“What do they say of Miss Jane?”
“That she is impetuous, but that is her nature and is all in innocence. This past two or three months the family has often been in London and she has been with them, although she is not yet officially out. However, and according to her maid—who is related to several people within the village—Jane has been permitted to attend a number of small unofficial parties, and to go about a little so long as her maid is with her.”
I saw a thoughtful glitter in my old friend’s eyes. His lean figure seemed to stiffen slightly as a hound that scents the fox, but he remained silent and I continued, once I was certain he would not speak.
“The villagers are sure that no unknown person has been about the area in the past month. They are familiar with all those personages Lady Hilda named as having been at Winchmore Towers, and none of them had new servants with them.”
“You have done well, Watson.” I was pleased that he believed so, and asked a question which had been in my mind since the villagers had talked before me.
“If there have been no strangers about, then that should mean that the pearls were taken by one of those present at the Winchmores’ party. And if so, might that not explain why the jewels have not been sold, for how should some nobleman know that market?”
Holmes nodded. “Your ability to think logically improves, Watson. Yes, that is one possible reason for the pearls not having been offered for sale as yet. But there is another—and that I mean to examine. I have sent a message to the Towers asking Lord Winchmore if I might present myself to ask questions. Before that, however, you and I shall travel over to the Bellinger estate and speak to Miss Emily. I have hired the inn’s pony trap and we shall go there after the midday meal. Start by walking out and I shall pick you up in the trap by the far bridge.”
The inn’s noonday meal was a simple one of bread, cheese, and ale, but since both bread and cheese were fresh and the ale was excellent I saw nothing to complain of in that. At half an hour past one Holmes met me and I ascended into the trap, after which we rattled merrily off down the narrow lanes to the small country estate of Lord Bellinger. There Emily came to meet us, and we saw at once that she had been crying.
“Mr. Holmes, if only you can solve this mystery I shall not know how to thank you.”
“You can thank me in advance by being seated and answering as fully as possible all the questions I would put to you,” Holmes said briskly. He waited to receive her nod of agreement, and then began.
“Tell me of your friends and your fiancé, how long have you known them and under what circumstances?”
Her reply to that was simple. “Mr. Holmes, I have known them most of my life, since our estates are all nearby. I know them to be honest and honorable, and I cannot believe that any of them would have stolen without great need and yet, if the need was so great, I do not think that there is one of them who could not have applied to his or her parents for help. Even Lord Winchmore is not the tyrant he strives to appear. If Harold or Edward were found to be in desperate straits, he might read them a lecture, but he would not leave them to struggle unaided.”
Holmes bowed his head a little. “Yes, that is very useful. Tell me of Harold and Edward.”
A rather watery smile illuminated the girl’s face. “We were playmates since we were old enough to visit each other’s homes. Edward and I looked up to Harold, for he is some three years older than I am and almost five years older than Edward is. But he was always kind to us, allowing us to bowl and field for him when he was home from school, and to come with him when he went shooting.”
“To carry his gun and any of the game he shot, I daresay?” I commented.
Emily blushed. “That is true, Doctor Watson, yet I know from Mary that brothers are not always so kind. Her own older brother teased and tormented her, and even now she is wary of him for he can say cutting things that distress her, nor do her parents chide him for it.”
“But Harold was always kind to you both?”
“Indeed he was, Doctor, and when Jane came to live at the Towers, he included her in all our games and pastimes.”
“But she is closer to Edward.” Holmes said quietly.
“That is natural, sir. She is the youngest of us and he is only a year the elder. Yet I am fond of her and I know too that Harold would never do anything to harm her. Nor would she lift a hand to harm any of us. She is a good girl,” and here her eyes flashed anger. “Her parents—before their deaths—allowed her more latitude than is common for a girl, so sometimes she may seem to be a trifle wild, but it is not so. I swear to you, she is all that is kind and good.”
“I am sure you are right,” I said soothingly. “What of your friend, Mary? She has an older brother who is unkind to her, and a fiancé whom you all know well?”
“Yes, indeed. Mary’s mother and mine were the dearest friends at school, and we knew each other from the cradle. Mary’s engagement to Peter Fitzsimmons came as no surprise to either family or to us who are their friends; they have been close since they too were children, and I think we all knew that one day he would wish to marry her. They are similar in interests and temperament, and I believe it will be the happiest of marriages.”
I glanced at Holmes and saw the tiny motion of his head. I did not know what he wanted me to ask, but young ladies always like to talk of families, theirs and those of their friends. So I asked Emily.
“What of Lord Winchmore’s family other than his wife and sons? Do others of the family live at Winchmore Towers?”
“Not now, Dr. Watson. But Lady’s Winchmore’s father lived with them for many years. He died only four years ago, and we were all very sorry for we liked him a great deal. He was a short man, always chuckling, he liked children, and he greatly enjoyed practical jokes—although he was never unkind. He used to show us card and magic tricks, and he could create wonderful illusions like little plays.” Her smile suddenly burst forth in full bloom.
“Only the boys were supposed to see his last illusion, for he said we should be frightened, but Jane, Mary, and I sneaked along and were able to watch—although everyone was annoyed that we did so, for it gave Jane nightmares afterwards. He died in his sleep only a day later, or I am sure he would have told us how the trick was done. Edward took him his dinner that night and said Mr. Hector was well enough, though tired. But in the morning he was dead and we all cried for it.”
I saw Holmes lean forward and felt the full power of his regard turned upon her. “Tell us of the trick; it would have been very clever and interesting, surely?”
“Oh, so it was. He bade the boys go into the garden outside his window, and through the window we saw him speaking to a villainous man within his room. We heard shots fired. Old Mr. Hector jerked as the shots struck him, and the other man went running into the dressing room that has no exit. We girls were too afraid to scream, but Harold rushed into the house. We continued to watch and we saw no one leave by the door, but when Harold entered the rooms there was only old Mr. Hector present and he was quite unharmed; nor could we ever find a gun within the room.”
“His room was the one in which you were dancing, was it not?”
“Why, yes. They had not used it before, although his possessions had all been removed. But Lord Winchmore said it was time the room came back into use. The servants took up the carpet and polished the floor so we might use it for the dancing. Harold had the nursery piano placed in the passage by the door, and Jane’s old governess played for us.”
“How was it that you did not at once realize that your pearls were gone?” Holmes asked quietly.
“There was someone outside in the gardens. Harold saw him and called out, asking what he did there, so that we all ran to the window to look out. I had been there for some minutes—and when I heard Lord Winchmore come to tell us of supper, I turned and realized then that the pearls were gone. I cried out, and Lord Winchmore would let no one leave the room. It is a great mystery, Mr. Holmes.”
“Perhaps
not,” Holmes said thoughtfully. “I must speak to Lord Winchmore.”
Emily clasped her hands together, staring at us. “You think you may be able to solve what happened and return the pearls?”
“I am in hopes.” He would say no more and we took our leave.
Of course, I questioned him as soon as we were gone from the place. “Miss Emily told you something which has given you a clue, Holmes?”
“I ask you to consider the character of Lady Winchmore’s father as described by Miss Emily, Watson. A practical joker must have a number of cards up his sleeve at any time, and one who does magic tricks must have rather more. As for his illusions, they must be managed carefully, and it seems likely that the old gentleman enjoyed the mystery that he brought to the children’s lives. For that reason he may have gone out of his way to provide it.”
I was baffled and showed it—but Holmes merely nodded. “Character, that is at the root of the disappearance of the pearls, the characters of those involved and of Lady Winchmore’s father. Well, let us go now to speak with the Winchmores and see what they are able to tell us.”
So far as that noble family was concerned, they had nothing of use to say and wished devoutly that we might have something to say instead. Lord Winchmore was a tallish, portly man with thinning hair and an air of determination. His wife, Lady Hilda’s elder sister, had been a beauty in her day and even now, at close to fifty, she was a handsome woman. Lord Winchmore addressed us both.
“Ask any question you wish, sir. No one shall keep anything from you.”
Holmes bowed slightly. “Thank you, but I have only one request. May I see the room in which the pearls vanished?”
“At once.”
Lord Winchmore led us to that room and watched as Holmes entered, placed himself in the center of the space and turned slowly, gazing about him. After a short time Holmes moved to the door and examined the wood as he opened and shut the door.
“There was something screwed to this; what was it?”
“It was a large mirror, Mr. Holmes; when we cleared this room all of the furniture was taken to one of the attics and stored there. Do you wish to see it?” Holmes nodded.
Lord Winchmore summoned a middle-aged servant and gave him orders. We followed the man to a rather dusty corner of a large attic filled with an astonishing miscellany of items, most damaged, and all old. The servant pointed to one corner where a quantity of furniture was covered with dust cloths. Holmes advanced, removed the cloths and studied the furniture carefully.
“Who moved this furniture up here?”
“I did, sir, together with Jackson and two of the grooms. I assure you we were all very careful. We liked old Mr. Hector, sir, and he valued his things.”
Holmes nodded kindly. “I’m sure you were. Tell me, did he ever ask you or any of the other staff to help with his illusions?”
“He did, sir. Not me, but my father was footman here for many years, and when he retired from that employment Lord Winchmore kept him on to help Mr. Hector in any way he required. Mr. Hector, he used to say that that they were two old men together, but they could still astonish those who were younger.”
“Where is your father?”
“Underground, sir, these two years.”
“I see. Well, we may return downstairs now—and thank you.” Once we were on the family floors Holmes walked swiftly to Mr. Hector’s room. There he spoke to me quietly.
“Watson, go and keep watch, around that corner there, and if you see anyone coming, keep them back a moment, if you can, until I join you.” I obeyed this instruction and my friend was busy for some time. I could hear the occasional scrape and creak from around the corner and it was several minutes before he returned. I could at once see by his attitude that he had solved some, or all, of the mystery.
No sooner was he with me than Lord Winchmore came down the passage and halted before us. “Well, what can you tell me?”
“That I know where the pearls are and who took them, but that it is a delicate matter still. I have final questions to ask and inquiries to make. Once I have succeeded in these matters I will return here.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night. But I have one request. Do not tell anyone, not even your family, that I am confident. If they ask, say that you wonder if I am not a charlatan, that I have told you nothing.”
Lord Winchmore smiled grimly. “You have not, although I know you to be no charlatan. However, it shall be as you ask.”
We returned to London in Lord Winchmore’s own carriage, and such was the speed of his four blacks that we covered the fourteen miles from Winchmore Towers to the outskirts of the city in an hour. Once back in our rooms Holmes gave a message to the page, who was sent running to bring back several of Holmes’ Baker Street Irregulars—as Holmes named the lads who often assisted him in his work.
He gave them certain orders and they scattered. They must have spent the night diligently, since by mid-morning they began to return, each with his crumb of information. After that, Holmes went out to make a call and I waited, rather on the fret since I did not like his departing words.
“I’m leaving a note here, Watson. Lord Winchmore’s carriage is to call again for us at four this afternoon. If I am not returned by then, open the letter and do as I ask.” He saw the apprehension upon my face. “Watson, Watson, it is true the pair I plan to meet are unpleasant, but they are jackals—not lions. I can cow them since there are things that I know of them that they would not wish to have bruited abroad. Yet it is wise to take precautions, and you, my dear Watson, are my precaution.”
“I will wait,” I said firmly, “until the hour you name and not one moment later.”
“That is what I require,” Holmes said before leaving, but I knew he understood. If those he went now to meet harmed him in any way, I would neither cease nor rest until they were brought to book.
In the event, I had no need to worry, for Holmes was back an hour before the time. Lord Winchmore’s carriage arrived and we were whisked again to Winchmore Towers, where I discovered that those who had been present on that night were there again to wait on what we might say. Holmes wasted no time, but passed through them—seeming to slow as he passed the three girls—where they crowded near Mr. Hector’s doorway. Holmes turned to face everyone and addressed Lord Winchmore.
“On the evening on which the pearls disappeared, you searched these rooms thoroughly. Since then they have been locked and none has entered—by your express orders?” The man he addressed nodded decisively. “Then let it please you all to wait for a brief time.”
With that he entered the room, shut the door until it was barely ajar, and there was a heavy silence while everyone waited. Then the door was flung open; Holmes stood on the threshold and in his long fingers something in the lamplight shone softly as it swung.
Lord Winchmore uttered a cry of delight. “The pearls!” He seized and examined them. “It is the pearls, I know them too well to be deceived!”
“You are right.”
“But how? We searched the room, I tell you. We even searched over the furniture in case there was some secret drawer.”
“They were not in the furniture,” Holmes said. “They were hidden in something no one sees, although it is there in any room and everyone knows it. Let us go and sit down and I will explain as much of the mystery as is mine to tell.”
We trooped after him to sit and listen with something of the air of small, wondering children who have seen a miracle. Once we were ready, Holmes looked at Lady Winchmore.
“Your father, my Lady, was a man with a sense of humor and a liking for children. He enjoyed showing them tricks and when he had the stage for it, he loved to demonstrate illusions. One such he showed to them the day before he died. Miss Emily described that illusion to me and the key point was not, as she might think, that there appeared to be two men in Mr. Hector’s room, although when your son burst in only one was found there. No, it was that all of the children heard a number
of shots fired in the room, but search as they might, they could find no gun.
“I believe the old man would have done as he had done before, and told them of how the trick was played, save that he died that night. One, however, did know, I think he was told of it immediately before Mr. Hector died, and as children often will, he was pleased to have a secret of his own and told no one else.
“At first I wondered if the loss of the pearls was a planned theft, but I found the man who moved about in the garden, appearing as a possible intruder. He was merely one of the villagers, the father of a young maid who had come to walk her home and never knew anything of the part he played in luring the six in that room to the window. It is my belief that the catch on the pearls came open by accident. The one who was last at the window observed them. Without thinking clearly what it was that he did, or what he might do with them later, he used Mr. Hector’s hiding place.”
Lord Winchmore turned his stern gaze upon my friend. “So, you found the hiding place. Where was it and who placed the pearls within?”
“To tell you, I must return briefly to Mr. Hector’s illusion. Up to the time of his death there was a full-length mirror attached to the back of his door. If the door was opened at the right angle comparative to the window opposite, and the correct items placed over portions of it, then from outside the window it appeared as if he were quarreling with another person. In reality, both figures were those of Mr. Hector.
“The gun the children heard was not a gun but three crackers placed in the hiding place. To them was attached a long fuse. Mr. Hector lit that then spoke in a loud clear voice, mumbling his replies so his voice should not be recognized. At a time he had carefully calculated, the crackers exploded in the hiding place, he pretended to be shot, and staggered away from the mirror, giving the illusion his attacker had dodged back into the dressing room, which has no exit. The other point that came to my attention was that Mr. Hector was a short man.
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