The Adventures of the Eleven Cuff-Buttons

by James Francis Thierry

  CHAPTER XV

  Thursday morning, April the eleventh, found us none the worse for ourwetting in the creek the afternoon before; and as Holmes and I weredressing in our room, he loudly boasted that before another day hadpassed he would succeed in finding the four remaining diamondcuff-buttons.

  "Well, I hope so, Holmes; only I can't help thinking what a supremechump that Earl is for keeping those five servants of his from whomyou extracted the first seven cuff-buttons,--Yensen, Thorneycroft,Galetchkoff, Bunbury, and Xanthopoulos!" I said; "because at any timethey are liable to steal the darned cuff-buttons again. Then there'sVermicelli, who was mixed up in the plot with the Greek, and theCountess herself!"

  "What of it, Doc?" grinned Holmes, as he bent down to lace his shoes."His Nibs can't very well fire _her_, can he? And as to the fiveservants whom he has so mercifully retained, that's _his_ funeral, notours. I was hired at an exorbitant fee to get back the cuff-buttons,and when I have done so my duties end. Handing out free advice topeople who have not asked for it generally doesn't get you anything, Ihave observed."

  I subsided, knowing from long experience how bull-headed Holmes was,and we went downstairs to breakfast, at which meal the Earl andCountess both did the honors to the assembled party. It developed thenthat Inspector Barnabas Letstrayed, in spite of his nap on thebilliard-table the day before, had also bestirred himself in aneleventh hour attempt to find some of the cuff-buttons before Holmesdug them all up, and he told us how he had been all through theservants' rooms on the fifth floor, rummaging in their dressers andclothes-closets, and peeking under the beds, in a vain endeavor tounearth at least one of the stolen gems. He had also been down in thewine-cellar, on the theory that some of the servants might have gonedown there to get drunk, and while in that condition might havedropped the gems, but there also he was doomed to disappointment.

  "Cheer up, Barney, old boy; maybe I'll let you stand beside me when Inab the next thief, and you can thus share in the honor ofapprehending him," said Holmes. Letstrayed, however, seemed to thinkthat my partner was unjustly putting something over on him in gettingback so many of the cuff-buttons when he, Letstrayed, couldn't findone. After breakfast the Earl suggested that we take a walk about thegrounds, which proved to be a pleasanter jaunt than the one we took atHolmes's insistence on Tuesday morning; for the grass had been driedby this time by the sunshine that had followed Monday's rain.

  The nine of us, including the Countess, rambled around thewide-spreading lawn by twos and threes, and I contrived to draw Holmespast the stables and gardens back to the small patch of woods thatadjoined the castle grounds at the rear, where we seated ourselves ona fallen tree-trunk.

  "Now, look here, Holmes, I've just been thinking----" I began.

  "What! Again?" interrupted Holmes, with a grin.

  "Don't interrupt me, please," I said seriously. "I want you to dopeout for me the process of reasoning you went through yesterday noon inthe music room behind the locked doors. Some of the moves you havemade are too many for me, and I seek enlightenment."

  "Well, Doc," said Holmes, as he took out his pocket-knife, pulled asliver of wood off the tree-trunk we were sitting on, and began towhittle it, "the red clay I found on Eustace Thorneycroft's shoes waspretty good evidence that he had been around the stable, where theonly red clay in the neighborhood is located; so I disguised myself asthe race-track loafer and pried his secret out of the none too brightOlaf Yensen, the coachman. Then I found cigar ashes of the peculiarPampango brand, which I can always spot with a microscope, on theCountess's shoes, which proved that she had been in the Earl's roomsjust after he had smoked a Pampango and before the room had been sweptout, so I was able to nail _her_ as one of the kleptomaniacs----"

  "Yes, yes, I know that already," I hastened to say; "but what aboutyour seizing Galetchkoff, Bunbury, and Xanthopoulos? You didn't seemto have any shoe-sole clues by which to follow there."

  "Doc, when I can't get 'em any other way I pull off my feminineintuition, which I have inherited in large measure from my Frenchmother, and I can always run 'em down with that! Now when we werechasing that Russian hash-mixer or biscuit-shooter out of the kitchendoor closely pursued by Louis with the butcher-knife, your old UncleHemlock's intuition told him that there was another one of the guiltywretches who had cabbaged the cuff-buttons! Similarly with theegregious Egbert when he put his retreating forehead in at the door ofthe billiard-room, just after I had picked the fifth diamond treasureout of the pool-table pocket; and also with the Mephistophelian valetLuigi, when I decided to pull the strong-arm stuff on him and searchhim for a note from an accomplice. Little old Intuition,--with acapital I,--told me that they were the ginks I was after."

  And the accomplished old poser calmly whittled away at the sliver ofwood in his hand.

  "Aw, come off!" I replied. "I really thought you could hand mesomething more plausible than that, Holmes. Unquestionably you do showflashes of genius sometimes in recovering articles or in spottingcriminals guilty of murder and so on, but at other times you're simplyplaying to blind, dumb luck, only your vanity is so enormous that youwon't admit it. You want everybody to believe that you dope out allyour problems with that wonderful deductive reasoning power that youget from injecting 'coke' into your arm, and sitting still with a pipein your mouth! 'Intuition,' my eye! You might be able to tell that toBarney Letstrayed, but you can't tell it to me!"

  And I disgustedly threw away another little sliver of wood I hadpicked off the tree-trunk.

  Holmes merely laughed and said:

  "I guess you're simply sore because I dumped you into the creekaccidentally yesterday, Doc. The old saying has it that no man is ahero to his valet, but I guess I'm not a hero to my physician either.Cheer up though, Watson; when we get back to the little old rooms inBaker Street after this cuff-button fever is over, why I'll split upwith you fifty-fifty on the reward I get from the Earl. How's that,eh?"

  "Pretty good, I guess. But I would like some information on yourdeductions from the remaining four pairs of shoes,--Tooter's, Hicks's,Lord Launcelot's, and most important of all, Billie Budd's, the lastof whom you publicly bawled out as a robber and thief at luncheon onTuesday. How are you going to account for them,--huh?" I inquired.

  "Now, Doc, you betray a reprehensible desire to anticipate theprescience of the Almighty in thus seeking to ascertain the futurewhile we are still in the present tense, similar to the people who goto call on fortune-tellers, and the girls who always read the lastpage of a novel first, to see how it comes out! But suffice it to saythat I found both Pampango cigar ashes and the toilet-powder that theEarl uses on Budd's shoes; wine-stains on Uncle Tooter's shoes; flouron Hicks's shoes, and garden earth on Launcelot's shoes. I'll tell youmore later."

  Having given forth this cryptic information, Holmes arose, brushed offhis trousers, and added that we'd better be getting back to thecastle, or the Earl would be sending out a general alarm for us. Andthat's all I could possibly get out of him.

  At the edge of the woods there was a considerable stretch of barepebbly ground before we came to the rear lawn, and I stumbled over afair-sized pebble, which gave me an idea.

  "Holmes," I said, "I think I know the derivation of the name of thenoble castle out in front there,--Normanstow Towers. You see theyclaim that the oldest part of the castle dates from the NormanConquest, though the rest of it only goes back to about 1400, and ifall these pebbles were here at the time of William the Norman, thenthis is the place where probably William the Norman stubbed his toe,as he was chasing around inspecting the castles he had set up to keepthe Saxons in subjection, hence, Norman's toe,--Normanstow! How's thatfor etymology?"

  "Watson, you ought to be shot for a joke like that,--darned if yououghtn't," replied Holmes with a smile.

  We then continued our walk to the castle, where we turned in at thekitchen door at his request, all the rest of our party havingreentered the castle by the front door.

  "Now here is where I will have a difficult job ahead of me, han
dlingthe touchy and sensitive supervisor of this hash-foundry, Watson,"Holmes remarked as we entered the kitchen and said "Good morning" toLouis La Violette the chef; "for I have good reason to believe that heknows where a certain party has hidden one of the remainingcuff-buttons."

  "Louis," he began, turning to that worthy, who was putting away thebreakfast dishes, while Ivan, his assistant, sat in a corner pickingout the stems from some hothouse strawberries; "I called tocongratulate you on the uniform excellence of the repasts you haveprepared since I have been an honored guest in this castle, and to saythat I consider them absolutely Lucullan, not to say Apician, in theirdelicious sumptuousness. Here, have a cigarette on me." And Holmespolitely proffered to the chef his silver cigarette case,--the onethat the Sultan of Zanzibar had given him three years before as areward on a certain case.

  La Violette swelled up like a pouter pigeon on hearing this taffy fromthe great detective, and bowed profoundly, his black eyes gleaming, ashe took a cigarette and lit it.

  "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I always endeavor to do my best in theculinary line, with the help of Monsieur Harrigan, who serves thewines at the end of the dinners I prepare," replied he.

  "You are both geniuses in your line," agreed Holmes, as we settleddown in a couple of kitchen chairs, and I listened while he tried topull the chef's leg for some cuff-button information; "and I canappreciate your cookery all the more, since I am half afellow-country-man of yours. My mother was French, as Doctor Watsoninformed the world in one of my very first adventures."

  "Ah! You don't say so! Why in the world didn't you tell me about itbefore? May I ask what your mother's maiden name was?" queried thepleased Louis.

  "Le Sage. She was a direct descendant of the family of the greatFrench author of the seventeenth century, Alain Rene Le Sage,"answered Holmes.

  "Well, well, well! I must treat on that," returned Louis, and hebustled around into the pantry, and got out a bottle of Bordeaux winehe had hidden there by the flour-bin for contingencies. "Here, justtry some of this elegant wine from my native province of Guienne," headded, filling three glasses, which he offered one each to Holmes andmyself.

  "Fine, fine!" commended Holmes, as he smacked his lips. "By the way,Louis, what do you think about the four remaining diamond cuff-buttonsstill floating around? I have reason to believe they are still insidethe castle, and that Billie Budd did not get away with them."

  Louis put down his glass, and regarded Holmes peculiarly.

  "Those cuff-buttons are not worrying me one single bit, and if I hadtaken any of the worthless gewgaws, which are hardly fit for a LatinQuarter masquerade ball, I would have assuredly soon become ashamed ofhaving them in my possession and have returned them to the Earl.However," and Louis seemed to hesitate a moment, "if anybody else inNormanstow Towers still holds the gems, there is no telling what mayhappen to them. I wish I could help you find the things; but when aCanadian gentleman who tells you he is half French, and used to livein that beautiful city of Quebec, comes and--and----"

  Here Louis happened to notice Holmes watching him narrowly, andinstantly realizing the horrible break he had made, got terriblyembarrassed, and stammered out:

  "Er, no, I mean, er--that is----"

  But Holmes jumped up and didn't give him a chance to finish it.

  "Ha, ha! The only Canadian in this neck of the woods is Mr. William Q.Hicks, of Saskatoon. I knew before that he stole one of thecuff-buttons, but now that you give yourself away and admit that _you_know of his theft also, you are in duty bound to tell me where he hashidden the darned thing. Come, Monsieur La Violette, I am more Frenchthan Hicks is, as my mother was born in France itself, while his wasjust a French-Canadian; so come across with your confidence, and restassured that I will not misplace it by ever telling Hicks that youinformed on him. The deadly flour-marks on the soles of his shoesindicated to my eagle eye, ably assisted by the magnifying glass, thatHicks had been loafing around in the pantry; which could only meanthat he was having confidential relations with you, since the guestsof an earl, from a far-off country, do not commonly come down from thedrawing-room and associate with the chef in the pantry unless theyhave something very ulterior up their sleeve,--_n'est-ce pas_?"

  Louis got more confused and embarrassed than ever, and was about tomake some kind of answer when Donald MacTavish appeared in the doorwayleading from the cellar, wiping his lips, and with a fatuous grin onhis face.

  "Oh, Scotty, Scotty! I am sure you'll never get to be a member of theW. C. T. U. when you carry on like that," said Holmes, noticing thefootman's caught-with-the-goods expression. "Down in the Earl'swine-cellar again, sampling 'em up, eh?"

  The second footman bowed awkwardly, and was about to pass into thedining-room when Holmes caught the glint of something sparkling in hisleft hand.