Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

couldn’t tell whether he could relate to anything of what I’d said.
    ‘A wise decision,’ he noted.
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘It was wise of you not to reveal yourself to the Irishman, although he was close enough to—’
    ‘Get out!’ I hissed. His head jerked back a little as though I had slapped him. Then he rose to his feet, gave a single nod, and left with a quiet ‘Goodnight.’

    ~~~

    Stark called again a week after his first visit. He had meant to stay in my lab for only a few minutes to enquire about the bacterial pure cultures. I told him I would not give out any cultures as long as the research paper in The Lancet wasn’t published. I explained that I was still in the process of characterising several different bacterial strains of the same species, as they seemed to show varying aggressiveness. That was when his eyes lit up and his hands started vibrating slightly. He wanted to know how the course of the disease differed, and was delighted to hear that I had germs that could kill my test rabbits within only three days instead of two weeks. It was a lie, but it served the purpose. I also mentioned that additional security measures had been taken to prevent the pure cultures from falling into the wrong hands, which could result in them getting contaminated or, even worse, cause harm. But I kept all details secret. Only I knew where and how the cultures were stored, and how they were labelled. He tried to hide his disappointment and renewed his invitation. My hooks were in deeply, I was satisfied.
    I went home and noticed that my door was unlocked. I pushed it open and slowly peeked in. Holmes sat in my only armchair.
    ‘Do you want me to die prematurely of a heart attack?’ I cried.
    ‘I think you are working on that quite effectively yourself,’ he answered calmly.
    ‘Why did you come?’
    ‘I identified the two victims.’
    I closed the door with a bang and approached him. ‘Pray proceed.’
    ‘The first one was a Scottish farmer, Dougall Jessop, who moved to London roughly four months before his death. His wife died, he lost his farm, and ended up in Fulham Road Workhouse. He was on a come-and-go basis as he had occasional employment outside. In London he had no friends and no one missed him. The last they saw of him in Fulham Road was the beginning of summer last year.
    ‘The second man was also a Scotsman, Torrian Noble. He lived in London for the past five years and spent most of his time in Gray’s Inn Road Workhouse, but disappeared, too, at the beginning of last summer, and has since not returned. Jessop had never set foot into Gray’s Inn and Noble was unknown to the Fulham Road Workhouse.’
    ‘So they met in Broadmoor?’
    ‘I consider it as very likely,’ said Holmes.
    ‘How did they get there?’ I wondered aloud.
    ‘Well, I have a theory. Both workhouses belong to Holborn Union, which means they all are being watched by a single board of guardians, headed by a chairman. I heard from other inmates that a surgeon had visited to offer treatments, supposedly paid by the board of guardians. That was at the beginning of last summer.’
    I interrupted him. ‘That is extraordinary, Holmes! No such thing as free medical treatments for paupers has ever been provided in any workhouse. At least not that I know of.’
    ‘Exactly!’ he said. ‘My theory is that this surgeon examines the inmates, interviews them about their family situation, and chooses the ones that have no family, no close friends, and are comparatively healthy. The chairman of the board of guardians must be involved, too. A surgeon cannot simply walk in and examine paupers at his liking.’
    ‘So both had been abducted independently and later managed to escape together. Any idea how Noble got to Guy’s?’ I asked.
    ‘Unfortunately not. I interviewed a cab driver who takes that route regularly. He said that one day a man approached his hansom. He was unable to walk properly and couldn’t speak, grabbed the horse’s reins and sank to the ground. That’s what made the horse whinny and rear. The driver, who thought the man was intoxicated, had had enough, cracked the whip, and left in a hurry. He had no idea where the man had come from and he could not remember whether there were any onlookers whatsoever.’
    I served us tea and sandwiches and we were quiet for a while. Then I remembered Stark.
    ‘Stark paid me a second visit today,’ I said and Holmes looked up.
    ‘He wants the tetanus germs very badly.