14. Chapter Fourteen: Prismatic Light Effects

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But Holmes didn’t have time to squeeze any information from Billy’s mind. After breakfast, he was the first to receive news from Wiggins.

He had found the residence of Number Two Gaskell.

Though he kept calling him Number Two Gaskell, his real name was Henry Gaskell. Billy made sure to remember this name carefully—he was afraid of addressing him as “Mr. Number Two” when they met.

Surprisingly, Henry’s residence wasn’t far from them; it was also near Hyde Park, on Brook Street to the west of the park.

Watson did not accompany them. He said he still had matters to attend to with Miss Moston—after all, he had just proposed and needed to prepare for the wedding, at least to notify both families.

So this time, only Holmes and Billy went, and conveniently, a single hired carriage could take them there.

Standing outside Henry’s house, Billy couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

The person inside might very well be the murderer of young Gaskell—how could Billy not feel tense?

What if the man attacked them? Billy thought anxiously, his nerves tightening.

Just then, Holmes placed a hand gently on Billy’s shoulder and patted him lightly. “Relax, Billy. I’m here. I’m a detective, after all.”

Billy turned to look at Holmes, seeing his confident face, especially those beautiful eyes that, under the sunlight, resembled opals—steadily fixed on him. Gradually, Billy’s anxiety began to ease.

He nodded.

“Use what you know to analyze whether Henry is truly the murderer. I’ll be testing you afterward,” Holmes said as they reached the door and knocked.

Billy barely had time to grow more nervous when footsteps approached.

When the door opened, Billy was still wondering how he should observe Henry to fulfill Holmes’s task.

Indeed, diverting attention was the fastest way to relieve tension.

“Master Richard missing? We’ve never heard of that. So you are Detective Holmes! I’ll inform our master immediately.” The servant who opened the door quickly walked back and soon returned to usher them inside.

Billy finally saw Henry Gaskell. He had only seen their father’s photo in Holmes’s index book before. Henry bore about a fifty percent resemblance to Baron Gaskell in the photo, except he was balding early.

Henry was not yet thirty, which made Billy want to touch his own hairline to check. But then he reminded himself he was only eighteen and certainly not balding, especially after looking in the mirror that morning.

He resolved not to stay up late too often, or he might end up balding like Henry.

Henry showed no warmth toward their sudden visit, his tone clearly displeased. “What does Richard’s disappearance have to do with me? He’s still in contact with that little girlfriend of his. Maybe they eloped.”

Henry’s knowledge of Richard and Miss Bailey’s connection only deepened the suspicion in Billy’s mind.

Holmes twirled his cane and smiled. “It’s no longer just a disappearance. I confirmed his death yesterday afternoon. About five days ago, he was thrown into the Thames. This is clearly murder.”

Billy saw Henry’s face twitch unnaturally, but this alone proved nothing—it could have been shock at the sudden news.

Henry’s emotions were clearly well concealed.

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“What does that have to do with me? You should be investigating who might have killed him. Maybe it was because he fell out of love, and that little girlfriend killed him in anger.”

“He was placed inside a huge suitcase. That morning, someone named Peter Pov was seen carrying the suitcase toward the Thames on Charing Cross Street,” Holmes continued.

Billy noticed Henry’s unnatural clenched fists.

“Then go find this Pov,” Henry snapped.

“That’s obviously a fake name; he was disguised. This man came to kill Richard Gaskell. He posted job ads in the Daily Telegraph to lure young Gaskell and murder him. But how did he know Gaskell was job hunting? He must have learned about Gaskell’s plan to elope with Miss Bailey, and that his parents cut off his funding, forcing him to seek money.”

“You’re accusing me!” Henry slammed the table, rising angrily. “You have no evidence, just wild guesses, and dare to show up here? Even a famous detective can’t slander without cause!”

“All your siblings are suspects. Since you are the only one in London, we came to see you first.” Holmes’s tone was calm, revealing nothing of his true thoughts.

Henry took several deep breaths, eyeing Holmes suspiciously. Just as he was about to sit down again, he suddenly seemed to remember something and stood back up. “Sorry, I just recalled an unanswered letter. Please wait a moment.”

Billy watched Henry leave hastily and exchanged a glance with Holmes.

He quietly asked, “Is he trying to run away?”

“I don’t see that inclination, but we must stay cautious.” Holmes’s eyes flickered as he listened intently to distant sounds.

Billy strained his ears but heard nothing—his hearing was not as sharp as Holmes’s, likely due to Holmes’s professional training.

Sure enough, Henry did not stay long and soon returned with a letter in hand.

He handed it to a servant to send away. At that moment, another servant brought fresh hot tea.

It was classic British black tea, with sugar on the side for guests to add as they wished.

Billy sensed something off, especially from Henry’s strange, sharp gaze directed at them.

There was a hint of menace in his eyes.

Billy watched Holmes lift the cup but not add sugar. Yet Holmes didn’t bring it to his lips; instead, he stared intently at the tea.

Billy keenly noticed Henry’s breath seemed to halt—what was making him so nervous?

Suddenly, Billy recalled a skill he had gained when his "golden finger" leveled up—something called Saline Solution Transmutation, which could convert any liquid into saline solution.

Could this tea be transmuted into saline?

No way would anyone drink suspicious tea. Billy silently invoked the skill, imagining turning Holmes’s cup of tea into saline. He wasn’t sure if this was how the skill activated.

Then, in the next second, Billy’s eyes widened.

Holmes’s steaming cup suddenly emitted a dazzling, multicolored glow.

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Yes, a rainbow glow appeared, as if a rainbow had suddenly formed above it—like a cheap special effect upgrade!

The glow lasted only one second, but to Billy, it felt like an eternity, making cold sweat break out over his forehead and back.

Why did his fishing skill have no flashy effects, only the ability to catch odd things, while this seemingly trivial Saline Solution Transmutation had a brilliant, colorful aura?

Out of the corner of his eye, Billy clearly saw Henry’s shocked, wide eyes and his incredulous expression.

Holmes merely chuckled, then suddenly sprang up and lunged at Henry.

Billy was baffled.

Despite his confusion, he quickly followed Holmes’s move.

Still, he was a beat slow—by the time he reached Henry, Holmes had already pinned him to the ground. The surrounding servants gasped in alarm but dared not intervene, intimidated by Holmes’s ferocity.

“Impatient, aren’t you? Poisoning our tea,” Holmes said casually as he effortlessly subdued Henry.

“What are you talking about? Let me go! This is slander!” Henry struggled violently, but Billy could clearly see sweat on his forehead.

“Will you dare drink that tea?” Holmes said, and Billy promptly held his own cup of tea before Henry’s face.

Henry recoiled in terror, proving there was poison in the tea.

“I didn’t expect the case to be so simple. You, the murderer, just confessed yourself,” Holmes said regretfully. “You killed young Gaskell for the baron’s will?”

“Because he was the youngest and the favorite! I got into London University too, but I had to rent a room while he got a house! And he inherited the most from the will!” Henry raged.

A cliché tale of resentment over parental favoritism leading to murder. Even with parental bias, murder is extreme—usually, it just causes estrangement.

Clearly, Henry was deeply unbalanced.

“Boring, boring. Billy, there should be a telephone here. Call Scotland Yard and have Lestrade come arrest him,” Holmes instructed.

The servants now understood the situation and did not obstruct Billy; some even guided him to the telephone.

Soon after the call, Lestrade arrived with police. Seeing Henry caught by Holmes, he sighed, “Our medical examiner hasn’t identified the poison in young Gaskell yet, but you’ve already caught the culprit.”

“This is the final piece of the puzzle, and the only interesting part left in this case,” Holmes said briskly as he headed toward Henry’s bedroom. “Let’s see if it’s foxglove, lily of the valley, or oleander.”

Angry Henry tried to speak, but Billy quickly covered his mouth, signaling the police to take over, then swiftly followed Holmes’s lead.