Page 28 of The Vanished Sister

“I heard from the Baker Street Irregulars only yesterday,” answered Charlotte, still in Sherrinford Holmes’s voice. “What they know dovetails with what Mr. Marbleton himself told us. A few of Albrecht’s loyalists arrived from the Continent at the beginning of the year and registered a limited company called Lucerne Exports. But the address it is listed under is one used by many entities, a hired address that can receive post and packages for a fee. Since then, there have been no other notable movements on Albrecht’s part.”

“How can we be sure that he isn’t waiting for this exact moment,” said Livia unhappily, “when we’re all distracted by what’s going on here?”

It was hardly unheard of for Moriarty to sacrifice a still-useful piece on the board for his nefarious purposes.

“And that’s why Mr. Marbleton and his friends are keeping a careful eye on the situation,” said Charlotte. “We should be cautious—and we are—but let us not fear every shadow under the sun.”

She looked directly at Livia. “Let us first deal with the situation at hand.”

Mrs. Newell, knowing that Holmes was at Sans Souci, urged her family to depart directly after breakfast. Miss Olivia, though loath to leave, agreed with her decision—Holmes’s disguise was good, but there was no need to subject it to more scrutiny than necessary.

Lord Ingram personally drove his guests to Ilfracombe and settled them in the finest establishment the town had to offer. When he arrived back at Sans Souci, Mrs. Watson and Penelope were gone. Off to High Burrow to ask more detailed questions of the Carstairs children, Holmes informed him.

“And then I believe Mrs. Watson plans to search for her sister,” she added, looking at a map he’d commissioned for display, with Sans Souci marked prominently at the center of a coastline that stretched from Woolacombe to Lynton.

But even without the map, they were intimately acquainted with the topography of the area. He had become shameless about luring her outdoors with promises of picnics and other treats. Holmes tolerated his attempts, invested in well-cushioned boots, and followed him up and down the great bluffs that characterized this part of the Devon coast.

“Looking for where the deceased might have fallen off?” he murmured, sitting down beside her and patting her wig as he did so.

Sherrinford Holmes’s brown wig used to be straight in texture. The latest iteration of the hairpiece, on the other hand, featured curls that were more similar to her own hair, but thicker and heavier.

Holmes shook her head. “At this point I’m almost more likely to believe that the body was rowed out to sea.”

He was inclined to agree with her. The headlands might look vertiginous in postcards, but at least where the footpaths led, they were not so dangerous as that.

All the same, they took his rowboat out and inspected nearby promontories, paying particular attention to the precipice just beneath Sans Souci, where the body was found, and the cliff-shielded beach nearest High Burrow, atop which Mrs. Carstairs had stood the other day.

In the afternoon they received a caller with a reddish beard and a ready laugh—the reason Holmes had kept her Sherrinford disguise on the whole day, just in case.

“Inspector MacDonald.” Lord Ingram shook hands with the onetime protégé of their friend Inspector Treadles and addressed him by his current title. “We were hoping the case would be assigned to you. How is life outside London?”

Smaller locales that didn’t have specialized detectives on their police forces often appealed to Scotland Yard for help when faced with a complicated murder. But Inspector MacDonald was Scotland Yard–trained and had investigated—alongside Inspector Treadles—one of the most notorious cases the West Country had known in recent years. Holmes had expected that the officers of Ilfracombe would remember their new colleague a short distance away in Bideford.

Inspector MacDonald smiled broadly. “Life outside London has been very pleasant. Ever since Inspector Treadles and I came out here four years ago for the Sackville case, I’d thought I wouldn’t mind living in the West Country, at least for a while. So when the opportunity arose, I leaped at it. And you, my lord, have you been well?”

“Most of the time, I can’t complain. But today has been rather disturbing, to say the least. Which reminds me.” He turned to Holmes. “Allow me to present Inspector MacDonald of the Bideford Constabulary. Inspector, my good friend Mr. Sherrinford Holmes.”

Inspector MacDonald gave Holmes a curious look. He had met Sherlock Holmes’s sister, and anyone acquainted with Charlotte Holmes would have expected her brother to be a much handsomer fellow than Sherrinford Holmes.

But the inspector recovered with admirable speed from Sherrinford Holmes’s rather disappointing appearance. “I’m a great admirer of your work at Stern Hollow, Mr. Holmes. In fact, you are the reason for my call. I saw your name recorded as among those who were on the scene this morning and was hoping to consult you with regard to the investigation.”

Holmes shook his hand and said, “I’m sure your training would stand you in good stead, Inspector.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would. But this already appears to be an unusual case. And once the papers get wind of it…” He tsked. “I should hate to make a great big mistake in front of the entire country.”

He was probably remembering Chief Inspector Fowler, who had confidently arrested Lord Ingram during a murder investigation. The subsequent egg on Fowler’s face had been a spectacular splat.

“Then in that case, I’ll be happy to offer such assistance as I can,” said Holmes, reaching for the finger sandwiches that had been brought in. “Would you acquaint us with the case from your end?”

Inspector MacDonald accepted the fresh cup of tea Lord Ingram handed him. “Gladly. I trust that you are at least somewhat familiar with the events at High Burrow up until the departure of the Newells?”

“Somewhat, as Lord Ingram hosted the Newells overnight. But they were none of them privy to the details.”

In reality, Miss Olivia had offered a number of significant details, but Lord Ingram understood why Holmes had taken care not to portray her sister as overly inquisitive.

Inspector MacDonald extracted an envelope from an inside pocket. “According to Mr. Reginald Carstairs and Mrs. Rebecca Wellesley, both of whom I spoke to just now, when they entered Mrs. Carstairs’s chamber on that occasion, Mrs. Wellesley discovered an envelope on the windowsill with a note inside, which read, I’m sorry, but you will never see me again.”

He handed the envelope to Holmes, who examined it carefully before pulling out the sheet of paper inside. “This is Mrs. Carstairs’s handwriting?”