I sat down heavily in one of the Sheriff's chairs, wincing as the action jarred my ribs.
Holmes emerged some five minutes later. "Pat Crowe."
The Sheriff gave a start. "He gave you a name? Who is that?"
"Crowe is the one who masterminded this scheme," Holmes replied. "Unfortunately, that is unlikely to be the name by which we know him, if it is his name at all."
Pat Crowe, I thought. P.T.C.
Sheriff Sweet sighed. "So it is not all that helpful, I suppose. All the same, I'll telegraph Des Moines and see if they have any records on such a fellow."
Holmes gave a nod. "Thank you, Sheriff."
He turned and departed. I bid the Sheriff good day and followed behind him.
"What shall be our next move?" I asked. I was struggling to keep up with Holmes, whose long stride and swift pace threatened to leave me far behind.
Holmes slowed a little and shook his head. "I feared you would ask me that question."
"Why?" I asked. "If there is any danger, I shall not leave your side. Is there something Wright told you? Or something about this Pat Crowe fellow?"
"Do not speak so loudly," Holmes snapped. "There is no immediate danger," he added softly. "But I fear I must take action against which you may have reason to protest."
"And what might that be?" I asked.
Holmes slowed to a stop beneath a large tree separating two houses. "Do you recall the way in which young Brogden was concealing something in his pocket?"
"Yes," I replied. "I did not notice it myself, but I do recall your description and explanation."
"I believe he is attempting to finish the job he began: cutting some of the Blomberg jewels that Hieman did not take from them."
I nodded. "Little chance of Mrs. Blomberg regaining that jewellery, I suppose."
Holmes closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. "Watson, as ever, you miss the point. If enough jewels are prepared for sale with no sign of those Hieman took, Crowe will give up on them and take to his heels, bringing Wright with him."
"But Wright is locked in jail," I protested.
Holmes shook his head. "The Sac County Jail does not have the security necessary to keep a skilled burglar like Crowe from freeing Wright. Time is short. We need the identity of P.T.C. before it is too late. I know of only one way to learn it."
"From Bill Brogden?"
"More or less," Holmes replied. "If I take the jewels from Brogden, Crowe cannot use them to fund his escape. But Crowe must not know I am so near on his trail. I intend to break into the Brogden's shop tonight."
My jaw dropped. "You cannot be serious, Holmes."
He stared grimly ahead. "I see no viable alternative. Wright knows too much of our movements already and I cannot risk any more information reaching him."
"How on earth does he know so much?" I asked.
"There must be a traitor close-by," said Holmes. "Someone we do not suspect. Whether he is Crowe or merely informing him, I cannot say."
I nodded solemnly.
"There is one alternative theory that I do not like, but must consider," said Holmes after a long moment of silence.
I raised an eyebrow.
"That you have not been careful enough with information on this case."
I nearly dropped my doctor's bag. "Of course not! I have been as professional about this case as every other case with which I have assisted you."
"What of the postal office woman?" said Holmes.
"You sent me to her, I did not even want to—"
"No, none of that now; what did you tell her yesterday?"
"The broad overview of how we figured out where Wright was and arrested him. I gave no names but our own, the Sheriff, Reagan, and Wright, of course, and said nothing of the letters or any of that. When asked about the initials 'B.B.," I told her it was a lead we were following, nothing about how we found it."
"And our clients? And others to whom you have spoken?"
"I only speak of the case when absolutely necessary," I replied. I tried to keep my tone even, though I could feel frustration and anger bubbling to the surface. "I assure you, Holmes, I have acted with the utmost professionalism."
Holmes said nothing, his lips compressed in a thin, white line, and began walking again.
"Do you not trust me?" I asked.
"Watson, be reasonable," he said. His tone had returned to that infuriating superiority he had used back at the jail.
"You be reasonable!" I replied with some heat. A woman exiting her house across the street froze, staring at us. I lowered my voice. "We have worked together many times over the past five years. I should think you would know me well enough by now to know I am not a careless man. As a doctor, I cannot afford to be, and I treat your cases with the same level of care and professionalism as I do my own."
Holmes' expression did not soften.
I waited for a response, but he offered none. We walked in silence to the train station. Holmes and I would often fall into thoughtful or companionable silences, but this one was different. There was a coldness to it which rivalled the worst of the weather we had seen in Iowa.
"Holmes, please think of a more reasonable course of action," I said in a low voice as we reached the station.
He shook his head. "We tried reasonable, and it has failed us. I would not be surprised if we wake up tomorrow morning or the next and our quarries are halfway to Chicago. No, we must go after B.B. and we will do it tonight."
"We?" I shook my head. "I cannot agree to this. The ends do not justify the means. You know that."
"What, then, would you suggest?" he snapped.
"Something sane. And preferably legal," I replied. "I do not see how this solves your problem, even if it works."
"Then I shall do it alone," Holmes replied, pulling out his pocket-book. He handed me a dollar. "I'll see you in Wall Lake."
I glanced at my watch. "The sun will not set for three and a half hours. Might I remain and be of some little use yet this afternoon?"
My friend looked me directly in the eyes. "I neither require nor desire your company."
I snatched the dollar from his hand. "Fine. As you seem to have no interest in listening to reason, I imagine I shall have better luck retaining my sanity if I remain as far from you as possible."
Holmes said nothing but fixed me with a stern glare.
I turned on my heel and stalked to the ticket window. I did not look back.