“I was not involved with the case directly, but you would have read about it in the newspapers. The murder was marked by its particularly vicious nature and the high position of the victim. Sir Danvers Carew was a member of Parliament, a personal friend of Gladstone, and a prominent supporter of Irish Home Rule. The facts, in brief, were as follows.” He swept aside a stack of books on the sofa, sat with his elbows on his knees, and tented his fingers together, then stared at the wall just over Mary’s head as though actually seeing the events he was describing.
“Sir Danvers was found brutally beaten to death on a street in Soho. His head had been bashed in with a cane—the cane was actually found broken beside him. His purse and watch were still on him, but he had no other identifying papers, except a letter in his pocket addressed to a solicitor named Utterson. This Utterson was summoned and identified the body. The police already knew who had committed the murder: a housemaid who was looking out onto the lamplit street, waiting for her admirer, had noticed a man she recognized as Mr. Hyde. He lived in the neighborhood, with a woman who was said not to be his wife. She observed him walking along the street, stopping once under a street lamp to check his watch, which is how she could identify him so clearly—until, at the street corner, he met Sir Danvers Carew. A conversation, and then an altercation, ensued. Hyde struck the man over the head, then continued to beat him until the body lay still on the pavement. Utterson told the officer that Hyde was employed by one of his clients, a Dr. Jekyll, who lived near Regent’s Park. Not far from Baker Street, and I observe that Miss Jekyll walked here, although not through the park, I think. The mud of Regent’s Park is quite distinctive, since it contains matter from the flower beds. No, that is ordinary Marylebone street mud, splashed from the gutters.”
Mary looked down at her boots. Well, next time she would gather more distinctive mud for Mr. Holmes! Seriously, did they need to go into all the particulars of the Carew murder? She was starting to lose her patience.
“But I take it there was a difficulty,” said Watson. “Or you would not be describing the case in such detail.”
“You know me well,” said Holmes. “Utterson led the officer to Hyde’s Soho residence, around the corner—but the man was gone. Although the police combed London, and indeed all of England for him, he could not be found. It was as though he had disappeared into thin air. I was sufficiently intrigued that I decided to look into the case for myself. Whatever else can be said about them, our English police are nothing if not thorough. It is difficult to escape them so entirely. I had no official relationship with the police at that point. But my brother Mycroft knew Jekyll, so I asked for an introduction. He was willing enough to discuss the matter with me. He told me that Hyde had been a sort of assistant to him, helping with his scientific experiments. However, he claimed that he had not seen Hyde since the murder. Shortly afterward, Jekyll committed suicide.”
Yes, that was what Mary had remembered last night: a tall man in her father’s study, walking back and forth on legs like scissors, and old Poole telling her not to interrupt because her father was talking to an important gentleman, a detective. She had deduced that it must be the famous Mr. Holmes, whose cases were featured so often in The Strand.
“Holmes!” said Watson. “Consider Miss Jekyll’s feelings!”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” said Mary. “But I would like to know if there is still a reward? You see, I may have some information. . . .”
“I’ve always wondered about that case,” said Holmes. “Hyde was never found, and eventually Scotland Yard stopped looking. I did not pursue the matter further or inquire into the cause of Dr. Jekyll’s suicide. As I mentioned, it was early in my professional career, and I had other cases to attend to.”
“Mr. Holmes!” said Mary. “Is there or is there not a reward for information leading to the apprehension of Mr. Hyde? One was advertised at the time of the murder, but I do not know if, after all this time . . .”
“Yes, there was a reward,” said Holmes. “A hundred pounds for information leading directly to the apprehension of the murderer, offered by the family of Sir Danvers Carew. Whether the family would still be willing to offer that sum? I don’t know, but we can certainly enquire. It would be best to ask Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. I’m meeting him in an hour to discuss these murders in Whitechapel. These ’orrible murders, as the newsboys keep shouting. Watson, I’m afraid the mystery of Lord Avebury’s menagerie will have to wait. We have two mysteries on our hands, both more intriguing than a collection of missing animals. If Lestrade does not know, he can tell us whom in the family to contact. But about what? If you’ll forgive my saying so, Miss Jekyll, you don’t appear to be the sort of person who consorts with criminals or knows their whereabouts.”
“And yet, I may know where to find Hyde,” said Mary.
“Indeed?” he said, smiling. It was evident that he did not believe her. “Well then, Miss Jekyll. What can you tell me?”
Mary spoke in her most businesslike tone.
DIANA: Most businesslike? She always sounds as though she’s directing a meeting. I think what you mean is her bossiest tone.
JUSTINE: Diana, you know what Mary tells you is for your own good. Someone needs to keep you from committing mischief. Like cutting up all our underclothes because Mary said you couldn’t come to Vienna this time.
MARY: Not that telling her what to do ever works. And Mrs. Poole is trying to sew the pieces back together, but the last time I saw her, she was shaking her head. . . .
DIANA: Works! I should think not. The day I listen to Mary is the day I eat my own boots.
MARY: At least that would keep you quiet for a while.
Mary spoke in her usual businesslike tone. “After my mother’s death, my solicitor”—not that Mr. Guest was her solicitor any longer, but it sounded more official—“informed me that she had been making regular payments to a Society of St. Mary Magdalen. One pound a week for the care and keeping of Hyde. Look.” She pulled out the account book and put it, open to the correct page, on top of the books that were already stacked on the table. Both men leaned forward. “I suspect he was blackmailing her with information learned during his association with my father. This morning, I searched in the directory—the Society of St. Mary Magdalen is a charitable organization in Whitechapel. I believe we shall find Hyde there.”
“Now that is very interesting,” said Holmes. “And worthy of investigating further. Unfortunately, I may be tied up all day with Lestrade. These murders are spectacular—Fleet Street can’t seem to get enough of them, and each one appears on the front page, with the body part particularly emphasized. The victim without arms, the victim without a head . . . But I’m sure the solution will be a simple one, in the end. Spectacular cases are usually simpler, and less interesting, than they initially appear.”
“A madman, certainly,” said Watson. “Who else would murder young women and take away parts of their bodies? The murderer is clearly mad.”