The House Of Silk

may well have recruited one of them to help him in his vendetta. The two of them fell out. The other pulled a knife. This is the result!’
    ‘You are certain of that?’
    ‘I am as certain as I need to be.’
    ‘Well, we shall see. But there is nothing more to be gained from discussing the matter here. Perhaps the owner of the hotel will be able to enlighten us.’
    But Mrs Oldmore, who was now waiting in the small office that had formerly been occupied by the Boots, had little to add. She was a grey-haired, sour-faced woman who sat with her arms wrapped around her as if she were afraid that the building would contaminate her unless she could keep herself as far away as possible from its walls. She was wearing a small bonnet and had a fur stole across her shoulders, although I shuddered to think what animal had provided it nor how it had met its end. Starvation seemed a likely option.
    ‘’e took the room for the week,’ she said. ‘And paid me a guinea. An American gentleman, just off a ship at Liverpool. That much ’e told me, though not much more. It was ’is first time in London. He didn’t say so, but I could tell for he ’ad no idea ’ow to find ’is way around. He said there was someone ’e ’ad come to see in Wimbledon and ’e asked me how to get there. “Wimbledon,” I said. “That’s a posh area and plenty of rich Americans with fancy homes, and no mistake.” Not that there was anything fancy about him – he had little luggage, his clothes were tatty, and then there was that nasty wound on ’is face. “I will go there tomorrow,” he said. “For there is someone who owes me something and I mean to collect it.” From the way ’e talked, I could tell ’e was up to no good and I thought to myself then and there – whoever this person is, maybe he should look out for ’imself. I was expecting trouble, but what can you do? If I turned away every suspicious-looking customer who came knocking at my door, I’d have no business at all. And now this American, Mr Harrison, is murdered! Well, it’s to be expected, I suppose. It’s the world we live in, isn’t it, where a respectable woman can’t run a hotel without having blood on the walls and corpses spread out on the floorboards. I should never have stayed in London. It’s an ’orrible place. Utterly ’orrible!’
    We left her sitting in misery and Lestrade took his leave. ‘I’m sure we’ll run into each other again, Mr Holmes,’ he said. ‘And if you need me, you know where to find me.’
    ‘If I should ever find myself in need of Inspector Lestrade,’ Holmes muttered after he had gone, ‘then things will have come to a pretty pass. But let us step into the alleyway, Watson. My case is complete and yet there is still one small point which must be addressed.’
    We went out of the front of the hotel into the main street and then entered the narrow, litter-strewn alleyway that ran past the room in which the American had met his end. The window was clearly visible about halfway down, with a wooden crate set just beneath it. It was evident that the killer had used this as a step to gain entrance. The window itself had not been locked and would have opened easily from outside. Holmes glanced at the ground in a perfunctory way, but there seemed to be nothing there to attract his attention. Together we followed the alley to the point at which it ended with a high wooden fence and an empty yard beyond. From there, we returned to the main road. By now, Holmes was deep in thought and I could see the unease in his pale, elongated face.
    ‘You remember the boy – Ross – last night,’ he said.
    ‘You thought that there was something he was holding back.’
    ‘And now I am certain of it. From where he was standing, he had a clear view of both the hotel and the alleyway, the end of which, as we have both seen, is blocked. The killer can only have entered, therefore, from the road, and Ross may well have had a sight of who it was.’
    ‘He certainly seemed ill at ease. But if he saw something, Holmes, why did he not tell us?’
    ‘Because he had some plan of his own, Watson. In a way, Lestrade was right. These boys live on their wits every hour of their lives. They must learn to do so if they are to survive. If Ross thought that there was money to be made, he would take on the devil himself! And yet there is something here that I don’t understand at all. What is it that this child could possibly have seen? A figure caught