I am sending this post to address the queries that some of you have made which in the impending difficulties I had not discussed properly, so let me be clear.
First of all, some of you seem to believe that my client was called Arthur Moore, but he was not. He was a Dutchman, not an Englishman, and he spoke in a capable accent. I addressed him as Mr. Stein, although I recall his first name to be Elias. I met him only once, as he directed me to meet him in the Cheshire Pub. The lighting was poor and his features were obscured with his dark clothing, bowler hat, tinted spectacles and a great orange beard. He did not go into many details about himself, and I must confess at the time I didn’t care to discover them; I was desperate enough to trust this man and come upon a case of some intrigue. More than that upon meeting me he was clearly frightened despite a demeanor which struck me as usually calm and collected, so I trusted he was in some duress.
In retrospect perhaps I should have been more suspicious; I recognized that his suit was bought perhaps the day before and that his hands were gloved. But my capacity of suspicion has been terribly harmed in the week or so of forced habituation with your future society. The only further detail I noticed was his occasion to wipe his lips with a napkin from the Cafe Nero. Had I been wise I would have asked my roommate James whether he recognized the man; yet what more could I have done? Accuse the man before his face and cause him to run off? Again, I only succeeded in meeting him once; he told me that he was properly busy and was going to fly to America in the next couple days on more official business, that this case was only to avenge a friend and colleague.
Yet it is one thing to say that this man is suspicious and another to accuse him of being the infamous Professor Moriarty! I do not know by what method I have come into your world, but to believe that such a method would pick up Moriarty as well indiscriminately? And that he should have collected himself well enough to commit such a plot the likes of which you have described… I find it rather unbelievable myself! I have sat around wondering – wishing even – to find a face that I recognize, but believing so has led me only to be disappointed. My brother Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, my friend Dr. Watson – I found satisfaction only in admitting to myself that they are back where I came from and that I must commit my energy to returning where I belong!
And let me further the point; even IF I was eager after your queries to follow up on this Mr. Stein, even if I was convinced of the possibility that Mr. Stein was Professor Moriarty in disguise and to believe that it was worth a follow-up, such a concern would be for naught. The man has left for America, and I am stuck in London. I am wanted by the police, and I have neither the legal nor the financial means to follow up on such an investigation. It is a dead end, and I must move forward, and the only way forward is with this man Poirot, who seems as keen to evade me as I am to find him. His efforts to evade me however have only emboldened to find out more about him!
So unless you happen to know some sort of benefactor, some powerful figure who can transcend the rules and has the capacity to deliver me across country borders in the interest of discovering more about who this Mr. Stein is, I have only one path forward, and that path is Poirot!
With great annoyance,