by Mrs Hudson
‘No, sir. And I’m coming to that. You see, our plan to trap James Phillimore was a good one, but I confess that there was one detail I was uncomfortable with.’
‘What was that, Mrs H?’
‘It was the fate of Mr Phillimore and the Great Salmanazar if we handed them over to the police. The may have been charged with conspiracy to steal, but the evidence against them was scanty. Perch could link Phillimore to the crime, as it was Phillimore who commissioned the boxes. But there was nothing much against Salmanazar. I could imagine a botched arrest followed by a hasty acquittal. So instead I thought it would be helpful if I arranged to have a little word with our great magician.’
‘But how did you manage that, Mrs Hudson?’
‘Oh, quite simply, sir. I just helped him to escape this evening.’
‘You? But how?’
‘That boy who bumped into him by Charing Cross station told him what to do. The Great Salmanazar knew he was being followed, you see, and he was lost in a strange city. So I simply gave him the message to follow the pantomime horse. Of course, only the British really know what a pantomime horse is, but he soon grasped the idea, and he was able to follow the horse into the alley by Admiralty Arch.’
‘That’s right, Mrs Hudson,’ Dr Watson agreed. ‘We saw all that happen. But how do you know so much about it?’
Mrs Hudson looked at him in great surprise.
‘Why, sir, who do you think was inside the pantomime horse?’
‘Eh? What? You mean… ? You?’
Mr Holmes chuckled at his friend’s confusion. ‘Of course, Watson. Surely it is obvious? I’m surprised that even you haven’t grasped it by now.’
Mrs Hudson nodded gravely at the great detective. ‘Of course, sir, as you will no doubt have realized, Scraggs and I were in the horse costume at the start of the evening. When safely out of sight in the alley, Scraggs and the magician swapped places. Like a true showman, the Great Salmanazar proved rather adept at playing the rear end of the horse. After that, it was all easy. I escorted him back to his hotel room and we had a little talk. I pointed out the serious view taken by British justice of attempts to steal the Queen’s jewels. I talked a little about the determination of the police to make an arrest and a little about the state of our prisons. After a little he was very eager, in return for a boat ticket and a promise of a safe journey, to tell me the whereabouts of all his past prizes.’
‘But, Mrs Hudson,’ Rupert Spencer put in, ‘you’ve just said that the evidence against him was scanty. Why should he co-operate like that?’
‘He co-operated, sir, because I was able to show him a statement I’d obtained earlier in the day from Miss Lola Del Fuego. In the hands of any police force in Europe, it would put him behind bars for the rest of his life. You see, through working with him so closely, she and James Phillimore had learned a good many of his secrets.’
Dr Watson snorted. ‘But if you had that sort of evidence, Mrs H, why let the fellow go at all? Why, we could have him safely under lock and key already.’
Mrs Hudson took another sip of port before replying.
‘Well, sir, this way we get all the other jewels back. But I confess that wasn’t my main reason. You see, sir, he’s simply far too good a magician to waste away his life in gaol. What good would that do for anyone? The Great Salmanazar really is from Spain, it turns out. He learnt his skills very humbly, as an itinerant magician in the villages of Andalusia. Once I had his agreement that he would return directly to that region and never again attempt to leave it, then I was quite happy to let him go.’
‘But how can you be sure he will stick to any such an agreement?’
‘Because he knows I have Miss Del Fuego’s letter, and that I will not hesitate to use it.’ She rolled her wine glass between her fingers, so that the port seemed to glow with the light from the fire. ‘And you know, when all was settled, when he saw that his adventure was finished, I rather think the prospect ahead of him did not wholly dishearten him. He talked at length of his days on the lanes of Andalusia, the winter snows and the dust in summer, and the welcome in every house he came to. Very moving it was. He told me of all the small children in tiny, unvisited villages, who would run out a mile or more to greet him. I like the thought they will have a performer amongst them who once held the whole of Europe under his spell. Yes, gentlemen, I’m inclined to think that more good will come of the Great Salmanazar returning to the mountains of Spain than in keeping him rotting in a crowded British cell.’
‘And James Phillimore?’ Dr Watson asked. ‘What has become of him?’
She looked at me and for a moment one eyelid flickered meaningfully before she turned back.
‘The full story of James Phillimore will remain a mystery, I fear, sir. However, it appears his wife in Ealing has received word that he has fled the country never to return. So I think we have no alternative but to assume we have heard the last of him. He was never really a proper criminal, sir, just as he was never really a proper contortionist.’
‘And Lola Del Fuego?’ Miss Peters asked. ‘What happened to her?’
‘Also gone abroad. Her love for James Phillimore, and his for her, is one of the more moving aspects of this story. It seems that all along she was willing to give up her fame and her wealth just to be with him. I think it was his idea that she could only be happy living in luxury, and it was that mistake that drove him to steal the Malabar Rose.’
‘So, Mrs Hudson,’ Mr Holmes concluded, ‘the protagonists are all fled. Their plot is broken and their careers over. Tonight we shall cut your excellent cake, and tomorrow the Malabar Rose shall be placed on public display in all its glory. Tell me, would you find it in any way embarrassing if I was to raise a glass and drink your health?’
If I had questions still to ask, I decided then that they could wait a little. For by then the chestnuts were ready to eat and the level of the port was falling steadily. By the time both were finished, Miss Peters was asleep on Mr Spencer’s shoulder and the first sounds of traffic were to be heard in the streets outside.
‘Time for me to go,’ mumbled Mr Rumbelow, looking at his pocket watch.
‘Indeed, sir,’ concurred Mr Holmes, prodding Dr Watson when he realized that his friend was beginning to nod off in front of the fire.
‘What about this, sir?’ Mrs Hudson asked, indicating the iced cake that sat in front of us. ‘Would you like to cut it now?’
She held a knife out to him and he reached to take it, then seemed to change his mind.
‘Do you know, Mrs Hudson, until we get it safely to the Home Office, I think the Malabar Rose may as well stay where it is. Though I fear that way you lose an excellent fruitcake.’
‘They’re never so good once they’ve been iced, sir.’ She shook her head and rose to see the gentlemen to the door. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess up there, sir. You must do what you can tonight, and Flottie and I will sort it all out tomorrow. And as for the rest of you,’ she continued, turning back to the kitchen, ‘it’s high time you all got some sleep. So back to your homes and into your beds, before I get you to do the washing up. Oh, and a very happy new year to you all, as well.’
We stood in the kitchen doorway and watched them go, Scraggs yawning hugely and Miss Peters barely awake as Mr Spencer supported her up the iron steps. The last, weary snowflakes of the night drifted to the ground in front of us. Soon it would be day.
‘Tell me, ma’am,’ I asked as we turned back into the kitchen, ‘was it you who told Mr Phillimore’s wife that he was going abroad?’
‘It was, Flottie. I went to see her yesterday, when I was confident we’d trap him one way or another. I told her that her husband had been foolish, that he was destitute and on the run, and that the only chance for him was to escape to Canada to start a new life. I told her that he would be waiting for her in Portsmouth and I explained very clearly that if she valued him and wished to be with him, that she was to go to the offices of Meyer & Stallard. To the front door,
Flotsam. I told her to take the money he had sent her, as it would be all they had. And I made it as clear as I could to her that if she did not travel to Portsmouth, if she did not reach him by five o’clock this evening, that he would depart without her and she would never hear from him again.’
‘You told him to go with whoever comes to the front door, ma’am.’
‘That’s right, Flotsam.’
‘And if no one comes by five, he’s to go to the back door.’
‘Indeed, Flottie.’
‘Where Miss Perkins will be waiting?’
‘No doubt.’
‘But if Mrs Phillimore travels to Portsmouth too… ?’
‘Then he has a wife who loves him.’
‘But what would happen to Miss Perkins?’
‘She will travel on a different boat, to a different part of Canada.’
I considered this arrangement thoughtfully.
‘I don’t imagine Mrs Phillimore will much like the thought of Canada, will she, ma’am?’
‘You may be right, Flotsam.’
‘She’s very fond of hats and she has plenty of money now.’
‘She does indeed.’
‘So what will happen, ma’am? Who will end up where?’
Mrs Hudson had picked up a sheet from a pile of crumpled laundry that had been pushed hastily into the laundry chest. She waited until she had folded it into a perfect, crisp, white square before she turned to answer my question.
‘That’s really not for us to say, Flotsam. Events will take their course. We don’t need to know what happens next.’
I nodded as if I understood, but made a mental note to visit Ealing in a fortnight’s time, to see if Mrs Phillimore still lived in the house in Sefton Avenue.
‘You went to a lot of trouble to help Mr Phillimore, ma’am. All that planning and those boat tickets. I don’t really know why. Was it really because you wanted to save Mrs Smithers and her daughter from scandal, or was it because Lola Del Fuego loved him so much?’
‘Oh, a bit of many things, Flotsam. I didn’t need to worry about the cost of the tickets. I think Mr Holmes will be happy to cover our expenses. So perhaps the thing that really decided me was Dr Watson’s neckwear.’
I blinked at her in astonishment.
‘Those lurid cravats, Flottie. Surely you’ve noticed them?’
‘Why, yes, ma’am…’
‘And his walks in Hyde Park? It is a strange time of year to develop such a habit.’
‘Hyde Park, ma’am?’
She appeared to be concentrating her full attention on the folding of a large double sheet, but I saw her eyebrows twitch very slightly.
‘I saw a playbill in town yesterday, Flottie. It appears that a trapeze dancer called Miss Fidelma Fontaine is performing at the Oriental Theatre. And it occurred to me that the Oriental Theatre is not very far from Hyde Park.’
‘Why, ma’am!’ I exclaimed. ‘You mean… ?’
‘I mean no more than I say, Flottie. But I confess it has occurred to me that Maud Phillimore has disadvantages enough already. The additional scandal of a brother in gaol would hardly encourage the attentions of an honest man.’
I spent a moment considering this and decided that perhaps I should observe Dr Watson’s behaviour a little more closely in the months ahead.
‘Do you think he will want to write the story of the Malabar Rose, ma’am?’
‘Oh, perhaps he will, Flotsam. But as always I shall insist he doesn’t mention us. I don’t think we were cut out for the limelight.’
I sat and gazed into the fire for a moment longer, trying to work out what it was about the case of the Malabar Rose that still worried me.
‘Just one more thing, ma’am,’ I asked at length. ‘Mr Phillimore really did try to steal the ruby, ma’am. Are you sure it’s all right to just let him go?’
‘Your friend Blue, Flotsam. I believe he tried to steal your purse…’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am but I…’
Mrs Hudson raised her eyebrows and began to fold the next sheet. Instead of continuing with my reply, I looked into the fire and considered the case of Blue and the case of James Phillimore, and all the things they’d taught me about appearances and disappearances, about despair and love. I suppose those thoughts led me onto other things, and while Mrs Hudson worked her way peacefully through the rest of the sheets, I remembered something that in all the excitement I had almost forgotten: I had a mystery of my own to solve. So when Mrs Hudson had finished folding the last pillowcase, I was still thinking of the unexpected tickets I had received on Christmas Day. And when she spoke to me, I didn’t even hear her, for I was utterly lost in contemplation of a future that seemed to teem with secret admirers.
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First published in United Kingdom in 2015 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
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Copyright © Martin Davies, 2015
The moral right of Martin Davies to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781910859872
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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