Repeat Business

by Lyn McConchie

  “She had taken a cab to her friend’s home, which is in a short close. This backs onto the University and the close is too narrow for a cab to enter. My grandmother therefore paid the driver off at the entrance to the street, and it was shortly after she alighted and began to walk down towards her friend’s house that she was seized from behind. The button-box was wrenched from the crook of her arm and she was thrust to the ground. Whoever did this clearly had no intention of her seeing him since, as he did this, he also dragged her shawl over her head, and by the time she was able to clear her vision and rise to her feet again, there was no one to be seen.

  “It may be noteworthy that her handbag was untouched, and she is positive that there was no attempt to take it from her. My grandmother is a woman of resolution. Bruised and shaken though she was, she returned to the main road, hailed a cab, and had herself driven at once to the police station, where she laid an official complaint. However, she says it was clear to her that the police would take no interest in the case. As one man said to her, it would be some child, no doubt, and what fence will pay out for buttons?”

  “I have known buttons which were worth a considerable sum,” Holmes observed.

  “That may have been true had some of her buttons been ornamented with precious stones. But, Mr. Holmes, they were not. Oh, here and there she may have had a set with paste stones. But mostly they were merely attractive buttons or the more workaday items from family shirts. But they are the collection of her life, passed down from her own grandmother and she feels, I think, that in some way they were a trust. She is distraught and angry. Please help her, Mr. Holmes!”

  Holmes rose in a leisurely fashion. “Well, Watson, are you game to go in pursuit of Mr. Soames’ grandmother’s button-box?” I nodded. “Then let us firstly interview the lady, and after that we shall seek out the scene of the crime and discover what we can find there. Where shall we find your grandmother, Mr. Soames?”

  “Back in her home, sir. I will guide you there and introduce you, if indeed you wish to go at once.”

  “We do,” was Holmes’ rejoinder and he swept us out to halt momentarily while a cab was hailed, and we were ushered into the vehicle. Soames gave the address and we were off, bowling down the street in pursuit of a button-box.

  Hilton Soames’ grandmother was not at all as I had expected her to be. She was short, dumpy, and stout, with a low voice—which I thought would usually be pleasant but which just now had a note of real rancor contained within its tones—and something of the look of Queen Victoria about her. Certain it was that she was not amused.

  “It is a disgrace, gentlemen! My button-box stolen, and what possible use could it be to any save myself? And the police who tell me that they have no time to search for lost button-boxes. It was not lost; it was violently stolen from me. The police are dunderheads.”

  Holmes nodded. “It is indeed an outrage, and if the police do not take it seriously, than I assure you, Mrs. Soames, my friend Watson and I do.”

  “Then you will endeavor to restore it to me?”

  “I will, Mrs. Soames. Now, to that end, tell me everything that occurred, omit no detail.” We settled to listen.

  “I was intending to visit my friend, Marjorie Fuller, in Garnet’s Close. She had her little granddaughter staying; the child is only six and children of that age can become easily bored if they have nothing to do while their elders’ talk goes above their heads. Thus I did as I often do in such a case. I took with me my button-box so that the girl might have something to amuse her while Marjorie and I discussed the flower roster for the Church’s Saints’ Days.

  “I took a cab—I know the driver, a most respectable man named Brown who treats his horse very kindly—and as Garnet’s Close is too narrow for a cab, I alighted at the entrance around ten in the morning, paid Brown, and began to walk up the close.”

  “Did you see anyone walking towards you, or near the close entrance?” I asked.

  “No, the close was empty of people and the street when I alighted appeared to be so as well.” Holmes nodded for her to continue.

  “I passed the first three houses and was opposite the fourth—the houses are on one side of the close only, the other side is the wall of the University—when I was seized and held. At the same moment my shawl was flung over my head, my button-box was torn from my arm, and I was pushed to the ground. For perhaps so much as three or four minutes I was stunned by the unexpected assault, but then I thrust my shawl back, struggled to my feet, and discovered that I was unharmed. I hurried to the main street and looked to either side, but could see no one who might have been my assailant.”

  “Assailants,” said Holmes.

  The old lady bridled. “Two of them? I have been attacked by two ruffians?”

  “Think back, madam. Were you not already being held while at the same time your shawl was used to blind you and your button-box was seized?”

  “By heavens, yes, it was so. You are right, Mr. Holmes. There must have been two men. I distinctly remember the grip one of them had upon my arms even while my button-box was wrenched from me. Then that same grip which held me was transferred to a thrust that saw me measure my length on the ground.”

  “Now, madam, I am sure you are still shaken and bruised. But if you will allow, I would like to perform an experiment?”

  “I am in your hands, sir.”

  “Then please stand and turn your back to me.” The old lady obeyed. “Indicate whereabouts upon your arms you were gripped.” Her fingers touched the upper level of her left arm, and then the other hand came up and matched the gesture to the right.

  “Here, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Thank you. Now, If I place my hands in the same position, does it seem to you as if the man who seized you could have been of my height?”

  “It feels as if you loom over me, sir. I think he was not so tall.”

  “Mr. Soames?” Her grandson took up the position while the old lady considered again.

  “He still feels too tall.”

  “Your turn, Watson.” I took up my position and it seemed I was too short. Holmes looked pleased.

  “Then we have two assailants, one of whom is around five feet eight inches to five feet ten inches in height.”

  Mrs. Soames, who had sat down by now, stared up at my friend. “But, that is no child.”

  “Indeed so, and as you will realize this changes things. Now, let us venture further. You say you were level with the fourth house when you were attacked. We will go to examine this close shortly, but what can you tell me of the fourth house and its occupants?”

  “There are none, Mr. Holmes. The family that used to live there has gone. The father had, I believe a position as head clerk at a large firm of merchants. However, they have moved the factory further from the town and he packed up his family and moved to live in the village near the new building. The house is to let, but however, and to my knowledge, no tenant has as yet taken up residence.”

  I saw understanding dawn on her face. “I see, sir. The police think that I was pushed over and robbed by some child attracted by the appearance of my button-box. You can already show I was robbed by two men acting in concert who carefully chose the location of their attack.”

  Holmes made a slight bow. “Wonderful, madam. You have summed up all our discoveries. There is one final point thus far. This act was surely premeditated, with your button-box as their deliberate objective. Nor could they have come upon you by accident. Ordinary thieves would have taken your handbag. These men wanted your button-box and your button-box only. I think we must go immediately to study this Garnet’s Close.”

  Mrs. Soames would by no means be left behind, so that there were four of us who presently studied the short secluded close. It was a pleasant aspect. Down one ride ran a line of twelve houses, each in its own grounds with ample shrubbery. The road was wide enough for a dogcart, but the wider cab would not have been able to negotiate it nor to turn without intruding on private property.


  The houses were of a reasonable size, most two-storied, and with a drive leading to a stable behind. On the other side of the close a high, wide brick wall arose, which I understood from Soames to be the back wall of the University, with a number of storage sheds and stables for visiting vehicles on the University side. The wall was a good ten feet, and I feel it unlikely any thief would have found it possible to scale without ropes or a ladder which Mrs. Soames would have seen as she approached down the close.

  Holmes agreed. “No, Watson. I think the thieves had another escape in mind.” He turned to the old lady who was watching him with interest. “Do you recall any sound of footsteps after you were flung aside?”

  Her reply was unequivocal. “No, sir.”

  “Ah, that may be useful.” With that he walked along the line of houses, halting outside the fourth and studying the driveway keenly. He twisted and turned, surveying the surface, then walking cautiously up and down the lawn while stooped over. He then came towards us and I saw satisfaction in his face.

  “We were right, madam. There were two men. One was of medium height, powerfully built and originally athletic. He wears a size ten shoe and weighs about twelve stone. The other was smaller, slight in build, and wearing shoes that are narrow in the foot. He wears a size six shoe and weighs around nine stone or perhaps a little less.”

  The old lady peered up at him. “So they ran in here before I could drag the shawl from my eyes?”

  “They also waited here for you to pass. Do you see the significance of that, madam?”

  Mrs. Soames snorted vigorously. “I’d thank you, sir, not to assume me a fool. If they waited for me, they must have known I was visiting my friend that day, and how could they have known that? You will wish to know whom I told, and whom they may have told in turn.” She turned to her grandson. “You knew, for I called on you the day before and said that I would be visiting Marjorie on the following day. I also mentioned Marjorie’s granddaughter, and said I would take my button-box to amuse the child.”

  Soames appeared horrified. “I told no one, why should I speak of such small family matters?”

  “No,” I said thoughtfully. “But in which of your sets of rooms were you while this visit was discussed? Your personal rooms or the ones allocated by the University?”

  “Why, my rooms at the University, the two where I receive pupils and have my teaching materials.”

  Holmes nodded. “Yes, and where you seldom close any door to the outer corridor, where anyone who loiters may hear your conversation. Your grandmother has a clear voice. But you see where this evidence too leads? Only those with business within the University could have overhead what was said.”

  Soames threw up his hands. “But why, Mr. Holmes? Here we have two men, possibly students at the University; they set out to commit the premeditated crime of stealing an old lady’s button-box. How is it they know of the item, what can they want with it, and why have they gone to such trouble to obtain it?”

  Mrs. Soames glanced at my friend. “I think that Mr. Holmes will discover the answers to those questions, my dear. He appears to be a most intelligent and energetic young man. I leave the matter in his hands with the utmost confidence.” And with that, she marched to the main road, hailed a cab, and was driven away while we stared after her.

  “Well, Watson,” Holmes said, “We must deserve that lady’s belief in us. You go with Soames. I want a list of everyone at the University who might know anything at all of his grandmother’s movements in the ordinary way. Then speak to the porter of Soames’ building. I would know if any of those on the first list appear on his record as visiting the building the day Mrs. Soames was speaking to her grandson of her planned engagements.”

  “And you, Holmes, what will you be doing?”

  “I would have a few words with the police. Meet me at the Grand Hotel, where I will have taken rooms once I have completed that errand.”

  It was a long and tedious discussion. I wrote while Soames endlessly racked his brains for his colleagues and pupils who might know of his family. With the list in hand, we met Holmes at the hotel, went upstairs to where a good meal had been laid for us in our suite, and ate heartily. Once the wine was passed, I spoke to my friend.

  “What did the police have to say to your new information?”

  “It seems they are of the same opinion still, that it was high-spirited children, and that I am wasting my time. But they did give me some other valuable information that we shall use later tonight. We have a few calls to make.”

  “Where do we go?”

  “To a number of the pawn shops in the area about the close, Watson, a discovery in one of them or even the lack of findings may confirm an hypothesis I am developing.”

  I followed Holmes over the course of the evening to a number of grimy establishments, and it was in one of the most cluttered shops I have ever seen that we came upon a small chest that seemed to fit the description of the stolen button-box. Holmes picked it up and opened the lid carefully.

  “The contents appear to be intact, Watson. Now I wonder what the proprietor will tell us of his purchase of this.” He turned to the man who was hovering anxiously behind him. “This is stolen property,” Holmes said sternly. “How did you come by it?”

  The pawnbroker gaped at us. “Gentlemen, who would bother to steal a trumpery item? I thought I might sell it for a few shillings to someone who likes such things. It is a nice box with a good selection of buttons, but I gave the man who sold it to me only a florin. He told me it had been his wife’s, and with her dead now he had no use for it.”

  I handed him a florin. “I will take the box back to its owner and you shall lose nothing by your purchase. Come, tell my friend of the vendor.”

  “He was a not a gentleman. I took him for a laborer and I think I may have seen him about the streets near the old market.” With further questioning we obtained quite a good description of the man, what the pawnbroker believed to be some of his usual haunts, and, with the button-box securely under my arm, we set off in search of the seller. We found him in a bar but not yet more than slightly drunk. Holmes approached him.

  “What is your name?”

  The man recognized authority when he heard it. He straightened up slightly and spoke with a strong country accent.

  “I’m Isaac Tremain; who be you as asks?” Holmes and I recognized the accent, it was Cornish or South Devon—on the edge of the counties they overlap in places.

  “My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my good friend, Doctor Watson. Tremain, you say? What is your village?”

  “Duloe, sir.”

  “I know it, a pleasant place. How is it you are so far from home?”

  Isaac Tremain heaved a sigh. “I followed the work, sir. But I’ll go home as soon as ever I can. My brother, he says there’ll be a place on the squire’s estate for me very soon. Let me once get back and I won’t never be leaving again.”

  “I agree, a man wants to have his own friends and family about him. Those people and places he has always known.”

  “Aye, sir, that he do.”

  “Would it not help if you had a train ticket back?”

  “Aye, it would. But ’tis six a’ one an’ half a dozen a’ the other, sir. I be homesick so I drink, then I ain’t got the money for a ticket, then I drink a’cos I be homesick and can’t afford to go home.” It was with difficulty I repressed a smile at that. Holmes, however, remained unmoved.

  “What if you received a ticket? One you could not turn into coin.”

  “Why, I reckon I’d go to home right now, on the very next train as ever was. My brother, he’d give me a bed ‘til this job wi’ t’ squire be ready.”

  “I will give you a ticket, and there will be no policeman asking you questions after me if you do as you say. I want to know about the button-box you sold to the pawnbroker. Where got you it?”

  Isaac Tremain looked at him and of a sudden any drink was out of him. “I heard of you, you’m a man as has mad
e the police look silly a time or two. All right, I’ll tell you so long’s I gets the ticket?”

  Holmes nodded. “Right then. I were walking along the street an’ ahead of me I sees a lad drop this li’l box over the wall into a garden. Guess that’s something he don’t want, I says to myself. Wonder what it is? He keeps walking like he’s done nothing, so I walks along quiet until he turns the corner then I trots back and picks up what he dropped.

  “I find it’s this li’l box, and I’m mortal worried it’ll have jewels or something inside. Police ask questions about a man like me having that sort o’ thing about them. So I open it careful like, and blow me down if’n it ain’t filled wi’ buttons, just like a box me mother had when I was a boy. I knows no pawnbroker will ever think I stole that, so I takes it to one and he gives me two shillin’ for it.”

  “I believe you and you shall have your ticket. Now, describe the man, carefully now, I have some idea whom it might be and if you lie, I shall know.”

  “I won’t tell you no lies, sir. He was a little fella, mebbe five feet an’ six or seven inches in height. I walked along behind him a ways and I saw that. He wore narrer shoes, fancy ones, and I’d say he’d strip to about nine stone or thereabouts. Not much muscle, leastways he didn’t walk like it, but he were well fed enough, he hadn’t never starved. Good cloes, not like no lord, but good enough quality fer a shopkeeper in a good way ’o business. Oh, there’s one way you’ll know him for certain sure, sir, ain’t many of his kind in town.” He added the final detail and I saw Holmes’ jaw set. “Have I done well for you, sir?”

  Holmes clapped him gently on the shoulder. “You have, sir, very well, and you shall have your ticket. Come with us now and I will obtain it for you.”

  We left Isaac Tremain at the station, he to go to his room and pack his meagre possessions before using his ticket, we to our hotel to sleep. I spoke quietly as we rocked along the road in our cab.