The Adventure of the Bee Keeper's Violin

Chapter the First - The Interview

The scrutiny of the gentleman before me made me exceedingly uncomfortable. He was leaning casually back in his chair, yet his eyes bore unceasingly into me. I am not a nervous woman – I am a governess by occupation, and am used to the interrogative stares of wary parents – but this steady gaze unnerved me. The strong lamp, which had illuminated the book lying open at the table at his elbow prior to my arrival, had now been turned so that its light lay square upon the basket chair I had been so graciously ushered into. I immediately realized beyond a doubt that this dramatic lighting – for his nature might have been readily adapted to favour theatrical pursuits, if he had decided on such a path earlier in his life – allowed him to study me to best effect, whilst the dull grey glare from the window behind me veiled the hollows and crags of his keen face in sharp shadow, giving him an even more masterful and impressive appearance.

He looked like some great bird of prey, hulking on its perch. The hawk-like nose and the firm lips, pursed over the teeth which were clamped on his steadily-smoking pipe, gave him a tenacious air. His chin was moodily thrust downwards into the folds of mouse-coloured dressing-gown upon his chest, and he peered up at me from a beneath a slightly-furrowed brow and heavy eyelids. From beneath them, however, came that piercing gaze – not so much striking in its relentlessness, but in its intensity. I could see the wheels of that so highly-reputed mind turning beneath the crown of silver-fleck hair; their whirling was almost discernable within those dark pupils, so deeply sunken into the sockets by age and creased around the corners by constant mental taxation as to make them appear even more beady. They seemed to puncture the respectable tweed-suited front I had endeavored to project, read all the secrets I unknowingly carried upon my conscience, and gaze straight through me, contemplating the dreary Sussex countryside without the glass pane.

He raised a small magnifying glass, located conveniently on a bit of leather thronging about his neck, and gazed at me even more closely through its lens. I began to feel more and more like some anthropoid specimen, seeing the field researcher's expert eye, distorted by the powerful glass, examine me thoroughly, classifying and labeling me in his mind. A small sardonic smile, like that of the professor confidently recognizing familiar characteristics in a case study put before him, alighted upon his lips, and he reclined with satisfaction upon his cushion with the air of a triumphant Caesar.

"You reside in the country," stated the laconic voice, assured of its own astuteness. It was not a question, and my nod of acquiesce felt unnecessary and stupid.

"You are a keen cyclist."

Again I nodded.

"And a musician."

Another nod.

"Also a gardener, and you peruse the morning papers… really, it is a favourable position you have managed to find yourself in, Miss Baynes, to be allowed time for so many hobbies when not tending to your young charge."

Tired of humouring him with my dumb, repetitive gesture, I gave him a smile that expressed both my admiration and my impatience.

"Really Mr. Holmes, if you had not favoured me with your impressive powers of deduction, this visit would have been an irredeemable disappointment. Indeed, the family I am with is closely associated with my own kin, and they treat me much as one of their own. It is perfectly evident to you, and would be to myself if I should I have had a hand mirror, you infer my residence from the frayed patches at the shoulder of my jacket and the hem of my skirt where I have passed close to hedgerows on a daily basis; from the imprint on the side of my shoes that my feet often come into contact with the pedals of a bicycle; from the slight spatulation of my fingertips – I am not so conceited as to refrain from criticizing a lady's own hands – that I regularly play a musical instrument; and from the ink imprints of letters on my hands, as well as the earth caught in my sleeve cuffs, that I have both read the periodicals and dabbled in the garden quite recently."

He released his grip on his eyeglass and instead rested his head on his hand, his elbow propped on the arm of his chair, considering me anew. Mischievous lights played in his eyes. It seemed I had amused him.

"Well done, dear lady, brilliantly deduced! It seems you are familiar with my techniques. While you did not follow my exact train of thought – you will excuse me for examining the brambles caught in your stockings near the ankle – everything you have said is quite valid. These observations of mine are, indeed, the most elementary aspect of my practice, and if I seem impudent to subject your person to them, merely do so out of my own peculiar habit."

I waved his deferral away. I was by no means offended, and quite pleased at having won his approval. I was emboldened to attempt more.

"Indeed, I take no offense. I am happy to have entertained you for a few moments, if only in a preemptory fashion, seeing as you have few visitors, and though your bees are productive, you must yet console your latent mind with much reading of books and composition upon the violin."

I rather selfishly felt a great deal of satisfaction as I watched those smug eyes widen and the relaxed tilt of the body swing violently forward in its chair before he tempered his surprise. He was silent for a few moments, and I feared I had offended him; then suddenly he slapped his knee, and his whole slender frame shook in hearty, though nearly silent, laughter which ended in a breathless gasp and a chagrinned look.

"Bravo! Really, it is too fine; I doubt I have ever had such an astounding or scintillating conversation in my long career! My dear, I am indeed astounded, I hardly expected a young lady like you to have mastered what distinguished investigators at the Yard haven't the faintest-! Ahem! Anyhow! Might I hear your reasoning, as you have revealed mine concerning yourself and I have great difficulty in discerning my own habits, having lived in them for so long?"

I smiled with inner pride, pleased beyond measure at his response. "Certainly. You have a bit of cocoanut matting at your door which gives a distinct impression of the recent footfalls upon it. The only clear impressions upon it are those of your own patent leather boots, which, since you are in your slippers, I observed near the door, and easily recognized their corresponding shape. They are easily read; you are in a habit of taking up your cane from the left side of the door last thing before leaving, and replacing your hat and overcoat on the pegs at the right upon re-entering, tracing a seemingly circuitous route upon the mating. Your steps are methodical in routine, and though often trod, one set of impressions has grown deep in a solitary track. Any footfalls outside of these would therefore be easily detected, and I observed none."

"Capital! Perfectly feasible! I knew the laying of the mat was not carried out on a mere whim. Today it has proven the source of much entertainment. Pray continue!"

"I noticed a scrap of honeycomb powder on the cuff of your coat sleeve as I placed my own overcoat beside it at the door. The comb would only adhere if moistened with honey; hence I deduced that you had an abundance of harvest from your bees, if you could so carelessly allow it to moisten your sleeve after having removed your beekeeper's regulation outer garb. There is a tiny cut upon your knuckle, too slight too be plastered, too thin to be inflicted by a razor or letter opener. Therefore, you have been rifling through volumes and sustained a paper cut. You might have been turning through legal or business papers or a postal correspondence, but you would hardly handle them as haphazardly as a large, cumbersome volume. Finally, I noticed that that rug before the shelf upon which your instrument case resides has been rubbed all in one direction, towards the wall, to the point that it is quite beginning to thin in one particular spot. Obviously, your path from the armchair you are now seated in to that shelf is a well worn one. Thus, as you have deduced my hobbies, I have discovered yours."

As I concluded, Holmes condescended to offer enthusiastic, though brief, applause, as though I had just completed a piece of music he found favourably performed.

"Brilliant! A methodology after my own heart! I feel rather like a head of faculty discussing theories with my associate professor!" - I was bemused by his assuming of the superior role even as he complimented me – "Marvelously done! It is indeed true that though the bees prosper, the buzzing of my own mind has grown quiet of late, and I have sought to preoccupy it with music and the contemplation of my garret library, having had no means to purchase chemicals in this out-of-the-way corner of the realm, and no Watson or Lestrade has yet come from London to provide me with either ammonia or outrage from London. I hoped my first visitor in some time might bring me an interesting problem, and I certainly find you most welcome company on this grey, unremarkable morn. My own particular interest, at present, is this: composition rather than mere recital upon the violin is a rather exact deduction, and though you have explained the involvement of the violin, you have not justified your inclusion of this rather specific detail."

I saw a gleam of knowing in his smile as he lay back again, awaiting my justification. I felt rather like a chess player with my opponent waiting to criticize my next move.

"Well Mr. Holmes, it may have been presumptuous of me, but I counted on your knowledge as a composer to shed light on a document of interest which I happen to have acquired."

So saying, I reached into the little black leather valise I had brought with me, and extracting a sheet of paper, I smoothed it and delivered it to his nimble, eagerly awaiting fingers.