The Phantom Killer

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A Tale of Deception

In my accounts of my long association with my friend and colleague, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I have often commented on his apparent indifference, except when they presented him with an intriguing problem, to the fair sex. Indeed, he displayed little interest when I announced my own impending marriage, other than to express a measure of disappointment. The sole exception, of course, was the adventuress Irene Adler, whom Holmes invariably referred to as The Woman.

Naturally, in the course of our adventures, other women appeared and as quickly were gone. These rarely evoked emotion of any kind in my friend, save one who, until now, I have not mentioned in my writings.

It was, I recall, a bright early summer morning when our landlady, Mrs. Hudson, showed a rather downcast but extremely attractive young lady into our sitting room.

My dear Holmes, I said before she advanced, I did not know that you were expecting a lady.

I was expecting no one. he said with a casual air.

Yet your expression suggested no surprise.

He sighed as he rose from his armchair. Come, Watson, you know my methods well enough by now. It was simply a case of listening, since the sound of a man’s footsteps on the stairs would have been very different.

I had no time to consider my embarrassment at failing to recognise this most obvious indication, because my friend had already crossed the room and was guiding our guest towards the vacant chair. After introductions, we sat in front of the empty fireplace. Her name, she told us, was Miss Juliette Villiers, and she lived with her widowed father in Mayfair.

I cannot help but observe that you are suffering some distress, my friend said to her at once. Perhaps you will allow me to order some tea or coffee, while you compose yourself. We can then examine your difficulty at our leisure.

She lowered her head, staring at the floor. No, no thank you, sir. I fear you will not look upon me so kindly when you have heard me out. It is shame that has brought me to you.

Holmes frowned, and regarded out visitor critically. Very well, Miss Villiers, pray tell us what has led up to your coming to us. I should add that, if it is comfort that you need, a priest or relative could well be a more appropriate choice.

She looked directly at us for the first time. You do not recognise my name from the newspapers?

The pages which usually concern me have made no mention of it. All I know of you at this moment is that you are of French extraction and have recently been engaged to be married. That the arrangement was cancelled, and that you are the daughter of a doctor.

Her mouth opened slightly as she sat astounded at Holmes’ deductions. I reflected that I had seen such an expression on many faces, over the years.

I can see how my name suggested my ancestry, Mr. Holmes, but your further reasoning is quite beyond me.

"I seem to recollect your name in a Standard article, I interjected. It did indeed describe the end of a betrothal, to a Mr. Morton Janner, I believe."

Her face coloured slightly, as she replied. Our separation was the result of my foolishness, and when my indiscretion was brought to light.

Miss Villiers, so far you have spoken in riddles, Holmes said with a trace of impatience. Please take a moment to collect your thoughts, and then relate to us what has occurred in the correct order. Pray be precise as to details. Leave out not the smallest feature.

I did indeed leave my fiancé, she began, avoiding our eyes. Less than a week before the wedding I ran away to Scotland with a man who had bewitched me. He said that he wanted us to marry, but one night he returned in a rage from a gambling house and from his actions then I knew that our union could never be.

Holmes’ expression made his disapproval evident. Did this man mistreat you? he asked.

At this, Miss Villiers drew back her sleeve, to reveal dark bruises along much of her arm. He beat me, because he lost a large sum at the tables. I am covered in bruises. I could not contemplate living a life where my safety and happiness were dependent on his whims.

He has used you most cruelly, I commented, while Holmes was silent on this aspect. I sensed that, to some extent, he felt that she deserved her punishment.

What then, do you wish us to do? he enquired.

That will become apparent, sir, when you have heard the remainder of my tale.

Holmes fixed her with an icy glare, and I expected at any moment that he would declare that she was wasting his time. In the small silence that followed, I heard a hansom or cart rattle along Baker Street as the morning sunshine made patterns on the carpet before me. I looked at my friend expectantly.

Pray proceed, he said at last.

The next time Mr. Stephen Golding, for that is his name, left me in our room alone, I fled. I caught the first train back to London and was reunited with my father. He was unhappy but he did not judge me, for I am his only daughter and only living relative since the death of my mother. The scandal, he said, would subside in time.

Was it at that point that Mr. Janner ended his engagement to you?

He did, as soon as he discovered the reason for my sudden disappearance. I suppose I cannot blame him.

Holmes did not disagree and regarded her, I thought, with some distaste. Presumably, there is more to this revelation?

I am grateful for your patience, Mr. Holmes, Miss Villiers murmured. I think you will now see why I have chosen to consult you, for that was not the end of the matter regarding Mr. Golding. He followed me to London and became a consistent nuisance until three days ago, when he was found murdered.

My friend returned her glance indifferently. A man of that sort invariably has disreputable associates. Any of them could have been responsible. His death need not be connected with you.

That is also the conclusion of Scotland Yard, and so after a single interview, I have been left alone. However, my former fiancé has been less fortunate.

Holmes was becoming restless. He got to his feet and wandered over to the window. After a short appraisal of the scene below, he turned back to Miss Villiers.

Are you saying that Mr. Janner has been arrested?

That is so. It happened shortly after Mr. Golding’s body was discovered.

So you would have me prove his innocence, if indeed this is possible? Have you considered that he may actually have committed this crime? Jealousy is a compelling force.

I knew my husband-to-be well. He would never have done this. Murder is not in him.

"He did not, as things turned out, know you as well, Holmes reminded her, but I will make my own decision as to his guilt."

I saw her relax slightly, because he had indicated that he would at least make enquiries.

I would have expected nothing else. Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

In the absence of results, that may be premature. Do you know the name of the inspector who conducted the interview with you?

I do. It was Inspector Hopkins.

Holmes nodded. Hopkins is one of the Yard’s best. He would not have made the arrest without good cause.

Miss Villiers shook her head. I do not know what evidence he had, other than circumstance.

Thank you, Miss Villiers, said Holmes after a moment’s thought.I do not think we need detain you longer.

Her face brightened. You will pursue this?

I have said as much.

Then I have done all that I can for him.

With that she rose abruptly, and left the room without another word.

I think you were a little harsh, Holmes, I remarked at the window after we had seen her board a hansom.

Knowing you as I do, Watson, that does not surprise me. But I will have none of your sentimentality, where women are concerned.

You have made your feelings clear on that score, before now.

He nodded. You saw Miss Villiers as a woman deserving of sympathy, worthy of forgiveness perhaps for a single mistake. I saw her as a cold machine, intent only on marrying whoever offered the best for her future prospects.

Are you forgetting that she came here for the sake of her former fiancé?

You believe so? I tell you that she seeks only to rid herself of the guilt she feels, somewhat surprisingly, since her deplorable and deliberate actions indirectly caused Mr. Janner’s imprisonment. Did you hear her utter a single word of regret at the heartbreak she undoubtedly inflicted on him by eloping with another, despite the wedding being only days away?

I confess that I did not.

"I should have been surprised if you had replied otherwise, since she evidently does not regret it. As she saw it, her lover would furnish her with a more comfortable life than that she anticipated with the man she had agreed to marry. This Golding appears to have represented himself as possessing considerable means, whereas in truth he was an opportunist and a gambler. By contrast, I should not be surprised to find that Mr. Janner is an ordinary, hardworking sort - honest, but somewhat lacking in resources. Miss Villiers spoke of ‘a man who bewitched me.’ Pah! She saw the opportunity to do better for herself."

He had referred to Miss Villiers as a cold machine, and it occurred to me then, not for the first time, that the description was not altogether inappropriate for Holmes himself.

I can follow your reasoning there, Holmes, I volunteered with some pride, and it is apparent that Miss Villiers is of a quite wealthy family, since her clothes are of expensive quality. I can see how she would wish to maintain her accustomed standard of life. You did not explain, however, your other deductions, such as her being the daughter of a doctor and that she was recently engaged to be married.

He gave me one of his quick, almost sympathetic smiles. As it often proves to be, Watson, it is simplicity itself. Mingled with the fragrance of what is, I am sure, a most expensive perfume, I detected a faint trace of ether, chloroform or similar anaesthetic. Thus I knew at once that she was connected to the medical profession. Since she is a woman, it is most likely that her position is that of a nurse, yet her unsympathetic and superior attitude precludes it. I cannot see her attending the poor in an ordinary hospital, nor as the assistant of a country physician. Who then would she be more likely to work for but her father, whose practice must be lucrative enough to enable him and his daughter to live in Mayfair?

As always, I felt ashamed that I had neglected to share his observations.

But the engagement, and the ending of it?

"Surely, Watson,