“No!” exclaimed Holmes, rising from his chair. “That is quite impossible!”

Everyone watched as the tall figure rapidly crossed the room. Holmes spoke earnestly, directly to Violet. “Believe me. You are not the Professor’s daughter, although he has indeed had an unfortunate association with your family. I have investigated Moriarty thoroughly and your mother is quite correct about his reputation. After my conversation with Sir James a few nights ago, however, I took the liberty of making some inquiries about your family. I cannot reveal my source of information, but I assure you that he is highly placed in Her Majesty’s service.

“Your father, a gentleman of impeccable reputation, has been an undercover operative for the past twenty years. He has gone by several names to protect not only himself but also you and your mother. He has thwarted some of the world’s most dangerous scoundrels, including Moriarty, the worst of them all. Your father has been our man in Sumatra, living aboard the Matilda Briggs. He was spirited safely out as the net closed around the Baron’s villains in the recent scandal. I am pleased to tell you that your father is safe and sound and will be returning home within the next few months. Your mother is at this very moment hearing the news at Whitehall.”

“Oh, Mr. Holmes!” exclaimed Violet, tears shining in her eyes.

Holmes smiled and continued, “In the meantime, I have a package for you. For the past month, we have been trying to understand the significance of this mysterious parcel from the Matilda Briggs, and it is now obvious that it was meant to come from your father to you.” Holmes brought the box out from behind his chair and placed it on her lap.

Violet opened the lid and drew out a shining auburn coil with a cry. “It’s hair! And my very own color!”

“I thought as much — that is why I brought it along. Your father ob­viously had your interests at heart. It’s a giant rat from Sumatra, of the finest quality.”

I smiled at Violet and said reassuringly, “I doubt that it will be needed for very long, however. I suspect that this bout of alopecia will turn out to be a self-limited problem.”

AFTERWORD

Several days later at my Harley Street office, I prepared for my weekly hair loss clinic. The patients are difficult but, for the most part, I enjoy the challenge — and a success like Violet makes all the work worthwhile. Only a few patients have been disagreeable, and I have gradually managed to discharge them from my practice. One especially stands out in memory — she had not only been contemptuous of my advice, but had threatened me with a public notice of her dissatisfaction in the agony column. I shuddered, recalling the tall, thin, angry woman with the thinning pate that was clearly an inherited pattern... I could almost hear her strident carping when I thought of her. At that moment, I looked up from my desk to see my distraught nurse attempting to stop the determined advance of an irate patient who was forcing her way past my examination rooms, heading directly for my consulting suite.

Could it be...? Yes, there was her too-familiar name on the afternoon schedule. With new-found insight, I rose slowly to my feet for another confrontation with the infuriating Miss Moriarty.

© 2001, The Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes

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