by Mrs Hudson
‘So tell me, Mrs Hudson,’ he began, after at least a minute of silent musing, ‘you agree with me that this Salmanazar was definitely inside the case when it was hoist into the air?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And that is the opinion of everyone who witnessed it. Yet there are those who would like to believe otherwise, to believe that by some magic power he really had taken wings and transplanted himself into the Blenheim Hotel.’
‘Then you do not believe that, sir?’
He snorted with a mixture of derision and disdain.
‘Most definitely not! The facts of this case are clear. The Great Salmanazar never left the theatre. Neither he nor anyone else entered the room where the Malabar Rose was on display after the door was secured. The Malabar Rose did not evaporate into thin air, nor did it turn into a butterfly. In which case, I am forced to conclude…’
‘I say, Holmes, there you are!’ Dr Watson had appeared at the kitchen door, tousled and a little bleary-eyed, his army greatcoat pulled on over his nightclothes. ‘Thought you might have gone out.’
‘Not at all, Watson. I am hearing Mrs Hudson’s account of last night’s flummery.’
The doctor, yawning prodigiously, made his way to the fire and sank down into the seat vacated by Mrs Hudson, who had risen and was beginning to make tea.
‘I say, Holmes,’ he began a little plaintively, ‘I couldn’t help but overhear. If you really think this chappie was in the theatre all the time, then how did he magic away the ruby from under our noses?’
‘Ah, Watson! So sure of the culprit! So willing to believe the illusion while distrusting the illusionist!’
‘Eh? Sorry, Holmes, not sure I understand quite what you’re getting at.’
‘Well, Watson, my ideas are not yet fully formed, but let me ask you this. Did anyone break into the Satin Rooms by force last night?’
‘Definitely not, Holmes.’
‘And did anyone achieve such entry by guile?’
‘You mean, sneak past us? Don’t think so, Holmes. Can’t see how they could have done it.’
‘In fact, everything we know, and all the evidence available to us, says that nobody entered the room after the last door was sealed?’
‘I suppose that’s right, Holmes, yes.’
‘And at the moment when the door was locked behind us, are we certain that the Malabar Rose was still in its place?’
‘Eh? Well, I think so, Holmes. I mean, we all saw the blasted thing being put on display. Though I suppose, speaking for myself, there must have been a moment when I turned my back on it, just as I was leaving the room. Why, you don’t think… ? My word, I suppose it’s just possible…’
The great detective turned to me. ‘Flotsam?’
I coughed politely. ‘I’m quite certain the Malabar Rose was there as the door was locked, sir. I made a particular point of checking. If the truth be told, sir, it was so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off it.’
Mr Holmes looked pleased. ‘You see, Watson! We shall make a detective of young Flotsam yet. I too made absolutely certain that my eyes never left the stone until the door closed behind us.’ He paused and I thought I detected the trace of a smile at the corner of his lips. ‘So we can be certain the Malabar Rose was in the room when the door was locked, and certain that no one found a way past the locks until we re-opened the room later that evening. In which case, Watson, it is surely obvious to you that the stone… Ah! Toast!’
This time the great detective’s demonstration of analytical thought was interrupted by Mrs Hudson, who placed before him a large tea tray and two plates of toasted bread, thickly spread with marmalade.
‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ve always believed there are times for talking and there are times for eating. Now, I fear Flotsam and I have an urgent errand to run this morning, so I’ll serve breakfast in the study in half an hour, if that’s convenient.’
‘As you please, Mrs Hudson,’ replied Mr Holmes carelessly, licking his fingers, ‘though I have little need for physical sustenance at a time such as this. However, if my reasoning is correct, I see no great need for urgency on my part, and a good breakfast is always a sound investment. But first, before you rush off on whatever domestic matters require your attention, I have one further question to ask you.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘It’s about the performance of the Great Salmanazar. As you know, I could not stay to watch it end. But you are certain that he was physically present inside the suspended crate for the entire duration of the Spanish woman’s dance?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then how do you explain those playing cards reappearing in the gentlemen’s wallets? And how, in your opinion, did the ace of spades come to be found just outside the room from which the Malabar Rose was stolen?’
Mrs Hudson had been busy preparing to go out, but the question made her pause. To my surprise, it was me she was looking at, not Sherlock Holmes.
‘Well, you see, sir,’ she began a little hesitantly, turning slowly to face her questioner, ‘the secret of that trick is very simple indeed. The cards the gentlemen signed never were in the illusionist’s pocket. Not before he was locked in that crate, nor after. Each of those four gentlemen was offered a pack containing only one denomination of card, so the Great Salmanazar knew exactly which card each of them had selected. Then, when the gentlemen had made their own particular marks on the cards, the pageboys who had offered them the packs were responsible for slipping the marked cards back into their wallets before returning to the stage.’
‘But how could they do that, Mrs H?’ Dr Watson puzzled. ‘Surely the audience would have noticed such sleight of hand even if the gentlemen themselves did not.’
‘No, sir. We were all being distracted by events on stage. And what if those boys in their smart uniforms had been recruited from the ranks of our finest pickpockets? It would be as easy for them to remove and return a wallet as it would for you to light that pipe.’
‘I see!’ Mr Holmes was looking delighted at Mrs Hudson’s perspicacity. ‘So the cards returned to the illusionist were not the signed ones?’
‘Of course not, sir.’
Dr Watson appeared less than convinced. ‘But what about the ace of spades, Mrs Hudson? How did that come to miss its mark? It was a signal blunder for it to be dropped so near the scene of the crime!’
‘Not at all, sir. It was contrived most deliberately. By charging one of his boys to slip the card unnoticed into the Blenheim Hotel, the Great Salmanazar has rather cleverly drawn attention to himself, and has no doubt diverted the police from the real solution of the puzzle.’
Mr Holmes chuckled to himself. ‘Mrs Hudson, you do not disappoint me. But what if I were to object that your theory is pure speculation?’
‘Well, sir,’ and here the housekeeper gave me another swift glance, a glance of such solicitude that I knew at once what I was about to hear. ‘It so happens I had a very good look at the pageboy who came closest to us. I was right by the aisle, so I could see him a good deal better than most people. There can be no doubt, sir. The boy in question is a known thief.’
She turned to me then, her face full of feeling.
‘Your description was an excellent one, Flottie. In the whole of my life I have never seen such remarkable blue eyes.’
Chapter XII
The Unexpected Arsonist
When I thought of Blue, it wasn’t the loss of my money that hurt, although that small sum was all I had ever saved, and the knowledge of its existence had often comforted me on nights when memories of my former destitution slipped into my dreams. No, far worse than the pecuniary loss was the hurt at being so deceived, and the shame and anger at my own stupidity. I had trusted him, that boy with blue eyes, and he had cheated me. I had trusted him for no proper reason, only because once a small child had pressed close to me; because once I had known a boy who was blameless. Perhaps I had trusted him because I could still remember that picture of a mother who wasn�
��t my own. How he must have mocked me for all that sentimental kindness! How he must scorn those people so careless with their money and so foolish in their feelings! That day I followed Mrs Hudson down the snow-mantled streets in silence, these thoughts twisting inside me and turning a bright morning dark with unhappiness.
So occupied was I with my own inner musings that I little cared where Mrs Hudson led me, and barely gave a thought to the purpose of our journey. My companion sought neither to comfort nor distract me, content instead to let my thoughts wander where they would. It was not until she came to a halt on a busy street corner that I thought to look around at where our path had led. I found to my surprise that we had already come as far as Piccadilly, and that Mrs Hudson had stopped opposite the stately entrance hall of the Blenheim Hotel.
The two policemen on duty at its entrance were the only visible indication of the previous night’s disturbances, and the crowds that thronged the streets were too concerned with safe navigation of the treacherous pavements to show any curiosity at their presence. Mrs Hudson drew me close to her and placed her hand on my shoulder.
‘You’re a brave young woman, Flotsam. I know this morning’s news has been a blow. But I fear we need to keep our wits about us if the Malabar Rose is to be returned swiftly to safekeeping. Now, I’m quite curious to see for myself the room where the ruby was put on display. Do you think you can show me?’
‘Yes, ma’am. But I’m afraid the rooms are guarded now, and there are strict orders from Mr Holmes and Inspector Lestrade to let no one go in.’
Mrs Hudson nodded at this but I noticed that her eyebrows twitched as if with a flicker of amusement.
‘Well, let’s see what can be done, shall we, Flottie? I daresay we’ll find a way.’
The calm façade of the Blenheim Hotel proved wildly deceptive, for inside its grand lobby, a considerable proportion of the previous night’s chaos remained. Puzzled guests were gathered in small groups around leather armchairs, answering questions put to them by perspiring police officers. At the reception desk, a selection of the more irate were pressing for answers to a variety of questions, all posed simultaneously and at escalating levels of loudness. Daunted by the ferocity of these questions, a young man with red hair and whiskers was endeavouring to redirect their ire by flapping his arms plaintively in the direction of any policeman who happened to pass.
Aided by this general disorder, it was a simple thing to steer Mrs Hudson through the crowd and to lead her up the grand staircase without anyone paying us the slightest attention. From the top of the staircase, a wide corridor let to the Satin Rooms and at its end we paused, aware of the sentries placed ahead of us.
‘Flotsam, am I right in thinking that the door guarded by those two constables leads to the room in question?’
‘Yes, ma’am. That’s the door to the inner chamber. There are three other doors but those have all been boarded up.’
‘And those two policemen are the only ones on duty?’
‘There are two more patrolling, ma’am. And then there’s the pair on the stairs we’ve just passed. And all the ones down in the lobby too.’
‘I see.’ Mrs Hudson was regarding the two constables thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, Flottie, have you ever noticed the peculiar behaviour of the male sex whenever a fire breaks out?’
‘A fire, ma’am?’ It seemed a peculiarly random question.
‘Yes, Flotsam. A big fire. One that seems likely to get out of hand.’
‘I suppose they do the sensible thing, ma’am.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Rescue anything valuable that might otherwise get caught in the blaze, and then get some proper help in fighting the fire.’
‘Yes, you might think so, Flotsam. That would be eminently sensible. The truth, however, is rather different.’
‘Ma’am?’
Mrs Hudson was carrying with her a particularly large bag and now she reached into its depths and produced a box of matches. ‘I think a demonstration is in order. You see those curtains at the top of the staircase?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Well, Flotsam, when I give the nod, I want you to set them alight.’
‘Ma’am!’ I gasped. ‘Not really! I can’t!’
‘I don’t think anyone is looking, Flottie. They’re all far too busy. Now, when you’re sure the fabric is truly ablaze, you need to scurry away into the crowd downstairs and watch what happens.’
I looked at her and waited for her to smile at her own joke. I even began to smile for her. But her face was serious and she seemed to be calculating the distance between the curtains and the nearest policeman.
It says a great deal for the force of Mrs Hudson’s personality, and even more for the trust I placed in her, that I was prepared in the end to do as she asked. Nevertheless, it was with a fluttering heart and slightly shaking hands that I took up my position by the heavy drapes that were my target. At first it seemed impossible that my presence there would not excite suspicion, that I would not immediately become the focus of every eye in the hotel. But the moments passed and no notice was taken of me, so, at a sign from Mrs Hudson, I bent to my task.
The fire caught slowly at first, but the flames were silent and I found I had ample time to slip discreetly down the stairs before the blaze was noticed. In fact, even when I had reached the crowd below and could see the flames licking dramatically up the curtains, no one seemed to be aware of the danger. In the end, it was a throaty cry of ‘Fire!’ from a familiar voice upstairs that gave the alarm.
The effect of the cry on those around me was dramatic. While the women reached for their bags, the men in the room rose to their feet. Although some moved quicker than others, in a few seconds every man in the place seemed to be heading for the stairs, some crying out, some knocking over tables, some removing their jackets to beat at the flames, others with no firmer plan than to shout their advice as loudly as possible to the greatest number of people. But despite their urgency, all were beaten to the flames by the four policemen stationed near the Satin Rooms. All four came rushing down the corridor and appeared at the top of the stairs together, where they proceeded to leap around the burning curtains in a paroxysm of excitement. They were quickly joined by the willing helpers from the hotel lobby, and very quickly the press of excited people became so dense that it was hard to make out the fire at all, and the air seemed a good deal thicker with their shouts than it was with smoke.
Despite the lack of any coherent plan, the frantic flapping of jackets eventually began to have some effect, although at least three garments ended up adding to the general conflagration. In the end someone thought to haul the curtains from the wall, and a great many feet set about stamping on the smouldering remains with energetic satisfaction. As they did so, I saw Mrs Hudson edge past the assembled company and come placidly down the stairs, so very unremarkable and so utterly ordinary that I was probably the only person present to notice she was there.
‘So, Flotsam,’ she chuckled on joining me by the main door, ‘do you feel that demonstration has helped to answer my question?’
‘You mean men always do that when there’s a fire, ma’am? Just rush around and get in the way?’
‘Well, perhaps not all men. But a great many of them, and on most occasions. Never underestimate the masculine urge to be seen to be doing, Flotsam. Now, some fresh air, I think.’
We pushed our way out into the street. The sun was still bright on the snow but our breath was white in front of us.
‘So did you manage to see the Satin Rooms, ma’am?’
‘Oh yes, Flotsam. There was nothing to stop me once the constables had rushed off.’
‘And what did you find?’
Her eyebrows trembled a little at the question but her voice was as steady as always when she replied.
‘The inner chamber was exactly as you described it, Flotsam, and exactly as I expected. And yet I think I’ve found something there that the gentlemen should know about
. If Inspector Lestrade and his men had cleaned as many parlours as I have, they would perhaps look at the contents of a room in a rather different way.’ She changed her bag from one hand to another and adjusted her muffler. ‘But before we speak to Mr Holmes, I am only too aware that Sir John never gave you an answer to my question about the furniture in his hallway. So our next stop, Flotsam, is Randolph Place, to see for ourselves just how that hallway is furnished.’
*
In the event, when we arrived in Randolph Place, Mrs Hudson left me holding her bag at the foot of the steps while she approached Sir John’s bright red front door and knocked smartly. From where I stood I could see the door opened by a grey-haired butler who, after a few words from Mrs Hudson, seemed to brighten markedly and beckon her inside. When she emerged a few minutes later it was with a satisfied smile on her face and with the suspicion of a wink in my direction.
‘Come, Flotsam. Things are taking shape very nicely. Sir John Plaskett’s butler turns out to be the uncle of a young girl I was once in service with. He’s a nice old man, and very eager to help, but he’s afraid his memory isn’t what it was. Apparently there was a night before Christmas when he left a downstairs window unlatched, and the incident is clearly playing on his mind.’
‘And the furniture, ma’am?’
‘Just as I had anticipated, Flottie. Very sparse. No large items, only a couple of tables and a small chest.’
‘But, ma’am, I really don’t understand why that matters. I don’t know what it means. In fact, I don’t know what any of this means. Why are you interested in Sir John’s furniture?’
At that Mrs Hudson pulled up sharply and looked at me, understanding dawning in her face.
‘My apologies, Flotsam,’ she said softly. ‘You make me realise how remiss I have been these last few days. I have been keeping things to myself and leaving you to draw your own conclusions.’
