A Study in Sherlock

“You see, Scottish law isn’t quite the same as English law. In addition to the usual verdict of guilty or not guilty, there is a third possibility: not proven. It is sometimes a limbo, where one is neither exonerated nor convicted. There have been a few famous cases where this verdict became a millstone around the neck of the accused.”

“As a solicitor, I’m aware of this difference,” Whitman said dryly.

Conan Doyle glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, how stupid of me.” He went back to his study of the street.

“A man was accused of murder. He was, in fact, a colleague of mine, although he was five years older and already in private practice. It was said that William—I shan’t give you his surname, unless you must have it—that William had become enamored of one of his patients. That much is quite true. According to later accounts she refused his advances, reminding him that she was in fact a happily married woman. Still, he was clearly obsessed with her, and in the end, he convinced himself—so it was claimed—that his chances would be improved if she found herself a widow. And so he set about devising the means by which to accomplish this.”

“He intended to murder her husband?” Whitman asked, shocked.

“Sadly, the police insist that he did just that. I should like to think that I’m a good enough judge of character to believe otherwise. The William I thought I knew could have wished with all his heart that this woman was free, but that’s vastly different from deciding to act on such a wish.”

Whitman could hear the ambivalence in Conan Doyle’s voice. As if duty compelled him to profess faith in a friend, but later events made him begin to doubt his own judgment.

“What means would he have employed? If he had decided to act?”

“In the medical profession there are a number of drugs that can be used for the good of a patient—but in the hands of an unscrupulous person, they can also be used to kill. All that is required, then, is an opportunity to employ one of these drugs. And in due course, the victim—the husband—was dispatched. Or simply died, depending on whether you believe William or the case against him. Oddly enough, the grieving widow found William a pillar of strength during the year that followed, and increasingly leaned on him during the long months of probate. This of course gave William hope, and he even began to think about proposing marriage as soon as a decent period of mourning ended. When he did declare himself, the lovely widow asked for twenty-four hours in which to consider her answer. The next morning, instead of learning his fate, he was taken up by the police on a charge of murder.”

“Upon what evidence?” Whitman asked. “After a year’s time?”

“The widow had been reminded that William had made advances while her husband was still alive.”

“Reminded by whom? Do you know?”

“By her maid,” Conan Doyle said. “She was in fact one of the witnesses against William.”

“And who reminded her maid?” Whitman asked, curious.

“I don’t believe anyone did. It appeared that she’d never cared for William and persuaded her mistress that he’d not behaved properly while the victim was still alive. William denied that he had done any such thing or had spoken out of turn while the lady was still married. At any rate, the case came to trial. But the jury wasn’t satisfied that the police had discovered the method of killing the husband. Suspicion was one thing. However, the postmortem had shown no particular cause of death—a healthy man of thirty-seven seldom drops dead without some underlying condition, but there was nothing. And you must know there is no universal test for poison. Those that the coroner did make, given the unusual circumstances, were negative, and at the time of death, no suspicion fell on William or anyone else. Still, with the widow’s finger now pointing at him, the police were willing to reconsider the matter.”

“I can see why this case interested you.”

“Indeed. William’s counsel argued that William had not gained in any way from the man’s death, that his proposal was the result of propinquity, not premeditation. The eventual verdict was not proven, and William was set free. Meanwhile, the widow finally made her choice, and it wasn’t William. Even more painful was the fact that she chose a friend of his. Still, the damage to his reputation had been done, and William never practiced medicine again.”

“But of course, Holmes didn’t leave it there.”