“Thank you very much for letting us observe the autopsy, Dr. Sallet”, said Holmes as he divested himself of the laboratory accouterments.

“Come, Watson, I think that we have taken up enough of the good doctor’s time”.

On the street outside the mortuary, Holmes lit a cigarette and, after inhaling deeply and letting the smoke slowly filter out from his hawk-like nose, turned to me and said, “These are deep waters, indeed, Watson. I think it best that we return to London”.

The train ride back to London was uneventful and, as Holmes was in no mood for conversation, I busied myself reading a monograph on brain lesions. Back in our rooms in Baker Street, he went immediately to the deal table upon which his chemical apparatus was arranged, removed a small vial of blood from his pocket and began to mix various liquids from glass-stoppered reagent bottles.

After a few minutes, he turned to me with a mildly sardonic grin. “As I suspected, Watson. The blood that Gregson found did not come from a human”.

“Then why the poem written in blood, Holmes?” I asked. “Why make it look as if Fenwick was tortured”?

“We are dealing with a very clever murderer, Watson. Perhaps, a little too clever . . . ” Taking the black clay pipe from the mantle, he seem to leave me for a little while as the acrid blue smoke swirled about his head. Then, becoming animated again, he spoke “Let us now consider the facts, without conjecture, Watson. Peter Fenwick’s brother, Edgar, died under suspicious circumstances. Circumstances that indicated that Peter might have committed murder. Yet, it turned out that because of his weak heart, a condition known only to the immediate family, Peter couldn’t have done it”.

“Do you think, Holmes, that the death of Edgar could be related to Peter’s murder?” I asked.

“I think nothing yet, Watson. You know that I think that it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data”.

Chastened, I nodded and sat back in my chair.

“Now, regarding Peter Fenwick’s demise. We know that there was strychnine in his stomach, but apparently not enough to kill him. According to Dr. Sallett, if he is to be believed, Fenwick died from being poisoned by tetanus toxin. I agree with him, that a layman would not have been able to produce this toxin, but it could be procured”.

“Why do you say, ‘If he is to be believed’, Holmes”?

Holmes held up the long, fine index finger of his right hand, “Because, dear boy, first, he tells us that the amount of crystalline strychnine found in Fenwick’s stomach was consistent with a prophylactic dose for his heart”.

“It seemed to be so”.

“Does one ingest crystalline strychnine, or take it in solution? In threatened heart failure, how is it administered”?

“Egad, Holmes!” I ejaculated, “You mean…”?

“Yes, Watson, there was enough strychnine in Fenwick to have killed him”.

“But, why would he lie”?

“For now, let us say that he was mistaken”. Holding up two fingers, Holmes went on, “Secondly, unless the good doctor is lying, Fenwick was somehow administered enough tetanus toxin to cause his death”.

“But who would want to kill a man twice”?

“Perhaps, two different individuals acting independently”.

“The third point to consider is the lack of livor mortis. Why didn’t Fenwick’s blood settle”?

I could only nod in agreement.

“Fourth, and last, what is the point of the wound in Fenwick’s palm”? This is definitely becoming a three-pipe problem”.

I was up early the next morning, having been called out by one of my patients, for although my work with Holmes was taking up more of my time than my meager practice, I could not bring myself to abandon my medical work completely.

When I returned, Holmes was seated at the mahogany table in our sitting room, a pile of plugs and dottles in a large tray by his elbow, enveloped in a pungent blue fog of tobacco smoke.

“Ready for breakfast, Watson?”, he asked me.

“Not until I have opened the windows, and cleared the room of these noxious vapors, Holmes”, I replied.

A sudden thumping of feet on our stairs was quickly followed by the door bursting open and young Wiggins, the head of Holmes’s band of little ruffians that he affectionately called his Baker Street Irregulars, was in the room.

“We ain’t been able to find her, Mr Holmes”, he ejaculated breathlessly, “She ain’t in any of the usual places”.

Taking a few shillings from his pocket and handing them to Wiggins, Holmes ordered him and his band to continue the search. “It is important that she be found, Wiggins”, he remarked gravely, “Her life could well be in danger”.

With that, the urchin saluted, turned on his heel and exited as noisily as he had entered.

A few moments later, Mrs Hudson appeared with our breakfast on a tray.

“Mr Holmes, I must again ask you to speak to those little roughnecks. Why he almost knocked the breakfast tray out of my hands”.

“I shall see that he is admonished, Mrs Hudson”, said Holmes in his pleasant and ingratiating manner as he ushered our landlady from the room.

Over our meal, as good a breakfast as any Scotchwoman could have provided, Holmes seemed to be musing. Over coffee, he said to me, “This problem is becoming worthy of a Moriarty, Watson. What could have caused Molly to disappear”?

“There is little we can do about that, for now. However, I have been doing some thinking regarding the wound in Fenwick’s palm. I think that it is related to his lack of livor mortis. Consider what might happen to a person injected with snake venom, that of the Malayan Pit Viper, for example”.

“I must admit to being taken unaware, Holmes”, I replied, “I am not, after all, an expert on snakes or snake bites”.

“Just my little joke, dear boy”, said Holmes with a smile as he pulled a volume of his Index from beneath his chair. “Here in the volume labeled ‘L to N’, I have this about the Malayan Pit Viper. Malayan Pit Viper", he read, "found throughout East Asia, particularly China, Burma, Malaysia, etc, etc….hmmmm, about 2 to 3 feet long….hmmm….long fangs, ill tempered ….poison is haemotoxic…..hmmm…. significant anticoagulation effects”.

“Anticoagulation effects? Could that explain why Fenwick didn’t display livor mortis”?

“Except in the area around his palm”.

“Could that have been where the poison was administered”?

“Possibly”.

“And the nail would have been a means to hide the snake bite”?

“Or the signs of injection by a hypodermic needle”.

“Egad Holmes”, I ejaculated, “Why would someone want to kill Fenwick with strychnine, tetanus and snake venom? Any one of them would have done the job”.

“As I mentioned, before, Watson – more than one person acting independently. However, there is little that we can do now, and the weather is pleasant. How about a walk and some lunch at Simpson’s?”

Proceed to Part Nine