Free The Ectoplasmic Man by Daniel Stashower Page B

than, say, footprints?” I asked, attempting to draw him out on the Gairstowe problem.
    “Decidedly,” he answered. “Once the full properties of haemoglobin are known and understood, the traditional methods of tracing criminalswill be abandoned as musty relics. I have known it for years.”
    “Surely not footprints!” I persisted. “Such as the footprints in Lord O’Neill’s study? Won’t these footprints be of use to you in this case?”
    “Footprints! Footprints are boorish clues, Watson! See how easily a mind such as Lestrade’s is led astray by them! Haemoglobin affords the analytic precision of modern science, whereas a footprint is subject to any number of variants. A footprint may expand or contract, or be trod upon by one of Lestrade’s henchmen—”
    “But surely the traditional methods of crime detection may be reconciled with the advantages of the laboratory? For example, if you were able to analyse the unusual mud used to make the prints—?”
    “No, no, good fellow. That small irregularity would in no way be illuminated in the laboratory. Now, if the thief had been so obliging as to leave a bit of haemoglobin—”
    “Holmes! You are insufferable! Will you tell me nothing about the Gairstowe matter?”
    “My dear Watson, the facts — such as they are — are all before you.”
    “But I can make nothing of them.”
    “Nothing, Watson? Can this be the man whose natural wit and perspicacity are the delight of millions? You have seen all that I have seen, but you have not observed. Think, Watson! Cudgel your brain!”
    “Well,” I began, endeavouring to employ my friend’s celebrated logic, “whoever stole these letters must have known of their existence in advance. This limits our suspects considerably.”
    “Excellent!” cried Holmes. “Proceed.”
    “The thief must have been connected with the diplomatic party in some way, to have gained access to Gairstowe House. Either as a guest or an employee.”
    “You surpass yourself! Pray continue.”
    “Further,” I went on, much pleased with my companion’s enthusiasm,“he would have to possess the remarkable ability to penetrate what is, in effect, a bank vault.”
    “Marvellous!” cried Holmes, applauding vigorously. “You have painted a precise portrait of our suspect. I must say, Watson, that if I find one fault in these chronicles which you occasionally lay before the public, it is that you often flatter me by making yourself appear dim-witted in comparison. You are far too modest concerning your own gifts.”
    “Why Holmes,” I said, deeply moved, “these are kind words indeed!”
    “Yes, while it is true that you have taken a somewhat rudimentary view and perceived only that which is painfully obvious, you have nonetheless provided a succinct and functional summary.”
    “But—”
    “Come now, Watson. If we base our speculations on the facts as you have just outlined them, who must our prime suspect be? Who had both the opportunity and the ability?”
    “Houdini,” I admitted sheepishly.
    “Precisely. And what place does Kleppini, who was in no way connected with the gathering at Gairstowe, have in your summary?”
    “None,” I said.
    “Exactly. But do not despair. The matter is quite complicated. I believe that even my brother, Mycroft, has failed to recognise the true depth of this problem. And if we should fail...” His voice trailed off.
    “Holmes,” I persisted, “what if we should fail? Suppose the letters were to become public?”
    “At best, a dark and protracted scandal. But at a time when succession seems so close, and relations with Germany are so strained—”
    “Then we must recover the letters,” I said resolutely. “It is not the first time we have averted a royal scandal. * Where shall we begin?”
    “We shall begin, stout fellow, by leaving you off at Baker Street. There are one or two small points which I must look into on my own.”
    “But Holmes—”
    “It won’t do, Watson. This