It was the spring of l90l and I was alone in Baker Street. Holmes had been called away on a special case for the government (in other words, Mycroft, and his shadow organization) and had no need of my help until the investigation progressed beyond the laboratory, if even then. I was actually looking forward to spending a quiet week just tending to my patients at the clinic and going to my club in the evenings. I had just settled down with the newspaper when I heard the sound of a carriage pulling up outside our window. I looked out and was pleasantly surprised to see Lady Anne Westphalen alight on our doorstep.
 
 

I had known Lady Anne for many years. She was a striking looking woman with thick red- brown hair and brown eyes. She had once needed the services of Holmes and myself. We had stayed close friends after that time. She always contacted me when she returned to London during the Season. She preferred to spend most of her time at her ancestral home in the North. Maybe the week would not be as quiet as I thought. Escorting Lady Anne round to different social engagements would be diverting.
 
 

I heard the measured tread of our landlady, Mrs. Hudson as she approached our door. I forestalled her knock by opening the door quickly.
 
 

"Anne, what a pleasant surprise."
 
 

"John, it is good to see you."
 
 

"Mrs. Hudson, could you bring us up some tea?"
 
 

"Certainly Doctor."
 
 

I showed Lady Anne to a chair and watched as she scanned the room. "Is Sherlock not here?"
 
 

"This is not a social call I gather?"
 
 

"No, I need Sherlock's help."
 
 

I sat down in the chair opposite to Anne's and explained that Holmes had been called out of town on a special case. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
 
 

"Yes, John, maybe there is something you can do. You are Sherlock's partner, after all, and might be able to untangle this problem for me."
 
 

"I will be glad to do anything I can. Tell me what the problem is, my dear."
 
 

Before Anne could explain, Mrs. Hudson came into the room carrying the requested tea. I took the tray, and suggested she explain the situation over refreshments.
 
 

"You have met my sister-in-law, Lady Penelope?" she began.
 
 

It took me a moment to recall the event. "Yes, I believe the last time was at your country estate a few years back."
 
 

"The death of my brother a year and half ago was very hard on her. She is just beginning to come out of mourning."
 
 

Anne's brother, Roger had died in a riding accident. It had been hard on her as well. She had never married herself, and had been very close to her younger brother.
 
 

Anne continued. "A month or two ago Penelope contacted me and told me she had spoken to my brother."
 
 

"What?"
 
 

"Yes, that was my reaction, too. I begged her to explain to me what she meant."
 
 

"Did she?"
 
 

"In a way. You see, she knows a man who claims he can contact the dead."
 
 

"Ah, now I see, a medium. Did she attend a seance?
 
 

"How did you guess?"
 
 

"That is usually the way it is done. Holmes and I have come across spiritualists before. Holmes does not believe that any of these men are genuine. He believes that they cannot really contact the dead and are just preying on the unhappiness of the souls who seek them out."
 
 

"What do you believe, John?"
 
 

Anne's question caught me unaware. I had seen many unusual things in my long association with Sherlock Holmes. As a doctor, I have always tried to keep an open mind. When I was younger, I might have scoffed at the thought that there might be things out of the realm of our understanding. As I grow older, I realise that there are many things in this world that are beyond our comprehension.
 
 

I also recalled an argument I had with Holmes on this very subject.
 
 

"Holmes, it is possible that some of these spiritualists might even be helpful in giving some comfort to bereaved families by helping them get over there loss?"
 
 

"My dear, Watson," Holmes had answered back, "You bring up an interesting thought on the subject."
 
 

"Actually it is not my thought, it is Dr. Freud's explanation for why people frequent mediums."
 
 

"Ah Freud, an interesting man. I hope to meet him someday," Holmes declared musingly. "Although I still believe most mediums are not friendly spiritualists. They do not do this out of the goodness of their own hearts, but are only interested in depriving these poor people of money."
 
 

"What do you believe, John?" Lady Anne asked me again bringing me out of my momentary reverie.
 
 

"I believe that we should check out this man your sister-in-law has been seeing and see if he is a genuine medium or --"
 
 

"Someone only interested in her money."
 
 

"Exactly."
 
 

I accompanied Lady Anne to her sister-in- law's home. The estate was located out of the city. Lady Anne's coachman made good time to our destination and within a half hour, found myself striding up the steps towards the front door with my companion.
 
 

Lady Penelope's butler Harkins, an old family retainer, greeted Lady Anne and myself cordially and showed us up to the drawing room of the house.
 
 

Lady Penelope was there conversing with another guest: James Dudley. M.P. for the northern counties, he was an old and not very pleasant acquaintance of Holmes and mine. An old enemy would be a more factual application.
 
 

Many years before, Holmes, Dudley and myself had attended the Brompton school together for a semester. Even then, Holmes was brilliant. That genius had been resented by Dudley, and some of his cronies. Dudley and Holmes had been rivals in every arena; academics, athletics and even romance. Dudley always came in second place behind Holmes. His envy of Holmes became so strong that Dudley engineered Holmes' expulsion from the school by making it appear as if Holmes had cheated on a test. I had always resented him for the disgrace and misery he had caused Holmes.
 
 

We three again crossed paths a few years ago. {* Revenge is always sweeter when served with a smile*} It was then I was able to best him, in a shooting contest, completely unknown to Dudley himself. Dudley believed he was competing with Holmes.
 
 

Lady Anne greeted her sister-in-law affectionately. Dudley she greeted coldly, but civily. I was sinfully delighted -- obviously Anne did not like him either.
 
 

"Dudley, what a surprise." Anne said though her tone indicated she was not pleased to see Dudley.
 
 

"Anne, my dear, how wonderful it is to see you." Dudley greeted her and reached out eagerly to kiss her hand.
 
 

Anne pulled her hand away posthaste, plainly irritated by Dudley's gesture. He, of course, was too charmed by his own consequence to notice her distaste.
 
 

"Penelope, may I reintroduce you to an old and dear friend of mine, Dr. John Watson."
 
 

"Dr. Watson, it is so good of you to come."
 
 

"My pleasure, Lady Penelope."
 
 

"May I present James Dudley to you, Dr. Watson."
 
 

"We are all ready acquainted, Lady Penelope." Dudley said giving me one of his supercilious looks.
 
 

"Where's Holmes?"
 
 

"He's out of town."
 
 

"What? And he didn't take you, his 'trusted friend and biographer'?"
 
 

Dudley's last words came out in a decided sneer. Some years ago, Dudley's remark would have irritated me. After our last encounter -- beating him at his own game -- I was one up on him. I could answer his overbearing question without agitation.
 
 

"Holmes occasionally goes hunting on his own, Dudley. A and we all know what a great shot he is," I commented pointedly. "I expect him to be very successful in his endeavors."
 
 

Dudley blanched at my statement about Holmes' shooting prowess. I certainly had no intention of telling him that Holmes was doing the "hunting" on behalf of Her Majesty's Government, and Mycroft.
 
 

"I never knew Sherlock was such a spectacular shot, John, I always thought that was your area of expertise," Anne said in a bemused voice. She had caught onto my slight baiting of Dudley.
 
 

Intelligent woman, Anne. One of the many reasons I had always been so fond of Lady Anne. She was quite sharp and her obvious dislike of Dudley only added to her allure.
 
 

"Oh, well I am sorry Mr. Holmes cannot join us today," Lady Penelope said, totally oblivious of anything going on between Dudley and myself. "James, here was just going to escort me to see that wonderful medium I have told you about Anne."
 
 

"Yes, and I will be glad to accompany you, Anne, as well if you would like to see this master at work."
 
 

"I thank you, Mr. Dudley, but that is why Dr. Watson has come with me. He was most willing to be my companion on this trip this afternoon."
 
 

"Yes, as a matter of fact, Dudley, I will be glad to escort both the ladies this afternoon," I added hoping to get rid of him.
 
 

Dudley was not pleased by my suggestion that he not accompany us. "Oh, I wouldn't miss seeing my great friend Gretton perform a seance."
 
 

"Of course you must come, James," Lady Penelope entreated. "It was James here, who introduced me to Mr. Gretton."
 
 

"Yes, as a matter of fact, Anne, it was I who found him on the Continent a few months ago and persuaded him to come here and help those of us who have lost loved ones."
 
 

I could see that Anne was not happy to hear Dudley's declaration. The day was getting better and better.
 
 

We all agreed that I would accompany Anne in her carriage and Lady Penelope would travel with Dudley in his equipage. I was sure that Dudley had not been pleased that I was with Anne.
 
 

"You do not like Dudley much, do you?"
 
 

"No, John I don't." I was secretly pleased to hear her statement but still had to ask, "Why?"
 
 

"He pursued me many years ago when I was young and impressionable. Wanted to marry me, or so he said, until a better prospect came along."
 
 

"Someone with more money or higher socially?"
 
 

"Why, John, I always thought it was Sherlock who was the detective." Anne teased adding. "The poor girl died of influenza and conveniently left Dudley with the inheritance and social status."
 
 

I groaned unsympathetically..
 
 

"Here I thought he was a friend of yours?"
 
 

I laughed at her sally. "Not mine, nor Holmes."
 
 

"But he always talked as if he was great friend of "dear" Sherlock's."
 
 

"Hardly. He and Holmes were deadly rivals when we were at school together."
 
 

"I never knew you and Sherlock knew each other before your return from Afghanistan! I thought you two met as adults at least that is what you told your adoring public." At my obvious surprise, she smiled a radiant, clever smile. "You see, John, I do read all your stories."
 
 

"I am flattered. You must permit me some dramatic licence," May Holmes forgive me for that comment, "But Holmes and I met briefly for one semester in '69 and we became great friends even then. We lost contact after that and did not meet up again until '8l -- most grateful and glad to renew our friendship. But renewing our acquaintenceship with Dudley was the last thing either one of us wanted to do."
 
 

"Well, you can imagine why, John, I was not pleased when Dudley started sniffing around my sister-in-law within six months of my Brother's death. I don't think he is really interested her well being but.--"
 
 

"In what he may get from her?"
 
 

"Yes."
 
 

We arrived at the house of Conrad Gretton; an old manor built during the time of the Tudors. It was smaller then Lady Penelope's, but still retained many of the elements of Tudor architecture it's original builder had started.
 
 

There were two other carriages in the front of the house.
 
 

More pigeons to be plucked by this Gretton. I know reader you must wonder why I already assumed that Gretton was a fraud, since I had yet to see him or his seance, but since he had been recommended by none other then Dudley, you can understand my sceptisism.
 
 

We were escorted into the house by a butler and shown up to a room that was on the first floor of the house. We found Dudley already there with Lady Penelope. The other occupants of the room were an elderly lady of the aristocratic class, and her mousy companion. On the other side of the room was a small nervous man of the merchant class who appeared very uncomfortable, and a large woman who looked to be his wife.
 
 

Dudley immediately came over to us and possesively took Anne's arm to lead her over to her sister-in-law's side. I did not let his proprietary attitude annoy me, especially since I could tell that Anne was irritated by Dudley's presumption. He was flirting, with both women; with irritation to the former. The young widow, however, seemed genuinely taken by his dubious charms.

I joined the group and listened as Dudley monopolised the conversation.
 
 

I heard him inform Lady Anne that, "My dear friend Conrad had been traveling through Europe for some years helping other lost souls who needed to contact their loved ones."
 
 

It seemed to me that every person Dudley came in contact with was a "dear friend" whether they wanted to be or not. Holmes and myself, fortunately, excluded.
 
 

"You persuaded Mr. Gretton to come to our country?" Lady Penelope asked eagerly.
 
 

"Yes, dear Lady Penelope."
 
 

There it was the 'dear', again! The man was insufferable!
 
 

"And I have seen him perform miracles at these seances." Dudley addressed this comment to Anne. "Lady Penelope knows, she has seen it with her own eyes."
 
 

"It is very true, Anne." Lady Penelope concurred.
 
 

"John, you have been very silent, what do you think?" She accentuated the value of my opinion by placing her hand affectionately on my arm. Anne was obviously trying silence Dudley. It was the first time in my life I was grateful for Dudley's bungling.
 
 

"I think we need to wait and reserve judgment, Anne, until after we have seen Gretton during a session." I smiled reassuringly at her and patted her hand. "Then I will give you an opinion."
 
 

"Watson, I know you have only come here so you can discredit Gretton in the eyes of Lady Penelope and Lady Anne."
 
 

Dudley pointedly did not use his honored 'dear' when referring to me. Now we all knew where I stood.
 
 

"But you won't be able to do it," Dudley continued in his most obnoxious tone. "He really is a medium of great power and can communicate with the dead. You're no detective, Watson even if you think you are."
 
 

"We shall see, Dudley, but it has never been proven."
 
 

The butler appeared and announced that we were to follow him. He lead us down a long hallway until we reached a large door that had animal carvings all over it.
 
 

The butler knocked twice and opened the door. He theatrically gestured for all of us to enter and accepted our payments as we walked past him into the other room. The chamber he showed us to was spacious, with only a large round table in the centre. On the table were two large candelabra with all the candles alight. The windows were covered in black material to keep out any light.
 
 

We were all instructed by the butler to gather round the large table. I sat with Lady Penelope and Lady Anne on either side of me. Dudley was next to Lady Penelope and had the older aristocratic lady on his other side. Her companion and the married couple were placed next, leaving the large chair at the table empty. The butler signaled for us to wait and then left the room.
 
 

It was only a minute before Gretton entered the room. He was a tall man with iron grey hair. He was wearing a dark suit with his only adornment a red ruby ring on his ring finger.
 
 

"I welcome all of my guests," Gretton said in a quiet and surprisingly pleasant, slightly accented voice. "Please place your hands on the table and join them fingertip to fingertip."
 
 

He demonstrated by placing his hands on the table. We all did as instructed.
 
 

Gretton then closed his eyes and began to chant. He did this for about a minute and then intoned, "Oh great spirit of the other world I call on you to help me contact the souls of our dearly departed on the other side."
 
 

After he recited this the table beneath started to vibrate as if a giant hand were shaking it roughly. I heard Anne next to me gasp in surprise and Dudley excitedly whisper to her, "Is he not impressive?"
 
 

I was not surprised; it did not take much to impress Dudley. But for myself, I had seen Holmes, some years ago on one of our cases, use this same trick to fool a murderer we were pursuing.
 
 

The table stopped shaking and all of a sudden a low moan came out of Gretton and a different voice more melodious and higher seem to emanate from him.
 
 

"How can I help you, please tell me who you wish to contact?"
 
 

The little old lady immediately jumped in requesting to speak to a long dead cousin.
 
 

Gretton's voice changed and a frail voice quavered as if it really was the requested cousin. The voice carried on a conversation with the little old lady and then the first voice came back and said someone else needed to speak. Almost immediately, a little boy's voice emanated from his throat calling for Gertie.
 
 

"Look up there!"
 
 

We all looked up to where the small man pointed and saw a little flute drift by.
 
 

"Oh, it is Bobby, my little brother. I know it is. I recognise his voice and he used to play the flute!" the wife exclaimed. "I told you it would be worth it to come here, Clyde, didn't I."
 
 

"Yes, dear," The small man answered quickly.
 
 

"Wait," the melodious voice was back. "There is another here."
 
 

"Oh, I hope it is my Roger," Lady Penelope sighed anxiously.
 
 

"He is here," the voice announced.
 
 

As Gretton said this, a wail echoed through the chamber and a figure could be seen walking slowly towards the table. In the dark, it was hard to distinguish who it might be though, he was dressed as gentleman and had a beard and a mustache just as Roger Westphalen.
 
 

I could tell Lady Anne was a bit stunned by this turn of events, but Lady Penelope was ecstatic. She tried to rise and go to the apparition but it immediately disappeared when she did.
 
 

"What happened?" Lady Penelope asked. "Why did he leave?"
 
 

"Too soon, too soon," the melodious voice began to fade. "I cannot stay, I must travel back to my limbo..."
 
 

Gretton slowly came out of his trance and looked expectantly around at the faces before him. "Did it go well?"
 
 

"Very well, Conrad. The Ladies Anne and Penelope were very glad to see their loved one."
 
 

"When can I see him again?" Lady Penelope asked eagerly. "Today?"
 
 

The other participants of the seance had wandered off towards the area where the supposed manifestation was seen, but Anne, myself and Dudley, were listening to the conversation going on between Penelope and Gretton.
 
 

"I am sorry, Lady Penelope, I am just too tired today, but I will be glad to give you a special seance tomorrow."
 
 

I had been waiting for the invitation for a special seance. Here was where the fraud came into the equation. Gretton would suggest that a small seance would give them a chance to visit with their loved one longer and it would not due to anger the spirits so a fairly large sum of money would be suggested.
 
 

I had hardy finished this thought when Gretton advised Lady Penelope and Lady Anne what would be expected of them tomorrow. Dudley quickly offered to escort them to make sure I was not to be included since Gretton had suggested that he wanted only a small group at the second seance; the Ladies and Dudley. This arrangement actually suited me. I planned on being here tomorrow, but not where expected.
 
 

I left Baker Street about midnight, catching a hansom that had been waiting for me down the block. The driver, Dickens, had been used by Holmes and myself many times during late night forays. He was always willing to drop us off in any unusual location and pick us up later, no questions asked. Dickens had been a small time thief who had been accused of a crime and been helped by Holmes many years ago. Holmes had been instrumental in proving his innocence and then he had set him up with his own cab.
 
 

I had him drop me off a mile from Gretton's manor and requested that he meet me in the same spot at dawn.
 
 

It would have been better if I had let him drop me closer. After a run in with a neighbourhood dog, a cold dunking in a stream, and a clumsy maneuver which had me tripping over an unseen log, I finally reached the walls of the estate. I paced round the wall until I picked a spot that looked easy and clambered ungracefully over the wall. It seemed that it had been much easier doing this sort of activity when I was younger.
 
 

I slowly moved through the trees towards the house. The moon, which I had used to find my way and which had been shining bright until a few minutes ago, was slowly being covered by a dense fog that had started coming up obscuring the landscape. Could anything else go wrong tonight?
 
 

I slowly circled the house, trying to discern anything out of the ordinary to show how Gretton fooled his customers. I hoped, checking round the estate, I could figure out how Gretton was able to create the phenomena that had appeared during the seance. After about a half hour of fruitless wandering, I decided to stop and logically attack the puzzle.
 
 

I picked a spot near the house to think.
 
 

I sat on a large rock near some trees. Still shivering from my earlier mishap with the stream, I studied the house speculatively. I removed my pocket knife and made a drawing of the house in the mud, striving to grasp some elusive clue that I had not yet recognised. I heard some movement behind me. I turned quickly, using one of the trees as cover and looked out to see if I could discern what had caused the noise. Slowly, a dark figure emerged from the fog.
 
 

The form was tall and lanky, wearing a deerstalker and inverness cape, and smoking a pipe.
 
 

"For God's sake Holmes, you almost gave me a heart attack," I spluttered realising the figure wrapped in mist and mystery was, appropriately, my friend.
 
 

"Sorry Watson, I did not mean to spook you."
 
 

"Oh, a lovely choice of words on a night like this."
 
 

"Yes, I thought it was," Holmes grinned. "But then ghosts are probably what you are after out here, am I right?"
 
 

"You have been talking to Mrs. Hudson again I see."
 
 

"Well, you did not make your intentions a secret," Holmes chuckled amused. "You are most astute Watson, but Mrs. Hudson did not tell me about the ghosts. I find you skulking round the house of 'Gretton the Great,' it is only logical you are looking for ghosts."
 
 

"I am not skulking." I protested vehemently.
 
 

"Yes you are and very nicely, too."
 
 

I was, by this time, getting very exasperated by Holmes' attitude. It had not been the best of nights so far and he was obviously in one of his teasing moods.
 
 

"Are you here for a reason? Or did you just drop by to annoy me?"
 
 

"No, I dropped by to help you find the priest hole."
 
 

"What priest hole?"
 
 

"The one Gretton uses to trick his customers into believing they are seeing their loved ones." Holmes gestured to the house. "Part of this old pile was built during the Cromwell era, though most of it was rebuilt during the Tudor reign."
 
 

"How did you know that was what I was looking for?" Holmes started to form an answer and before he could say anything I forestalled him, not wanting another commentary. "Never mind."
 
 

"My, my, we are testy tonight. Did you skip dinner tonight to go on this ghost hunt."
 
 

"Holmes you are awfully jovial tonight. Let me guess -- your case for Mycroft was successful."
 
 

"Did you ever doubt it?"
 
 

"No!" I said through chattering teeth.
 
 

"Watson, you'll catch your death out here in those wet clothes. You obviously were unaware of the wide river that runs throughout this part of the countryside. Here take this."
 
 

Before I could protest, Holmes had taken off his Inverness cape and thrown it across my shoulders. He was very talkative tonight; it was always so after he had brought a case to a successful conclusion. Even if I had not been involved in a particular investigation, he always included me in the aftermath. He would tell me of the case and it's myriad aspects and how he came to his solution and usually insist I take notes. Normally I enjoyed that part of our friendship, but not here and not now.
 
 

"Holmes!"
 
 

"Quite right Watson, let me show you where the priest hole is and you can expose Gretton tomorrow at his afternoon seance. And also put our dear friend Dudley to shame, of course," Holmes said enthusiastically as he slapped me on the back. "Anne will be very proud of you."
 
 

"Yes, but I won't be the one who came up with the solution to this case will I?" I told my friend somewhat dejectedly. "And how did you know about Dudley? And Anne?"
 
 

"How do I know about anything, my dear friend?" Holmes teased, then looked sincere. "You already were on the right track Watson. You knew Gretton was a fraud. By the way, his real name is George Baker and he was born right here in England. He use to be a fairly talented ventriloquist. He worked with a man named Greene, who was a poor actor but a master with make-up."
 
 

"The butler."
 
 

"Excellent, Watson! Despite these soggy conditions, you scintillate tonight!"
 
 

I ignored the frivolity. "Do you think Dudley is aware that Gretton is not who he says he is?" I realised that after I asked the question I automatically let Holmes answer questions I should have found out for myself. "I should have dug deeper in my investigation."
 
 

"My dear Watson, I needed to help on this. This is a debt I needed to pay back to you."
 
 

"A pay back for what?"
 
 

"Do you not remember that it was you who really beat Dudley in that shooting match the last time we encountered him?"
 
 

"Yes."
 
 

"So now the situation is reversed. It is now my turn to give you a little help. By proving definitely that the spiritualist Dudley backed is a fraud. Agreed?"
 
 

Holmes looked at me, expectantly eager to continue this little chase only if I agreed. He was right; it had been our team work that had beaten Dudley the last time and it would be his undoing again. I smiled at him. "Agreed."
 
 

"That's the spirit, Watson! Follow me, I think I may have already found what we are looking for."
 
 

Holmes started off towards the house and I did as I always did and happily followed him.
 
 

I met up with Dickens at the appointed time. I could not understand why Holmes did not want to accompany me back to Baker Street. He insisted he had something else he needed to take care of, and didn't want me to be in the cold any longer then necessary. I returned home and went to bed, too tired to wait up for Holmes to return.
 
 

I awoke around noon and got dressed. There was no sign of Holmes. When I walked into the sitting room, I found Mrs. Hudson setting up a solitary breakfast.
 
 

"Good morning, Doctor."
 
 

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson. Is Holmes awake yet?"
 
 

Mrs. Hudson gave me a queer look and said, "Mr. Holmes? I thought he was still out of town, Doctor."
 
 

Mrs. Hudson left the room and I sat and ate breakfast in silence and perplexity. I had seen Holmes earlier this morning at Gretton's, so I knew he was back in town. But why had he refused to come back to Baker Street when I returned earlier today? Once again, Holmes had wrapped himself in mystery and obscurity. It was his way. Clearly my questions would have to be answered later tonight, because I had a very important appointment with a ghost at the moment.
 
 

I slowly worked myself down the tunnel of the priest hole Holmes had shown me the night before. The tunnel was not very long and slowly curved round to a short flight of stairs. I was certain Gretton's accomplice, Greene, would be waiting for his cue to appear as Roger Westphalen for the private audience that was waiting patiently outside.
 
 

I silently climbed the stairs and reached the top. Hearing the shuffling of feet, I paused and peeked round into the room. I spied Greene, dressed and prepared to make his entrance. The priest hole was not very large, but was crammed with a myriad of things. Included were costumes, make-up and even the flute we had all seen yesterday. This manor was a perfect set-up for Gretton and his accomplice.
 
 

Greene was checking through a small spy hole that was set in the wall so he could observe what was going on in the room beyond. This was my best chance to catch him off guard. I slowly withdrew my revolver from my coat pocket and quietly came up behind Greene, jabbing him in the back. I caught hold off his shoulder at the same time to keep him from trying anything.
 
 

"Please don't hurt me, sir."
 
 

"I have no intention of doing so as long as you cooperate."
 
 

"I will, sir, anything you want."
 
 

"All I want is for you to go out the door right now." I gestured for him to go through the door of the priest hole he had planned to use to trick Lady Penelope. He reluctantly pulled open the door and I could hear Gretton just getting into his chant. We walked out into the room, and to the startled faces of the occupants. I walked Greene closer to the table so everyone could see it was a live person in make-up.
 
 

"Watson!" Dudley stood up outraged. "What is the meaning of this."
 
 

"Oh come on Dudley, I think it is fairly obvious, don't you think?"
 
 

I could see that Lady Penelope was upset by this train of events and saw Anne lean over and whisper something to her. Gretton was looking almost as pale as his supposed ghosts and Dudley was just beginning to get the glimmerings that he had been duped along with all the people he had brought to this man. He directed a murderous glare at Gretton and at me. Not that I cared, but I suspected that Holmes and I were not done with Mr. James Dudley yet.
 
 

Anne got up and came over to where I still stood with Greene. "Thank you, John, I doubt Sherlock could have done as well," Anne said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. She then turned and looked the faux Roger up and down. "It is a very good likeness, is not Penelope?"
 
 

"Yes, it is, Anne." Pale, but brave, Lady Penelope stood and joined us. "Dr. Watson, could you call a constable for me? I would like to lodge a complaint against these two men."
 
 

"I would be most happy to, Lady Penelope."
 
 

Holmes was seated in his usual chair when Lady Anne and I walked into the sitting room. I was surprised to see another man seated across from him. Both rose as Lady Anne proceeded me through the door. The other man, I noted, seemed military in bearing, in his early fifties with iron grey hair and blue eyes. His face bespoke the look of a man who had spent many years at sea.
 
 

"Lady Anne it is good to see you," my friend greeted graciously.
 
 

"Sherlock, we missed you. But John was most helpful in correcting a little problem that arose."
 
 

"Holmes you are back, I see. For good this time, I hope?"
 
 

"Watson?" Holmes looked puzzled by my comment but proceeded with introductions. "Lady Anne, let me introduce you an acquaintance visiting from America, Captain Justin Bridger."
 
 

"It is a pleasure, Captain."
 
 

I noticed Anne was, unaccountably, quite taken with the American and, naturally, vice a versa.
 
 

"And this is my friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson."
 
 

"How do you do, Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes has spoken most highly of you. You are quite popular on my side of the Atlantic."
 
 

"Thank you, Captain."
 
 

"So tell me, what have you two been up too?"
 
 

I assumed Holmes' comment was for Anne's benefit. It had only been last night when he met me in the country.
 
 

"I probably should go," Bridger commented as he started for the door.
 
 

"I am sure you can explain it all to Sherlock yourself, John," Anne said as she arose from the chair I had seated her in and also headed for the door. "Captain Bridger, are you staying near by and can I give you a lift in my carriage?"
 
 

"That would be most appreciated, Lady Anne."
 
 

Anne turned to look at me and smiled. "Thank you again John, for all your help."
 
 

"Uh, yes, of course, Anne. Anytime I can be of service . . . I had hoped . . . ." I stuttered as she started out the door with Captain Bridger.
 
 

Both of them talking animatedly with each other as if they were old friends. I heard the Captain mention a son by the name of Lucas as their conversation was cut off by the closing of our door. I turned to look at Holmes to see his reaction to all this. H possessed the most maddeningly, self satisfied grin on his face at the events of the past few minutes.
 
 

"You seem awfully happy with the results of that introduction, Holmes," was my suspicious observation.
 
 

"Oh, I think Anne's been alone long enough don't you? Captain Bridger's a widower. I think they may suit."
 
 

I was speechless for a moment. Holmes, at times, could say or do something so out of the realm of his usual patterns that he would catch me totally off guard.
 
 

"Matchmaking, Holmes?" was my irritated comment. Why was he never so accommodating for me?
 
 

"Oh, no is that what you think?"
 
 

Before I could answer Holmes changed the subject. "So, Watson tell me what you have been up to with Lady Anne for the past few days."
 
 

I regaled him with the story even though I knew he was already aware of the facts. When I had finished he looked at me strangely for a few minutes and it was most unnerving. "What?"
 
 

"I am glad to see you got the best of Dudley again, but what makes you think I was anywhere near that house last night, Watson?"
 
 

"Holmes do not mock me about this."
 
 

"Watson, I am not sure how too take this. First you tease me about being a matchmaker and now it is a ghost," Holmes casually remarked as I watched him light his pipe at the mantle.
 
 

"Holmes!"
 
 

"Perhaps you imagined me."
 
 

"Imagined you? I beg your pardon."
 
 

"Yes, you needed my help. You imagined me cloaked in the mist and I was there telling you what you need to know. It was a foggy night people can envision spectres that are not really there."
 
 

"Oh twaddle Holmes, you were there and you know you were there and I'll prove it to you."
 
 

"How?"
 
 

"Your brown inverness cape. You took it with you on your trip. But last night you lent it to me for warmth. I brought it back with me and left on the hatstand in my room."
 
 

Before I could start out of the room to prove my theory, Holmes pointed over to the coat rack near the door. There was the brown inverness cape hanging right next to the deerstalker.
 
 

"Yes, Watson you were saying?" Holmes' face was his most inscrutable.
 
 

"Nothing, Holmes." I knew Holmes was with me last night, but there seemed no way to prove it. Obviously he was playing some new game with me and I was expected to either go along or find the solution to the problem. I watched as he left the sitting room and headed into his bedroom. I got out of my chair and headed over to the hatstand.
 
 

I suddenly realised how I could prove my theory that Holmes was with me last night. I quickly went through the pockets of the Inverness and came across the object I sought, right where I had left it last night.
 
 

It gleamed in the firelight. My small pocketknife. I had used it briefly last night and then had stuck it the most convenient place, one of the voluminous pockets of the inverness coat. This proved that Holmes had been there. Sloppy of him to miss this when he moved his coat.
 
 

But Sherlock Holmes was never sloppy and never missed anything. So he had wanted me to find it. A challenge, how wonderful. The game was afoot.