Free Warlock Holmes--A Study in Brimstone by G.S. Denning Page A

strained. Madame Charpontier—assuming herself to be under attack by a rampaging monster—shot Grogsson twice, in the chest. Only after he mentioned it did I realize this was true. One of the bullets had not even penetrated his tough, hairy hide. The other had left a comically small hole and a trickle of thick blood. Torg would not allow me to examine him. He protested that such things happened to him all the time and, in truth, it didn’t seem to have injured him much.
    After plucking the offending revolver from the landlady’s grasp and bending it to useless scrap, Torg demanded to know where Enoch Drebber was. It seems he’d momentarily forgotten Drebber was dead and had come to apprehend him. Madame Charpontier also had a copy of the paper handy, and used it to convince Torg that Drebber was… no longer in residence. Torg does not respond well when his plans go awry (even though they usually do), so he began making quite a lot of noise at that point and smashing furniture. Odd as it may sound, this proved to be an adroit strategy. It turns out that if someone of Grogsson’s size, temperament and state of undress begins doing this in one’s company, one will tell him almost everything one knows, in the hopes of finding some tidbit of information that will please him enough to end the rampage.
    Madame Charpontier related that Drebber and Strangerson had checked out Friday night and that she was almost as glad to see them go as she would be to see Grogsson leave. Strangerson was a reasonable enough fellow, it seemed, but Drebber was prone to drink and carousing. Happy as Madame Charpontier had been for the near-criminal pound per day she had from each of them, she made it clear that they were not welcome to return. They had both left on Friday, just after eight in the evening to catch the train to Liverpool at a quarter past nine. (I took some satisfaction that I had guessed their purpose.) Some hours later, Drebber returned, much the worse for drink. It seems the two had missed their train by the matter of a few minutes. Strangerson had left for alternate lodging, thinking to meet Drebber there. Drebber had returned to Madame Charpontier’s boarding house claiming to have forgotten one item: Alice Charpontier. What Drebber lacked in sobriety, he made up in obscenity, offering a few choice suggestions for an… unconventional courtship.
    Upon hearing this, Torg swore to kill Drebber (already dead) and, according to some sources, proposed marriage to young Alice once the deed was done.
    She declined.
    However, during this polite rebuff, Alice Charpontier let certain interesting facts come to light. Her honor had already been defended, she said. It seems the exchange with Drebber had awakened her brother Arthur. He was on leave from the Royal Navy and had turned in early, as the military schedule had become his custom. Though he had missed the earlier conversation, Arthur soon caught the gist of it and escorted Drebber out with some alacrity. In the street, Drebber offered a few parting comments that sent Arthur back inside to fetch the family cudgel. Arthur then claimed to have chased Drebber all the way down the street and halfway back up, until the latter staggered into a cab and made good his escape.
    All of this was related to Torg, who gleaned nothing from it, except that Arthur Charpontier had motive, means and opportunity to kill Drebber. He elected to take young Arthur into custody, a process that consisted of a single blow to the face and a long drag across town to our place. It never occurred to Grogsson to take him to the police, his urge to brag being a larger portion of his character than his grasp of judicial process. Most of all, he seemed eager to talk to Lestrade.
    “Stoopid Lestrade! Stoopid!” Grogsson laughed. “Him think Strangerman did it. Him chasing all over town when Torg have criminal! Torg!”
    I had to approach my next sentence very carefully. “So, Grogsson, it is your opinion that Mr.