Sherlock caught him before he could stumble and fall. ‘Ah, young Seaman Holmes, isn’t it?’ The voice was as dry and whispery as Sherlock remembered. Arrhenius’s gaze scanned Sherlock up and down. ‘You are better-dressed than I recall from the ship. I am, I confess, surprised to see you here. I believed this to be a soirée for businessmen and those of the officer class. I did not realize that . . . mere crew members were invited.’ Sherlock took a deep breath. ‘Mr Arrhenius,’ he acknowledged. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’ He indicated Cameron. ‘I have been invited to stay with Mr and Mrs Mackenzie while the Gloria Scott is docked. This is Cameron – their son.’ Arrhenius’s gaze switched across to Cameron, and Sherlock could sense the boy shrinking back. ‘It’s all right,’ he said quietly. ‘Mr Arrhenius suffers from a . . . a skin condition. It’s not serious, and it’s not catching.’ Now that he knew Mr Arrhenius was present at the dinner, Sherlock could see that the other guests were casting the occasional glance at the man with the blue skin.
