to see me, sir?” Her question was directed at Holmes.
“Ah, Mrs. O’Brien. Your mistress said you would direct us to the shooting cabin. And I would like to ask you a few questions on the way.”
“It’s Miss O’Brien, sir, I’ve never married.” Despite her age, the housekeeper spoke with a firmness of voice that indicated that she was still not only of sound mind but of body.
“Tell me, good woman, other than yourself who else is in service at the manor?”
“Only Throbble, the gardener. He’s a little dimwitted, but he manages to muddle through his chores.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him here.”
“You won’t, it’s his day off. Is there anything else?”
Holmes smiled at her. “No, you’ve been very helpful.”
“Please follow me then.”
Outside, Holmes went over to our driver and spoke a few words, and then scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to the man. He rejoined us and the old woman led the way. She moved at such a brisk pace that I, with my war wound still aggravating my leg, had some difficulty keeping up. As we passed out through the main gate, she pointed at the stone columns that stood on each side of the drive, silent and sturdy as if they were sentinels. Strange markings that appeared to be horizontal and angular slashes were cut into them.
“Ogham stones, sir,” she said, quickly blessing herself. “You will see another, a larger one, by the cabin. I believe Mr. Wolkner understood them; that was why he had the cabin built there.”
“And you, Miss O’Brien? Can you make anything out of them?”
“I fear not, sir. They may have something to do with ancient Erse, that’s all I know.” She started walking through the fields and we followed. After about a quarter mile, she stopped and pointed at a spinney in the distance. “You’ll find the cabin there, Mr. Holmes. At the edge of the spinney. I’ll return to my duties now.”
“Your duties can wait. I need you to show me exactly where you found the body.” Holmes gripped her elbow and gently urged her forward but she shrugged him off and retreated a few steps.
“I can’t, sir, it’s too horrible. Please don’t make me.”
“I’m afraid I must. You found the body and your presence at the scene is absolutely necessary.” His voice had turned cold as ice and hard as steel.
“Heavens, Holmes,” I said. “She has already described all this to the Dorset constables.”
“That would be like you describing Isaac Newton’s laws of motion to a cat.”
And quick as a cat, he bounded alongside the poor woman and seized her arm. “Now come along, Miss O’Brien, there is nothing to fear.” It was clear, however, that she feared plenty, whether imagined or real. Yet she held herself erect and took a step down the path.
“Very well then. But I certainly have no need of an Englishman to guide me.”
As we walked, Holmes continued to question the woman, his voice and manner no longer hard but casual.
“Did Mr. Wolkner hunt often?”
“Many mornings in the spring and fall. Often he would stay overnight in the cabin so he could be out at the crack of dawn.”
“But this is midsummer?”
“Yes, sir, but he said he had spotted some grouse the other day while walking in the fields.”
When we neared the spinney, I saw a large cabin with a porch that looked out over the meadows and some low rolling hills beyond. Next to the cabin was a thick pillar about five feet high with carved markings like the Ogham stones back at the manor.
“Where was the body when you found it?”
“Over there.” Miss O’Brien pointed at the edge of the spinney where there were some downed trees. Holmes set out towards them, the woman following behind him. I brought up the rear in case she tried to run off. After a hundred or so paces, we reached one of the fallen trees.
“There,” she said. “On the other side of that log was where the body lay.” She made no move toward the spot. Holmes again gripped her elbow and prodded her forward until they were standing in front of the log.
“How did you come to find him?”
“My mistress sent me to fetch him for tea.”
“Yes, yes, we know that. But how did come to find him in this exact spot?” As he asked the question, Holmes was not looking at the woman but instead was gazing intently into the spinney.
“I called for him but there was no answer. I went into the cabin but it was empty, so I walked into the fields and called again. There was no one, not even a bird. I walked all the way around the edge of the meadow and as I made my way back toward the spinney, I almost tripped over him.”
“Was he face up or face down?”
“Face down.”
“And where was his head and where were his feet?”
“His feet were by the log and his head was pointing toward the meadow.”
“And his shotgun?”
“Lying on the ground, next to his right arm.”
“Did you touch the body?”
She shook her head.
“Then how did you know he was dead?”
She shuddered but said nothing.
Holmes turned his gaze away from the trees and looked directly at her for a long moment. “What did you do next?”
“I ran back to the manor and told my mistress.”
“Told her what, exactly?”
“That Mr. Wolkner, her husband, was dead.”
“How did she react?”
“She had one of her fainting spells.”
“I take it she was not in good health?”
“On, no, she is really quite fit for her age, if you know what I mean. It’s just that she’s given to what she call the ‘vapors.’ She would often collapse and gasp for breath when she became overexcited.”
“Poor woman,” I said. “Is she under medical care?”
“Dr. Sedgecombe treats her.”
Holmes smiled thinly at her. “I have no further questions at this time, thank you, but I will trouble you for the key to the cabin.”
She reached into the pocket of her dress and produced a sturdy brass key and handed it to
