“Well, it complicates things, does it not? There could be inappropriate behavior.”
A slow flush began to appear on her cheeks.
“I suppose in certain circumstances you might even feel compelled to talk to your master.”
She nodded.
“And have you done that—spoken to your master?”
“I meant no harm—but something needed to be said.”
Holmes’s calm gray eyes were fixed on her. “Did you happen to notice her going into his room?”
Her flush had deepened. “How… how could you know that?”
He shrugged. “Did you notice it more than once?”
“Yes.”
“And what did your master say?”
“That he would speak to them, and he did. Hodges told him they just wanted to chat, that they had little time for one another, and that while he was polishing or pressing in the dressing room, they could be together.”
“And did this explanation satisfy you?”
“Yes.” Her pained expression belied her affirmation. “But he did tell them it could give people the wrong impression, and that they’d best avoid it! And I think it has helped. Oh, I don’t want to be considered an old busy-body! Live and let live is my motto.”
“You seem very broad-minded, madam. One final question, and then we can drop the subject. Have you ever seen Hodges kiss Sabine?”
Lestrade drew back slightly in his chair, letting out his breath sharply. Mrs. Carlson thrust her jaw forward and shook her head. “No.”
Lestrade made an exasperated noise. “Mr. Holmes, must we lose ourselves in such sensational distractions? The issue at hand is the loss of the diamond.”
Holmes nodded. “Moving on then, Mrs. Carlson, when Amy decided to leave your service, did she speak to you or to Mr. Bromley first?”
“To him. I would have let her know what I thought of her—telling us she must leave with only a day or two’s notice! I’m sure she’s smart enough never to ask me for a reference. They’d get a mouthful from me!”
“And exactly what did you think of her?”
“That although much of the time she could work hard and do her chores, she had a saucy tongue and was trouble for others in the household. Matilda could hardly bear her company. When I told her to mend her ways, she had a nasty sort of smirking smile that made me want to slap her.”
“So, I take it, you are happy to have Susan here as a replacement.”
“That I am. Susan is all sweetness compared to Amy.”
Holmes nodded. “I see. And I have heard that Amy left no forwarding address?”
“No. She seemed all too happy at the prospect of not seeing us again, and we felt the same.”
“Could you describe her physical appearance for me, please? Constable, do write down these details. Also, did she have any distinguishing marks: a mole, a birthmark, scars?”
“She did have a birthmark. It was just under her right ear, a reddish purple blotch about an inch or so across. Strawberry mark, they call them, although this one was more the shape of a mushroom. Let’s see, she was tiny, but not so tiny as Susan. About five foot two or so, with curly black hair. Brown eyes. Her upper lip much fatter than the lower, almost sticking out some. Her teeth were none too good. She was missing one on the lower left side.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Carlson. Would you please close the door on the way out?”
Once the door was closed, Lestrade leaned back in his chair, brought his arms forward to stretch, and then clasped his hands behind his head. “All right, Mr. Holmes, why this bizarre fascination with Mademoiselle Pascal and Hodges? Can you possibly believe they are somehow behind the robbery?”
“No, I do not think so. Again, they were both present in the drawing room with me while the theft took place.”
“She could have signaled to someone outside before she came down.”
“But the doctor was with Mrs. Bromley, so she could not have known how long he would be with her.”
“Blast it! Then why all these questions about the two of them?”
Holmes smiled and set his left hand onto the palm of his right. “I’m merely trying to understand all the various tangled relationships within this little household.”
“And this girl, Amy—obviously she knew about the diamond and the layout of the house. She could have conspired with someone else, possibly someone still in the house. True, she doesn’t seem to have left a very good impression on the other servants, but that could be an act on the part of one of them.”
“That is possible, although none of them strike me as having hidden thespian abilities. There is another alternative. Could you have one of your men look at the files and photographs for all unidentified young women either found dead on the streets or exhumed from the Thames during the last six months? See if anyone matches Amy’s description. The birthmark should be the giveaway.”
This last request made me feel a sudden queasy sensation low in the belly. Holmes’s questions had not prepared me for such a possibility.
“We are finished, are we not?” Holmes asked. Lestrade nodded brusquely, and Holmes stood. “Well, Henry, I think we have earned a good lunch, and then if you wish, you may join me in another visit.”
“Where?” I asked.
“We must drop in on Mr. Tyabji.”
Lestrade laughed. “You will find that he has already had visitors today.”
Nine
We arrived at Tyabji’s house shortly after one that afternoon and were again ushered into the main sitting room with its exotic and colorful tapestries, carpets, pillows and statuary. This time I noticed the fantastical three-foot bronze in the shadowy corner. The rotund deity had an elephant head and four arms; it sat cross-legged, its elephantine ears outspread, an elaborate crown or headpiece up top. The beautiful red-glass hookah sat in another corner, unlit and silent this time.
Tyabji rose to meet us, dressed again formally in striped trousers, white shirt with black cravat and black vest. However, over this he wore a spectacular dressing gown partaking of both East and West, a paisley print of blue and green on silk. His smile set off his brilliant white teeth against his dark skin, and his abundantly curling brown hair had highlights of gold.
Sprawled across an armchair with his bony white feet perched on the ottoman, lay a more earthbound figure: Murthwaite, still dressed in remnants of the prior evening’s formal wear, the black trousers and white, long-sleeved shirt. The red bow tie was undone, its ends dangling from the open collar, and his black braces had slipped off his arms and lay drooping at the sides of his trousers. His eyes struggled to open more than halfway in acknowledgment of our presence. Despite his tanned skin, he looked pale. One hand, its bony fingers curved like claws, rose from the chair arm in a feeble greeting, accompanied by an equally feeble sort of croak.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Tyabji’s voice was hale and hearty.
It triggered another croak from Murthwaite, along with head shaking. “No, no—easy now—easy. Not loud. Not loud.”
“I’m sorry,” Tyabji said more softly. “You gave me very sound advice, Mr. Holmes. I had an alibi for the time of the theft. My two servants and I were playing cards all evening long. I allowed the police to search the house this morning.”
“Inspector Lestrade told us his men visited,” Holmes said.
Tyabji shook his head. “Very sloppy and careless they were in all their rummaging about! It will take my servants the rest of the afternoon to completely restore order.”
“They did not, of course, find anything?”
“No, as I could have—and did—tell them.”
Holmes glanced at Murthwaite whose half-open eyes were vaguely focused on some spot about two feet in the air before him. “And did they also question Mr. Murthwaite?”
Tyabji smiled. “They tried to. They had little success.”
Murthwaite made a labored sound, shifted in the chair and managed to rise some six inches upward. He raised his cla
wed hand again as he turned to Tyabji’s servant. “Sunil, please, coffee now—with brandy, a big dose of brandy.” Sunil nodded and slipped quietly away. Instead of shoes he wore red slippers with his black trousers and morning coat.
Tyabji smiled down at Murthwaite. “How good to see you returning to the living again, Jack.”
Murthwaite winced and waved his hand. “Softly, please.”
Tyabji folded his arms. “So the diamond is gone, Mr. Holmes?”
“It is.”
He shook his head. “You are lucky to have seen it. No doubt the thieves will have it hacked to pieces, and the fragments will be sold off. To think it survived for centuries in India, only to come to England and be destroyed within a few paltry decades! Truly we live in a wicked world. Parts of Christianity make little sense to me, but I do believe in sin. Men are so willing to desecrate beautiful things. I have never seen the diamond, and now I suppose I never will.”
The corners of Holmes’s mouth briefly rose. “Do not be too sure of that, sir. You may see it sooner than you imagine.”
Tyabji stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I have reason to believe the thieves may have the diamond delivered to you.”
I was rather stupefied myself. “Sherlock, can that possibly be true?”
“Yes.” He gazed again at Tyabji. “You took my advice before. Will you take it again?”
“Certainly, Mr. Holmes.”
“If a package should be delivered to your house this week, do not open it, but send for me immediately. I—and Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard—will come at once.”
“Why would anyone send me the diamond?”
Again the corners of his mouth flickered briefly upward. “Because it belongs to you—or rather to the Hindus of Gujarat.”
“I would like to believe that is possible, but it does seem unlikely.”
I nodded. “I think so too.”
“We shall see,” Holmes said. “We shall see.”
“If it came to me, what if I simply…” Tyabji’s voice trailed away.
Holmes stared at him. “What if you simply kept it, you mean? The temptation is great, I know, but I hope you will trust me and do as I ask. If you do not… I cannot explain myself, but if you accept the ‘gift,’ all might not turn out as you would expect.”
Tyabji smiled ironically. “Is charity from thieves thievery? Do two wrongs make a right? I will do as you say, Mr. Holmes. My Christian and my Muslim upbringing may not have an obvious answer for me, but I do have a sense of honor. And you are certainly more experienced than I in these bewildering matters, a worthy guide for a novice like myself.”
Holmes nodded. “Thank you.”
Sunil had returned with a silver tray bearing a china pitcher and a cup and saucer. He set it down on a small end table, then poured out the hot brown liquid. I could smell both coffee and brandy. Murthwaite managed to raise himself to a mostly upright position, even as he crossed his legs at the ankles and gestured at the wooden arm of the chair. “Set it there.” He stared resolutely at the black steaming surface of the liquid, then reached for the cup, lifted it quickly and took a big swallow, slurping loudly as he did so. He lowered the cup at once and drew in his breath, nodding once. “Better.” He frowned slightly. “Could use a touch more brandy, though.”
“At once, sir,” Sunil said.
“No, no—this will do. This will do nicely. Thank you.” He looked up at us, his smile more akin to a grimace, then he took another big sip. “I may live after all.” His voice was much less hoarse than it had been. “Alice—how is poor Alice?”
I smiled. “She had a headache too.”
“Not like mine! Can’t have been—can’t have been. She stopped round ten, while I… I was just getting starting when I left.”
“Where did you go?” I asked.
“A public house, and then a public house, and finally a public house close by. I knew my friend Geoffrey would take me in, even early in the morning.” He glanced at Tyabji. “What time was it when I appeared upon your doorstep?”
“A quarter past two. You managed to fall asleep standing and with your eyes open a fraction.”
“I don’t remember much from last night after the party, only the dim, smoke-filled interiors of the pubs and people laughing and talking.”
“You have no alibi, then?” Holmes asked.
Murthwaite smiled. “Probably not. Then, too, I have a double motive for theft: I think the diamond belongs back in India, and I’d like to see Alice free of that particular albatross. I wouldn’t have any moral compunction about pinching it, either. Unfortunately, I was in no state to do anything last night. Could have told my accomplices when to strike, I suppose.” He winked at us. “Pity I had no accomplices.”
He shook his head. “Poor little Alice—of course, I mean little only in a figurative sense. She has three or four inches on me, but I think of her as little compared to that harridan of a sister of hers. I pity that poor husband, that ‘James’ of Norah. Alice was always the sweet one who could listen to my stories for hours, while even at the age of five or six Norah was proclaiming loudly that she didn’t believe a word of it. Didn’t believe I’d ever seen a tiger, can you imagine? Last night’s dinner was a good one, and I enjoyed talking to Alice, but the high point of the evening was seeing Norah doused with port.” A sharp bark of a laugh escaped him, then he coughed once, again, and drank a big sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t have missed that for anything—how she had it coming! Ever since they were little, she has bullied Alice. She has all of her father’s truculence, while Alice has her mother’s sweetness.”
He sighed wearily. “All the same, I think I’m getting too old for that kind of drinking. It has been a long time since I have so indulged. Geoffrey, if you’re game, after I eat something, we might try a smoke of my special blend again. That mixture with hashish and opium is perfect for calming the gyrating stomach and soothing the battered head.”
Tyabji nodded. “Gladly, Jack. And perhaps this time Mr. Holmes might join us.”
Holmes smiled. “Not today, I’m afraid. Another time, perhaps.”
Murthwaite sighed again. “If you had the need of it that I do, you would not abstain, but you were moderate in your consumption of drink last night. That, in retrospect, seems wise. As I say, I grow too old for such bouts of intemperance. The price one must pay has become painful indeed.”
“Come, come, Jack,” Tyabji said. “You will live, I assure you.”
Murthwaite took a last swallow, finishing the coffee. “I do feel marginally alive now.” He glanced at Holmes. “Will the police want to arrest me, Mr. Holmes?”
“I doubt it. They will want to question you further.”
“The police told us the diamond had been stolen, but would not give us any details. How did it happen, Mr. Holmes?”
Holmes slid the fingers of one hand between the fingers of the other. “It was taken from Mrs. Bromley’s bedroom. She was alone for half an hour or so after the doctor left and before we went up to reclaim the necklace. A hole had been cut in the glass, and the window was open.”
Tyabji shook his head. “That must have been one or two floors up from the ground. I suppose they used a ladder.”
Murthwaite burst into loud laughter. We all stared at him. “What is so amusing, Jack?” Tyabji asked.
“Sorry. The mere idea of me climbing a ladder last night struck me as funny.”
I frowned and glanced at Holmes. “Could they have used a rope?”
He shrugged. “It would be possible.”
“But there was nothing upon which to hook a rope.”
“A rope or a rope ladder with a grappling hook could conceivably have been thrown up to the protruding window ledge, but I saw no marks there.”
Murthwaite was smiling again. “I suppose Bromley was devastated.”
“It was quite a shock to him,” I said.
“He was going to lock it away, anyway, or so he said. Which I found hard
to believe. Of course, last night was different.”
Holmes stared closely at him. “How so?”
“Usually he can’t seem to keep his eyes off the diamond—at least that was true the other times I was around him when Alice was wearing the jewel. He was always ogling it. Oh, those who are more charitable than me might assume that he couldn’t take his eyes off Alice, but I always thought he seemed more in love with the diamond than with her.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, “—and unfair. You cannot be in love with an inanimate object, even one as beautiful as a diamond.”
Murthwaite was still smiling. “Can’t you?” He laughed softly. “Sometimes I think that’s the real difference between the rich and the poor, wherever you go. The rich are more in love with jewels and gold and pretty trinkets than with people. Treasure becomes the be-all and the end-all. Nothing else really counts for them.”
Tyabji stared closely at Murthwaite. “You are rarely so philosophical, Jack.”
“Must be sobering up that does it. They say money is a blessing, but it’s always seemed more a curse to me. I’ve never seen a rich man who could take joy in the simple pleasures of life the way the poor man can. Oh, I don’t mean the wretchedly poor—theirs can be a miserable lot. But if you have enough and can be content with that, you are truly blessed. Those at the party last night—those peers with all their houses, their horses and carriages, their wives all decked out like great sailing ships with silken sails and… I’d not trade places with them for all the money in the world.” He laughed. “I’d rather be here with you, Geoffrey, and have a smoke, or spend time with my wives and children—in moderation, naturally, all in moderation.”
Holmes smiled. “You are indeed a philosopher, Mr. Murthwaite.”
“Jack—call me Jack. Everyone does.”
“Very well, Jack. Henry and I must be on our way. Remember what I said about that package, Mr. Tyabji.”
“I shall, Mr. Holmes—you have my promise on that.”
“Good day, then.”
It was another balmy, beautiful day outside, about seventy degrees with a few puffy clouds in the blue sky above a line of roof tops. I put on my hat, then covered my mouth and yawned. The lingering headache of the morning was gone, but I felt sleepy and wished I were home. Holmes, on the other hand, seemed more invigorated than ever.
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