The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 37: A Favour Returned

Holmes shivered again, and I looked around the miserable little cell with its rough stone walls, tiny cot, and chamber pot in the corner. I unbuttoned my overcoat.

"What the deuce are you doing?" asked Holmes

"This place probably gets frigid at night, and I shall have enough to keep me busy without dealing with an ill Sherlock Holmes. Besides, I have another overcoat at the inn."

"It is far lighter than this one, is it not?" he asked. "I would rather you not catch cold yourself."

"It's warm enough," I replied and handed my coat through the bars. "Here. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

Holmes sighed, took the coat, and cracked a rueful smile. "Oh, Watson," said he. "You may not have all the qualities of a detective, but as a friend, I must confess your merits are unparalleled."

If any words I might have said had not fled my mind, they would have stuck in my throat.

"Take care," I said at length. "I shall return as soon as I have the money."

"Very well," replied Holmes.

I thanked Sheriff Sweet and so-called Marshall Pat Crowe for their courtesy and took my leave.

I walked briskly to the station, for the next train to Wall Lake would depart in ten or fifteen minutes. I began a mental list of people from whom I might ask to borrow. There was Lawler, the Kelly's (though they appeared to have little enough to spare), Fr. Albright, and I could ask that the Blombergs reimburse Holmes and my travel and living expenses thus far. Anderson and the Hieman family might have a few dollars to spare, if I could assure them that Holmes would be able to prove Hugh's total innocence and his murder and return the money within a week or two. I wondered, though, how well-respected Holmes would be after this. For those who were at all suspicious of him, this was proof that he was no good. Others might doubt now as well. I could not help but think that must have been Crowe's intention, or at least part of it.

I reached the station and purchased a ticket. The train had pulled into the station moments before, and I climbed on board. Upon whom could I count to be willing to help Holmes? We had not yet helped the Blombergs much tangibly and only Anderson and the Hieman family partially (we had one of the killers behind bars, but not his conspirator). The train chugged out of the station and began to gather speed as I stared glumly out of the window. Who on earth had we managed to assist so far on this case?

The answer struck me like a wagon load of bricks: we had helped Miss Hallstrom.

I leaped from my seat and yanked on the nearest emergency stop rope. The train screeched to a halt and a porter dashed into the car.

"Sir, what on earth are you doing?" he blustered.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, but I need off this train," I replied, pushing past him and heading for the door.

"But sir—"

"A man's life hangs in the balance," I replied. Well, at the very least a man's livelihood did, so it was not exactly a fabrication. "Do not wait for me."

The porter stuttered something I did not quite catch, but I was already shoving the door open and dropping into the edge of a snowy field. I marched back toward Sac City as quickly as I could without filling my boots with snow.

It was far too cold to be out without an overcoat, but if things went well with Miss Hallstrom, I would be returning to Wall Lake with Holmes within an hour or two. I walked swiftly back to the station and from there to the Hallstrom home.