The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 34: The Tavern

Had I really done so remarkably badly on this case? The question plagued me on the train ride back to Wall Lake that afternoon. Holmes had been unreasonable, of that I was certain, but to what extent was he right? And if I had been more patient, would he have allowed me to stay by his side?

I did my best to put it out of my mind, but I was in a dark mood indeed when the train pulled into the station, and was surprised to see the clouds had turned even darker and it had begun once more to snow in earnest. I hoped Holmes would not be snowed in at Sac City, but part of me thought it would serve him right. I sighed heavily and began slogging through the old and new snow toward the inn. Once there, I stoked the fire and paced restlessly for a time, feeling as though I should do something but lacking the focus to do it. Dinnertime came and went, and I began to feel as though I would go mad if I did not leave my little room. I pulled on my overcoat and decided to take a walk, despite the darkness and foul weather. I had barely walked ten steps when a male voice called out to me from the other side of the street.

"Doctor Watson!"

I turned and squinted. "Lawler?" I called back, for his wiry figure and unique voice made me suspect it was the eccentric inventor.

"It's me all right," he said, trotting across the street. "But what brings you out in this weather?"

I shrugged.

"Holmes send you out in this?" he asked.

"No, I sent myself out in it," I said with a rueful smile.

Lawler raised an eyebrow. "Anywhere in particular you're headed?"

I shook my head.

"How about the tavern?"

"Sounds as good as anywhere," I replied.

He clapped me on the back. "First pint's on me!"

I laughed. "Well, I don't intend to go past one, but that's very kind of you."

"Nonsense," Lawler waved me off as we turned our feet in the direction of the public house. "You look like you need it."

Though I did not say so, I rather thought I did. As Holmes would so often point out to me, I am not good at keeping my emotions from showing in my face.

"Watson," said Lawler, breaking me out of my reverie. "What's Holmes up to this evening?"

I shook my head. "I am afraid I'm not at liberty to say." I did not attempt to keep the dejection from my tone.

"That bad, eh?" said Lawler.

I shrugged.

"Then I'm buying your first two."

The public house—or tavern, as the locals called it—was a squat wooden building which went by the colourful name of The Cornhusk Saloon. By the time we reached the place, I was too chilled to do more than put one foot in front of the other. The warmth and noise of the tavern was a welcome relief from the chill and howling wind outside, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind us. The air was heavy with the smells of whiskey, beer, and sweat, and a haze of cigarette smoke seemed to dim and diffuse the light of the gas lamps placed periodically on the walls. The head of a taxidermy deer adorned the wall over the bar at the front, where a bald man stood cleaning a glass. Lawler led me to a stool in front of him.

"Evening, Wilcox. Two pints of beer on me," Lawler said to the barman.

"Cash on the barrelhead," said Wilcox, wagging a finger. "No charity off me tonight."