The Baker Street Boys - The Case of the Captive Clairvoyant

by Anthony Read

  “He’s not here,” he told them in a superior voice. “Mr Holmes is away on important business.”

  “We got important business,” Wiggins replied. “We got important information for him.”

  “What he’d want to know about,” Beaver added.

  “Oh, yeah?” Billy replied. “How d’you know he would?”

  “’Cos it’s about—” Sparrow began to blurt out, before Wiggins stopped him by clapping a hand over his mouth.

  “It’s too important for you to know,” Wiggins told Billy. “If Mr Holmes ain’t here, we’ll have to tell Dr Watson. You can announce us, if you please.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he ain’t here neither. I mean,” he corrected himself, switching back to his posh voice, “he isn’t here either. They’ve both gone to Devon. Some trouble with a dog on Dartmoor.”

  Back at HQ, the Boys held what Wiggins called a council of war, to decide what they should do next. Queenie was all for going to Scotland Yard, but Wiggins said Inspector Lestrade would never take them seriously.

  “He did last time,” Beaver said.

  “And he knows the Professor was behind it all,” Queenie added.

  “Yeah, but we had Dr Watson with us then,” Wiggins replied. “And we knew a lot more. Now we don’t really know nothing.”

  “We’d better find out then, hadn’t we?” Queenie said.

  “How we gonna do that?” Beaver asked, scratching his head.

  Wiggins turned his eyes to Sparrow. All the others did the same. Sparrow swallowed hard, then nodded.

  “All right,” he said. “Leave it to me.”

  “We will,” Shiner grinned. “You’re the one what’s sweet on Little Mary.”

  Sparrow dived at him, fists flailing, but Beaver grabbed them both with his strong arms and easily held them apart.

  “Now then, now then!” Queenie scolded. “Behave yourselves, both of you. We’re here to fight criminals, not each other.”

  “Evenin’ Mr Marvin, Miss Mary.”

  It was the next day and Sparrow had been hovering inside the stage door, waiting for them to arrive whilst trying to keep out of the way of Mr Trump, who seemed to suspect he was up to something. At last they appeared and Sparrow greeted them with a smile. He was rewarded with a warm smile in return from Mary, although Marvin just nodded curtly.

  “Anythin’ you need,” Sparrow chirped, “just give me a call. ’Cos I’m the call boy, don’cher know?”

  Marvin said nothing, but Mary smiled kindly at his little joke.

  “Anythin’,” he continued, looking hard at her, willing her to understand. “Sparrow’s the name. Don’t forget, now.”

  Before Mary could respond, Marvin took hold of her arm and steered her away to their dressing room, closing the door firmly behind them. Sparrow stood in the corridor, wondering what he could do now. How would he ever get to speak to Mary on her own when Marvin never let her out of his sight?

  As the show progressed, and act followed act, Sparrow was kept busy. But all the time, as he dashed about, fetching and carrying and changing the programme cards, he managed to keep an eye on the dressing-room door. It remained firmly closed, and he was beginning to despair when Bert stuck his head through the swing doors and beckoned him over.

  “Message fer Mr Marvin,” he said, handing him a stiff white envelope and jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “From the gent outside.”

  As Sparrow took the envelope, his fingers felt something raised on the back. He turned it over and discovered an embossed monogram on the flap: the familiar curly letter “M”. Peering past Bert, he shivered with excitement as he recognized the carriage waiting in the street beyond the stage door. He was brought back to earth by a sharp word from the doorman.

  “Go on, lad! Jump to it!”

  Sparrow didn’t need telling twice. Clutching the letter as though afraid it would fly out of his hand, he trotted down the corridor and knocked on Marvin’s door.

  “What is it?” The American’s voice sounded cautious.

  “Message for Mr Marvin.”

  The door opened just a couple of inches, Marvin peered suspiciously through the crack, took the envelope from Sparrow, then closed it again. A moment or two later, he came out of the room, closed the door carefully behind him, and hurried through the stage door to the street. As soon as he had gone, Sparrow knocked quickly on the door and, without waiting for an answer, slipped inside.

  Mary was sitting at the dressing table, wearing her stage costume. To Sparrow she looked prettier than ever, but her face was sad. She let out a little cry of alarm as he entered.

  “It’s all right,” he reassured her. “It’s only me.”

  “What d’you want?”

  “To help you.”

  Her lovely face looked even more miserable and her golden curls trembled as she shook her head.

  “You can’t. Nobody can help me.”

  “Yes, I can. Me and my friends can. We’re the Baker Street Boys – we can do anythin’.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anythin’.” He leant forward and whispered confidentially, “We saved Her Majesty the Queen from being murdered. Only don’t tell nobody – it’s a deadly secret.”

  Mary’s eyes opened wide as saucers.

  “Could you help me escape from him?”

  “From your dad?”

  “He ain’t my daddy. He’s my stepfather, and I hate him.”

  “Right. Yeah, course we can.”

  “I’m desperate to get away from him. Only, I got no place to go and I don’t know anybody in England.”

  “You do now,” Sparrow told her. “I’ll have a word with the others tonight, and we’ll make a plan.”

  “You really think your friends would agree?”

  “Sure as eggs is eggs.”

  “I mean, they don’t know me, or nothing about me.”

  “No, but I do. And when I tell ’em, they’ll all want to help you. Just you wait and see.”

  “That’d be just wonderful.” Her eyes filled with tears, but this time they were tears of happiness. “Oh, Sparrow, I could kiss you!”

  Sparrow backed away hastily. “Just be ready tomorrow night,” he told her. “And leave everythin’ to me.”

  “Leave what to you?”

  The harsh voice came from the doorway. Sparrow spun round to see Marvin glaring at him. He thought fast.

  “Oh, hello, Mr Marvin,” he stuttered. “I was just askin’ if Miss Mary would like some pop.”

  “Pop?” Marvin rasped.

  “Yeah, you know. Lemonade, or dandelion and burdock—”

  “Dandelion and…? What you trying to do, poison the girl?”

  “No, sir. It’s real good is dandelion and burdock. Very refreshing.”

  “Get outta here. And stay out. We don’t need nothing.”

  He gave Sparrow a violent push, sending him reeling into the corridor. As the door slammed behind him, Sparrow heard Marvin say, “You better be on your best behaviour tonight. The professor’s got another engagement for us. A real important one.”

  Back at HQ, Sparrow recounted all that had happened.

  “I still dunno what he’s up to,” he told the other Boys, “but it’s gotta be no good.”

  “Pity you couldn’t have read what was in that note,” Wiggins said.

  “I would’ve, but the envelope was stuck down,” Sparrow explained.

  “You could’ve steamed it open,” Shiner said.

  “Yeah, the geezer I used to work for did that,” Beaver joined in. “You hold it over a boiling kettle and the steam melts the glue, then all you gotta do—”

  “I hadn’t got no kettle,” Sparrow interrupted him. “And anyway, I didn’t have no time.”

  “Course he didn’t,” Queenie said, giving Shiner a withering glance. “Stupid idea.”

  Shiner shrugged – he was used to his elder sister putting him down. “Bet there was one somewhere in
the theatre,” he argued. “Else how could they make a cup of tea?”

  “Shiner! Shut up!” Wiggins told him sharply. “We got some thinking to do.”

  “Like how in the name of all that’s holy are we goin’ to rescue that poor little spalpeen from her wicked stepda’?” Gertie asked, sounding more Irish than ever as she scratched her ginger head.

  “And from Professor Moriarty,” Beaver added.

  “Precisely,” said Wiggins, in his best Sherlock Holmes manner. “Don’t forget the wicked professor. There could be some danger if he’s got anything to do with it.”

  “Don’t we know it,” Queenie said.

  The others were silent for a moment as they remembered their last encounter with Moriarty.

  Then Sparrow piped up. “I don’t care about danger,” he said defiantly.

  “Nor me,” said Rosie, and the others all joined in. Only Shiner said nothing – he was still sulking after being told to shut up.

  “So,” said Wiggins, “we’re all agreed – we’re gonna help Mary? Right. Then we’d better start making a plan.”

  They spent the rest of that night and most of the next day working out what they were going to do.

  “First thing,” Wiggins began, “we gotta get Marvin outta the way.”

  “How we gonna do that, then?” Beaver asked.

  “It ain’t gonna be easy,” Sparrow said. “He don’t never let her outta his sight.”

  “Poor girl!” Gertie sympathized. “Fancy havin’ a da’ like that – even if he ain’t her real da’.”

  “’Specially if he ain’t her real dad,” Rosie added.

  They sat and thought, pummelling their brains as they tried to find an answer. Wiggins paced up and down the room until his face suddenly lit up.

  “Moriarty!” he exclaimed.

  “What’s the professor got to do with it?” Shiner asked.

  “Everything!” Wiggins replied. “Think of the note. That got him outta the door, didn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but…” Beaver looked puzzled. “How we gonna get the professor to send him another?”

  “We don’t need to. You’re gonna call at the stage door and say you’ve got a message for Mr Marvin. You say there’s a gent sitting in a carriage round the corner as wants a word with him.”

  “What gent?”

  “There ain’t no gent, you dope. But Marvin’ll think it’s Moriarty, won’t he?”

  “Oh, right. So he’ll go out round the corner to look for him…”

  “Exac’ly! And while he’s gone, Sparrow nips into the dressing room and gets Mary out to the rest of us.”

  “Brilliant,” said Beaver, looking impressed.

  But Queenie had her doubts. “And what happens if Marvin turns round and comes right back,” she asked, “and the first thing he sees is Sparrow bringing Mary out?”

  The other Boys had to admit that this was a problem. Sparrow said they didn’t have to bring Mary out through the stage door. She could climb out of the dressing-room window into the alleyway at the back of the theatre. But Marvin might still see her making her escape, and give chase. They needed more time. How could they get it? How could they get Marvin far enough away from the theatre so that he would not see Mary leaving?

  It was hours later that Wiggins and Queenie came up with the answer, with a little help from Sparrow.

  “Got it!” said Wiggins. “To start with, she don’t come outta the theatre. We just make Marvin think she has, but really she’s still in the dressing room. Sparrow can hide her somewhere, then leave the window open so it looks like she’s gone out that way.”

  “Brilliant!” said Beaver again. “So he goes chasin’ off lookin’ for her…”

  “And when he does,” Sparrow said, “I get her outta the window for real. Yeah, brilliant!”

  “’Cept Marvin will be out there lookin’,” Shiner reminded them.

  “You’re right,” Queenie acknowledged grudgingly. Shiner grinned at her, pleased that for once she agreed with him.

  This called for more hard thinking. But eventually Queenie had a bright idea. “If I was to disguise myself as Mary, I could get him to chase after me and lead him in the wrong direction,” she said. “He could end up miles away while the rest of you bring her back here, safe and sound.”

  “Brilliant!” said Beaver.

  “But what if he catches you?” Rosie asked, worried.

  “What? Catch me? Round here?”

  “Fat chance of that,” said Wiggins. “And even if he did, what’s it matter? He’ll only discover he’s got the wrong girl.”

  “Brilliant,” Beaver repeated, mightily impressed.

  “But how you gonna fool him?” Shiner persisted.

  “Easy,” shouted Sparrow, caught up in the excitement of the plan. “Mary wears this red velvet cloak when she comes to the theatre, and it’s got a hood what you can pull over your head!”

  “Perfect!” said Wiggins. “Queenie waits in the alley behind the dressing rooms. When Marvin goes lookin’ for Moriarty, Sparrow passes the cloak out through the window, then leaves it open while Mary hides. Then Queenie makes sure Marvin catches sight of her running away, and Bob’s your uncle!”

  Next day, Sparrow was at the theatre early, eager to alert Mary to the plan. Wiggins and Beaver took up positions outside the stage door, ready to play their parts in spiriting Mary away, while Queenie hid in the alley. They had a long wait because Marvin and Mary were the last act on-stage, but the Boys were too excited to mind.

  Sparrow, who was busy looking after the other artistes, did not see them until they were in their dressing room and so couldn’t tell Mary about the plan, or warn her to be ready. So it came as a surprise to her when he slipped into the dressing room while Marvin was out looking for Beaver’s imaginary gentleman, and told her it was time to escape. But her reaction came as an even bigger surprise to him.

  “Escape?” she asked, staring at him blankly. “Why?”

  “From Marvin. Quick – hide!”

  “Hide?”

  “Yeah. From Marvin!”

  “I cannot leave Marvin,” she said, in a strange, flat voice. “I have to stay with him and keep the secret.”

  “But you said…” Sparrow stammered. “I got it all fixed.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her head, looking puzzled. “You better get outta here before Marvin comes back. He don’t like me talking to strange people.”

  “Strange people! Us?” Queenie exclaimed crossly. “Cheeky madam.”

  Sparrow sat hunched over the table at HQ, quite despondent, as he finished telling the others exactly what had happened. They were all indignant.

  “If you ask me, it’s her that’s the strange one,” Gertie said.

  “I nearly froze to death hanging about in that alley waiting for her.” Queenie held out her hands to the stove, to warm them.

  “Made a real charlie outta you, didn’t she!” Shiner taunted Sparrow.

  “Never mind, Sparrow,” Rosie comforted him. “We still love you.”

  “It weren’t your fault,” Beaver added. “Let’s forget all about it now.”

  He patted his stomach and looked at Queenie. “We got any cocoa left in that tin you found?”

  “That’s a good idea,” she replied. “Who’s for cocoa? Wiggins?”

  Wiggins had been pacing the floor again, deep in thought, while the others were talking. Now he stopped and held up one hand.

  “There’s something very funny about this,” he announced.

  “Yeah, I’m killing myself laughing,” Queenie said with heavy sarcasm.

  “I mean funny peculiar,” Wiggins retorted. “How could she forget, when she’d been so upset? She might have changed her mind, p’raps, but not forgot all about it. What’s this secret of Marvin’s, what she’s gotta keep? And what’s it all got to do with Moriarty?”

  “I dunno. What?” Beaver asked innocently.

  “That, my dear Beaver –”
Wiggins sounded more like Sherlock Holmes than ever – “is what we are going to find out.”

  Rescuing Mary

  “Why didn’t you come for me?” Mary hissed at Sparrow as he passed her dressing room the next evening. “You promised.”

  Sparrow was taken aback. “But I did,” he protested.

  “I trusted you,” she continued, almost in tears. “You said you and your friends would help me.”

  “We would have done if you’d let us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We had everythin’ fixed. But you wouldn’t come.”

  “What?” She stared at him, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, nor me neither.”

  Sparrow had been nervous of approaching her, afraid that she would rebuff him again. But she had called out to him as though last night had never happened. She was the same girl as she had been two days before, and Sparrow’s heart melted once more.

  “I don’t know what’s goin’ on,” he told her, “but if you still want us to help, we’re all ready to give it another go tonight. OK?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. Yes, please.”

  Before Sparrow could say any more, he heard Marvin’s harsh voice from behind him in the corridor. “‘Yes please’ what? Is he trying to poison you with his dandelions again?”

  Sparrow spun round and forced a smile on to his face. “Evenin’, Mr Marvin,” he said cheerfully. “Dandelion and burdock ain’t so bad, honest. You oughta try it.”

  “I told you before,” Marvin said, “she don’t need nothing. So scram.”

  Sparrow kept smiling, saluted and left, but not before whispering urgently out of the side of his mouth to Mary: “Be ready!”

  For the rest of the evening Sparrow hopped about the theatre like a cat on hot bricks, trying to do his job and keep one eye on Marvin’s dressing room at the same time. He was waiting for Marvin to leave the room long enough so that he could slip inside. Although the other Boys had decided they would try once more and were all in place outside, they couldn’t use the same trick as the night before – Marvin had been furious when he’d discovered there was no one waiting for him, and he would certainly not fall for it again. All they could do was look out for a suitable opportunity.