cannot help but run into them once or twice.’
    Coughing, I held on to my forehead, while Watson shot a wild glance at the mantelpiece. Noticing the missing picture, he said sheepishly, ‘You took it away. I thought you were fond of her?’
    Holmes ignored Watson’s remark and I decided to swallow my surprise or any comments on that matter. Instead, I held out the package to Holmes. ‘I wonder whether you can tell me anything about the man who wore these.’
    Holmes took the bundle from my hands and laid it on his knees, undid the knot, and opened the paper wrapping. He gazed down at the pile of severed clothes and two worn boots, then studied the soles.
    ‘Mr Big Boots,’ he noted. ‘You dissected him today?’
    ‘Yes. He had been found by the porter of Guy’s. The man reported that he heard the whinnying of a horse and the crack of a whip just before he heard the gasps of the man he then found just outside the gate. Together with a colleague he carried him into my ward. Unfortunately, the man died within minutes. At first, I was unaware that he was Big Boots. I used him as the study subject for a lesson today. We found that he had no entry wound for tetanus and I remembered the man from Hampton, so I checked for restraint marks or needle punctures, but found none. But even if he had been restrained or injected, the marks would have healed during the course of a whole week.’
    ‘But you found something that brought you here, together with the shoes.’
    ‘Yes, I did, indeed. If he had eaten an animal with tetanus, he should have had the infection somewhere in his gastrointestinal tract, but there was nothing of that kind. I thought of strychnine next, until I finally found the tetanus infection. Hold on to your armchair Mr Holmes,’ I said. He merely raised an eyebrow. ‘It was in his heart.’
    ‘In his heart!’ he cried. ‘How could it have got there?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I sighed and rubbed my eyes, while uncomfortable thoughts started creeping into my head.
    ‘What is it?’ Holmes enquired while Watson was silently listening and digesting the fact that I was not only a female medical doctor, but a well-known one on top of it.
    ‘The man from Hampton hadn’t had any infection in his guts either,’ I explained quietly. ‘Well, aside from cholera. But no tetanus infection. Neither of the two men seemed to have