"I am indeed Miss Caroline Wickham." The Captain released a small breath and his bulky form began slipping to the floor. Holmes lowered the now unconscious captain to the floor and gently released the baritsu hold.

"Pray continue," Holmes said softly. Her eyes drifted to the unconscious form of Captain Blount. "I am indeed the fiancée of poor dear Phineas." An infinite sadness showed in her eyes for a short moment. She then turned to face Holmes, and the earlier defiance returned.

"The timing and method of my father's death was suspicious, to say the least, Mr. Holmes. I was contemplating calling you myself. You were so very helpful to my Aunt Sophie with her pottery problem some years ago."

"A most instructive case," Holmes said, never losing eye contact. "It occurred during your honeymoon, Watson. Remind me to recount the facts to you at a more appropriate time."

Miss Wickham sighed and seemed to be steeling herself for something. She looked back at Holmes, who had never stopped peering intently at her.

"The night after my father's death, a letter from him came into my possession." She picked up the top sheet from the large pile in her lap. "It seems he feared, just what came to pass."

She began reading:

"My Dearest Daughter: Can you ever forgive me? It is not – "

She slumped where she was sitting. The sheaf of papers fell, sliding into a long line across the floor. Holmes caught her before she fell from her seat.

"Quick, Watson! I pray my suspicions are incorrect!" I ministered to her for a few moments, but to no avail. As I turned to Holmes, I saw Captain Blount reviving behind him. "Well?" Holmes said anxiously. "There is nothing I can do, Holmes. She is dead."