Sherlock Holmes and the Queen of Diamonds (4 page)

Watson and the inspector peered closer and saw that Holmes was right. Holmes, meanwhile, needing no mere mortal confirmation of his brilliance, turned back to the riverbank. ‘The heavier of the two fellows stayed here,’ he 
continued, ‘with the boat, while the smaller one went to the house alone. He climbed the drainpipe and—’

‘Just a moment, Mr Holmes,’ Rosier said. ‘Are you telling me in all seriousness that a smallish man with a bad leg shinned up that drainpipe, slick as it was from last night’s fog?’

‘It is beyond dispute, Inspector. Unless I am very badly mistaken – which I assure you I am not – the sample of
high-grain
leather I took from the pipe will match that found in any soft ballet shoe. May I continue?’

‘Please do.’

‘Having climbed the drainpipe, the thief took hold of the guttering visible there just below the base of the slate
overhang
and, using the grooves or recesses between the cement blocks as toeholds, made his way along to Lady Bingham’s window. There he crouched on the sill and used a penknife – certainly nothing with a wider blade – to force the catch. If you take a closer look at the brass fastener on the second window you will find a series of hairline scratches made by the cutting edge of the knife as it was slipped between the top and bottom halves of the window. Once in the room he stole the item he was after; then, using the knife to reset the latch, left the same way.’

Watson and Rosier were studying the house. ‘I don’t mean to call your judgement into question, Mr Holmes,’ said the inspector, ‘but … well, it would be a rare or hopelessly greedy cove who’d attempt something as dangerous as that.’

‘I am inclined more towards the former than the latter,’ said Holmes, slipping on his jacket. ‘At any rate, that is how it was done. Examine the drainpipe carefully and you will find several superficial scratches approximately five feet 
from the base. These, I believe, were made by the buckles of leather gloves used specifically for the purpose of gripping. Once my examination of the high-grain leather is complete, I expect to find it a close if not identical match to that used in the manufacture of ballet shoes. Finally, if you examine the lip of the aforementioned guttering, you will find evidence of magnesium carbonate – simple climbing chalk – used to keep our thief’s palms dry during both ascent and descent. It has a peculiar smell reminiscent of cloves. It may be that cloves have been added to the mixture because of the calming properties they are said to possess.’

He was silent a moment. Then he repeated, almost to himself: ‘A limp! This really has been a most constructive morning’s work.’

‘But does it help us catch our man?’

‘Frankly, Inspector, “our man”, as you put it, is largely unimportant. He does not steal for himself. He steals to order. And that makes him but a mere link in the chain.’ He pinned the tall inspector with an earnest look. ‘Please tell her ladyship that we have made great progress here today, and that I will not rest until she and her sentimental
necklace
are reunited. Come, Watson, we have work to do. I cannot
believe
I have been so blind, nor wasted so much time because of that blindness!’

He was gone almost before either of them realized it.

Holmes seemed energized by his efforts and Watson had a struggle to keep up with him as he hurried back round the house to their waiting cab. ‘Where to now, then, Holmes?’ he asked.

Holmes’s glance implied that the answer should have 
been obvious. ‘Tavistock Street, of course, and the offices of
The Era
, my fear fellow.’

Watson frowned. ‘That theatrical rag?’

‘The actor’s
bible
,’ Holmes corrected.

‘And what do you expect to find there?’

‘Our thief, naturally.’

‘I’m sorry, Holmes, but I’m afraid I still don’t follow.’

‘Then allow me to explain. So far we have had four robberies. In each case, a lady’s bedroom has been the target, and one specific item of jewellery has been stolen. In the case of Lady Darlington-White’s rare teardrop earrings, our thief climbed a tree and gained access to the roof of the property by means of an overhanging branch. From there he was able to attach a rope to the nearest chimney stack, climb down from above and in that way gain entry to her ladyship’s bedroom. In the case of Baroness Alcott’s gold diamond pendant I deduce that he climbed the ivy covering the front elevation and entered by means of a window that had been left open for ventilation. For the robbery of Countess Broughton’s pearl bracelet he took a more obvious route, using a ladder that had been left for the night by some roofers who were repairing the flashings on the property at the time. What does this imply to you?’

‘That our man is ingenious,’ Watson said. ‘And has nerves of steel and no fear of heights.’

‘And what person could perform such feats and live to tell the tale?’

Watson considered the question and then shrugged, stumped.

‘I put it to you, my dear Watson, that the person we are 
after is an aerialist – someone used to heights and climbing, possessed of great balance and nerve. And that is the person I have been trying to find all these weeks.’

At last something made sense to Watson. ‘Your sudden interest in the music hall…?’ he began.

‘Of course, Watson. Have you any idea how many music halls we have in the metropolis? Close to eighty, the
overwhelming
majority of them wretched fleapits employing a seemingly endless procession of third-rate comedians, jugglers, singers and fire-eaters, and I have sat through every tedious act just to watch the aerialists and acrobats in the hopes of spotting my man. Of course, I realize now that I have been wasting my time, for while I remain convinced that our thief possesses that particular skill, he clearly no longer performs it.’

‘Because of the limp?’

‘Precisely. So now we shift the focus of our enquiry. We are looking for a performer who had an accident and damaged his left leg. It has clearly not impaired his abilities, but has certainly ruined his career, for what enjoyment can there be for the audience when one of the performers has to limp on to the stage?’

‘So he is the man we have to find in order to discover the real brains behind the crimes, eh?’

‘It is possible. However, there is another reason. I feel some compassion for this man, who is as honest as the day is long. I would not care to see him arrested and thrown into prison. That would only add insult to injury.’

Watson looked perplexed. ‘You’ve lost me again, Holmes. How, pray, can a thief be as honest as the day is long?’ 

‘Think about it. In every case he has been charged with stealing one specific item of jewellery, and that is precisely what he has done. A less honest man would almost certainly have taken a little something extra for himself. Not so this one.’

‘And for that you believe he deserves a second chance?’

‘“Judge not lest ye be judged”,’ said Holmes. ‘
Matthew
, seven: one.’ As they climbed back into the hansom he checked his pocket watch. ‘We still have a full day ahead of us. First we’ll fortify ourselves at one of the coffee shops in Covent Garden, and then we’ll spend an hour or so going through
The Era’s
archives. And let us not forget we’ve been invited for tea at Countess Elaina’s this afternoon.’

‘As if I could forget,’ Watson replied morosely.

Holmes gave a rare chuckle. ‘Cheer up, old friend. As far as such social events go, I rather fancy this particular one will be somewhat livelier than most.’

CHAPTER 5

Tea-Party

E
laina Montague checked the spelter clock for the umpteenth time and then turned her attention back to the bow window that overlooked the gravel drive fronting the house. It was just after one o’clock and all but one of her guests had already arrived and was now seated in the elegantly-furnished library, sipping tea, eating daintily cut, finger-sized sandwiches and discussing the topics of the day. Among them was a photographic journalist from the
Illustrated London News
. He was there to describe the gathering for the society pages, and presently was taking notes and hanging on every word, especially if it dealt with gossip.

After a dismal start the day had finally started to brighten. But Elaina’s heart still felt heavy. The previous night she had dropped Thomas Howard at his lodgings, a rather mean boarding house in Houndsditch, where he had thanked her for her kindness in taking him to see Sherlock Holmes and apologized if his behaviour had seemed rude or ungrateful.

‘Reckon I prefer to do this thing my own way, ma’am,’ he’d
concluded. ‘And to be straight with you, I found that Holmes feller a hard man to like.’

‘Please,’ she said. ‘If anyone should apologize, it should be me for dragging you along when clearly your heart wasn’t in it. It’s just that I wanted to help. I
still
want to help. And I still think Holmes is the man to find your brother. You may not like him, but he really is a
remarkable
person.’

‘Maybe so. I just wouldn’t want to share a jug with him, ma’am.’

‘Then we’ll say no more about it. And we’ll have no more of
mister
and
ma’am
, either. I am Elaina, but I’d prefer you to call me Ellie. And unless you have any objections, I shall call you Thomas.’

‘If it pleases you, ma’ – I mean, Ellie.’

‘It does. And I have another suggestion. This … hostelry of yours … is a rather seedy place; far too seedy for a gentleman like yourself. Why not come and stay at Montague Hall, as my guest? You can stay as long as you like and you’ll be free to keep your own hours.’

It was the last thing he’d been expecting, and it showed in his face. ‘That’s kind of you, but—’

‘Come, now, Thomas. Surely you wouldn’t prefer to stay where you are?’

‘Ma’am, it’s a mighty generous offer. But I couldn’t impose. Besides, I don’t reckon your husband would cotton much to you bringin’ home a stray hound like me.’

‘My husband is dead,’ she said flatly.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s been eighteen months since he died. On top 
of that it was a stupid accident – one he could have easily avoided.’

Undecided, he studied her through the fog. He was where he needed to be right now, on the fringes of the East End. And yet the prospect of enjoying a little comfort and female company while he was here was tempting; especially a female as sensually attractive as the countess. Then he made a decision and Elaina felt a shiver run through her when she saw the bold interest that entered his expression. ‘OK,’ he said finally, ‘I’ll accept your generous offer.’

‘It’s settled, then,’ she said, brightening. ‘Pack your bags and I’ll have Prescott pick you up tomorrow, say about noon.’

‘I’ll be there,’ he assured her.

But now, almost twelve hours later as she again looked at the clock, she wondered if Thomas Howard had had second thoughts. Surely he and Prescott should have been here by now. What possibly could have happened to detain them?

‘Uh, excuse me, my lady.’

She turned to see the photographer from the
Illustrated London News
hovering at her shoulder. ‘Yes, Mr Prendergast?’

‘I wonder if I might ask a few questions?’

‘Uh … not just now, if you please. I’m still awaiting the arrival of a very important guest.’

‘As you wish.’

The party was a chore, as these events always were for her. Though she had deliberately set out to become part of the elite London society, she’d never quite fitted into it; neither had her guests ever gone out of their way to make her feel anything but an outsider. Of course, they’d played 
the game and pretended to make her feel welcome,
particularly
when her husband had been alive. They’d had no wish to offend the Earl, who was richer than all of them combined. But after his death certain lubricious rumours had started circulating; and while they kept up the thin pretence of civility, she had seen it in their eyes – contempt, mistrust, envy and a powerful desire to be scandalized by her.

She had obliged them, she supposed. She had attempted to break every rule of etiquette just to make their jaws drop and their eyes bug, and she had succeeded beyond her wildest hopes. When she rode, she rode like a man, in pants and boots, astride the horse, not side saddle. She smoked, she drank, and on occasion she swore. And because she had inherited her husband’s wealth, they had no choice but to accept scandalous behaviour in silence because they knew she could have her lawyer, Sir Ashley Danvers-Cole, use virtually any means to break them if they didn’t.

Today, however, they had other matters to concern them. Rumour had spread that Lady Bingham had been robbed the night before, and presently that was all her guests seemed to want to talk about. When Elaina confessed that she too had almost been robbed the previous night, Lady Spence declared that she just didn’t know what the world was coming to.

‘I think we’re too soft on the criminal classes,’ she went on. ‘In fact, I think the Home Secretary should seriously consider the reintroduction of transportation to the colonies.’

This met with enthusiastic agreement. ‘Bring back stocks, pillories and public whippings, I say,’ declared Victor 
Landon, a plump and prominent civil engineer. ‘And make hard labour harder still. Punishment – the more severe the better – is the only language the criminal classes seem to understand.’

‘Hear, hear!’

Elaina finally excused herself and went through the large house to the front door, where the guests’ coaches were parked along a gravel drive that led toward the walls and gates which separated Montague Hall from the rest of Richmond. The Hall was a 500-year old mansion built on the grassy banks of the Thames, and by any stretch of the
imagination
it was magnificent. There was a square central wing, or pavilion, three stories high and built in the Italian style, with a square belvedere tower at either end. She opened the door, hoping to see her brougham approaching, but still there was no sign of it and her smile died almost as quickly as it was born.

‘Is everything all right, my lady?’

She was just about to turn and answer the butler’s query when she spotted movement beyond the gates at the far end of the drive. A moment later the black-and-red brougham came into view, and she stifled a giggle. She might have known it! There was the brougham … and there was Thomas Howard, riding shotgun on the high seat, beside Prescott!

‘Yes, Fordham,’ she said to the butler. ‘Thank you.’

She went out on to the steps to greet the coach. It seemed to take an eternity before Prescott wheeled it to a halt in front of her. Howard, dressed as he had been the previous night, climbed down, looked at the house and whistled softly. 

‘Sure we got the right address, Prescott?’ he called back to the driver. And then, as Elaina laughed: ‘Well, one thing’s for sure – we ain’t in Kansas.’

Again Elaina laughed and this time offered him her hand. ‘You’re late, Thomas. What kept you?’

He shrugged. ‘Sunup I decided to take that Holmes feller’s advice and go visit that Christian mission he talked about. They couldn’t help me, but while I was in that part of the city I took another look around the docks an’ kind of lost track of time. Your man was waitin’ for me when I got back.’

‘Well, you’re here now,’ she said, ‘and that’s all that matters. Fordham, please take Mr Howard’s bag up to the guest room Sally prepared this morning, if you please.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

As Elaina impulsively took his arm, Howard caught
something
in her smile that told him he wouldn’t be spending too much time alone in that room – or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

‘Now, come and meet my guests,’ she said, leading him inside. ‘I know they’re dying to meet
you
.’

As they entered the enormous, high-ceilinged foyer Howard stopped and stared about him. Its white walls were covered in portraits and frescoes, and on the marble floors stood Romanesque plinths supporting exquisite busts. To him it looked more like a museum than a place where folks lived.

‘What’s wrong?’ Elaina asked.

He grinned. ‘Just wonderin’ how a girl from Kansas ends up with all this?’

‘She needed a lot of luck,’ Elaina said. ‘’Course, having a 
genuine real-live earl staying at her father’s hotel didn’t hurt none.’

‘I didn’t know there
were
any genuine real-live earls in Kansas.’

‘There aren’t. Not anymore.’

‘What was a British earl doin’ there in the first place?’

‘Hunting buffalo. We never would’ve met, but one of his entourage accidently shot himself in the leg and the nearest doctor was in Kansas City, a few blocks from our hotel—’

‘—and that gave
you
the chance to meet him?’

‘And for
him
to meet
me
,’ Elaina said, smiling.

‘Why do I have a feelin’ that it wasn’t a fair fight?’

She laughed, all of her earlier misgivings now melted away. ‘Straighten your tie, Thomas Howard. You’re about to make acquaintance with the cream of British high society, and I want you to look your best.’

He glanced around self-consciously as she led him into the library. The oak-panelled room was a storehouse of Queen Anne furniture, shelves lined with priceless tomes and French windows overlooking terraced lawns that sloped gently down toward the river.

Elaina’s gentlemen guests rose to their feet and shook Howard’s hand. The ladies stayed put and allowed him to dip his head respectfully and kiss their fingertips. Elaina realized he was making an effort to behave himself and play the game, just as she did, and she smiled appreciatively. But he soon tired of being the centre of attention. He felt more like an object of curiosity than anything else, as much a thing to be studied by all these lords and ladies as by Sherlock Holmes the night before. 

One of the servants gave him a cup of coffee. But as he was asked one cliché question after another, his mood
darkened
. At last he got bored and stared through the French windows at the manicured lawns and the line of trees beyond, wishing he could be out there in the fresh air, away from this sickly stench of cologne and perfume and obscene wealth.

An overweight, bejewelled woman Elaina introduced as Lady – hell, he’d already forgotten her name – asked him what he did in Missouri.

‘He’s a cattleman, Elspeth,’ Elaina answered smoothly.

Lady Chatfield’s pencilled eyebrows rose a notch. ‘Oh, are you one of those rustlers the books talk about?’

‘Elspeth!’ said one of the women beside her. ‘Shame on you. You’ve actually
read
those dreadful whatever-they’
re-calleds
?’

‘
Penny dreadfuls
is the term, my dear,’ put in her bewhiskered husband.

‘I haven’t actually
read
them, Daphne,’ Elspeth said hurriedly. ‘But I confess, I did find one in the servants’
quarters
the other day and gave it a quick peek. Quite stimulating’ – catching her own husband’s look of
disapproval
, she added – ‘in a revolting sort of way, of course.’

‘In answer to your question, Elspeth,’ said Elaina, ‘no, Mr Howard is
not
a rustler.’

‘Stealin’ other folks’ cattle is a necktie offense, ma’am,’ he explained.

‘‘Necktie offense’?’

‘Hangin’, ma’am.’ And in case he hadn’t made himself clear enough, he mimed hanging, bugging his eyes, poking 
out his tongue, making gurgling noises and pretending to twist the end of an invisible rope.

It had the desired effect. Lady Chatfield and company might be happy to suggest all manner of dire punishments for the criminal classes, but they recoiled at the grotesque sight one of those punishments might look like.

‘O-Oh, dear me, do rustlers steal?’ asked Elspeth. ‘I am so dreadfully sorry, Mr Howard. I had no idea—’

‘Forget it, ma’am. I know you ain’t on the prod.’

‘On the what?’

‘Tryin’ to rile me. Twist my tail. Get my goat?’

‘Oh-h, no, of course not. I’d never even
touch
a goat’s tail, let alone twist it.’

‘If you’ll excuse us,’ Elaina put in, ‘we simply
must
mingle.’

As they moved on, she said through her fixed smile: ‘Thank God I don’t have to see these pompous idiots too often. I’d die of boredom.’

Howard scowled. ‘What I can’t figure out is how folks can speak the same language and not understand each other.’ He pulled up suddenly and nodded toward a man with a heavy moustache, who was busily working over a sketch patch.

‘Who’s that feller?’

‘He’s a sketch artist from the
Illustrated London News
. He’s recording the event for the society pages.’