Free The Secret Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes by June Thomson Page A

surprise and, on receiving a nod of encouragement, cleared his throat and stepped forward.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said he, ‘it is not my intention to keep you here much longer. Having carefully examined all the evidence, it is now my duty to arrest the murderer of Mademoiselle Rossignol. That man is …’ and here there was a pause as Lestrade glanced down at the programme as if to reassure himself of the name, ‘Vigor, the Hammersmith Wonder.’
    There were several seconds of silent disbelief, followed by a shuffle of feet as those nearest to the villain hurriedly distanced themselves from him, leaving him isolated in the centre of the stage.
    He had flung aside the dressing-gown and stood there, clad only in the leopard-skin leotard which he had worn for his performance, a suitable garment for there was something of the leopard in the strong but supple body, in the bunched muscles of his forearms and shoulders and in the fiercely glitteringexpression in his eyes as he backed away from us, crouching low, like a big cat brought to bay.
    Before any of us could shout a warning, he had sprung, not towards the wings where the sturdy police constables stood guard, but straight at Holmes, Lestrade and myself where we stood on the edge of the stage in front of the drawn curtains.
    It was Holmes’ presence of mind which prevented Vigor from leaping past us into the darkened auditorium. As he came bounding forward, Holmes seized one of the gauze side curtains and, dragging it down, flung it like a net about the flying figure.
    I shall refrain from recording the many foul oaths and curses which the Hammersmith Wonder uttered before, with the help of the constables, he was finally subdued and led away in handcuffs. Suffice it to say that the reputation of the French Nightingale received a savage mauling, leaving those who witnessed the scene in no doubt about her moral character.
    Even Lestrade, despite his experience of the criminal world, was shocked by this outburst.
    ‘Quite uncalled for, in my opinion,’ he remarked disapprovingly as we walked off the stage. ‘She may not have been a lady but that doesn’t excuse the language.’
    ‘Nevertheless, you have your man,’ Holmes pointed out.
    ‘Thanks to you, Mr Holmes. But I’m far from clear,’ Lestrade continued, coming to a halt by the stage-door, ‘where the deuce Vigor hid himself in that dressing-room. If Badger and Miss Budd are to be believed, they searched everywhere, even under the dressing-table.’
    ‘But not under the stool,’ Holmes replied. ‘As a contortionist, Vigor was trained to twist his limbs into the most unnatural positions. Once Miss Budd had left on her errand to the Crown and Mademoiselle Rossignol was alone, he came silently out from behind the screen, where he had already concealed himself, and crept up on her from behind, no doubt picking up the discarded stocking where it lay on the floor. As Mademoiselle Rossignol was engaged at the time in removing the other, she therefore failed to notice his approach.
    ‘You may recall, Lestrade, my remark that it does not take much imagination, even on the part of myself, a mere bachelor,to picture the scene. What does a woman do when she removes her stockings? The answer is obvious. She folds back her skirts in order to make the task easier. But the skirts of Mademoiselle Rossignol’s gown were not disarranged. On the contrary, they were most carefully draped over the edges of the stool.
    ‘The question – why should this be so? – then posed itself, to which there was only one answer. It was to provide the murderer with a second place of concealment and one, moreover, which even a search of the room would not reveal. No one, not even the most diligent, was likely to disturb Mademoiselle Rossignol’s body in order to look under her skirts.
    ‘A second question followed the first quite logically. Who was capable of squeezing himself into such a small space? The answer to that was also