AGRIMMHOLMES

THECREWOFTHEBARQUELONESTAR

COPYRIGHT

Copyright©2017byTheCrewoftheBarqueLoneStar

Allrightsreserved.

Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformorbyanyelectronicormechanicalmeans,includinginformationstorageandretrievalsystems,withoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthor,exceptfortheuseofbriefquotationsinabookreview.

CONTENTS

Foreword

SleepingBeauty,factorfiction?TheAdventureofthePurloinedSheepTheCaseoftheWhisperingWallTheAdventureoftheBeastlyBetrothalLittlePlaidCapCrackingtheCaseI’llBeBack!Watson’sTitle:SherlockHolmes&TheAdventureoftheSickDog

Holmes’Title:TrustyJohnTheAdventureoftheGlassSlipperTheCuriousAffairoftheShoesthatDancedThemselvestoPiecesTheAdventureoftheMissingIrregularsBakerStreetElementaryORIGINALTALESWHICHTHISVOLUMEISBASEDON“LittleBrier-RoseorSleepingBeauty”“LittleBoPeep”“TheGoose-Girl”“TheRobberBridegroom”“LittleRed-Cap”“HumptyDumpty”“Death’sMessengers”“FaithfulJohannes”“Cinderella”“TheShoesThatWereDancedtoPieces”“TheChildrenofHameln”

FOREWORD

The Crew of the Barque Lone Star was founded as ascionsocietyoftheBakerStreetIrregularsinApril,1970.Throughtheyears, thesocietyhasbeenhomeformanyauthors of fiction, Sherlockian criticism, and other non-fictionpiecesofwork.

So,asweapproachour50thanniversaryofexistence,it justseemedappropriate tohaveourpresentmembersdevelopaSherlockpastiche.

The theme for this book was borrowed from twosources… first, presently there is an opera beingdeveloped, based on a fairy tale solved by the world’sconsulting detective. Second, one of the foremostSherlockians in the country, Gayle Puhl, has authoredtwo volumes of short stories where Sherlock Holmessolvesbelovedfairytales,folktales,nurseryrhymes,andotherchildrenstories.

When approached, several members of our societyenjoyedtheideaoftryingtheirownskillatthesametypeofpastiche.Sothestoriesincludedinthisvolumeareallfrom the fertile minds of crew members of the BarqueLoneStar.

The stories authored by our members comprise thefirst half of the volume. The original tales comprise thesecondhalfofthebook.

Thanksforyourefforts.

A

SLEEPINGBEAUTY,FACTORFICTION?

BYDEANCLARK

Basedon“SleepingBeauty”

bout 30 years ago, I received a package fromHamish Hudson containing a purported,unpublishedmanuscriptbyDr.JohnH.Watson

in which he described what he considered SherlockHolmes’s greatest service to England – saving (at leastfor a few, but very productive, years) the partnership ofGilbertandSullivan.

Some research soon revealed that Hamish HudsonwasthegreatgrandsonofMarthaHudsonandtheheirtothe estates of Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, andJohnWatson, all of whom were assumed to have diedwithout issue. Consequently, I edited the manuscript (avery easy and delightful undertaking) and it waspublished by The Afghanistan Perceivers of Oklahomaunder the title “TheCaseof the InfernalNonsense”andwithauthorshipattributedtoDr.Watson.

Hamish Hudson has, in the succeeding years,forwardedtomeseveralothermanuscriptsextractedfromthe files of the Holmes siblings and Watson which

revealed heretofore unknown events in their lives. Allwereeditedbymeandpublished,insomeformorother,by thePerceiversandattributed towhoeverappeared tobetheoriginalauthor.

HamishHudsonsentthemanuscriptprintedbelowtome in February 2017. It differs from its predecessors inthatitwasnotextractedfromtheinheritedpapersbut,inareversaloffortune,wassenttohiminlate2016.

Whoever sent it to Hudson claimed that themanuscriptwasaWatsonoriginalandthat “itdealswiththe strangest and most unbelievable situation in whichSherlock Holmes ever participated.” Hamish Hudson, inhis cover letter which accompanied the manuscript,agreedcompletelywiththatassessment.

He added that, because the events described in themanuscript were so incredible, he was undecidedregardingpublicationandauthorship.

Therefore, he was leaving any decision regardingeitheruptome.Asisobvious,Ihavedecidedtoproceedwithpublicationbuttodosoundermyownnamesothatallofthe(muchanticipated)derisionwouldbedirectedtomeandnottoDr.Watson.

The reader has probably noticed that the precedingsentencedidnotsay“tothememoryofDr.Watson.”Thereasonwillbemadeclear in the followingaswill theoftaskedquestionconcerningtheabsenceofanobituaryforSherlockHolmesinTheTimesofLondon.

The manuscript begins, as do so many of theCanonicaltales,withHolmesandWatsonattheireaseintheirsittingroomat221BBakerStreet.

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SHERLOCKHOLMESRETIREDFROMDETECTIVEWORK IN1905…with the exception of some James Bondish activitiesbeforeandduringWorldWarI.

Howdo I,amanbornduring the first thirdofVicky’slong reign, knowabout JamesBondand thatwhatwasoriginallyknownasTheGreatWarhadtobeenumerateddue to subsequent, and even more catastrophic,hostilities?IbelieveInowhaveyoufullattention,soreadon!

When Holmes informed me, in late 1904, about hisimminentcareerchange fromdetectivery tobeekeeping,myresponsewas,Iimagine,typical.Iasked,“Why?”

I don’t knowwhat I expectedhis response to be butI’mcertain that I didnotexpecthim to replywitha fairytale. I would not have been surprised had my literaryagent done so but Holmes, the most ruthlessly logicalmind that Ihaveeverencounteredorcaneven imagine,wassomeonewhomIfeltwouldpaynoattentiontosuchinfantile, far-fetched, and totally unscientific pablum fitonlyforveryyoungchildren.

Hewould, Iwaspositive,havequicklyeradicated thestory from his very full mental attic and certainly notrememberitwillenoughtorecitethemainfeaturesoftheplot.

ButafairytaleiswhatIgot.“Do you remember the story of Sleeping Beauty?”

Holmes asked in response to my monosyllabic reply tohis announcement that he was exiting the detectivebusiness.

“Vaguely,”issaid.“IsupposeyoumeantheversionbytheBrothersGrimmwhich I think isactuallypretty tamewhencomparedtothelateradaptationbyTchaikovsky.”

“Perhaps I can convince you to alter you view, oldfellow.PleasehandmevolumeSofmyindex.”

I found the appropriate volume and, a fewmomentslater,Holmeswasrelatingthehistoryofthestory.

“As frequently happened with the grimGrimm’s, theplotisnotoriginal.Thestorytheypublishedintheir1812collection, under the title “Briar Rose”, was a minorreworkingofthetalemostcommonlyknowninEnglishas“Sleeping Beauty” which was published by CharlesPerrault in1697 inFrench.As youknow, I haveFrenchancestry on my mother’s side and I remember herreading thestory tome in that language inwhich ithasthe title “La Belle au bois dormi.” I remember that wellbecause it is one ofmy lastmemories of her. She diedsoonthereafter.”

“I’msorrytohearthat.”“Itisastoryforanothertime,atimeforwhichIamnot

yet ready,” Holmes said. “So, returning to Perrault, hisversionisalsoanadaptation.It isbasedonastorytitled“Sun, Moon, and Talia” published by the Italian authorGiambattistaBasile in1634.Andeven this version isanadaptation.Thestoryexistsinfolktalesofmanycultures.The earliest known version is French. It was eventuallypublished in 1528 as part of the narrative “Perceforest”butit isknowntohavebeenanoralpartoftheliteratureasfarbackas1330.”

“That is quite interesting,” I replied, “but now that Iknow it, to paraphrase an acquaintance, I shall do mybest to forget it because I see no need for it to occupyanyofthelimitedspacebetweenmyears.”

“You,ofcourse,haveeveryrighttodoso.However,Iaskthatyoureservejudgementforjustalittlelonger.Doyouremembertheplot?”

“Notaswellasyou,apparently.”

“Then I shall do the honors. I think that allwe needare theessentials.So,onceupona time,as lotsof fairytalesbegin,therelivedakingandqueenwhoseemedtohave everything needed for blissful existence. The onlything missing from their lives was a child and theabsence of biological issue resulted in endlesslamentations. One day the queen was lamenting, evenmore mournfully than usual, while chatting with a frog.Such things can happen, are just taken for granted, infairy tales.The frog,asalso frequentlyhappens insuchstories, had magical powers and, probably to end thequeen’s nonstop dirge, granted her wish. And, sureenough,ninemonths later,shegavebirth toababygirlofsuperlativebeauty.”

“It sounds tome like thequeenput oneoveronherhusband,”Isaid.“Goodlord,afrogwithmagicalpowers!It seemsmuchmore likely that the queen had a secretlover,becamepregnantbyhim,and,showingremarkablelack of creativity, made up the story about the frog toexplain things to her credulous consort whose brainpowerhadprobablybeengreatlyreducedbygenerationsofinbreeding.”

“A possibility, to be sure, but irrelevant because, inthis case, paternity is not amajor factor in the ensuingevents. In fact, the frog inquestion soondeparted for arole inacontemporary fairy tale inwhichhewaskissedby an evenmore beautiful princess and, because suchthings can happen in theis form of literature, instantlymetamorphosed into a handsome prince who soonmarried the princess with the potent pucker and,ultimatelyIassume,ascendedthethrone.”

“Nowthat’sanicebitofhappyever-aftering,”Isaid.“Agreed,butnowwemustreturntothepreviousfairy

tale. Soon after the beautiful princess was born, the

ecstatickingorderedahugefeastinherhonor.However,due to a diplomatic blunder, a wise woman was notinvited and she took umbrage to the nth degree at thisslight. She crashed the feast and put a curse on theinfant,towitthatinherfifteenthyearshewouldprickherfingeronaspindleanddieonthespot.”

“That would seem easy to circumvent,” I said. “Justlock her in a room, under heavy guard, between herfifteenthandsixteenthbirthdays.”

“So itwouldseem,”Holmessaid. “However,wehavealreadyestablishedthattheroyalcouplewerenotoverlybright.Theywere, infact,sostupidthat theywereawayfrom the palace, probably on some kind of royal ribboncutting, on their daughter’s fifteenth birthday andcompounded their stupidly by failing to have her undercompetent guard during their absence. They had,furthermore, not evenmade thegirl awareof the curse.She,likemanyherage,reveledinthisrarebitoffreedomand soon began wandering unaccompanied throughareasofthecastlewhichhadbeenstrictlyofflimits.Sheeventuallycameuponanoldwomaninoneoftheupperchambers…and,well,youcanguesstherest.”

“Except she didn’t die after pricking her finger. Shefellintoasdeepsleep.”

“Youarecorrect.This isamajor flaw in thenarrativebutitiswhatwehaveandmustdealwithit.Iassumethewise woman, in the years following her dramaticappearance at the feast, had second thoughts andmodified thecurse to theeffect thatevery living thing inthe castle – royal family, courtiers, servants, animalsincluding insects – fell into the same deep sleep. Thislasted for a hundred years until, you guessed it, ahandsome prince showed up and kissed the sleepingbeauty. I assume he was a descendent of the princess

with the transformingkiss in theother storybecauseassoon as he pressed his longing lips upon those of thesomnolentprincess,sheandeverybodyelseinthecastleimmediatelyawoke.Amarriagefollowed,withintheweek,because in that era, fifteen was bordering onspinsterhood.”

“Not, to my mind, exactly what you would call aripping yarn like a Clark Russell sea story,” I said. “So,refreshmymemoryastowhywearediscussingit.”

“Because,”saidHolmes,“it isthereasonIamendingmy career as a consulting detective and moving to thecountrytobecomeabeekeeper.”

There was a prolonged silence before I finally said,“Holmes,youhaveastonishedmedozensoftimesduringour long association, but never more than at thismoment. Let memake sure that I understand correctly.You are ending a career that has brought you financialsecurity and international fame at what I could call thepeakofyourabilitytomovetothecountryandbecomeanovicebeekeeperbecauseofafairytale.”

“Precisely, my dear fellow. I can understand yourconfusionbecauseIwasevenmoreconfusedtwoweeksago after a discussion I had with Mr. Brian RichardBlankenship. It was the most astounding thing I haveeverheard in thisroom,muchmoreamazingthatwhat Ijusttoldyou.”

“Holmes,areyoubackoncocaineandwithaseventy,notseven,percentsolution?”

“CertainlywhatIheardfromMr.Blankenshipcouldbecomparedtoahallucination.Althoughheappearedtobenomore than30,hesaidhewouldbe131yearsoldonhis next birthday and that his remarkable longevity wasduetothefairytaleweknowasSleepingBeauty.”

“I amamazed,Holmes, that youdid not immediately

callforMrs.Hudsonandaskhertoshowthegentlemanout.”

“I was about to do that very thing but Blankenshipanticipated my intention and said he could prove hisclaim in this very room in one week’s time. I counteredthatdocumentswouldbeeasilyforged.Helaughedandsaid he would never attempt to fool the great SherlockHolmeswithsomethingsotransparent.HewouldprovidevisualproofthatIwouldacceptwithoutquestion.Hethenproducedsomeparaphernalia fromhisGladstonewhichallowedmetotakehisfingerprintsandmakeimpressionsofhisears.Hereturnedinexactlyaweekand,after justoneglance,Iagreedwithhissuperannuatedclaim.”

“Ifindthathardtobelieve.”“NotashardtobelieveaswhatIsawinthatveryspot

exactlyaweekafterour firstmeeting.Youknowmy flairand love for the dramatic.Well, Blankenship may haveoneuppedme.Hehadhishatpulledwell downonhishead,waswearingaheavycoat,andamufflerconcealedthe lower part of his face. When these accoutrementswereremoved, Isawthat the30-year-oldmanIhadmetonly a week previously had aged about 60 years. Thefingerprintsandimpressionsofhisearsconfirmeditwasthe same man. Those are the two anatomical featuresthatdonotchangesignificantlyovertime.”

“Whathappenedthen?”“HetoldmethestoryofSleepingBeautybutwithone

major difference from the version that I just told you.Blankenship said that the key element of the story, thepartaboutall thelivingthingsinthecastleexistingforahundredyearspostneedleprickandpreappearanceofhandsome prince with kilowatt kisses, was in essencetrue.Theratherridiculousstory,asincredibleastheoneImade up about Irene Adler’s wedding and which you

published and which the reading public, for someunknown reason accepts, grew up over the years as akindoffolkloretoexplainwhysomefolkswerelivingwellover a century and to obscure the reason for theirlongevity.”

“Whichwas?”“Aprecisemixtureofbeepollen,royaljelly,honeyand

beeswaxdiscoveredbyanunknowngeniusinprehistorictimes.”

“Preposterous!”“Hardly. Beekeeping and harvesting their various

products is one of mankind’s earliest achievements,possiblyantedatingagriculture.Jarsofhoneyhavebeenfound in the tombs of pharaohs. Aristotle experimentedwithandwroteextensivelyaboutbees.And,asadoctor,you are surely aware of the many health benefitsassociated, both in folk remedies and much advertisedcommercialofferings,withbeeproducts.”

“But why did Mr. Blankenship decide to share thissecret with you and not publish it so that it couldrigorouslytestedbythescientificcommunity?”

“Excellentquestionsforachange,Watson.”I nodded inacknowledgmentof this rare compliment

from Holmes and he then proceeded to answer what Ihadasked.

“According to Blankenship, the secret has beencloselyguardedforcenturiesbecauseof fear– fear thatonegroupwouldsomehowmonopolize itandproducearace of super soldiers who would control most of theworld,or fearthatmassproductionof theformulawouldlead toshortagesand the inevitableensuing riotswouldresultintheextinctionofbees,theeffectsofwhichwouldbefarmoredevastatingthancurtailingthelongevityofahandfulofsupracentenarians.”

“Thosereasonsdonotexplainwhyhechoseyou.”“HedidbecauseIfittheparameters.Strictadherence

to the regimen in effect locks an individual’s biologicalage inplace foracentury.However,after that, theyagedramatically,aboutadecadeadayanddiewithinaweekor two. So, when the end of his or her bonus centurynears, he or she must find an appropriate successor.Blankenship choseme because I fit themost importantparameters.”

“Whichare?”“Inmycase,beingaratherrobustmiddleage,without

extensive family, and being a competent chemist. Youdon’twant touse the formulaonsomeone tooyoungortoooldandyoudon’twantsomeonewithnosy relationswonderingwhytheydon’tagealongwitheverybodyelse.And,myexperienceasachemistcouldmeanthatImightbe able to discover a modification of the formula whichwouldextenditseffectsindefinitely.Ithinkthelastreasonmighthavehadthebiggestimpactonmyselection.”

“It would seem that these supracenenarians are asgreedy asmost others. You would think they would besatisfiedwithanextracentury.”

“A question for another time, Watson. The salientpointfornowisthatIamintheprocessofpurchasingMr.Blankenship’sbeefarminSussex.Ianticipatefinalizationwithin the week. My plan is to move there as soon aspossibleandbeginmyexperiments.Myplan,bytheway,also includes a major role for my oldest, dearest, andmostvaluablefriend.Itgoeswithoutsaying,butIwillsayitanyway,thatthat,ofcourse,isyou.”

“I will gladly assist the best and wisest man I haveeverknown–eventhoughIdohavesomedoubtsabouthisnewvocation.Sowhatexactlywouldbemyrole.”

“Surely, you have observed that you also fit the

parameters for selection as a supracentenarian. Ofadvanced middle age, to be sure, but with a robustconstitution that has allowed you to fully recover fromseriouswoundsandheartbreak.Youhaveno immediatefamilyandafinemindenhancedbyanexcellentmedicaleducation and, I abhor false modesty, your longassociation with me. Since I am allowed to pick mysuccessor,Iplantopickyou,intenyearsnotahundred,with the caveat that you fight off your propensity tomarriage for the next decade. I sincerely hope you dobecause I’m not suremy sanity could survive a centurywithoutyourstabilizingpresence.”

This is where your typical fairy tale wraps things upwith the familiarcoda“and they livedhappilyeverafter.”The ever-aftering was, on the whole, happy butsomewhatconvoluted.

Holmes, as scheduled, started ingesting the magicformula in 1905. I successfully avoided entanglingalliancesandbeginin1916.

Inthelate1920s,Holmesdecidedthatitwastimethatwe leftEnglandbefore suspicionsarose concerningourchangelesscountenances.

MycroftHolmes,althoughhe thought thewhole ideainane,cameupwithaninnovativeplan–metamorphoseintofictionalcharacters!

I, like you I imagine, said “ridiculous” when Mycroftbroachedthe idea.But,whenthechiefproponentof theplan is oneof the smartest people in theworldand theeminencegriseof theBritishEmpire, itproved tobenotdifficultatall.

Mycroft rather easily expunged all official records ofour existence and convinced Greenhough-Smith, editoroftheStrand,theIwasaninventionofmyliteraryagentand that he was the actual author of the stories now

referred to as the Canon by those curious people whoplay what they call the “great game” which involvespretendingthatHolmesisrealandthechronicledeventsactuallyoccurred.Theyaremorecorrectthantheyknow.

Andsobegananomadicexistence that lastedabout75yearsandincludedeverycontinentexceptAntarctica.Holmes’schemicalexperimentsdidnotsucceed.

Hewas quite excited by the discovery of the doublehelixbyWatson(norelation)andCrickandtheresultingunraveling of the secrets of the human cell in thesucceedingdecades.

We spent considerable time analyzing the steadyavalanche of stories, films, plays, TV shows, comicbooks, etc. that failed to slake the appetites of thatcurious group of people entranced by their idealizedconceptionofLondoncirca1895.

They even celebrate his birthday (many inNewYorkinearlyJanuary!)eventhoughtheydon’tknowtheexactdate. The people call themselves “Sherlockians” or“Holmesians.” Not a single Watsonian! I admit thatcausesapangofjealouslyeverynowandthembecausemycontributiontothe incrediblepopularityof theCanonwasnottrivial.

Indeed, Holmes’s own attempts to relate two of hiscasesareuniversallyregardedasfarinferior.

SherlockHolmesdiedonschedulein2005.Ithoughtthe remaining decade of my own existence would besomberintheextreme.

However, they turnedout tobe thehappiestyearsofmy life due to the appearance of aMs.Debussy Fields(theFrenchcomposerwasherparents’ favorite).Letmejust say that it’sworthwaitingwell over a century if theright woman… well, it’s not exactly ever-aftering but Iexpectitisascloseasyoucanget.

She obviously is my chosen successor. So why, inaddition,have Ichosen tobreakwithprecedentand “gopublic”withthisknowledgeasmyowndeathnears?

It is the response of an old soldier to the nearconstant wars of the last century. It is now my strongbelief thatwardoesnot settleanythingand,perhaps, ifpeopleknewtheirliveswouldextendwelloverahundredyears theymight juststoppoliticians fromsendingotherpeople’schildrenintobattle.

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THUSENDSTHEMANUSCRIPTSENTTOMEBYHAMISHHUDSON.

S

THEADVENTUREOFTHEPURLOINEDSHEEP

BY:JOHNH.WATSON,M.D.,F.R.C.S.

(AHeretoforeUn-PublishedManuscript.EditedbyLawrenceFischman.AllRightsReserved)

Basedon“LittleBoBeep”

hortlyaftertheautumnalequinoxof1900Ifoundmyself again at 221B, ensconced in my oldfireside chair contemplating my friend Sherlock

Holmes as he sat opposite. I could see by the way heincessantlyfondledhisbriarthathewasinthethroesofone of his inactive periods andwas desperate for somenewmattertobebroughttohisattention.

UponoutbreakoftheBoerWarinOctober,1899IhadansweredasummonstoreenterHerMajesty’sserviceasa surgeon. I was assigned the rank of major for theduration and seconded to the Army school for combatsurgeonsattheRoyalVictoriaHospitalinNetley,Sussex,theretoteachfieldsurgerytoyoungphysiciansfreshoutofmedical school.Over the years, I hadmaintainedmyskillsasatraumasurgeonbyassistingatBart’swhentheworkload from the “Saturday Night Massacres”—thoseweekendnightswhenthestabbings,barroombrawlsand

yes, even shootings, which had become the fashion inLondon—threatened to overwhelm the resident staff. Itwas the lattercategory,gunshotwounds, towhich Ihaddevoted most of my attention and which became myexpertise.

When I again put on my uniform—or, in honesty, anew,bespokeonefromashopinSavilleRow,asmyoldoneseemedtohaveshrunkconsiderablyatthewaistandinthetunic—IhadcontactedMurray,mydresserfrommyactive-duty days in Afghanistan, and urged him to joinme.Murray,however,nowownedasmallchainofpublic-houses in Manchester as well as having been blessedwith a young wife and several children. He had,somewhatwistfully, I fancy,declined,citinghisbusinessanddomesticobligations.

I had wangled a fortnight’s leave and decided tospendpartofitlookinginonHolmesandinpartfinishinganarticle tobesubmitted toTheLancet on the surgicalrepairofgunshotwoundstotheclavicleandscapula.

I removed my Sam Browne and unbuttoned myuniformtunic.Stretchingmy legs in frontofme, I tookawelcomeasipoftheginandtonicI’dpouredtotoastthebeginningofmyleave.Holmes,Inoticed,wasattiredinasuit but had eschewed a waistcoat in deference to theIndian Summer warmth. Eager to demonstrate that mydiagnostic skills were still as sharp as my lancet, Iventured,“Expectingavisitor,Iperceive.”

Holmes good-naturedly replied, “Excellent, Watson.Although you’ve been engrossed in repairing the awfulthings that our fellow men inflict upon one another,you’ve not forgotten the deductive skills you learnedwhilstsittinginthatverychair.Havealook.”

Holmespassedmeatelegramwhichboreyesterday’sdate; sent fromOban,a town inWesternScotland. “Mr.

Holmes,” it began, “I wish to consult you regarding amatter of theutmost urgencyandgravity. I darenot tellyou more except in person. Were my predicament tobecomeknown Ishouldbe ruined. IshallcalluponyoutomorrowassoonasIarriveinLondon.Iamabletopayareasonablefeeforyourserviceswhichmayentailyourcominghere.Donotrespondtothismessageastodosomight jeopardize any possibility of your success. I shallriskthatyouwillbeabletoreceivemewhenIarrive.”Themessagewassigned“Lillian(Mrs.Robert)Bowe-Peop.”

“Well,Watson,whatdoyoumakeofit?”“ObviouslysomeAffairedeCoeur,astrayinghusband

orperhapsmadamhasaloverwhohasstolenherheartand possibly something more tangible, but of no lessvalue.”

“You’re surely correct, but let us reserve judgmentuntil the lady’s had her say.” Holmes glanced at hiswatch. “The Great Northern Railway Edinburgh-to-LondonexpresshasundoubtedlyarrivedatKing’sCross,soenlightenmentshouldnotbelongincoming.

“Whilst we wait, pray tell me what you think of ournation’s latest foreign adventure-in-arms. I have beenreadingMr. Churchill’s dispatches, but I’m afraid he’s abitbellicoseformytaste.”

Becauseofourlonganddeepfriendship,IknewthatIcould say things within these walls that, if spoken inpublic, might find me hauled before a general courtmarshal.Ithereforeproceededtounburdenmyself.“Inaword, Holmes, ‘appalling.’ The casualties, dead andwounded,arepilingupatanintolerablerate.

“Almost daily a new contingent of wounded arelandedundercoverofnightatPenzanceandcarriedbythe Great Western Railway in coaches with blackenedwindows toasiding ina remotepartofPaddingtonand

fromtheretransporteddowntoNetleywheremycadreofyoung lancet-wielders and I do our best. When thecasualty numbers become publicly-known, there’ll be averitableriotinCommonsonquestionday,nottomentionan actual one in the streets. I’ve half amind to have awordwithyourbrotherMycroft.”

Concurring inmyownsentiments,Holmesshookhishead both in sorrow and in anger. “Remember theGerman banker, Schwabach? We met him at MadameDreyfus’s?Asabanker,heexpressedhisabhorrenceofwar ineconomic terms.Whereasyou,dear friend,put itin terms all too human. But enough, I do believe I justheardthefront-doorbell.”

Within a moment’s time we heard footsteps on thestairs: a heavier plodding, surely the tread of Mrs.Hudson, followed by a lighter, younger one. Afterknocking, Mrs. Hudson entered followed by a womandressed in a traveling cape with a shawl in a red andgreen tartan. Seeing me, Mrs. Hudson let out a gasp.“Why Doctor Watson, is it really you?” She patted herample bosom several times. “I declare. You’ve given anelderlywomanquiteastart!Ididn’thearthebell;wholetyouin?”

“MydearMrs.Hudson,youmustnotthinkillofme.Iconfess that I let myself in using my own key which Iretain to this day. As for ‘elderly woman’…why Mrs.Hudson, you’re just as youthful aswhen I first set eyesuponyou.Wasn’t it justyesterday?Butthatsaid,howisyourrheumatismthesedays?”

“Therheumatismseemstobeholdingitsown;it’smyhip and knee joints that are not faring so well. Thoseaspirin that you prescribed for me last year have donewonders,butsomedaysit’satrialjusttogetoutofbed.”

“Why don’t you go ’round tomy former surgery and

seeDr.Tilbury?He’sbeenkeepingupmypracticewhileI’m away. I’m going to drop in on himmyself tomorrow.Youcouldcomewithme.”

“Ahem…”“Do forgive us…Mrs. Bowe-Peop.” Holmes bowed

graciously. “This is my colleague, Dr. Watson, and ofcourseyou’vemetMrs.Hudson.Mrs.Hudson,inadditionto being our…my…landlady is also our dear friend. Dr.Watson’sbeenaway forsome timesoyoumustpardonhis impromptu medical consultation. Do please take aseaton thedivan.Mrs.Hudson,doyou thinkyoumightfindaspotofteaforourvisitor?”

Thelady,whomImadeouttobeonthesunnysideofthirty,tookherseat.Mrs.Hudsonhadtakenhercapeandshawlandhungthemonthecoatrack.Beneaththecapeshe was dressed in a plain grey skirt of light, summerwooloverwhich sheworeamatching short jacket openat the front. Beneath the jacket was a white, cottonblouseadornedwithabitof ruffle.Sheworeneitherhatnorjewelry,saveamodestgoldweddingband.

“Actually, Mr. Holmes, if you’ll not think me un-ladylike, I’dpreferaweedramof thatLaphroig Iseeonyour drinks cart. Four hundredmilesand8½hoursonthetraindoeswarrantsomethingstrongerthantea.”

“Of course, Madam. Do you prefer it neat or withsoda?”

“Neat,ifyouplease.”Holmeswenttothebottlesandpouredameasurefor

himselfandoneforthelady.“Watson?”“I’mgoodforthemoment,Holmes.”After Ihadextractedherpromise toseeTilbury,Mrs.

Hudson took her leave. Holmes handed the visitor herglassandresumedhisseat.“YoumayspeakfreelyinDr.Watson’s presence. He’s as closed-mouth as a sphinx

whenneedbe.Iassumeyou’vecomeaboutyourmissingShetlands…”

“I say, Mr. Holmes…” Mrs. Bowe-Peop took a stoutswallowofherwhisky.“I’vereadDr.Watson’saccountsofyourmethods—and,mayI interject, I ferventlyhopethatheshallfindnooccasiontowriteupmy‘littleproblem’—butItookpainstopreventthetheftfrombecomingpublicknowledge. I’ve not even reported it to the localconstabulary.”

“That’s perhaps just as well, Mrs. Bowe-Peop. Theyoften are as much a hindrance as a help. But before Iexplain how I was able to so quickly form a hypothesisregarding your ‘little problem,’ as you put it, may I askwhetherI’vecorrectlypronouncedyourname?”

“Yes,and I thankyou for it. It’s ‘peep’as in ‘people.’Some say ‘pea-opp’ which is most annoying. Robert’sfamily shortened it from some unpronounceable Gaelicnamegenerationsago.Myhusbandcallsme‘Lil.’”

“You need not fear that your difficulty has becomecommon knowledge, my dear lady, at least from thisquarter.Youare,mayIsay,anextraordinarywoman.Youwrite and speak as one who has more than a basic,elementary education. You are refined in manner, butreadilymakeyourpresenceknownwhenyoumust.Yourattireismostbecoming,iftwoseasonsout-of-fashion.

“YetwhenIgrippedyourhandInoticedthatyournailsare close-trimmed and there are calluses on the upperpartofyourpalm.Soyouworkforyour living,butnot insomesedentary,in-dooroccupation.Youareawomanathomeout-of-doors.Thismuch I deduce fromyour handandfromyoursuntan.Youdonotweareyeglasses,thusyour slight squint tellsme that youoften lookat distantobjectsinthesunlight.

“So what could occupy an outdoors-woman who

resides near Oban? You and Mr. Bowe-Peop are mostcertainlyShetlandsheepfarmers.Iquicklyconfirmedthisbyobserving the fewstrandsofmooritandbordercolliehairsclingingtothehemofyourskirt.

“As for missing sheep, it is, I admit, a merehypothesis, but one on which I’d stake a good-sizewager.As soonas I read your telegram, I knew that anAffairedeCoeurwasnotbringingyoutomyrooms.Youare much too sensible a woman for that sort of thing,althoughitissometimesunwisetoruleoutsuchmatters,even among the gentry. Indeed, in that instance, it is amistake to do so. Your telegram, although short ondetails, speaks volumes in its clarity and determination,withouttheslightestwhiffofhysteria.Soplease,Madam,doputbeforeusthedetailsofthismostseriouscrime.”

“I confess that I’m in awe and at the same timeembarrassed. When I dress for the city—an infrequentoccurrence—I take pains with my appearance. But as Iwas leaving for the train thedogscrowded ’round tobepettedasdidDollyourbellwetherewe. Iwas inahurry,so I did not notice that they’d left evidence of theiraffection.WhenIgot toEdinburgh itwas lateand Iwastired,soIcheckedintoasmallcommercialhotel.Afterabrief supper I went straight to bed failing to notice mystateofdishabille.Ishallrectifytheoversightassoonaspossible.Thankyouforpointingitout.

“MyhusbandandIare,asyou’vediscerned,Shetlandsheepraisers.Wehave240head,countingthemissing.Robertisareserveofficer,acaptain,inthe12thLancers.His regimentwascalledupso Iassumebynowhe’satthe front and I’m left todealwith this crisis onmyown.Not that I’m some shrinking violet, Mr. Holmes, but…”Mrs. Bowe-Peop took a handkerchief from her reticuleanddabbedher eyes. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, in addition

toworryovermyhusbandanddealingwithourmissingsheep,RobertandIareexpectingalittlelambofourownintheSpring.So…”

“Quiteunderstandable,”saidHolmeskindly.“Butpraycontinue.Whendidtheanimalsgomissing?”

“I discovered the theft…for I’m sure it is that…justbeforemid-day this pastSunday. Theymust havebeentakeninthedarkhoursofthemorning.”

“Howmany?”Holmesasked.“Sixramsandtwodozenewes,Mr.Holmes.Theloss,

although grave at any time, is evenmore keenly felt astheewesarejustnowcomingintoestrussothetuppingseason is upon us. The rams were bought at the lastBorder Union Agricultural Society auction. We paid ahandsome sum for them hoping to upgrade our flock.These are our best ewes. Even among Shetlands, theyareexceptionallygoodbreeders.”

“Why are you sure they were stolen? I understandthatifyoumerelyleavethemalonetheywillcomehomewaggingtheirtailsbehindthem.”

“Not in this case, Mr. Holmes.” Mrs. Bowe-Peopfinishedherwhisky. “I’venotsimply losta fewheadanddo not know where to find them. Were that the case Iwould not havemade the journey to London to consultyou in person. In anticipation of tupping season, thesewerepennedup,theramsseparatedfromtheewes.Therestof the flock remainsatpastureas the forage is stillgood.”

“YoustatedthatyoudiscoveredthemmissingSundaymorning. With your husband away, I take it you arealone? Was there no one else who might have heardsomething? Sheep are not silent creatures. Thirty headcannotsilentlyvanishintothinair!”

“No, Mr. Holmes. There’s the McHenry’s who live in

one of the cottages with their grandson, but they wereaway visiting family on Islay and did not return untilMonday.Mr.McHenryand thegrandson,Titus,work thesheepwithme.Mrs.McHenryhelpswiththechoresandisamastershearer.

“TheMcHenry’scamewiththeplacewhenRobertandI took over. Heathcliffe Farm has been in my family forgenerations. My parents died five years ago withinmonthsofoneanotherand I inherited. IwasendingmythirdyearatGlasgowUniversityandRobert,whoisafewyearsmysenior,wasasergeantattheGlasgowBar.”

“Ithoughtyousaidheisacaptain.”“Heis,Dr.Watson.A ‘sergeant’ isa lawyer;someone

whoinEnglandiscalleda‘barrister.’Hearguedcasesincourtand,Imustadd,hatedit.Whenmyparentspassedandleftthefarmtome,becauseithadbeeninmyfamilyforsolong,Iwasloathesellit.RobertandIagreedwe’denoughofcitylifesowebecameshepherds.”

Undeterred by my gaffe, I continued, “What aboutyourdogs?”

Holmessmiled. “Veryastute,Watson.You’re thinkingof the case of the missing racehorse and the dog thatdidn’t bark in the night.What was it…almost ten yearsago?”

“I remember it. I believe youcalled it ‘TheAdventureofSilverBlaze,’Dr.Watson.Butno,gentlemen, itwouldbe a waste of your time andmymoney to suspect theMcHenry’s. No more honest, loyal people ever lived. Icannotaccountforwhythedogsdidn’tbark.”

“Whattimedidyouretireforthenight?”“Itmust havebeenaroundnineo’clock,Mr.Holmes.

I’mnotcertain.Aneighbor, IanMcKissack,came ’round.Wehadawhiskyandvisitedabit. IsaidIwasn’t feelingwellandhe left.Might I troubleyou foranotherglassof

theLaphroig,Mr.Holmes?It’salocalfavorite.”“I’ll do the honors. I’m ready for a refillmyself.” As I

tookhertumbler,Icouldseeherhandshakingandthatadeepcrimson flushhadspread fromherneckline tohercheeks.WhenIhandedthereplenishedglasstohertheliquidalmostspilledovertherim.

Leaving no doubt that Holmes had also noticed herdistress, he said, “Take amoment to compose yourself,Mrs. Bowe-Peop. Neither Watson nor I wish to pry intoyour private life but whatever has caused you somuchconsternationmaybematerialtoourinquiries.Inadditionto our discretion, be assured that there is nothing youcantellusthathasn’tbeenheardintheseroomsbefore.”

Holdingthetumblerwithbothhandsshetookagoodswallow. With downcast eyes she continued, “Mr.McKissack owns a manor north of our place on theSoroba Road. He’s unmarried and fancies himself aladies’man.SinceI firstmethim,I’vesuspectedthathisfeelings toward me were more than merely neighborly.Knowing that Robert was off to Africa, and possiblyknowing that theMcHenry’swereaway,hecamecalling‘just to see how I was getting on.’ Or so he said. Itbecameevident, not longafter drinkswerepoured, thathisagendafortheeveningwasnothingsobenign.

“Letme assure you that I would have nothing to dowithIanMcKissackevenifIwerenothappilymarriedtoamanwhomIdeeply love.So I’mquitesure Ididnothingtoencouragehisattentions.WereRoberttofindout,he’dthrashthemanwithinaninchofhislife,ifnotshoothimdeadwithhisservicerevolver.

“He tried to embrace me, but I pushed him away,ratherhard.Apparentlyhewasunusedtobeingrejected,so he left and I retired. I arose unusually late Sundaymorning with a terrible headache. I even retched twice.

AfterthatIwentintothekitchenandmadeapotoftea.Idowned a couple of cups, then I got dressed andwentouttolookaftertheanimals.That’swhenIdiscoveredthetheft.”

“Tellmeaboutyourotherneighbors.”“They’reall sheep farmers suchaswe:hard-working

andasfarasIknowgood,honestpeople.That’spartofthereasonRobertandImovedtothecountry.”

“Are there any, save the louche, McKissack, withwhomyoudon’tgetalong?”

Mrs. Bowe-Peop answered readily. “None come tomind,Mr.Holmes.We’reafairlyisolatedlot.Weseeoneanothermostlyatauctions,oratthewoolmarkets.WereIto hear that a neighbor had an accident or an illness,naturallyI’dgobytoseeifthere’dbeanythingIcoulddoand they’d do the same for us. But we’re not gentry;hands-on sheep farming does not allow much time forsocializing.

“Thereisoneexception:LadyVanessaBulwer-deVille.She’sthewidowofsomeminornobility.She’sournearestneighboralthoughherplace,‘SouthmoreManor,’issomedistance away. One of Robert’s last cases before hehunguphisrobeandwigwasrepresentingtheplaintiffinanactionagainstLadydeVille’s latehusband.Thecourtfound for Robert’s client and awarded substantialdamages.Asaresult,herladyshipdoesn’tmuchcareforRobertandme.”

“Your telegram was emphatic regarding secrecy.Woulditnothavebeenbettertoraisethealarminhopethat someone might recognize your missing flock? Aretheyearmarked?”

“They are, but earmarks mean nothing to a thief.Among honest folk they are useful to sort out whichanimal belongs to whom at an auction or if one strays

from home. But a thief can change the earmark in notime.

“Should our difficulty become known, it could meantheendofourfarm.AlthoughIowntheland,theanimalsaremortgaged.Wehadvery littlecapitalandalmostnosheepat thebeginning.Tobuildup the flockwehad toborrow and put the animals up as collateral. Thus far,we’ve been able to service the debt with a wee bit leftover.Ifthelossbecomesknown,inalllikelihoodthebankwill call in the debt and sell off the flock. And if theforeclosuresaledoesn’tbringenoughtosatisfythedebt,Robert and I could be sued for the deficiency so we’dlikely lose the farmaswell. Losing the farm,andwithabairnontheway,youmustsee,gentlemen,thatIdonotexaggerateourpredicament.”

“Wedosee,Madam,andweareatyourservice.Onelastquestion:How’sthefishinginyourarea?”

“The fishing, Mr. Holmes? I thought I was engagingyourservicestocatchathief,notasalmon!”

“Youare indeed.But ifweare tocatch this thief,wemay have to catch a salmon, or at least give theappearance of trying to. If we are to preserve secrecy,andIagreewemust, itwouldhardlydo forWatsonandme to arrive as ourselves. Much better we show upincognito,SirIsaacWalton’sguidebookinhand,theretotryourluck.”

“Aren’tyouoverlookingonething,Holmes?Myleave’sonlyafortnightandIhaveothercommitments.”

“Nonsense,oldchap.Thegame’sahoof.”InreactiontoHolmes’sbonmotMrs.Bowe-Peopgave

him a withering look. But in a moment it turned into asmileandthenalaugh.“Idohope,Mr.Holmes,thatyourdeductiveskillsareassharpasyourwit.This is thefirsttimeI’velaughedinweeks.”

“Youmay assume that they are, although your ‘littleproblem’ does present some interesting features.Watson, would you kindly see Mrs. Bowe-Peopdownstairs and hail her a cab?” I need to write out atelegramtoMycrofttoarrangeforawordwithhiminthemorningwhileyoulookinonyourpractice.”Holmesroseand went to his cluttered desk, eventually locating aBritishRailways timetable.Donninghis readingglasses,he quickly perused the pages. “Madam, we’ll take theovernighttoEdinburghandarriveatObanat2:30Fridayafternoon.”

“Thankyoubothsomuch.IbelieveI’vetimetocatchtonight’s train, and thereby save a night’s expensivelodginginLondon.IshallmeetyouattheObanstation.”

Next morning, it took my sternest opprobriummedicorum to finallybundleMrs.Hudson intoahansomand off to my consulting rooms.While she was in withTilbury I rummagedabout formyfishinggear.AfterMrs.Hudson left, Tilbury and I spent some time going overseveralpatientfiles.ImetHolmesatSimpson’sforlunch.Holmesreported thathe’dsharedmyremarksabout thecourseofthewarwithMycroftandthatMycroftpromisedto take my concerns under advisement. It was mid-afternoon before we returned to Baker Street where Ibusiedmyselfwithmyfishinggear.Holmeswentoutandreturned about an hour later with a sizeable bundlewrapped in brown paper. In response to my inquiringlook,hesaid,“Afewitemswe’llneedforthejourney.”

I remember littleof theLondon-to-Edinburgh journey.After a decent dinner in the dining car, I fell asleepimmediately. I awoke as the train was pulling into thegreatWaverley terminal atEdinburgh. Iwas still groggyas we boarded the train for Oban. I managed a latebreakfastasthetrainpassed ’roundthenorthernendof

LochLomond.Mrs. Bowe-Peopwas awaiting us on the platform as

we clambered down fromour first-class compartment atsixesandsevenswithourrods,wadersandotherfishingparaphernalia.Inourdisguises—whichwerethecontentsofthepackageHolmeshadbroughtbacktoBakerStreet—ourclientdidnot immediatelyrecognizeusamongthenumerous and sundry passengers debarking with us.Holmes had added a drooping moustache and wispygoateeandamonocleonalongblackribbon.Heworeafrock coat over stripped trousers, a stiff wing-collaredshirtandahomburghat.LookinglikeanAfricanexplorer,I was in an off-white linen jacket, matchingknickerbockersandcalf-highboots.Holmeshadaffixedapair of outlandish mutton-chop whiskers to my usuallyclean-shavencheeksandtoppedofftheensemblewitharidiculous pith helmet. Our client stood there in anobvious state of consternation until Holmes finallyaddressedher,“Mrs.Bowe-Peop?”

At first bewildered by Holmes’s boldness, she said,“Yes, I’m…” Just then the identity of the two apparentstrangersdawneduponher.“Oh!It’syouMr…”

“Torvil Siegerson, Madam, of the NorwegianDepartment of Fisheries. And this is my colleague, thefamousichthyologist,ProfessorAlgernonNetley.”

Mrs.Bowe-Peopraisedherhandtohermouthtostiflea laugh as I sputtered, “Algernon? Really, Hol…ImeanSiegerson!”

“Yougentlemenwillneedtowaitformeatthestationentrance. I left thedogcartat thefarrier.Thehorsewasfavoringone legontheway insoI lefthimtobe lookedat. Hopefully, it’s only a loose shoe; I do not need anymoreanimalproblemsatpresent.”

“Algie and I would be happy to walk with you. The

exercisewilldousgoodafterbeingcoopedupontrainsforsolong.”

Laden with our gladstones and fishing gear, ourprogress along the busy commercial street was hardlybrisk. We had passed a block or two when our clientcame to a stop. “There, Mr…Siegerson…see the mancomingtowardus;that’sIanMcKissack.”

McKissackwasatall,brawnymanwithregular,somewouldsay“handsome,”features.SeeingMrs.Bowe-Peophe limped toward us leaning heavily on a cane. As hehalted in front of us he removed his fedora revealing ahead of thinning dark hair mixed with a few strands ofbrown.

“Good afternoon, Lillian…Mrs. Bowe-Peop. Whatbringsyoutotown?

“I’mIanMcKissack.”Heheldouthislargehand.“Ya, Torvil Siegerson I am,” Holmes replied in an

exaggerated Scandinavian accent as he extended hishand to meet McKissack’s. And this be ProfessorAlgernonNetley,ya.”Ashe introducedmeInoticed thatHolmes was scrutinizing the man from head to toe asthoughtheweresomerarespeciesoffish.

“AlgernonNetley,professorofichthyology.”“ProfessorNetleyisthefamousichthyologistandIam

withtheNorwegianDepartmentofFisheries.Vecometostudy the local fishes.Youhaveheard of the professor,ya?”

“Whyyes…I’msureIhave.YouarelodgingwithMrs.Bowe-Peop?” He smirked as though the arrangementweresomehowimproper.

“Ya, this is so. She make us very good price, yaProfessor.”

“Yes,” I mumbled, “a very good price. And what doyoudoMr.McKissack?”

“Nothingmuch,I’mafraid.Land-owner,landedgentry,I suppose. In fact, I’mcoming frommysolicitor’shavingjustsigneda leaseofmypeatbog.Seems thedistillersare expanding to serve the American market and needmuch more peat for their grain-drying process. Lillian,you should consider doing so as well. They’re payinggood money for the rights…more than you can maketaking inboarders.”Hegaveusaderisiveglance. “WithRobertaway,Iimaginethatsomeextracashwouldcomeinhandy. I’mcertainmysolicitorcouldnegotiateagooddeal foryou,especially if Ihaveawordwithhim.That’swhat good neighbors do; help one another in times ofdifficulty.”

“Ithinknot,Mr.McKissack.Weshallmanageonewayoranother.Ifyouwillexcuseus,wemustbeonourway.Gentlemen?”

“Well,shouldyouchangeyourmind,letmeknow.It’sfarlessriskythansheepfarming.”

I could see the crimson flush had returned to Mrs.Bowe-Peop’scheeksandthatHolmeswasclenchinghisjaws in anger. After we’d walked on a few paces Iexpressedall our feelings, “I think itwouldhavebeenabetter use of these fishing rods had I given thatscoundrel a good thrashing with them. Landed-gentry,indeed!”

“I almost wish you had…Professor. But he’s aphysically-powerfulmanableI’msuretoholdhisowninastreetbrawl.Infact,he’sthecountycaberchampion.”

“Well,he’sgoneandgoodriddance.”“Just so,Professor.We’dnot beofmuchuse toour

client lockedup in the localgaol.”Turning toour client,Holmes said, “It appears, Madam, that you may havepushed him harder than you thought; that’s rather aseriouslimp.”

“Iobserved,“Lookedlikehewasfavoringhis left-sidepiriformismuscle.Iwonderhowheinjuredit.”

Fortunately, it was only a loose shoe asMrs. Bowe-Peophadhopedsowewereonourway in short order.Aswedrovealong theSorobaRoad,Holmesaskedourclientaboutpeatbogs. “They’reallaround,Mr.Holmes.HeathcliffeFarmhasabout thirtyacres’worth.Wecutabit each winter for fuel, but otherwise stay away fromthem. They’re not useable for grazing as the soil is toosoft. As a precaution we’ve fenced the area off. After aheavyrain,sheepcanbecometrappedanddrown.”

“So why not turn the acreage into a cash crop?”Holmesasked.

“Not worth it. The distiller’s land agent has come’rounda few times,butwe’vedeclined.Once thepeat’sgone, the land turns intoa fetidswamp.Thepeatholdsthe moisture and prevents the pasture from eroding. Italso traps pollutants before they can run off into thestreamsandtothesea.”

Presentlywecametoacairnattheright-handsideofthe road. Our client slowed and said, “This marks thebeginning of McKissack’s land. He calls his place‘FenswickManor.’ I’vebeen therea few times. It’s ratherrundownnow,butI’msurewasoncequitegrand.”

When we came to the lane leading to McKissack’splace, Holmes asked, “Do you mind if we stop amoment?”Mrs.Bowe-Peopbrought thehorse toastop.Holmeseaseddownoffthebackofthecartandspentafewmomentslookingattheroad.Thenhewalkedovertothelaneandpeeredatthegroundforabit.Hereturnedtothecartandbidourclienttocarryon.

When we arrived at Heathcliffe Farm our clientbecame our gracious hostess. We were shown to acomfortable cottage adjacent to the main house. She

introduced us to the McHenrys whom I immediatelyconcluded were as innocent… dare I say it…“as new-born lambs.” After cocktails and an excellent dinnerfeaturing saddle of lamb—quite as good as that servedupbyEscoffier—HolmesandIbidourhostessgoodnightandretiredtoourcottage.Thedayhadcooledsothat itwas quite pleasant outdoors. Holmes and I shed ourjacketsandsatonthesmallporchenjoyingpost-prandialcigars.

“I would certainly hate to see the Bowe-Peops losesuchacharmingplace,Holmes.”

“Fearnot,Watson.”“Thenyoualreadyhaveformedatheory?”“Perhaps, Watson, but you know how I detest

articulatingasolutionuntilallthefactsarein.”Withthat,Holmes ground out the stub of his cigar and bid megoodnight.

ThenextmorningasIwasenjoyingasecondhelpingoffresheggsandmuttonsausage—inanefforttoregainsome of the weight I’d lost from the endless hours ofwork and subsisting on army rations—Holmes, in thecompany of the McHenry men, walked back up to theroad. When he returned I could see that he’d gottensome new information that he was processing in thatgreatmindofhis.

Mrs. Bowe-Peop, being unfamiliar with Holmes’smethods, assumed he’d report what he’d learned. Shewas therefore disappointedwhen all Holmes didwas toaskfortheloanofthedogcartandofTitustoactasourguide.Hedidshareour itinerarywhichwastoambleupthestreammarkingthesouthernboundaryofHeathcliffeFarm.Our client cautioned us not to go past the fencelest we trespass on the Bulwer-deVille estate. Titusbrought the cart ’round and loaded up our fishing

accoutrements.Titus let us off at a bridge where the Soroba Road

crossedashallowstream.WesynchronizedourwatchesandHolmesgavehistoTitusinstructinghimtoreturnforus in threehours’ time.Weambledupstreamcastingaswewent.Ievenmanagedtolandaneight-poundsalmon.Whenwereacheda fenceat right-angles to thestream,Holmes took out his binoculars and, standing on thelower beam of the fence, scanned the area in alldirections. During this time Holmes said almost nothingsavetocommendmeonmyskillasanangler.WemadeourwaybacktotheroadwhereTituswaswaitingforus.

Mrs.McHenrycleanedthesalmonandprepareditforour luncheon. Our client politely waited until the mealwas done to ask whether we’d located her sheep orfound any clue as to their whereabouts. When Holmesrespondedinthenegative,shebecamedespondent.“OhMr.Holmes,itmustbetoolate.I’msureIshallneverseethemagain!Wherecan theybe?Surelyamysterysuchasthiscannotbebeyondyourfamouspowers.”

“Do not despair, Mrs. Bowe-Peop. I’m satisfied thatyour sheep are happily tupping away nearby. Make nomistake; we shall find them. There are, however, a fewmattersuponwhichIhopeyoucanenlightenus.”

“Yes,Mr.Holmes;askanything.”Before Holmes could do so, Mrs. McHenry led a

liveried footman into the room. The footman bowed andhanded Mrs. Bowe-Peop an envelope. After Mrs.McHenry had shown him out, Mrs. Bowe-Peop openedthe envelope. “For you…Mr. Siegerson and ProfessorNetley.”

I tooktheenvelopefromherhandandreadit. “Isay,Holmes…I mean Siegerson…Lady Bulwer-deVille hasinvitedustoteathisafternoon.”

“Capital,Algie. Isaw thatwewereunderobservationfrom Southmore Manor while you were wrestling thatleviathanintoyourcreel.”

“That dreadful woman’s up to no good, gentlemen.Markmywords.Butbeforeyougo,youwantedtoaskmesome further questions. I trust that I’ve satisfied yourcuriosityastothesalmonfishinghere’bouts.”

“Indeed you have, Madam. I have four furtherquestions:First,whenMcKissackwashere,didyoueverleavehimalone?”

Mrs. Bowe-Peop thought for a few moments. “Onlybriefly, Mr. Holmes. He asked if I had something to gowiththedrinks,soIgotatinofbiscuitsandsomecheesefromthepantry.”

“As I suspected. Second, was McKissack limpingwhenhecametocall?”

“Why,no.Infact,hesaidhe’dbeenpracticingfortheupcomingcabertournament.”

“Interesting. Third, are rams ever aggressive? Willtheyattackahuman?

“Occasionally, especially during tupping season. It’snothappenedtome,butduringourfirsttuppingseasonaramgotcross-wayswithRobertandbuttedhimrightinhismidsectionHewasincapacitatedforaweek.”

“Lastly,howdoyougetyoursheeptomarket?”“We hire a draywagon and teamof horses.Most of

thesmallfarmersdothat.It’scheaperthanowningthem.If the dray breaks down, the liveryman repairs it. Samewiththehorses.Wecanscarcelyaffordonehorse,muchlessa teamofdrafthorses.Sinceweonlyneed themafewtimesayear…”

“Fromwhomdoyouhirethem?”“Mr.Blantyre,thefarrier.Heownsseveralwagonsand

teams. Are you thinking that whoever stole my sheep

hiredadrayfromBlantyre’s?”“It’spossible…”“Then first thing tomorrow I shall go to Oban and

inveiglehim intoallowingme toseehis rental ledger. Inthemeantime,whileyouarehavingteawithherladyship,IshallbecleaningandoilingRobert’sshotgun.”

“I don’t think that either shall be necessary, Mrs.Bowe-Peop.Kindlyallowmetodothejobyoupaidmetodo. Although…” Holmes paused, “…I trust that youbroughtyourWebleyalong,Watson.”

Inodded.“Excellent. That will be all the firepower we shall

need,ifthat.”OnthewaytoSouthmoreManorIdrovethedogcart

and Holmes busied himself with his binoculars. I didinterrupthimbrieflytoexpressmydismayatthewayhe’dtreated our…his…client. Or perhaps I was justexpressing my frustration at not knowing whereinvestigation was headed. “Holmes,” said I, “You realizeyou were abominably rude to Mrs. Bowe-Peop. Thewoman’s as brave and resourceful as any you’ve everknown—Irene Adler or Fiona Pippin perhaps being theforemost.But thinkhowherpresentcircumstanceshaveaffected her. She awakens each morning wonderingwhether today will be the day when she receives thetelegramfromtheWarOfficetellingherthatherhusbandisdeadormissingorcaptured.Ontopofthat,havingthebestofherflockstolenwhilesheslept…”

I looked over at Holmes who had lowered hisbinocularsandwasabouttorespond.Beforehecould,Icontinued, “And please spare me the lecture on yourmethods…notexpressinganopinionuntilallthefactsarein. The woman’s paid you good money, probably morethan she can afford. She deserves better.” Holmes said

nothing,butIdobelieveIsawhimnodinagreement.Wepresentedourselvesattheancientstonepilethat

was Southmore Manor at the appointed time. As wedroveup therewasanunusual-lookingmotorcarparkedin the gravel roundabout. “I see we’re not the onlyinvitees,”Iremarked.Iwalkedaroundthevehicle,afour-seaterwiththesteeringwheelontherightsideoftherearseats. “I don’t think I’ve seen this make before…Siegerson.Perhapsit’simportedfromNorway.”

“No, Professor, it’s an Arrol-Johnston, manufacturedhere in Scotland. Built for durability…to handle thewretchedScottishroads.”

Before Holmes could expound on horsepower andpetrolconsumptionabutlerbiduswelcomeandledustoamustydrawingroomtomeetourhostessandtheotherguests. LadyBulwer-deVille appeared to be in hermid-fortiesandtryingtolookyounger.BythatImeanthatshewore a full complement of make-up and a dress thatrevealedratheralotofskin,onewhichwouldhavebettersuited an ingénue less than half her age. Despite herlosing battle with Father Time, she had an engagingsmileandabitofatwinkleinhereye.

Holmes and I each in turn took her proffered hand.The other guests, two men, rose from their seats on adivan. “Mr. Siegerson, Professor Netley, I am delightedthat you could join us. This is Ebenezer McTighe,” shenodded in the direction of a wizened gnome of a manwearinganensemble thatwasthe twinofHolmes’s,butinsteadofamonocleheworeapince-nez.“HemanagestheObanbranchof theBankofLochLomond.And thisisNigelBender.Mr.Benderisanestateagentemployedbythedistillerstosecureleasesofpeatbogs.”

Hands were shaken all ’round and we took seats intwo club chairs opposite the divan. As Lady Bulwer-

deVillepoured,Holmessaid,“YourLadyshiptomelooksfamiliar. I thinkmaybewemeetbefore,ya?Was itwhenKingOscarIIwasinOslotwoyearsago?”

“Surely not, Mr. Siegerson.” A pronounced flushappeared above her décolletage. “I’ve been down toLondon and to Parismany times withmy late husbandand we once attended a ball at Balmoral when HerMajestywasinresidence.ButI’veneverbeentoOlso.”

“ThenIhaveyouwithsomeoneelseconfused.Pleaseexcuseme,Ladyship.”

“Whatbringsyou to theObanarea,Gentlemen,” thebankerasked.

“I come the fishes to study. Our fjords from over-fishingarebecomingdepleted. Iwant yourconservationmethodstoobserve.ProfessorNetley…”

“I…I am investigating breeding habits. Quite aninterestingsubject.”

“Howworksthebankingbusinesshere,Mr.McTighe.IhavefriendsintheDepartmentofBankingathome.Youhave maybe some methods that I can tell them about,ya?”

“BankingisthesamehereasitisinNorway.Ithasitsmoments,butonthewholeratherdullIshouldsay.Justnow is unfortunately ‘one of those moments.’ Theauditorsaresniffing’roundexaminingourmortgages.I’mafraid it isentirelypossible that Ishallhave tocallmorethan one due on account of insufficient collateral.”McTighe removedhis pince-nezand cleaned the lenseswithhispockethandkerchief.

“Fortunately,” he continued, “Bender here has cometo the aid of several of ourmortgagors. Leasing of theirpeat bogswill provide sufficient cash flow so that I canstaveoffforeclosure.Iheartilywishthatsomeofmymorerecalcitrantcustomerswouldseethelight.”

“Isn’t that being a bit short-sighted,” I asked. “Iunderstandthatdepleting thebogs isdevastating to thesurroundinglands.AmImisinformed?”

“You are indeed, Professor.” Bender, his red faceturning even redder, leaned forward and glared at me.“The local preservationists are quite ’round the bendonthe subject. There is no scientific basis for theirexaggeratedclaims.MotherNaturewillhaveherwaynomatterwhatmankindmaydo.Sheepfarmingwillnotbedamagedintheslightestbyourharvestingafewtonsofpeathereandthere.”

A short, powerfully-built man, Bender stood andshookhisfistatme.“Asascientistyoushouldbebetterinformed.”

Istartedtoriseandrespondtohisrudenesswhenourhostessinterrupted.“Now,now,gentlemen.Donotallowsuch a dull subject to spoil our tea-time.While I agreewithMr.Bender…”

“AsdoI,”McTigheinterjected.“…there are some who hold the view that the peat

bogsarebestleftalone.However,IhavenothesitatedtoleaseminetoMr.Bender’sclients.”

With decorum restored we continued talking aboutless controversial subjects such as McTighe’s motorcaruntilHolmessaidwemustbemakingourwayback.Hementioned the bank of dark clouds we’d seen on thewesternhorizonandwanted to return toHeathcliffFarmbefore the rain. We thanked our hostess for aninteresting tea and took our leave. NeitherMcTighe norBenderrosetoofferhishand,nordidHolmesorI.

Onceoutside, I tendered the reins toHolmesbuthedeclined. As soon aswewere out of earshot he beganlaughing as hard and as loud as I’d ever known him todo. “I’m sorry, Holmes, I evidently missed out on the

joke.”“Lady Bulwer-deVille…” Holmes howled inmirth and

slapped his knee. “Did you see her blushwhen I said Ithought I knew her?Her name isMaisie Entwistle. ShewasknowninEastEndas‘CrazyMaisieTuppence.’Sheworked in one of those dock-side dance halls wheresailorsgotodancefortuppence-a-dance.Shewasquitea looker, and, I’ve heard, a good dancer. But totallywithoutinhibitions.”

Holmesglancedat the loweringsky. “We’dbeststeplively, Watson. I want to get Mrs. Bowe-Peop’s sheepback in the foldbefore the rainscome. I’dhate to solvethecrime,onlytoreturnaflockofdrownsheeptoher.”

“Thenyouknowwheretheyare?”“Don’tyou,oldfellow?”“I have my suspicions, Holmes. But to paraphrase

you, I do not like to state the solution until all the factsarein.”

Mrs.Bowe-Peopwaswaiting forusandclearly innomood for banter. When she asked about our visit toSouthmore Manor, Holmes said we’d met Bender andMcTighe. At the mention of the name “McTighe” shestiffened.“Soyou’vemetthewallydraigle.Charming,isn’the?”

“Likemost bankers, as charming as the remnants ofWatson’ssalmon.”

“AndBender…”I answered, “Not a very pleasant fellow. I doubt that

he could sell water to aman dying of thirst;much lesspersuade sensible people to encumber their property insuchadangerousproject.Wealmostcametoblows.”

“We’d best hurry along, Watson and you too Mrs.Bowe-Peop. I’msureyou’d liketohaveyoursheepbackbeforetheraincomes.”

“Oh!Thankyou,Mr.Holmes.You’vefoundthem.Aretheyal-right?Wherearethey?”

“AtMcKissack’s,where they’vebeensince theywerepurloined.CouldyouasktheMcHenrystojoinus?”

Mrs. McHenry was in the kitchen. Mrs. Bowe-Peopasked her to fetch her husband and Titus. As soon asMrs.McHenrylefttheroom,Mrs.Bowe-Peopwentouttothe parlor and returned carrying a double-barreledshotgun.“ThisshouldsecureMcKissak’scooperation.”

“Puttheweaponback,Madam.McKissackwillgethisjust desserts at the hands of the law. If you wish toparticipate in the dénouement, I’ve something else inmind for you. Do by chance own any provocativeclothing?”

“MisterHolmes,howdareyouasksuchathing?Whatsort ofwomando you think I am? InBakerStreet, yourwordsmademefeelquitegoodaboutmyself.Butnow,inmy own home, you suggest that I’m some sort of…tart.Really,Mr.Holmes!”

“Ientertainnosuch thoughts,Madam. Istandbymyearlier words. Think of it as a disguise, if you will.Someone needs to keep McKissack distracted whilstWatson and I, along with the McHenry men, attend tootherbusiness.”

Ourclientthoughtforamoment.“Well,Iseethatyoumeant no slander,Mr.Holmes. Letme think…Oh yes. IhaveapeasantblouseandskirtwhichRobertpurchasedforme in Barcelonawhenwewere on our honeymoon.The blouse is off the shoulders and the skirt comesbarelytomid-calf.I’mafraidthat’sallIhaveinthewayof‘provocativeclothing.’Willthatdo?”

“Admirably,I’msure.”“Ialsohavesomelow-cutpumpsifIcansqueezemy

feetintothem.”

“Then by all means do so, and as quickly aspossible.”

Mrs. Bowe-Peop dashed off to her bedroom andreturned a few minutes later in the aforementionedgarments carrying the high-heeled shoes in her hand.She’d taken time to put on a bit of lip rouge and haddone up her hair in a chignon. All and all she hadtransformed herself from farm-wife into a mostattractive…orIshouldsay“provocative”…youngwoman.By the timeshe’d returned theMcHenryshadappearedandstood,lookingbemused,awaitingtheirassignments.

Holmes quickly described our respective roles andsoon we were off toward Fenswick Manor. Mrs. Bowe-Peop drove the dog cart withme concealed in the rearkeptcompanybyDolly theewe.HavingenduredDolly’sodor for just a few minutes, I resolved to burn mycostumeassoonaspossible.Tomakemattersworse,thecreatureinsisteduponnuzzlingmyneckandtryingtolickmyear.

HolmesandtheMcHenrysfollowedonfootasrapidlyas they could. I knew that we were close to ourdestination when Mrs. Bowe-Peop slowed and made aleft-handturn.Shedrewthehorsetoahaltandpausedforminuteasthoughdebatingwhethertopresson.Thenshe snapped the reins and the horse started forwardcomingtoastopatthefrontdoor.

I could feel Mrs. Bowe-Peop getting down from thecart and heard her footfalls on the coarse gravel. I alsothoughtIheardafaint“wretchedshoes!”Icouldhearheruse thebrass knocker.Myheart inmymouth lestDollyletoutableat,Ipushedherawayandcautiouslypeekedoutfromunderthetarpaulinintimetoseethedooropenand McKissack standing there. In the light from thehouse I saw that he was dressed in a kilt and a white

shirtopenatthecollar.Thecartwasparkedcloseenough to thedoor that I

could hear the conversation. “Why Lillian, what apleasant surprise. What brings you here on such athreateningnight?Howlovelyyoulook.”

“Why thank you, Ian. I came because I felt badlyabout how I treated you last Saturday. You were onlybeingneighborly…wereyounot?”

“Whyofcourse…justbeingneighborly.”“So I could not let another Saturday pass without

makingmyapology.Also,ifyoudon’tmind,I’dliketotalkabout leasingmypeatbog.WithRobertaway,Ihavenoone to help me decide. You did mention that you’d bewillingtohelp.MayIcomein?”

“Certainly, Lillian. I’m sorry about my rather casualappearance.ObviouslyIwasnotexpectingcompany.Letme show you to my library…it’s much cozier than theparlor.I’llfixdrinkswhileyoumakeyourselfcomfortable.”“Thatwouldbefine, Ian. If thestormcomesperhapswecanwaititouttogether.Andpleasecallme‘Lil.’”

I saw the door close but did not hear a lock turn. Iwaited a minute, then lifted the tarpaulin and climbeddown. I half coaxed and half lifted Dolly down andtetheredhertotherearwheel.JustthentheWesternskylit up in a brilliant display of lightning followed in a fewsecondsbyatremendousclapof thunder.Dollyreactedwithanervousbleat.Ipettedhertocalmherdown.Fromthe short interval between the lightning flash and thethunderIfearedwehadn’tmuchtime.

My assigned task was to surreptitiously enter thehouseandprovideprotectionforMrs.Bowe-Peopincasethingsgotoutofhand.IfpossibleIwastomakemywayto the entry hall andmake sure the doorwas unlockedfor Holmes. My Webley in hand, I made a quick

reconnaissance around the sprawling house. I readilylocated the room towhichMcKissackhadescortedMrs.Bowe-Peop as it was the only one on the ground floorwhichwaslighted,savetheentryhall.Throughagapinthedrapes, I sawher seatedona divan coveredwith atartan throw that matched McKissack’s kilt. McKissackwasstandingatadrinkscart,pouringawhisky.

Upon completingmy circumnavigation, I took off myboots—no easy task—and tip-toed to the front door.Holding my breath, I tried the handle which turnedreadily.Cautiously Ipushed thedooropenandentered.Guided only by the light from the foyer Imademywaydownahallwayuntil I saw the illumination coming fromthelibrary.Icametoanun-litroomjustnexttothelibrary.IclosedmyeyesbeforeenteringtheroomtoallowthemtoadjusttothedarklestI tripoversomeill-placedpieceof furniture. I mademyway into the room and found achair next to the wall adjacent to the library. I sat andplacedtheWebleyinmylap.Holmeshadinstructedmeto let him in precisely at 8:30. Iwas trying to figure outhowIwasgoingtoreadmywatchwhennatureprovidedthe solution. I held the time-piece close tomy face andwhen thenext flashof lightningcame Iwasable toseethe time. I spent the next minutes listening for anyuntoward sounds from the next room and holding thewatchtomyface.

At8:30 I roseandwent to the frontdoor. Iopened itandadmittedHolmes,also inhisstockingfeet. Ipointeddown thehallway to the lightemanating from the libraryandnodded to indicate that thus farnothingwasamiss.Heglancedabout the foyerand tookoffup thestairwayasIreturnedtomypost.AsIwasmakingmyway,therewasanotherflashoflightning.Thistimetherewasalmostno intervalbetween the flashand the thunderclap. Ina

momentIcouldhearthebeginningofthedown-pour.I resumed my post. A few minutes passed. I spent

them listening to the rain and wondering what Holmeswas up to. Even over the rain, I could now hear voicesfromthelibrary.ThenIheardascreamfollowedby“Ian,no!” I sprang tomy feet.Unfortunately, inmy hastemyrevolver fell frommy lap andmanaged to slide under alarge divan. I dared not take time to retrieve it, thinkingthatmypresencewouldbesufficientdeterrenttofurthermisbehavioronthepartofourun-suspectinghost.

InsecondsIburstintothelibraryandsawMrs.Bowe-PeoponthedivanwithMcKissack.Hehadhishugearmsaroundherandwas trying tokissher.Asshestruggledshe kicked over the cocktail table in front of the divansendingglassesandadecanterflying.“Unhandher,youscoundrel,”Ishoutedstridingtowardthedivan.

Hearingmyvoice,McKissackjerkedhisheadaround.“What the devil!” How dare you break into my home!I’ll…”

“You’llunhandtheladyatonce;that’swhatyou’lldo,”Ishoutedback.AtthatMcKissacksprangfromthedivan.Icouldseehimwinceasheputweightonhisleftleg.Hekickedthecocktail tableawayandchargedtowardme. Ichargedtowardhimandmanagedtostrikethefirstblow,around-houserighttothejaw.

HestoppedandblinkedforamomentasIpreparedtodeliverthecoupdegrace.Idrewbackmyfistthenheletout a fierce roar and before I could land the blow he’dgrabbedmeaboutthewaistandsqueezedthebreathoutofmewithjusthishands.Withanotherroarhethrewmeacrosstheroomlikeacaberlog—agooddozenfeet—sothatIslammedintothewallnexttothedoor.Islumpedtothefloorinadazefromstrikingthebackofmyhead.

Mrs. Bowe-Peop had taken refuge behind the divan.

Peering over the top of the divan, McKissack bellowed,“What’sgoingonLil?Whoishe?What’shedoinginmyhome?Whatgameareyouplaying?”

HisnameisMajorJohnH.WatsonandIamSherlockHolmes.Andyoumaybecertain,IanMcKissack,thatthisisnogame.Caberpracticeisover.”AsIstruggledtomyfeetHolmesassumedapugilist’sstance,leadingwithhisleft.HeengagedwithMcKissack raining jabsas fast astherainoutside.However,Holmes’sskilledblowsdidnomore damage than my awkward but powerfulroundhouse.

McKissack blocked most of Holmes’s punches withhis massive forearms. With his right arm He seizedHolmes and clamped him in a vicious headlock. Hegrabbed me at the throat with his left hand and in aninstanthadme inaheadlockaswell. I tried to twistoutcausing my mutton-chops to peel loose. I beganpoundingmy fist intoMcKissack’s piriformismuscle.Hegruntedinpainwitheachblowbutalsotightenedhisgripevenmore.ThecrookofhiselbowwasovermynoseandmouthsothatIcouldnotdrawbreath.Iagainfeltmyselfabout to pass out when I heard a dull thud above methen all three of us, McKissack, Holmes and I, weresprawled on the floor. Gasping for breath, I rolled outfrom underMcKissack’s arm and looked up. TherewasMrs.Bowe-Peopholdingaheavycrystalflowervasewithasmearofbloodonthebottom.

WhenHolmesandIhadregainedourfeetMrs.Bowe-Peopsaid,“Itoldyouhewasabrawler.Youwouldn’tletmebringtheshotgun,soIhadtoimprovise.”

“Could you improvise further and locate somethingwithwhich to tie him up?We should be out in the boghelping the McHenrys load up the sheep into Mr.Blantyre’s dray wagons which I’m sure the McHenrys

have located by now. We can hear McKissack’sconfessionwhenhewakesup.”

Mrs. Bowe-Peop had presciently brought with her apair of sensible shoes. When we were re-shod weproceeded through the deluge in search ofMcKissack’speat bog. Holmes located tracks in the sodden groundmadebyheavywagonsand largehorsesaswellas theimprints of a smaller animal, presumablyDolly.We hadalsoloadedseverallanternsintothedogcartandbytheguttering lightofoneof thesewemadeourway towardwhatwehopedwasMcKissack’sbog.Aftersomeminuteswesawlanternsmountedonfencepostsandamomentlater heard the agitated bleating of the sheep and thenervouswhinnyingofthehorses.

Withtherainstillpouringdownandamidstflashesoflightningandclapsofthunder,evenwithfiveofusittookthe better part of an hour to get all the animals loadedinto the wagons. The McHenry’s mounted the driver’sboxesandstartedbacktoHeathcliffeFarm.

Once back in themanor house, soaked to the skin,we found McKissack where we’d left him, sprawled infront of the divan; his arms and legs securely bound. Ihad managed to locate my revolver and now sat in achair opposite McKissack holding the weapon in myhand. He was only semi-conscious so Holmes removedhis sodden jacket and squeezed the water from it intoMcKissack’s face. When he’d sufficiently returned tosentience Holmes and Mrs. Bowe-Peop drew up chairsoneithersideofmine.IprobedMcKissack’sheadwoundanddeterminedthatitwassuperficial,nofracture.

McKissack asked Holmes to unbind his legs as hewasinconsiderablepain.AsHolmesdidsoIbrandishedmy revolver so that McKissack would not entertain theidea of trying to over-power us again. He asked for

whisky which Holmes provided. After taking a stoutswallow he said, “Lillian…Lil…what is the meaning ofthis?Whydidyoucomehere?Whydidyoubring thesemen…whoevertheyare?Ithought…”

“Mrs. Bowe-Peop will have nothing further to say toyou until you are in the prisoner’s dock and she in thewitnessbox.Youwill,however,answermyquestionsandif youarecompletely truthful thingsmaygomoreeasilyonyouwhenyoustandinthedock.”

“I…Idon’tknowwhat…”“Donotdisgraceyourselffurtherbylying,McKissack.

Fortunately,wehaverecoveredMrs.Bowe-Peop’ssheepwhich you purloined in so dastardly amanner.” At that,Holmes threw a handful of cloth earmarks ontoMcKissack’slap.“Ishalltellyouhowandyoushalltelluswhy you did it. Then if you will agree to testify againstyour co-conspirators, perhaps the courtwill grant you ameasureofleniency.

“AssoonasMrs.Bowe-Peop related the factsof thetheft, I thoughtyouwereinvolved.ThisafternoonwhenIlearned that you’daskedher for something toeat togowith your drinkmy suspicions were confirmed. It was arusetogiveyoutheopportunitytoaddafewdropsofthisto her glass. I found it in a cupboard in your bedchamber.”Holmes tookasmall vial fromhispocketandhandedittome.Thelabelread“ChloralHydrate.”

“Despicable.” I remarked, as I tossed the vial intoMcKissack’slap.

Holmes continued, “Though it was not your mainpurpose,youcouldnotresisttryingtohaveyourwaywithher. Had it been your main purpose, you would havewaited until she was unconscious. However, yourconfederates were no doubt growing impatient so youappearedtoleave.Theyhaddriventhereindraywagons

hiredfromBlantyre.Thenthethreeofyouloadedupthesheep and drove the wagons here where McTighe hadlefthismotorcar.

“Although I’m sure the dogs put up a furious racket,Mrs.Bowe-Peopwasunconscioussosheheardnothing.I was able to confirm the movement of the wagons byexaminingthetracksfromFenswickManortoHeathcliffeFarm and back out to the Soroba Road. One of thewagons has a conspicuous tear in one of the cross-bandson the right rearwheel. I also found tracksofanArrol-JohnstonmotorcarwhichI learnedbelongedto thebankerMcTighe.

“WhenwesawyouinObanInotedthepresenceofafewstrandsofmooritinyourhair,ratheranoddthingfora gentleman of leisure.Owing to your unfamiliarity withhandling of sheep—rams especially—you turned yourbackonaparticularlyaggressiveramthat,as iswont tohappen, butted you soundly on your left piriformismuscle. I am indebted to Major Watson for that ratherarcanelessoninanatomy.”

“Butwhydidhedoit,Mr.Holmes?”“Whenyoutoldmethatyoursheepweremortgaged,

Mrs. Bowe-Peop, I knew I had a likely motive. Mysuspiciongrewstrongerwhenyoutoldusaboutthepeat-bog landgrab.AtLadyBulwer-deVille’s,McTigheallbutadmittedthatheistheforcebehindtheodiousschemetosteal your farm. Perhaps McKissack can enlighten youfurther.”

“Pleaseforgiveme,Lillian.Itoohaveamortgage,ten-thousandpounds;itwillbedueinaweek’stime.IwasatMcTighe’smercy.Hesaid if Ididnot leasemypeatbogandpersuadeyoutodoso,hewouldnotrenew.Bendertoldusthatpersuasionwasuseless.ItwasMcTighewhocameupwith the ideaofpurloiningyoursheep inorder

tobringpressureonyou.”McKissack continued, “When I saw you in Oban

yesterdaywiththosetwo,ItoldMcTighe.Hewasinstantlysuspicious. It was his idea to have Lady Bulwer-deVilleinvite them to tea. He wanted to learn what they werereallyuptoandtousethemtoconveyafinalwarningtoyou.”

“One last question,” Holmes knelt down and retiedMcKissack’s, legs. Was Lady Bulwer-deVille in on theconspiracy?”

“Not to my knowledge, Mr…Mr. Holmes. But you’llhave toget thatoutofMcTigheorBender.That’sall I’mgoingtosayuntilIspeakwithmysolicitor.”

We passed the night in McKissack’s library. Holmesand Imovedhim to thechair lastoccupiedbyourclientand she lay down upon the divan. With McKissack’sconsent I administered a drop or two of the chloralhydratemixedinwithasmallwhiskyandMcKissackwassoonasleepsnoringmostannoyingly.HolmesandItookturnsatnappingandkeepingwatchuntilday-break.

Therainstoppedduringthenightanddawnbroketoclear skies. I droveMrs. Bowe-Peop back to HeathcliffeFarm where after changing my clothes I picked up ourgladstones and gear and returned to Fenswick Manor.After Holmes had changed clothes we man-handledMcKissack into the dog cart and started for Oban. Theroadwasariverofmudwashedoutinsomespotssoourjourneywasslowand taxing,madenoeasierbyhavingtolistentoMcKissack’swhiningentreaties.

Presentlywe arrived at theOban constabulary. I leftHolmesandproceededtoBlantyre’s.IarrangedwithhimtoreturnthedogcarttoMrs.Bowe-Peopandrecoverhisdray wagons and teams. I entrusted him to deliver awarm note of well-wishes fromHolmes andme. By the

time I made it to the interview room, McKissack wasnearlyfinishedwritingouthisconfession.SoonthereafterthechiefconstablehadwrittenapplicationstothejusticeofthepeaceforarrestwarrantsforMcTigheandBender.Holmes and I managed to catch the mid-day train toEdinburgh thenceback toLondon.During the long trainjourney, I could see that Holmes was already slippingback into a state of ennui caused by having little tooccupyhismind.

AweekafterreturningtodutyIwasgoingthroughthecharts of a batch of newly-arrivedwounded and I cameacross the name “Peop, Cap’t. Rob’t.” According to thechart he’d suffered a bulletwoundwhich had shatteredhis left clavicle.Thebonehadbeen set and thewounddebridedandcleansedwithcarbolicacid.Thebullethadnot been removed because it was wedged against thesub-clavian artery. There was a note from one of myformer disciples annexed to the chart requesting that Ipersonallyperformthesurgerytoremovethebullet.

I went to him immediately and found a ruggedly-handsomeyoungmanofsomethirtyyears.Hewaspaleand, I judged, had lost considerableweight. I examinedthe wound site and found that there was no infectionowing to the prompt and effective treatment at the fieldhospital.Heshookmyhandandmanagedawansmile.

I asked how he was doing and checked to seewhether he was running a fever which would haverequired that the surgery be postponed. His brow wascoolsoIwasabletotellhimthatIwoulddothesurgeryin themorning.He thankedmeandasked if Iwouldbesokindastopostalettertohiswifeinformingherofhiscircumstances. This I agreed to do and added that Iwouldsendheratelegramtothateffectimmediately.Hedemurredcitinghislackoffundstopayforatelegram.I

told him I would gladly pay. I asked him whether he’dheardfromhiswife.Hesaidthe last letterhe’dhadwasinearlySeptember.Hewassure she’dwritten faithfully,butashewasatthefront,nomailhadreachedhim.

“Well,”saidI,“I’msureshe’llhaveaninterestingstoryforyouwhenyoureturnhome.”

—TheEnd—

T

THECASEOFTHEWHISPERINGWALL

BYJACKBRAZOSIII

ASherlockianPastichewithGrimm’sFairyTale,“TheGooseGirl”asabackdrop

THEQUEEN

herewasaflash–deafeningsilence–thesoundarriving through the atmosphere a full fivesecondslater,thentheshockofexplosionjarring

the earth and filling the battlefield with debris and anever-changing red, grey, violet, then red again assuddenly my ear drums hurt terribly. I blinked, thenrealizedthebriefdelayofcannonfirewasthere-loading.Alarmshotthroughmybody.Themid-afternoonheatwasonlyinthemid-eighties,butitseemedoverahundredasthe terror of battle caused the sweat to sour on myuniform and cast a chill upon my skin. I had to reachcover, crawl under something. As I tried to roll over Icaught a fleetingglanceofMurray trying to reachme. Istruggled, there was another flash, I blinked franticallyandgaspedforbreath…………..Silence.

“HEAVENSWATSON,YOUALMOSTTWISTEDOUTOFYOURCHAIR.It must be another nightmare,” muttered Holmes as heturnedaway fromthewindowoverlooking thestreetandpicked up the morning Times. I was bathed inperspiration,gaspingforbreathandfinallyfullyawake.

“Watson, the lady arriving shortly is an elder queenfrom a small eastern European nation whom I fearmisfortune has befallen her young daughter. She isunderextremeduressandwillbeverynervousduringthecourseofmyinterview.Wouldyoucaretoassistme?”

“How can you tell shewill be under extreme duressandverynervous?”Isnapped.

“MydearWatson,Ijustobservedthelastfewminutesof agony and frustration that she experienced inmerelydisembarkingfromtheLandauinfrontofourbuilding.”

“Of course, it will likely be good therapy for me.” Imumbledstilltryingtoshakeofftheeffectsofmyhellishflashback.

Holmesmerelysmiledbehindanarticle in theTimesannouncingtheconclusionofavisitbyrepresentativesofthree small Eastern European breakaway nations. Thenext sound was that of Mrs. Hudson announcing theentry of the aging Queen of the Eastern Kingdom ofPutinskiandherbodyguards.

“Your Majesty; I received your letter of introductionandampleased tomeet you in person. Letmepresentmycolleague,Dr.Watson.”

“A military man, I see,” replied the agingQueen asshebrieflysurveyedmeandglancedabouttheroom.

“Youhaveacleareye,yourMajesty,”Ireplied.“I am old, not dead,” as a slight smile accompanied

thedriestofhumor.“Mr.Holmes,yourreputationprecedesyou.”“I have asked Mrs. Hudson to bring fresh coffee.

When you are comfortable, you may begin,” Holmessuggested.

At this point Mrs. Hudson entered with coffee andscones which provided the Queen time to catch herbreath and collect herself. The warm coffee seemed tocalmher.

“One year ago my only daughter reachedmarriageable age. She is a lovely child of fair anddelicatebeauty;alasswhocanlightuparoombymerelyentering. Her charm and beauty brings warmth andcomforttothestarkestcastle.Mylatehusband,theKingofTheEasternKingdomof Putinski, had been on goodtermswith theKingofTheRepublicofRumandia beforethe greatEuropean shake-up of our numerous borders.Beforemyhusbandpassedawaywearrangedmarriagebetweenourdaughterandhis youngsonwhen the tworeachedmarriageableage.Lastyearthattimecame.Thisunion will cement the friendly relationship between ourtwo nations for generations to come. The Republic ofRumandia is some distance andmany days travel fromourKingdom.”

“Andwhatexactlyareyouaskingme,myQueen?”“My frustration is as follows. My daughter, Princess

Abigail, a fair and delicate child has been gone almostthreemonthsnowand Ihaveheardnothing fromherorher maid-in-waiting. She is a delicate and sensitive girlwho would normally keep close contact withme. Threemonths ago I packed up for hermany costly items andtrinketsofgoldandsilver,cupsandjewels,aroyaldowry.Ialsodispensedhermaid-in-waitingwhowastoridewithher and hand her over to the bridegroom. Each had a

horse for the journey. My daughter’s horse, namedFalada, was a special gift from an uncle. She said thatshe could talk to Falada and in turn the horse couldunderstand and talk back to her. She is quite emphaticthatsheand thehorsecanhaveconversationsbetweeneachother.Thechildreallybelievesthat.AsIhaveheardnothing from Princess Abigail and her maid-in- waitinghasfailedtoreturn,I fearthatfoulplayhasbefallenherandmisfortune is atmydoorstep. I want to commissionyou, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, to go to The Republic ofRumandiaand investigatewhathashappenedtomyfairand delicate daughter, then resolve the matter asnecessary. If done satisfactorily, you shall be rewardedhandsomely.Hereisaninitialdeposit.”

The agedQueen brought forth a handsome article,intricately inlaid and made of solid gold, a magnificentitem,asdownpayment.

“Thiscaseinterestsmesignificantly.Dr.Watson,whatisyouropinion?”

“In many ways this is a missing person’s case,” Iremarked.“Ifindithighlystimulating.”

“My Queen, we will be happy to accept thiscommission.Weshallbeginshortly,”repliedHolmes.Andthusdidtheadventurebegin.

AFTER THEQUEEN AND HER BODYGUARDS HAD DEPARTED, Ipoured freshcoffeeandbegan todigestwhat Ihad justheard and agreed to participate in. Leaning on myelbows,IsippedthehotcoffeewhilewonderingifIcouldlift the beautiful and massive gold object that restedcomfortablyonoursideboard.

“Letussee if Iunderstand justwhathappenedhere,Holmes.You have just accepted a huge chunk of solidgold as mere down-payment to hunt down a youngPrincessseveralcountriesover inare-organizedsectionofEuropewhoisridingatalkinghorseandlikelyhappilymarried to her new-found Prince who is expected toinheritacountrythathewillsomedaygovern.AndI’mtheonewhoishavingnightmares?”Holmesmerelysmiled.

PREPARATION

ThefollowingdaywhenIaroseHolmeswasnowheretobeseen.Aroundnoonheappeared.

“I presume that you can prepare this afternoon forextendedtravel?”

“Ifnecessary.”“Good.Mycrofthasdesignatedyou,Dr.JohnWatson,

as the Traveling Ambassador to the Newly FormedBreakaway Countries of Eastern Europe. Yourassignment,shouldyouacceptit,willbetomeetwiththedignitaries and or rulers of these countries to lay thegroundwork for good will, future trade and commercialagreements, more or less as introductory and courtesycallsandalsoinquireaboutthehealthandwelfareofonePrincessAbigail.”

“Howniceofyou,”Irepliedwithatouchofirony.“Watson, I feel that during the course of your

introductions,youshouldnotifyTheKingofTheRepublicofRumandiathatamongyourmanyduties,thatwehavebeen retained to verify thatPrincessAbigail has arrivedsafelytohisyoungprince.

“Yes,thisshouldprovetoberatherinteresting.”“Good,weleavetomorrow.”

ONCE ON FRENCH SOIL WE BEGAN THE SLOG ACROSS THE

Continent.As our journey progressed Holmes began toformulate a plan of investigation. Fortunately, no oneknew who we were so our movements should beunrestricted. We just had to be careful how we askedquestions. Holmes, in his wisdom, decided that heshouldbeatravelingministerspreadingthewordofGod.I, inmy role asTravelingAmbassador shouldmeet andbecome friendly with the officials and dignitaries ofTheRepublic of Rumandia and if possible meet the youngPrince and his betrothed from TheEastern Kingdom ofPutinski,

THEMINISTRY

The minister, The Right Reverend Homer SherlockpreachedasatravelingministerthroughoutTheRepublicof Rumandia. His messages were clear, concise anduplifting. He preached directly from the Bible in acongenial and inspirationalmanner.Within a fewweekshe was very much in demand as a guest minister in alargenumberofthechurches.

TheKingexcusedallpersonsfromworkontheLord’sDay and soThe Goose- Girl did not have to work andcouldattend church serviceswith any congregation shechose.AfterhearingtheRightReverendHomerSherlock,she was so moved that she began to attend serviceswherever he spoke, enjoying his messages greatly.Shortly she found an opportunity to meet him after aserviceand theyenjoyeddiscussing theHolyScripturesatlength.TheReverendcasuallyinquiredaboutherdaily

activities and she explained that she was able to findwork for the King assisting a small boy, youngConrad,tending geese and that she was now known as TheGoose-Girl.Hesmiledunderstandablyandnotedthat itwas honest and noble work. However, he also noticedthat she was sad about the subject. Several days latershe noticed that he crossed the field from time to timewhileslowlytravelingtoanotherchurch.

DESCRIPTIONOFTHECOMMUNIQUE

TheReverend noted that each day the maiden andyoungConraddrovethegeesethroughapassorcorridorto a fertile field beyondwhere the grasswas very goodand enjoyed by the geese.When passing through thiscorridorsomethingstrangeoccurredbetweentheGoose-Girlandsomethingwithinthepassageway.TheReverendfollowedcloseroneday.

The location inquestionwasashortcorridororopenairpassageway,nomorethantwentyfeetinlength,worninto the rock formation centuries ago by some ancientstreamabout ten feet indepth thatwouldaccommodatethree men abreast. It was frequently used by the localfarmers and tradespeople as a short-cut to drive theirflocksoffoul,chicken,ducksandgeesetofertilegrazingonthesidesof thegentlyrollinghillsnearby.Thisgrasswasthebestformilesaround.

When passing through the short corridor, when thewind was just right, you could hear the wind speakpassages not unlike something from a long lost lover’ssonnet.

“AlerttheKing!AlerttheKing!OhmyPrincess,howyou

havebeenbetrayed.Istherenojusticeinalltheland?AlerttheKing!AlerttheKing!”

When Holmes investigated, there appears to havebeen an animal head mounted on the wall some timeback. The remnants of the animal head appear to bealiveandwell.Inmanyways,thiswasjustplainscary.

THEGOOSE-GIRL

The Reverend and the Goose-Girl would visit onoccasionwhichshealwaysenjoyed.TheRightReverendalso noted that some time while tending the Geese onthe fertile fields, little Conrad would want to pull herbeautifulhairasshebegantounbraiditandcombitout.Ontheoccasionwhenhetriedtopull it,shewouldsingsome sort of lullaby, the wind would blow and youngConradwouldlosehishatandhavetochaseitforhalfanhourorso.Itseemedtoaggravatehimbutshedid itoneach occasion but not in a cruel or unkind manner.Interestingly during this same time that the boy waschasing his hat, she would unbind and comb out herlongandbeautifulhair.Whileherhairwasunbound,TheReverendwasshocked to see thatherhairwasbeyondanybeautyhehadeverseen.Itappearedlikepuregoldandglowedwith the richnessof heaven itself. It literallytransformed thegirl by radiatingher truegrace,wisdomandbeauty.

Theeffectwastobeautifyeverythinginherpresence.Everything surrounding the girl was like a gift directlyfrom God. The Reverend had never seen anything sostunning. He also noted that she always managed tobraidherhairbackupbeforeyoungConradwasableto

return.

THEPRAYER

As circumstances prevailed, they began to crosspaths more frequently and over the weeks began tospend more and more time together until it was everyother day they crossed paths. Each time they met itseemed very rewarding for theGoose Girl and as theybecameevenmorefriendlyandtrustingofeachothertheReverendask:

“Whatmakesyousosad,deargirl?”“I cannot say,” she replied sadly. “I was sworn to

secrecy.”“Well,” counseled The Right Reverend Homer

Sherlock, “if it were against your will, God would beunderstanding.”

“IfIdidnotswearnottotell,Iwouldhavebeenputtodeathonthespot.”

“Interesting,”repliedReverendSherlock, “I feel that ifwe pray out loud to God right now together and youreveal tohimthecompletestory in itsentirety,openly toGodinprayer,hewill forgiveyouforseekinghelpunderhis direction. I shall be here with you every step of theway”

AND SO THE GOOSE- GIRL, WITHTHE RIGHT REVEREND

HomerSherlock, holding her hand in support and bothontheirknees,theGoose-Girlbegantoprayaloud:

“Dear Lord, I am thedaughter of the lateKing of

EasternKingdomofPutinski andambetrothed totheyoungPrinceofTheRepublicofRumendia toweduponmyarrivalinTheRepublic.IwassentbymymotherwithmyMaid-In-Waiting,mydowryandmy horse Falada. On the day we departed, mymother drew me aside, took a knife and cut myfinger.Asitbled,shecaughtthreedropsofbloodin a white handkerchief and gave them to mesaying,

‘Dismount,andtakemycupwhichyouhavebroughtwithyouforme,andgetmesomewaterfromthestream,forIshouldliketodrink.’

Butmywaiting-maidbecamerebelliousandsaid;

“Getoffyourhorseyourself,andliedownanddrinkoutofthewater,Idon’tchoosetobeyourservant.’

SoI,withgreatthirstalighted,bentdownoverthewater in the stream and drank, and my waiting-maidrefusedtoallowmetodrinkfromthegoldencup.ThenIsaid,ah,heaven,andthethreedropsofbloodanswered,

“ifthisyourmotherknew,herheartwouldbreakintwo.’

But Iwashumble,saidnothing,andmountedmyhorseagainand rodesomemiles further,but thedaywaswarm, the sunscorchedme,and I once

more became thirsty. When we again came to astreamofwater, I againcried tomywaiting-maid,dismount, and get me some water in my goldencup,asIhadlongagoforgottenthegirl’srebuke.But the waiting-maid said in a more hostilemanner,

‘ifyouwishtodrink,getityourself,Idon’tchoosetobeyourmaid.’

Then in my great thirst, I the king’s daughteralighted, bent over the flowing stream, wept andsaid, ah, heaven, and the drops of blood againreplied, if this yourmother knew, her heart wouldbreakintwo.

Andas Iwas thusdrinkingand leaning rightoverthestream, thehandkerchiefwith the threedropsof blood fell out of my bosom, and floated awaywith the water escaping my notice as I wasembroiled in my troubles. My Waiting-Maid,however, had seen it, and she rejoiced to thinkthat she now had power over me, the bride, forsinceIhad lost thedropsofblood, Ihadbecomeweakandpowerless.

SowhenI returnedtomountmyhorseagain, theonethatwascalledFalada,theWaiting-Maidsaid,

‘Faladaismoresuitableforme,andmynagwilldoforyou,’andIfoundthatImustbecontentwiththelessorhorse.

Then the Waiting-Maid, with many hard words,forced me to exchange my royal apparel for herown shabby clothes, as I had lost the drops ofbloodandthereforemypower,giventomebymymother. Then theWaiting-Maid compelled me toswearbytheclearskyaboveme,thatIwouldnotsayonewordof this toanyoneat the royalcourt,and if I had not taken this oath she would havekilledmeonthespot.ButmyhorseFaladaheardallthisandobserveditwell.

TheWaiting-MaidnowmountedFaladaandI, thetrue bride, mounted the bad horse, and thus wetraveled onwards, until at length we entered theroyalpalace.Thereweregreat rejoicingsoverherarrival,andtheprincesprangforwardtomeether,liftedtheWaiting-Maidfromherhorsethinkingshewashisconsort.

She was conducted upstairs, but I the realprincess, was left standing below. The old Kingwhowasobservingallofthis,sawmestandinginthecourtyard.Soonhecamedownandstated;

‘ThePrincesssaysthatshepickedyouuponthewayforacompanionandtogiveyousomethingtoworkat,thatyoumaynotstandidle.IhavenoworkbutIhavealittleboywhotendsthegeeseandyoumayhelphim.’

ThelittleboywascalledConrad,andIwastohelphim to tend the geese. Soon a knacker came to

cut off the head of Falada as it vexed the falseprincess along the way although I suspect thatshewas afraid that the horsemight tell how shehad behaved to the King’s daughter. I secretlypromised topay theknackerapieceofgold ifhewouldperformasmallserviceforme.Therewasagreat dark-looking gateway in the town, throughwhichmorningandeveningIhadtopasswiththegeese,wouldhebesogoodastonailupFalada’shead on it, so that I might see him again, morethanonce.

Theknacker’smanpromisedtodothat,andsohecut off the head, and nailed it fast beneath thedarkgateway.

Eachmorning, whenConradand I drove out ourflock through the passageway to the fertilemeadows,Isaidinpassing,

“Falada,”hangingthere.

Andtheheadwouldanswer,

“Alas,youngqueen,howillyoufare.Ifthisyourmotherknew,herheartwould

breakintwo.”

Then we would drive the geese into the country.Whenwewould come to thebountifulmeadow, Iwould take down and unbindmy hair which waslikepuregold,andyoungConradwouldseeitandbedelighted in itsbrightness,andalwayswanted

topluckoutafewhairs.ThenIwouldsay,

“blow,blow,thougentlewind,Isay,blowConrad’slittlehataway,andmakehimchaseithereandthere,untilIhavebraidedallmyhair,andbounditupagain.”

And therewould comesucha violentwind that itblewConrad’shatfarawayacrosscountry,andhewas forced to run after it. When he would comebackIhadfinishedcombingmyhairandhadputitup again, and he could not get any of it. ThenConradwouldbecomeangry,andwouldnotspeaktome, and thenwewouldwatch the geese untiltheevening,andthengohome.

ThisisthewayIliveO’Lord.Itis,astheReverendsaid,honestwork.Butalso,heisright,mymotherwouldbeohsodisappointedthatherheartwouldbreak.Amen.”

It was obvious that the girl had finished her openprayer to the Lord as The Right Reverend HomerSherlock had requested, but it was still taking theReverend a moment to adjust to the magnitude of thedeceptionforceduponthisyounganddaintygirl.Quicklyheadjusted.

“That was very heart rendering and now I shallrequestmercy in your behalf. Fear not my child,thisinjusticewillnotbeignored.”

“Ourfatherwhoartinheaven,pleasehearthisyounggirl’sprayerandletjusticebedoneinthismatter.Amen.”

“Come nowmy child, it is now inGod’s hands. Imustgo.Weshallmeetagainsoon.”

Andwiththattheypartedcompany.

CONRAD’SFRUSTRATION

And the followingdayyoungConradwent to theoldking and announced that he would not tend the geesewith thatgirlany longer.When theoldKingaskedwhy,heanswered;

‘Sheaggravatesmethewholeday.”‘Howdoessheaggravateyou?”theoldKingasked.‘In themorningwhenwe take thegeese through the

gatewaypass to therichpasture, there is theremainderofahorse’sheadhangingonthewallofthepassageandtheGoose-Girlsays’,

“AlasFalada”……andtheremnantofthehorse’sheadreplies“Alas,youngqueenhowillyoufare.Ifyour

motherknewthis,herheartwouldbreakintwo.”

ThenConradwenton to relatewhathappenedwhentheGoose-Girlbegantotakeherhairdownhadhowhehadtochasehishat.

TheoldKing commandedConrad to return as usualthe next and placed himself so he might witness for

himselfwhatyoungConradhadtoldhim.Andas itwas,heheardhow themaidenspoke to theheadof…………and he followedConrad, themaiden and the flock andsawwithhisowneyeshowafterawhile themaidensatdownandunplaitedherhair,whichshownwithheavenlyradiance.Soonshesaid;

‘blow,blow,thougentlewind,Isay,blowConrad’slittlehataway,andmakehimchaseithereandthere,untilIhavebraidedallmyhair,andbounditupagain.’

Then came a blast of wind and carried offConrad’shat, so that he had to run far away, while the maidenquietlywentoncombingandplaitingherhair,allofwhichthekingobserved.Then, theoldKingdeparteduntil theGoose-Girlcamehomethatevening.Hecalledheraside,and asked why she did all these things. To which shereplied.

“Imaynottellthat,andIdarenotlamentmysorrowstoanyhumanbeing,forIhaveswornnottodosobytheheavenwhichisaboveme,ifIhadnotdonethat,Ishouldhavelostmylife.”

At thispoint theoldKingbegan tocarefullyconsiderwhatDr.Watson,theTravelingAmbassador,hadtoldhiminapreviousinterview.

STRATEGY

It wasn’t very hard to locate the new travelingReverend as hewasquite popular. Imanaged to locateHolmesinasmallvillagejustoutsidethecapital.

“Youhavemadequiteanameforyourself,”Iprodded.“Findoutanythingaboutourmissingprincess?”

“Asamatterof factquiteabitWatson,wearegoingto have to move quickly. The wedding is within a fewweeks.”

“I know, Imanaged togainanaudiencewith theoldKing and shared the concerns ofQueen of theEasternKingdom of Putinski concerning well-being of herdaughter,therealPrincess.Hewasquiteshockedattheideaofan imposter, buthehaddoubtsofhisown.Theold King told me that the wedding would be the firstSunday of next month. I havemet the visiting Princessand she seems remarkably plain to me. In many waysunskilledinsocialmattersandsimpleformalitiesthatonewouldexpectfromayounggirlofherbackground.”

“I can imagine,” replied Holmes. “However, I havegoodnews.IhavelocatedtherealPrincess.”

“Good,butwhatdowedo?”“Watson, it seems that there has beenan enormous

fraud that has taken place and it is about to become atragedy if we do not move quickly” Holmes statedearnestly.

The plan that Holmes had developed, I felt wasdangerouslydependentontiming.

TheyoungPrincewasquite happyashewasabouttobemarried.

“Come we must rejoice. I want to plan a greatcelebration with the multitudes of the Kingdom presentas this shall be the beginning of a great generation. Iwantasmanyofthecitizenspresentaspossible.”

While planning the activities and details of the

celebration, thesecretedyoungPrincesssuggestedthatthe now very popular traveling The Right ReverendHomer Sherlock be invited to speak as he always hadsomething interesting and uplifting to say. He shouldmakeforaninterestingspeakerforthisfestiveoccasion.

On the eve of the wedding there was a greatcelebration. At which time The Right Reverend HomesSherlocksoughtanaudienceforhimselfandDr.WatsonwiththeoldKingofTheKingofRumandia.

“YOURMAJESTY,ITGRIEVESMETOBRINGTHISMATTERTOYOURattentionatthistimebutIfearthatagreatfraudisaboutto be perpetrated up your son, thePrince. My name isSherlockHolmesofLondon,EnglandandthisisDr.JohnWatson,mytrustedcolleague.Wehavebeenretainedbythe Queen of the Eastern Kingdom of Putinski toinvestigatewhathadhappenedtoherdaughter, therealPrincessoftheEasternKingdomofPutinski.Hereareourpapers of employment and you may reference mybrother,MycroftHolmesofTheBritishCrown.”

“Hmmmm,yes.Ihaveheardofyou.Ihavealsohadabrief discussion with your colleague, Dr. Watson asTravelingAmbassador.Myown inquiryhasrevealed thatyouhavealsodoneconsiderableworkwithScotlandYardaswellasotherpoliceagenciesaroundEurope.”Holmesbowedslightly.

“Well,yougentlemensee thesituation that Iandmyson are in here. How do you recommend that weproceed?IdohaveaweddingcomingupandIwouldlikefor it to be the correct bride.”TheoldKing commented,somewhatatalossattheturnofevents.

SherlockHolmesbegansoftly.“Usually thesimplestanswer is thebestanswer toa

problem.”“Isuggestthatweletthegirlmakeherowncasewith

herownbeauty,charm,elegance,styleandpersuasion.Andwedosointhefollowingmanner.”

Andsoittookplace.

THEAGEDKINGSUMMONEDHISSON,ANDREVEALEDTOHIMTHAThehadgot the falsebridewhowasonlyawaiting-maid,butthatthetruebridewouldbeseatedbesidehimatthegreat feast. The young king rejoiced with all his heartwhenhesawherbeautyandyouth,and thegreat feastwas made ready to which all the people and all goodfriendswereinvited.

JUSTICE

At the head of the celebration table sat thebridegroomwiththeKing’sdaughter,thetruePrincessononesideofhimand theWaiting-Maidon theother.TheWaiting-Maidwasblindedby thebeautyof thePrincessanddidnotrecognizeherinherstunningroyalgarments.The Right Reverend Homer Sherlock preached a veryrewardingsermononthesubjectof justice, justdeserts,fairplayandpunishmentofthewicked.Hismessagewaswellreceived.

Later in the evening when all had eaten their fill,enjoyed much wine, were joyful and gay, The RightReverend,with the oldKing observing closely, posed ariddle to the unsuspectingWaiting-Maid referencing the

entireepisode;

“Whatjusticewouldapersondeservewhobetraysher employer, by force deprives her of food anddrink, takes her place, treats her badly, bycoercion takes her personal things, steals herproperty, impersonatesherby fraud,swindlesherout of her inheritance and cheats her out of herrightfulstationinlife?”

“Whatpunishmentsayyou?”

Then the false bride said arrogantly and with fullconfidenceinherfraud,

Shedeservesnobetterfatethantobestrippedentirelynaked,andputinabarrelwhichisstuddedinsidewithpointednails,andtwowhitehorsesshouldbeharnessedtoit,whichwilldragheralongthroughonestreetafteranother,tillsheisdead.”

“IT IS YOU!” announced the agedKing steppingforth angrily to pronounce judgment, “and youhave pronounced your own sentence, and thusshallitbedoneuntoyou.”

After justice had been rendered, the young Princemarried his true bride and launched a happy andprosperousempirethatlastedforgenerationstocome.

INTHEEASTERNKINGDOMOFPUTINSKI

“Mr. Holmes, it is good of you to pay me this visit,”welcomed the aged Queen of the Eastern Kingdom ofPutinski.

“I thought it most important that Dr. Watson and Imake a personal report to you, and it ismost favorablenews thatwehave.Your daughter is happilymarried totheyoungPrinceoftheRepublicofRumandia.Here isahandkerchief with 3 drops of blood from the youngPrincess representing the strength that you bestowedupon her at the beginning of her journey and aphotographof thePrinceandPrincesson theirweddingday.Theywish toconvey toyou that theyshallcome tovisitwithinthreemonthstosharetheirjoyandcelebrationwithyou.”

TheoldQueenwasdelighted.

“ANDMYWAITING-MAID?”“Unfortunately she met with tragedy that resulted in

thelossofherlifebyherownspecifications.”“Whatapity,”repliedtheoldQueendryly.“Come,letusdiscusstheremainderofyourpayment

forservicesrenderedtomyKingdom.”

—TheEnd—

T

THEADVENTUREOFTHEBEASTLYBETROTHAL

BYBRENDAS.HUTCHISON

Basedon“TheRobberBridegroom”

he London morning promised a day of azureheavensandtemperateclimatebeyondmyopenbed-roomwindow. Buds appeared on the plane

tree. With reluctance, I shut out that fresh world andturned the latch.Descendingmystairs,an idea injectedajauntyspringintomyactions.

“Holmes,” I addressed my friend in the sitting-room.“Let’s takeamorningstroll.Wecanfindbreakfastalongtheway.Regent’sParkmightbeperfect.”

Overthemorningpaper,SherlockHolmes’sgreyeyesbriefly focused upon me. “Good morning, Watson,” heflatlystated,resuminghispreferredactivity.

Life’s courtesies were dispensable within our roomsuntil they were notably absent and capable of divertingthe conversation. Holmes knew this full well; however, Irecognizedhisploy.Hecouldreadthepaperlater.

“Good morning,” I responded. Then, I hastilycontinued,“IwillinformMrs.Hudsonthatwewilltakeourmeal out.Be readywhen I get back.” Iwasbeyond the

doorbeforehecouldcounter.When I returned to the sitting-room, Holmes was

prepared to depart. He stepped away from the baywindow with a curl at one corner of his mouth.Undoubtedly,hewasawareofmymaneuver,butwasateasewithmakinganabruptouting.

Iwonderedwhat Ihadmissed.Thediscardedpaper,oddly revealing the social page, was on the floor;however,before Icouldreach for it,Holmeswasout thedoor.Ihurriedtocatchup.

Atop an unsatisfied sense of curiosity was mydiscomfort caused by a disparity in dress. Spontaneitycame at a cost with no time for change. My timeworntweedsuitwasnotwhatInormallyworetostrollthroughthe park. As well, it was dowdy in comparison to mycompanion’s elegant black frock-coat. Going down thestairs, discomfort receded by the timewewere outside.Thedifferencesinourattirebecameofnoimportance.MytweedcapshieldedmyheadaswellasHolmes’stophatcoveredhis.

The two of us walked side-by-side as we headednorthward along Baker Street. The stroll was just whatwebothrequired.Theblueskiesandsproutsofgreenerywere a balm upon my winter-weary soul. No doubtHolmes was similarly affected. While the crisp air andexerciseplacedawelcomecolouruponmyfriend’sface,the change of view enlivened him. His walking stickboldly conducted the metre of his steps. When theferruleerrantlycaughtonacrack,Holmesspuntoneatlysnatch the falling stick before he whirled and carriedonward.Hisstrideslengthenedandtempointensified.

The pace was arduous. “Will you, please, slowdown?”Ibreathlesslypleaded.

“Wemustswiftlyreachthecorner,”heansweredover

oneshoulder.“Trytokeepup.”When I turned the corner, I found Holmes with his

backpressedtothewall.Hemusthavenotedmyarrivalas I passed through his field of vision; but, hisconcentration was otherwise engaged. I suddenlygathered a grim purpose behind the hurried walk toMaryleboneRoadandlimpedintopositionathisside.Wewatched.Wewaited.

Themeetingof thetworoadswasbusy.Thatapartyhad designs on us among this throng was surely ill-considered. Holmes’s awareness and defending skillswere to our advantage. In contrast, leaning against thewall,mybreathswerestill irregular. I reluctantly readiedforaction.

Holmes’s full attention unexpectedly followed abeautiful, unattended young lady who bustled past us.Dressed in a tawny walking dress with black braidadornments,herdeeprussethair inanupsweptcoiffurebeneathastylishstrawhat, shestoppedonly tenstepsbeyondour hiding place.Shepeered downMaryleboneRoad to her left, and then to her right. She appearedconfused.

Holmes signaled me to follow. He went to standbefore the lady, removed his top hat and bowed. Then,upright, Holmes inquired, “May I be of service, MissMiller?”

Disconcerted,hercheekscharminglyflushedandherpetitemouthmutteredapologies.Sheavertedherbrilliantblueeyesfromhisfaceandturnedasidetoescape,onlytocomefacetofacewithme.Heralarmwaspalpable.

The discomfort that I had felt earlier regarding myattirereturnedquitestrongly.Ilikelyappearedaruffiantoher.“Pleasedonotfearme,”Ibegged.“I,too,amatyourdisposal.IamDr.JohnWatson.”

Her smile putme at ease.Although Iwas unfamiliarwith the surname Holmes addressed, I trusted hisjudgement in knowing to whom assistance should begiven. I also trusted my instinct to help a woman indistress.

Holmes stepped beside me. “Miss Miller, I amSherlockHolmes.”

Ratherthanretraceourstepsto221B,BakerStreet,thethreeofussatatatableneartherearofasmallcafé,an intimate little tea-room with blue and gold décorreminiscent of EasternEurope, located a short distancefrom Regent’s Park. This was preferable to Miss Millerwho felt slightly lightheaded and fatigued following herpursuit of us. As my appetite was piqued, Iwholeheartedly agreed with the change in venue.Holmes, however, was more circumspect as it was notcustomary to conduct a confidential interview in suchsurroundings. As a compromise, he claimed the seatfromwhichhecouldbestobserve thecaféclienteleandwaitstaff.

After partaking of two cups of tea and ingestingsundrybakedgoodswithclottedcream,InotedHolmes’sempty teacup and half-eaten scone. Miss Miller daintilyloweredher teacupto itssaucer.Onherplateappearedafewscatteredcrumbs.IservedmyselfathirdcupofteaunderHolmes’simpatienteye.

Itwastimetohandlebusiness.“Miss Miller, I read the announcement of your

betrothal to Mr. Randall Vance Thornycroft in thismorning’spaper.”

“Thatiscorrect,Mr.Holmes.”“Felicitations on your future nuptials,” he said,

penetratingeyestraineduponher.Miss Miller, stunned, attempted to graciously accept

Holmes’s congratulatory remark. A little smile formedupon her lips, bittersweet in its tenuous hold. Before itcompletely disappeared, glistening tears pooled in hereyesandateardropfelltoherlap.

Holmesmotioned for me to assist the lady while heoccupiedhistimepayingthewaitermorethannecessaryinordertoretainthetable.Whenmycolleaguerefocusedhis attention on us, he seemed satisfied that the youngladywasnowsufficientlyrecovered.

“Letusbeginoncemore,”Holmesdeclared.She looked askance at him; but, an apology for

probing her feelings was not forthcoming. “Youundoubtedlydiscerntheheartofmytrouble,Mr.Holmes.Pleaseallowmetoexplainthecircumstances.”

Holmes disregarded both her biting voice and mynoticeable glee as neither could quell his irrepressibleeagerness for a fresh case. He leaned forward andinstructed, “Please. Do expound upon them. You willforgivemeifIinterrupt.Proceed.”

If we had been interviewing back at our rooms, myfriendwouldhaveclosedhiseyes to listen. In this livelysetting, he comfortably crossed one leg over the other,placed his fingertips together, and focused on a distantpointacrossthecafé.

Miss Miller provided a clue to her youth when sheclaspedher hands in her lapand stiffly sat up to reciteher story. Then, perturbed by Holmes’s seeminginattention, she looked tome for encouragement. Uponmy signal, she began, “My father is Barrington SmytheMiller,theowneroftheBrackenhallandOakendalegrainmills. In 1879, he married Charlotte Fay Quenby. Theirunionbroughtaboutmybirthon5April1880.Thatveryday,FatherlosthiswifeandI,mymother.Iamnamedforher.Ourimmediatefamilyconsistsofthetwoofus.”

Theladypausedforabreathandsipofcooledtea.Holmes looked at her. “Your father did not raise his

daughterunaided.Youarewell-educated.Yourmannersare impeccable. You did have a woman in your life,perhapsanolderrelative,suchasanaunt,orpossiblyadedicatedfemaleservanttoimpartfemininerefinements;however, at the proper age, you attended a boardingschoolinFrance.”

Abriefnodwitha rosy flushuponher faceprefacedthequestion,“Howdidyouknow?”

Holmesscoffed.“MissMiller,eventhegooddoctorwillhave detected the wisp of accent Franҫais.” He wasimpatient. “Please resume. You have yet to make yourtroubleplain.”

Steeling her nerve, she continued, “A fortnight ago,Father welcomed me home from school with thesurprisingnewsthatIwasbetrothedtoMr.Thornycroft.Itwas a shock. Though calling upon me often since myreturn, thatmanremainsastranger tome.Eventhoughthetwoofthemapprovedthematchfiveyearsago,theiragreement assured my remaining unaware until myhomecomingafter I turnedseventeen.FatherandIhavehadharshwordsonseveraloccasionssinceheapprisedme of my situation. He believes that I am incapable ofsensibly understanding my feelings. I beg to differ. Mr.Thornycroft repels me.” Miss Miller faltered over wordchoice.“No,he instills fear inme.Yousee,gentlemen, Idonotdreadtherigoursofbeingawife.IamcertainthatFather sees thatasmyobjection.But,mysense is thatMr.Thornycroftimperilsmylife.”

At this,Holmesabruptly satmoreerect and frownedat her. If anything was to strain her fortitude, his irewould. “Young lady, you have approached me on awhimsy. You are speaking of feelings and senses.

Although I fundamentally, and vigorously, disagree withtheprimitivemarriagecontract,howdoyouknowyouareendangered? What evidence do you have that thebridegroombodesyouill?”

Face reddened beneath his criticism, Miss Millerappeared close to dashing from the café. Isolated byHolmes’s challenging tirade, she desperately pleadedwithherswimmingblueeyesformysupport.

I interjected, “I believecredenceshouldbegiven thelady’sfear.”Mygallanterrantryboremenovictory.

Whereas my reaction to this maiden was one ofempathy and protectiveness, Holmes coldly huffed andspuntopeerbeyondthecafé’swindow.Itwashewishingtodepart.Allofasudden,heeyedmewithanoddsmilebeforeturningakindlieraspectinherdirection.

Holmesgently apologized to the lady. Thereafter, hepleasantly directed, “Miss Miller, please describe Mr.Thornycroft’sphysicalappearance.”

After a minute, she snuffled, “He is as tall as Dr.Watson,butheavier,moremuscular.Hehas lightbrownhairwithside-whiskersandamustachetomatch. I thinkhiseyesarehazel.”

“Thatissufficient.Thankyou.DidyoutellanyonethatyouplannedtovisitBakerStreet?”

“Eliza,mymaid,knows.”“Isshenewtothehousehold?”askedHolmes.“Yes,Mr. Holmes. Father hired her in order tomake

my rooms ready for my homecoming and to serve aslady’smaid.”

“I suggest that you be more cautious in yourconfidences.”

Miss Miller’s eyes and mouth opened wider inrealisation.

Holmeshastenedtostand.“Youhavenotreachedthe

crux of your account; but, I suggest that we adjourn toRegent’sPark.”

Aswearosetofollow,Holmesdartedasidetowardthebroadservicehallway,alsoattherearofthecafé.Ancientpeelingwallpaperofyellow flowers framedseveralopendoorways. Holmes guided us toward the sounds of abustling kitchen at the rear of the establishment. Weimmersed ourselves in steam and heat before Holmespulledusthroughadoorthatledintoanalleywheremyfriend set a purposeful stride, leaving me to take MissMiller’selbowandfollow.Beforelong,wetookYorkGateintoRegent’sPark.

Myfriendmatchedtheleisurelypaceofothervisitors.The park imbued our company with a refreshingforgetfulness as we strolled the green ways. At least, Ithought that was true. Holmes’s critical glance at mewhile I patted the lady’s arm hooked aboutmine aswestrolledprovedhismind’sunceasingwhirring.Indeed,hisintuition was the rocky crag upon which dashed theflowersanddroninginsects.

Clearing his throat, Holmes divulged, “I have takenprecautions,dear lady,onyourbehalfbecause IbelieveMr.Thornycroftrepeatedlypassedbeforethecafé.”

AsoundverylikeastartledbirdescapedMissMiller.“Therenow,”Iwhisperedasshetightenedhergripon

myarm.“This is the same man I spotted from our window,

Watson. He came second to your primary arrival, MissMiller. I erred in identifying him a possible client whowould leavehiscard.”Holmesdrewus toahalt. “Giventhis man is the bridegroom, your apprehensioncommandsmerit.Iacceptyourcase,MissMiller.”

Holmes cast a meaningful glance at me before hetook her arm from me. “We had best complete this

interviewandsendyouhomeinacab.Shallwetakeupyourstatementagain?”

As I followed after them in the direction of ChesterRoad,my eyes continually searched for the bridegroomamongtheswellingnumberofpeople.

“Havingconvincedmyfather,Mr.Thornycroftrequiresthat Ivisithiscountryhome,AshcroftHall in theCountyofNorthampton.Therewillbeadinnertomorroweveningat eight o’clock.Until now,Father demandedhis callingon me be in my father’s house. I am unnerved byFather’sabruptaccommodation.Iwonderbywhatmeansthischangewassecured.Fatherhas tried toassuremethatnothing isuntoward, tellingme thatMr.Thornycroftexplained he wished to assure me of his position insocietyand theadvantagesofourunion.Hehas invitedcompanytodinner;so,hefeelsthatIshouldnothesitateoverpossibleimpropriety.”

At this point, Holmes released her arm and steppedawaytoconsider.Oncedone,hisfacedecisivelyswiveledtowardMissMiller.“Ishallbejoiningyou.”

MissMillersmiled.“Holmes, how can you be sure that Thornycroft did

notseethethreeofus?”“Doyoumeanasidefromhisnotconfrontingus?It is

aconsideration,thoughIhavenoqualms,Doctor.Donotforget the range of disguises inmy repertoire.” Aminorkeyofinjuryranginhisvoicewiththelast.

“Youmust takeme in reserve,” I insisted. “Youmightrequiremyaid.”

“Beassured,Watson, thatweshallmakeplansbackatourrooms.”

Westrollednorthward.“MissMiller, ifwearriveatyour father’shouseat two

o’clock,willhebeaway?”inquiredHolmes.

“Yes,hedoesnotreturnhomeuntilfouro’clock.”“Followmyinstructions,”hetoldher.“Informnooneof

ourinvolvement.IfMr.Thornycroftcomescalling,feignaheadacheandremainlockedinyourbed-room.”

At the mention of Thornycroft, the lady’s faceovershadowed; however, there was a determined set toher bowmouth, as she listened, that reflected strengthandbraverythatIhopedwouldeventuallyflourishinheryouthfulheart.

After we arrived at Chester Road, we walkedalongside it to eventually depart the verdant lawns ofRegent’sPark.Takingsmallturnings,wereachedAlbanyStreet where Holmes whistled twice to summon ahansomcab.Iaidedtheladytoascendthecab.Holmespenciled the address she gave the cab-driver onto hisshirt-cuff before paying our client’s fare.We exchangedbrieffarewellsasthecabdeparted.

Holmes whistled for another to take us home. Weclamberedaboardandthecabcarriedusawayfromthecurb. My friend gave a low whistle. “That’s the man Iobservedoutsidethecafé.”

The man he indicated appeared a match for thebridegroom.

Holmes continued, “Such unwarranted interest in ayoung lady’s doings could be indicative of jealousy,greed,orcontrol.Intriguemightbeinteresting.”

Backatourrooms,welaidourplans.Eachofushadourduties.While I setaboutgathering itemsweagreedto be required for this venture, Holmes departed toconduct a number of concomitantmatters and researchwiththepromise,“Ishallreturnbeforeteatime.”

At four o’clock, Mrs. Hudson served tea, crumpets,and an enigma. On her tray, she brought up a largeenvelope. “A messenger delivered this for you, Mr.

Holmes.”The puzzle interferedwithmy learningwhat Holmes

discovered.Yet,Ifellequallypreyasmycompanion.“Thank you,Mrs.Hudson,” breathedHolmes, joining

her beside the dining-room table. He lifted the packetfrom the tray, but hesitated to open it. Then, glancingsidelongather,hestatedwithpoise,“Iassureyou,Mrs.Hudson, that your delectable crumpets will be eaten.”Smiling, he dismissed our landlady, watching until thesitting-roomdoorclosedbehindher.

I stood at his shoulder, appraising the intriguingpacket in his hands,whenhenoticedmy keen interest.“Shallweseewhatthisbrings?”

Holmes snatched up a knife from the tray andcautiously cut the thick paper open at one end. Afterpeeking inside, he tipped its contents onto the dining-room table. A single sheet of cream paper bore a briefnote from Miss Miller. With it were two smaller greyenvelopes,bothaddressed toher.Shewrote that thesenotes had come to her father’s house and she sawneither until this afternoon. The first, with her namemisspelled, was placed the previous night on thedoorstep. “Watson,” hemuttered. “Someoneprivy to thecircumstanceswrotethisnote.Theannouncementinthenewspaper did not appear until this morning.” Thesecondarrived in themorningpostwhileshewas inourcompany. The closing of her note was a request forcounsel.

Holmes extracted the notes using tweezers andexamined both the envelopes and the single pieces ofpaperwithapocket-lens.Then,heplacedthenotesside-by-sideonthetable.Bothcarriedidenticalverses.

Bewareevil,youprettybride,

BanefulAshcroft;mustnotabide.Ashenpall,oh!Howtheycried.Emberseddy,sparksskywardride,Windingveilsshroud;duskydeedshide.Carvingvows,oh!Howhelied.

Beneath the final lines on each page appeared thesignatureofasinglename:Featherstone.

“Itisaratherdarkwarning,isitnot?”Iuttered.“Yes,”saidHolmes.“ItobviouslyreferstoMissMiller’s

betrothaltoMr.Thornycroftandherimpendingresidenceat Ashcroft Hall. However, Doctor, as ominous as theselinesappear,Iperceiveabeneficent,andfeminine,handbehindthem.Heremotivewritingtremblesinthefirstandfreelyflowsinthesecond.AwomanwishestoscareMissMillerawayforherowngood.”

“Will you attempt to locate this Featherstonewomanandquestionher?”

“That would be a wasteful pursuit,” grumbled myfriend.“ThoughIknowshelivesinornearHighgate,notethepostalmarkon the secondenvelope, thenameshesigns is most assuredly a pseudonym. And we, oldfellow,takeactionto-morrow.Thesewarningsachieveanalternate purpose to intent by further raising our guard.Our plans remain the same with one exception. Readyyourservice-revolver,oldfriend.”

For several moments, silence filled the room with astifling atmosphere. Holmes was first to stir. “I will wireMiss Miller to advise her,” said he over one shoulder.Yanking open the sitting-room door, he shouted out,“Mrs.Hudson!”

ItwasthenthatIsadlyrememberedthecoldteaandcrumpets.

As I cleanedmy weapon at the dining-room table, I

discovered thatcold teaandcrumpetsweresufficient tofortifymeuntil I atedinneralone.Holmeshaddepartedafterarrangingthewire.He insisted that Isleepandnotawaithisreturn.

During the early afternoon of the following day, Idescendedmystairsinassuredwillingnessforadventureonly todiscoveranewclientstandingbefore thesitting-room hearth. As this woman faced away and appearedunaware of my presence, I hesitated to disturb her.Holmes was not yet in attendance. A stylish hat let falltantalizing tulle to the pale russet ringlets adorning thenapeofherneck.Sheworeawell-tailoredlusciousgreentravel dress with a petite cape. Walking boots of blackaccentuated the fashion’s black buttons and piping.Attractive of posture and contour, I was amazed whenshegracefullyraisedherleftarmfrombeneaththecapeto pluck out Holmes’s pen-knife where it secured hiscorrespondence to the mantle. She then proceeded tostudy the top letter. An objection formed uponmy lips;however, consternation robbed me as she exhaled acloud of smoke and casually dropped her right hand tooneside,exposingbothcigaretteandfemaleaudacity.Inthe absence of her hosts’ permission, she was brazen.Forme,herimproprietydiminishedherloveliness.BeforeIrealized it, the letterwasonthefire,singedandcurledatitsfringes.

I lunged for the tongs. “What the blazes are youdoing?”

“I am merely discarding a proposed case of littleinterest,Doctor.”ThevoicewasthatofSherlockHolmes.

Whereas I had been taken aback on previousoccasions by my friend’s deceptiveness, thecircumstances of this instance wrought annoyance. MyhandsshookasIreplacedthetongs.Beingtormentedby

afictitiousfemaleformwasembarrassing.Inmydefence,theeffectoffeminineaccoutrementsanddetailedartistrytransformedhimintoawomanbyallappearances.

The woman in green coquettishly tilted her facetowardmewithmy friend’s pleased grin in place of hermouth. “Well, Watson, no doubt my disguise shallperform admirably. You required a full three minutes tobestiryourselfintoaction.”

“It is a magnificent disguise, yet unnerving,” Iadmitted.“Twominutesperhaps.”

Holmesemanatedasenseofextremesatisfaction.“But why, in heaven’s name, would you choose a

feminine guise rather than one corresponding to yoursex?”

Holmes hurled the cigarette upon the fire as if myquestion retracted the praise. Both nostrils and mouthexhaledafugalongwithahastyexplanation,“Sheshallappearlessthreateningtoouradversary.Andheshallbelesswary.”

Boldlymeetingthedragon-woman’seyes, Ihastenedtoagreewhilestrugglingtorefrainfromlaughter.

Holmeshuffed.Awispofsmokearose.“Rosewater and mint are strategic, not tobacco,” I

advised.WhileHolmesretreatedtohisbed-room,Iexamineda

dainty rosewood and silver walking stick he had leftleaningagainstthenearbybasketchair.Thewoodfinishwasexceptional,withoutblemish.Atraceryofinlaidsilverleaves,fullyseveninchesinlength,renderedtheperfectsettingforasilverhandleresemblinganEnglishrose.

Myfriendsweptbackintotheroom.“Thisisbeautiful,”Isaid.He accepted the walking stick from me. “Mycroft

arrangedthat Iborrowit.”Glancingat theclock,Holmes

stated,“Mrs.Hudsonhasafour-wheelerawaitingus.”My friend placed the tip of the walking stick to the

floorandretrievedtheblackreticulefromthechair.“Shallwego?”

Attendingmyfriendasa lady, Ihandledour luggageand returned to offer my hand at the doorway. WithHolmes’s black-gloved hand inmine,we crossed to thegrowlerwhere Iassistedhisstepup. In thecreamy laceteasingfrombeneathhisdresshem,InotedtheextenttowhichHolmeswentfordisguises.

HolmesandIrodetogether,sharingthebutton-tuftedseat,insilence.Mymindwasabuzzoverhisdisguise.Hehad failed to consult me regarding his choice and hadassumedthatIwouldbeobliginginplayingmypart.Myparticipation was requisite for the charade due to thematterof theproper treatmentof genteelwomen.Whilewe were in one another’s company, I would beinstrumentalinhispresentationtoobservers.Ifelttornbythe desire for his feminine portrayal to prove a triumph,as it bore strongly on the case, or a flop, assuring hisdiscarding the costume and reestablishing our manlycamaraderie.

We arrived at the Miller home by two o’clock. As Iwent to collect our client, she slipped out and gentlyclosed the door. “Good afternoon, Dr. Watson. I waswaiting.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Miller.” I took her travel bagfromherhandbeforewewalkedtowardthecab.

“Since I am not expected to return to-night, I gaveEliza the day to do as she wishes,” she told me. Thelady’s indigo blue travel dress and hat accentuated thebluebrillianceofhereyes.

At the street, I helped the lady gain the step andmovedtowardthecab’sreartostowherbag.Ioverheard

MissMiller’sgiggleswhichlentagrimbusinessalighterquality. Iclimbedaboard to findMissMillermesmerized,settled into a charmed smile by my companion’sincarnationofawoman.

Holmes appeared aloof, possibly put off by hermerriment.AsItookmyseat,Holmesrappedagainsttheroof with the walking stick. The cab-driver lashed theteamtocarryusonward.

Presently, Holmes explained to Miss Miller in apractisedvoiceperfectlypitchedandinflectedtocarryoffhisdeception,“Charlotte,mydear,Iamyouraunt,ahalf-sister of your mother. Introduce me to the bridegroomandhis guests asMiss LenorePeabody; but, youmustaddressmeasAuntLenore.”

“Weapproachthetrainstation,”Iannounced.After gently layinghis right handuponher left hand

and seeing that she flinched, Holmes firmly said, “Youmustnotdrawawayfromyouraunt.ImaginethatIamawoman. In this, you must follow my instructions or thiseveningcouldendbadlyforme.”Then,pattingherhand,AuntLenorecooed,“Trustoneanother,Charlotte.”

IthirstilydrewencouragementfromMissMillerasshetenderlyplacedherrighthandatophis.Considerationoffailingourmissionandbringingdisasteruponmy friendhad escaped me. That our plucky young ally wouldremainnearhimwasacomfort.

After the four-wheeler rocked to a halt, wedisembarked. The driver handed off our luggage to astewardwithacart.DiscoveringthatHolmeshadalreadyprocured three tickets on the northbound express, wesoon stepped into an unoccupied train carriage whereHolmes promptly drew the draperies to discourageanyonefromjoiningus.

Only when the train lurched intomotion did Holmes

usehisownvoiceagain. “AshcroftHall is located in theEast Midlands, far from the main road that stretchesbetween Kingsthorp and Brixworth, northwest ofNorthampton.Everythingisarranged.WewillhaveteainNorthampton.Soonafter,driverandrigwillarriveforus.MissMiller,yourpartistoremainbesideorwithinsightofAuntLenorewhileatAshcroftHall.”

“Isthatentirelynecessary,Mr.Holmes?”sheasked.“I only require what I deem necessary. Lenore

Peabodyisyourguideandprotector.”By the time we arrived in Northampton, we were

simply two ladies and a gentleman on an outing. Theblue sky was an invitation to diverting activities atvariance toour truepurposes.Wehad teaandavarietyof petite sandwiches at the train station’s outdoor café.Whenanenclosedcarriagewithmatched teamdrewupto the station, my friend quietly instructed me, “Ourdriver’snameisTalbot.Confirmthatthisishe.”

“Certainly,” I replied, rising and donning my bowler.Beforelong,Igainedverification.

Assoonaswe loadedandboarded,Talbot droveusthroughNorthampton, toward Kingsthorp.Once beyondthat town, Talbot drew up at a side-turning to set alightthe carriage lamps. Holmes stepped out to stretch hislegs. When we continued, the quality of the roaddeteriorated. The jostling drained the colour from MissMiller’sface.Sherolleddowntheshadestoeithersideofher.Holmessimplywithdrewbehindclosedeyes.

My eyes were drawn to what passed beyond mywindow. The umber sunset liberally applied deepeninghues to the countryside. Presently, a wooden signpostmarked our destination and Talbot directed the team totheright,followingawindingruttedlaneoverundulatingearth. In the distance, the lane climbed toward the

woodedcrownofaloftyhillwheretheday’sfinalsunraysceded to darkness, revealing awan half-moon.A fretfuleyeof flickering lightspieddownfromamongtree limbsattheupperheightoftherise.

ThosetreeswerethewoodlandthroughwhichIwouldbe making a clandestine approach. I pulled down theshade.Gatheringmyovercoatnearer, Icheckedthatmyservice-revolver still rested in itspocketandbothglovesintheoneopposite.Idrewmyovercoataroundtoslipmyarms into its sleeves. “Night-time is going to be brisk,” Igrumbled.

MissMillertuggedhercapemoreclosely.Holmes spoke in a hushed voice, “Remember that

whenyouarrivenearthehouse,alocussouthofitallowsforobservationofdining-room,entrance,andparlour.Beappeased,Watson, for the north wind breaks upon thestructure.”

He knewall toowell that he spokeofmy secondaryassignment.Myinitialassignmentwastotakeaccountofany inhabitants in the out-buildings. Only byaccomplishingthefirstwouldIgainreliefinthesecond.

The carriage was climbing, nearingmy departure. Avaguesenseof dread thrummed throughmybody;but,duty beckoned. I draped a muffler over my head andaboutmy neck before tucking its tails insidemy coat. Icrammed the bowler hat atop my head. As well as wehadconsideredtheplan,itpresentlyseemedathrashed-outproposalforwhichIreadied.

Holmes interrupted my contemplation. “Yourapprehensionisunfounded,Watson.”

“But,Holmes,”Istammered.Thecarriagerockedtoahalt.“You and I shall meet again,” he declared. His

confidencewasheartening.

Holmes leaned past me and shoved wide the door.“Wecannotlinger.Grabyourbagandstandaway.”

Afterdescending, I secured thedoorandstepped tothe rear rack. I banged my fist on the carriage whendone.ThewheelsscattereddustandpebblesagainstmylegsandbootsbeforeIcouldgetclear,promptingseveralhopped steps to one side of the lane. The cold furthertightened my muscles. The noises of the horses andwheels quickly receded. Thewoodland greetedmewithcreaks and groans where the buffeting wind thrust. Ibuttonedmycoatanddonnedwarmgloves.

Withwary thoughts for that fretfuleye, Igrabbedthebag and crept beneath swaying limbs where I noticeddisturbedundergrowth.Thisbroughtmetoaroughpath,a welcome simplification of my approach. I eventuallyhappeneduponaspaceofhewntreestumpswherepalemoonlightshowndown.Retrieving itemsfrommybag,areserveboxofcartridgeswentintothepocketholdingmyrevolver.Acompass,spyglass,andHolmes’shand-drawnmapwent inside thepocketwheremygloveshadbeen.Thrice shielding dancing flame on a matchstick, I lit adark-lanternand lowered itsshield forscarce light. Ihidthe bag beneath dry leaves. Moving onward, I soonarrived at the edge of the woodland, opening ontoinhabitedland.

Referringtothemap,Holmes’snotesindicatedthatagatehousehadlongagobeendestroyed.Healsomarkedthe location of a water well that still served theinhabitants.Fortyyardsfromtheestatehouse,threeout-buildings were built in near proximity to one another.Candle light was aglow inside one. Sprightly musicflowed from it. Holmes’s map made orientation simple,withasingleexception.Risinghighabovethe treeswasa cylindrical tower perhaps twenty yards east of my

position. The map marked nothing in that direction.Convinced that I had sufficient time to both investigatethisunforeseenmysteryandactasspy,Isetout.

WhenIbrokethroughthetreesintoanovergrownplotof thickets surrounding a burned-out building, I nearlyabandonedfurtherexploration.Iriskedopeningthedark-lantern.Skirtingthepricklythicket,I identifiedwhatoncewas a blacksmith shop. A narrow path led nearer theruin. Jagged black wood scattered about a cold forgebeneathacollapsedceiling.Icontinuedalongthepathtoarriveat the tower. Itwasasoaringsmokestackabovealarge furnace. The area held a layer of sawdust, asignificant supply of wood stacked on a rack, and toolsfortendingfire.

Thefurnaceemanatedheat.Igrouchedundermybreath,“Suchagranddiscovery,

Holmes.Theyburn their rubbish.” Ispunback thewayIhadcome.Then,Istopped.

Gustingwindrevealedsomethingflutteringlowatthecorner of the burned building. I strode forward andshined light upon it before cautiously collecting it off asplinter.Acrossmypalm laya frayedstripofwhite lace,dirtiedbysoilandbitsofsawdust.Itwasoddtofindsuchan item in that place. I felt it possibly important enoughthatIslippeditintomyovercoat’sinnerpocket.

While my eyes searched without result for similarsingularities, the even sawdust captured my attention.Holmes’s principles of detection saved me fromblundering through imaginative conclusions. I crouchedto further observe the ground under the dark-lantern’seye. A fresh scattering of sawdust dominated an olderdiscoloured layer.With the exception ofmy boot-marks,the entire surface revealed tracery from rake-tines. Afastidiouscleansinghad likelyoccurredwhileneglecting

thelace.I rushed forward, seized the poker, and pried open

thefurnace’sdoor.Wavesofheatbuffetedme.Istabbedthepoker’shookedpointamong theglowingashesandstirred. Sparks arose. My eyes teared from drippingperspirationandmercilessheatbeforeIsensedthepokermaking contact with a substance harder than ash nearoneside.Fishingittowardthedoor,itcaughtonthehookinthelastmomentofmytoleranceandtumbledontotheground before the furnace. I eagerly slammed the doorwiththepoker.

Kneeling and directing the dark-lantern, I gingerlyexamined the black article while nudging it with thepoker. As a doctor, I recognized it: an incomplete fifthdigitorlittlefinger.Beneaththebrittleblisteredskinweretwophalangesandoneneatly-severedpartialphalange.Thesizewasindicativeofanolderchildorasmalladultfemale.

Mymedical analysis yielded toa senseof urgency. Irolledthewarmspecimeninafreshhandkerchiefbeforesafeguardingitalongsidethelace.Returningtothepointwhere I had arrived at the abandoned forge, anoverlooked path presented. Its well-worn conditionhauntedme;Iwaspositiveit ledwhereIneededtogo.Ilowered the shield on the dark-lantern and hastened tosafeguardHolmesandMissMiller.

TheestatehousewasGeorgian. Its southern faҫadeexhibited six tallwindows on the lower floor, three eachupon either side of a broad entrance bounded bywhitepilasters and topped by a broad fan transom. Sevenwindows aligned on the upper floor. Light escaped thewindowstofleeacrossthegrounds.

My hiding-place while kneeling behind a hedge ofholliesbordering the frontgardenprovidedaviewof the

dining-room, opulent in reds and golds. Through thespyglass, the candle light dazzled from among crystalandsilverpieces.Thornycroftsatat theheadof therichtable,themaster,withsevenguestsinattendance,threeladies and five gentlemen. An elderly woman sat in abath-chairattheoppositeendandthreeguestseachsatupon either side of the table. MissMiller was upon thebridegroom’sright.AsAuntLenore,Holmessatbetweentwo gentlemenwho faced thewindow.Givenmy diningexperiences, I estimated that the dinner party hadadvancedbyperhapsthreewineswithcoursesaccordingto the remaining tableware. I had been overlong at thefurnace.Thispostwasmypriority.The lingeringwarmthand pressure of the little finger against my breastreinforcedmy conviction. If trouble arrived from the out-buildings,sobeit.

“Late to the party, are we?” a raspy voice breathednearmyleftear.

Instinct drove my right fist, bloodying InspectorLestrade’s mouth. He swore a garbled oath behind astainedhandkerchief.

“What are you doing here?” I spouted inastonishment.

Lestrade’smoisteyesrolledhisanswer.Iaddedratherlate,“Idoapologize.”Lestradesimplynodded.Injuredbymyfist,hedeservedmysuccor;but,Iwas

unprepared,having forsakenmymedicalsatchel for thisnight’sequipment.Ihadnotevenafreshhandkerchieftooffertheman.Thefifthdigit!

“Lestrade,Idiscovered…”Ibegan.“Shush,”heinterruptedme.Ifishedthroughmypocketstolocatethesaveditems.

As I looselywrapped the lace about the handkerchief, I

toldhim,“Here,takethese.”“Quiet,”hespat,ashesignaledthat I listen. Iplaced

the handkerchief wrapped about with the torn lace intohis freehand.Heabsent-mindedlyslippedthemintohiscoatpocket.

Wepeekedthroughthehollies.Drumming hooves swept up the approach to the

house. A burly whiskered man dismounted at a sprint.His steed’s reins dangled free. He stormed the frontsteps. He breeched the entrance. His voice boomedwithinthewalls.

“Whatdoyousee?”askedLestrade.“Thornycroft leftthetabletoconfronttheinterloper,”I

answeredbehindthelevelledspyglass.“Icannotobservethem from this angle. Let us move farther along thehollies.”

“No.Weneedtomovecloser,Doctor.”“Wait,” Isaid. “MissMillerhas risen insomedistress.

Holmes ismakinghiswaytoher.Thefourmenarealsostanding.”

“Comealong,”growledLestrade.Though I felt him move away, my eye remained

focused through the spyglass. Miss Miller and AuntLenore departed through the doors where Thornycrofthad slipped. At thatmoment, I witnessed the fourmaleguests assume spirits unbecoming gentlemen. Theyfollowedafterthetwoladies.

The oldwoman in the bath-chair clasped her handsandwept.

Thesoundofawhistlethriceblowntroubledthefrigidair.

I put the spyglass away and hurried after theinspector.

Justahead,Lestradeblewashrillblastuponapolice

whistleashesetasmartpacetowardtheentrydoor.AsInow charged to catch up to him, five uniformedconstables appeared from hiding to converge upon theinspector.Talbot,ourdriver,sprintedtojoin.Iwouldonlylater learnthathewasoftheNorthamptonconstabulary.Inspector Lestrade and the police detail swept up thestepsandthroughtheopendoor.

OnceIarrivedinsidethehall,IobservedLestradeandhismenassumingcustodywithpractised form.Thefourmaleguestsstoodinaneatrowfortheofficerstoclampthe darbies. Lestrade ordered two men to collect thehouseholdstaff.Thewildhorsemannowsatwithhislegsdrawn up at the fringe of the parlour rug. Hemumbledgibberish.

Thebridegroomstoodstillwithhisback tousat thebase of the staircase. I moved nearer, to one side, inorder to render aid to my friend if needed. Holmes,having assumed a higher position on the staircase,grasped the rosewood walking stick in one hand and,with the other, poised the point of an epée uponThornycroft’s throat. Holmes’s keen eyes and steadyhands refined the target. Holmes appeared feverish,perhaps flushed after activity while wearing hiscumbersome disguise, the requisite finery for a formaldinner.AspotofbloodshoweduponHolmes’s lower lip.When Lestrade approached and momentarily staredbeyond his new prisoner in amusement at Holmes’scostume, the point of the epée remained steady. Theinspectordrew thebridegroom rearwards tosecurehim.Holmesloweredtheunblemishedblade,returningittoitscraftycovering.

I stepped up to shake my friend’s hand.“Congratulations.”

He nodded in mute acceptance while slipping his

handfrommine.“Yes,mydearWatson.Wereturnhome.Butnow,IwishtocleanseawayAuntLenoreandchangeintomore agreeable clothing.” He turned to deliberatelycontinueupthestairs.

At that moment, Miss Miller and the elderly woman,both unharmed, arrived from the dining-room. IdescendedandapproachedMissMillertobeintroduced;however, before we could manage the social nicety,Lestrade enlisted my medical services to tend a nastybitewoundsufferedbyoneoftheconstables.TheelderlyladydirectedMissMillertothenecessarysupplies.Then,the constable and I retreated into the parlour for histreatment.

Whenwesteppedback into theentryhall, thegreathouse stood silent, the lights and fires extinguished.Lestrade waited just within the open entryway with alantern. As the injured constable and I passed, theinspectorsecuredthedoor.

“Oh,DoctorWatson,”calledtheinspector.“Thankyoufor helping theman. And thank you for this.” He lightlypatted his pocket. “I will require more information fromyoulater.”

A variety of conveyances awaited our appearance,preparedtojourneytoNorthampton.ItrequiredtwoblackMariah’s to transport the prisoners. Lestrade took thehand of one of the drivers and swung up to the box.Talbotsat in theboxof thecarriage,prepared tobeourdriveragain.Climbingaboard,IdiscoveredthatIwasthefinalpassenger.Holmes leanedbackwithhiseyesshutandhis hands looselywrappedabout thewalking stick.There was the hint of tobacco smoke about him. Theattire he made use of, likely pulled from one of thewardrobes,was a poor fit on his slender physique. Theelderly woman, who gently snuffled, was leaving the

house, at least for a time, as she required aid to live.Only her countenance was visible for the colour of herclothingblended toowellwith thedarknesssurroundingher.MissMiller,alone,remainedalerttowelcomeme.WeleftAshcroftHallbehindus.

Inspiteofmyprofoundcuriosity,Holmes’selucidationof the case finally occurred five days later. At BakerStreet, Holmes fell into amorosemood that only brokewith the arrival of a military personage in conventionalattire. His commission was to retrieve the walking stick.Holmes apologized for requesting that I absent myselfwhiletheyconversed.Iretreated.

I rushed down frommy bed-room when I heard theouterdoorclose.

Holmes was in the sitting-room, lounging in thebasket chair with his legs extended and his anklescrossed toward thewarmthof thehearth.HeglancedatmewithasmilewhenIentered.

“Watson, you have been decidedly patient withme,”hesaid. “Mrs.Hudson isbringingupcoffeeandcake,anewrecipe.Letussitandspeakofourrecentcase.”

During my making a record of these adventuresthroughtheyears,Ihavelearnedtoneverpassonsuchan offer, neither refreshments nor illumination. “Oh,gladly, Holmes,” I responded while making myselfcomfortableinthechairoppositehim.

Following amoment of thought, Holmes began. “Myresearch revealed thatThornycroft’s business reputationmarkedhima suspect due to his ruthlessness.He tookadvantage of people and ruined them if it was to hisadvantage. Barrington Smythe Miller borrowed a largesumofmoneyfromThornycroftfiveyearsago.Inadditionto interest on the loan, Mr. Miller had to promiseCharlotte’shandinmarriage.”

“He must have been desperate beyond soundreasoning,”Ideclared.

“Mr.Miller tooka terriblechance,”Holmescontinued.“HeslowlyrealizedThornycroft’snature,thoughhenevertrulyknewitsdarkdepth,anddecidedtoolatetoprotecthis daughter. His unexpected arrival at Ashcroft Hallenragedthebridegroom.”

“Millerwasthehorseman!”“That is correct.Asyouwent to collectMissMillerat

the door, the maid Eliza watched from a distance andreported to Mr. Miller that her mistress departed with aman. He became incensed, believing Thornycroft hadstolen his daughter away. His own guilt may haveunhingedhim.His stateappearedmadnessby the timeheenteredAshcroftHall.”

It was at this time that Mrs. Hudson interrupted us.She carried the tray of coffee and slices of cake to asmall tablebetweenus.A tidystackofmail laybundledto one side. “I will serve, Mrs. Hudson,” I hurried tovolunteer. She accommodated me. The disturbancethreatenedtoforestallmyfriend’sclarificationofthecase.Imadecertain thesitting-roomdoorwasclosed.When Iturnedback to the tray,Holmeshadalreadydelved intothemail tomydisappointment.Hewas readinga letter.“Pleasecarryonwithyouraccountofthecase,Holmes.”

“Ah, but certainly,” he assuredme, resting the letteronhis lap. “Thornycroft andMillerwere in conflictwhenMiss Miller and I left the dining-room. It was quite anuneven match. I entered the fray and received a slapacross the face.”Holmes’s tonguebriefly touchedwherehisliphadbeensplit.“Hisgoldringprobablyinjuredmylip. Thornycroft still believed me to be a woman.Otherwise, the practicality of specific strikes upon mypersonwouldhavebeengivengreaterweight.Ourclient

blew the whistle I had provided her. She had climbedhalfway up the staircase. Themen, with whomwe hadbeen dining, burst all at once through the doors,directionless. Thornycroft pushed Mr. Miller down andturned upon me; however, before his men crossed thehall to join him, Thornycroft was at my mercy. Theyfollowedmyorders. In theend,Mr.Miller,unfortunate inhiscountlesschoices,lostallthattrulymattered.”

“MissMiller,”Istated.“Yes,Ibelieveshescornedherfather.Sherefusedmy

suggestionthatshegotohim.Instead,shewenttohelptheelderlywoman.”

“I cannot imagine such hardness resting within herbosom,” I said. “Perhaps shewill forgive her father andbekindtohimwhenshegrowsolder.”

“Perhaps,”mutteredHolmes.Wesippedourcoffee,eachtohisthoughts.“When did you draw Inspector Lestrade into this

business?”Iinquired.“ItwasLestradewhofirstapproachedme.Hesought

assistancefrommesixweeksagoregardingrobberiesinNorthamptonand thesurroundingcounties.Hedeignedtosharewithmethepertinentrecordsofthepastyear.Ioffered him fresh insight and indicated possiblyoverlooked matters requiring study. Lestrade was duty-bound to seek justice. My sentiment, though unofficial,was no less earnest; however, I was not invited toconsider furtherdataasnew investigationsopened.Yet,when I requiredmen toassist,Lestradewas thesecondman,afteryou,whomIthoughttorecruit.”

“Iamconfused,Holmes.Thornycroftwasidentifiedasan untrustworthy man of business. Then, you werehelping investigate robberies. What has this to do withtheother?Andhowdothefurnaceandthelittlefingerfit

intothepuzzle?”“Watson, this web of criminality spread in multiple

directions; however, the many investigators failed toshare information. The Professor spun the best web.Thornycroftwassimplytheleaderofthegang,therobberbridegroom. Ashcroft Hall was their lair, the commonlocationamong thevariouscases.During thepast year,there had also been disappearances of young womenfrom several counties. This I learned from theNorthampton police force. The gang was suspected.Fromonesource,therewasanaccountofcannibalism.”

“Isthattrue,Holmes?”“I hold no illusions regardingwhat can take place in

the countryside. I have no doubt that the furnace wasspecially built to dispose of evidence. What better waythanburningfortheleavings?”

“We will probably never know whose finger Idiscovered,” I lamented. “That deathmust have been ahorribleending.”

“Yes, Doctor. Be encouraged for the missing youngwomenmay yet be found alive.One of themmay haveninedigits.”

“Yes, I suppose I must be optimistic.” My thoughtsturned toMissMiller.Shehadgrownmuch in the shorttime we had known her. She kept her head during thepandemonium and calmed the old woman. “Have youlearned what became of the elderly lady I observedsittinginthebath-chair?”

“MydearWatson,” statedHolmesashedangled theletter and envelope before my eyes. “It is an exquisite,though curious, balancing of human nature and humanfrailty when themother of such a felonious creature asThornycroftdiscoversbothrescuerandlady’scompanionin his targeted victim. Madame Thornycroft and Miss

Miller will leave on holiday to the Continent three dayshence.”

—TheEnd—

O

LITTLEPLAIDCAP

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM,REINTERPRETEDBYSANDRALITTLE

(PartOne:LittleRedCapinfusedwithSherlockHolmes)

NCE there was a dear, quite tall man whomeveryoneatScotlandYardadmiredandwantedto shake hands with, though it was his

grandmotherwho truly lovedhimmostofall.Therewasnothingshewouldnotgivehim.Shehadevenmadehima littleplaiddeerstalkercap,whichwassobecomingonhim that the mainstream media never represented himwearing anything else—and that was why everyonecalledhimLittlePlaidCap.

Oneday, LittlePlaidCap’s brother said, “Look, LittlePlaidCap, here is a piece of cake and a bottle ofwineand some secret plans for a submarine. Take them toGrandmother.SheissickandweakduetoTooMuchArtintheBlood.Noonewillvisithersecludedlittlecottage,so it will be an excellent place to hide the plans, andperhaps the cake and wine will make her feel better.You’dbetterstartnowbeforethepathgetstoosaturatedwith sticky yellow fog. Walk properly, like a good, dearboy, and don’t leave the path or youwill fall down and

break the bottle and there won’t be anything forGrandmother— and we all know how the French lovetheirwine.Andwhenyougettoherhouse,don’tforgettosay ‘good morning’, and don’t go looking in all thecornersdeducingthingsbecausethatisquiterude.”

Normally,LittlePlaidCapwouldlurehiscompanion,asoldierwhohadreturnedfromthewars,awayfromeitherhisworkplaceorhislatestwifeforajourneysuchasthis,buthisbrotherhadrequestedexpediencyanditwasbutashorttrip.Hewouldtravelalone.

“I will take great care,” Little Plaid Cap assured hisbrother.

His grandmother lived in the wood, half an hour’shansomride from thevillage.NosoonerhadLittlePlaidCapset footon the forestpath thanhemetamanwiththick sideburns and beady eyes he immediatelyrecognisedastherogueruffianknownonlyasTheWolf.LittlePlaidCapknewwhatawickedbeasthewas,buthewasn’tafraidofhim.

“Goodmorning,LittlePlaidCap,”saidhe.“Thankyoukindly,Wolf.”“Whereareyougoingsoearly,LittlePlaidCap?”“Tomygrandmother’s.”“And what’s that you’ve got under your Inverness

cape?”“Cake and wine. My brother’s housekeeper baked

yesterday, soGrandmother,who is sickandweak, shallhavesomethingnicetomakeherfeelbetter.”

“Wheredoesyourgrandmotherlive,LittlePlaidCap?”“In St John’s Wood, fifteen or twenty minutes’ ride

fromhere,underthethreelarge,copper-colouredbeechtrees.Therearemossrosebushesjustbelow.Youmustknowtheplace.”

‘How overconfident and brazen he is!,’ thought The

Wolf. ‘Why, to rid myself of him would be a far moreworthy challenge than merely stealing those plans.Maybe,ifI’mcleverenough,Icangetthemboth.’

So, after walking along the path for a short whilebeside Little PlaidCap, he said, “Little PlaidCap, openyour eyes. What lovely flowers! Why don’t you lookaround you? Or are you, much like an automaton,incapable of enjoying all the pleasure which naturebestows? Idon’tbelieveyouevenhearhowsweetly thebirdsaresinging. It’ssodelightfulouthere in thewood,yet you trudge as solemnly as if youwere going to thedentist.” In this way, The Wolf hoped to distract LittlePlaidCap,andthereforedoawaywithhim.

Little Plaid Cap looked up, and saw the sunbeamsdancing this way and that between the trees and thebeautifulflowersallaroundhim,pausingbrieflytoadmirethe fragrant lilacbushes, theviolets,hyacinthsandwildcarnations strewn about the forest floor (for despite hissingular focus, he was certainly quite capable ofappreciating all forms of beauty afforded by DivineProvidence). He smiled and said, “Grandmother will bepleasedifIbringherabunchofnicefreshflowers.It’ssoearlynowthatIamcertaintobethereinplentyoftime.”Oncehehadpickedone,heexclaimedthatsurelytheremustbeamorebeautifulonefartheron,andsohewentdeeperanddeeperintothewoodandTheWolfsoonlostsightofhim.

TheWolf, foiled in his nefarious scheme to lead ourbelovedprotagonistastray,evisceratehim,andsteal theplans, decided his best course of action was to headstraight to Grandmother’s house. He knocked at thedoor.

“Who’sthere?”“Little Plaid Cap, bringing cake and wine. Open the

door.”“Just raise the latch,”cried thegrandmother, “I’m too

weaktogetoutofbed.”TheWolf raised the latchand thedoorswungopen.

Without saying a single word, he went straight toGrandmother’sbedandboundherfromheadtotoeandtossedherinanairingcupboard.Hethenthrewopenhercloset torevealastunningarrayofdressinggowns,onein every colour of the rainbow. He chose a mouse-colouredone,whichhedonnedalongwithhernightcap,andlaydowninthebed.Hesettledundertheduvetanddrew the curtains, for the old woman had a sketchpadnear her nightstand— you will recall that she was anartist!

Meanwhile, Little PlaidCap had been running aboutpicking flowers,andwhenhehadasmanyashecouldcarryandwascertaintheWolfwasnowheretobeseen,hestartedoffagain toGrandmother’s.Whenhearrived,he was surprised to find the front door open, and wasstruckwithacreeping,shrinkingsensationashesteppedintothehouse.

“Halloa!”hecalledout,buttherewasnoanswer.Thenhewentuptothebedanddrewthecurtainsas

well (though truly itwasmore likeaquicksketch, sincehewasanxious).Hisgrandmotherhadthecappulledfardownoverherface,andclearlywasnothisgrandmotheratall,forTheWolfwashardlyamasterofdisguise.AndthiswasLittlePlaidCap’sowngrandmother,afterall.Heknewherprettywell.Still,besttoplayalongforthetimebeing.

“Oh,Grandmother,whatbigearsyouhave!”“Thebettertohearyouwith.”“Oh,Grandmother,whatbigeyesyouhave!”“Thebettertoseeyouwith.”

“Oh,Grandmother,whatbighandsyouhave!”“Thebettertograbyouwith!”And no sooner had The Wolf spoken than he

boundedoffthebedandgrabbedLittlePlaidCap.WhenThe Wolf had tied him up and thrown him into thecupboard as well, he began to ransack the basket,searching for the plans. That was precisely when LittlePlaidCap’scompanionarrived.

“Oldboy!”LittlePlaidCapsaidunderhisbreathuponhearing the scuffle, “You’ve found me after all! I wasworried it would be a long time. I should have knownnevertounderestimateyou.”Heeasilyslippedfreeofhisown bonds and quietly untied his grandmother,makingsureshewasingoodhealth.

The soldier leveled his service revolver andwas justabouttofirewhenitoccurredtohimthatTheWolfmighthave taken both his companion and his grandmotherelsewhere,andheneededtoassuretheirsafety,firstandforemost.Inexchangeforhislife,TheWolfrevealedtheirhidingplace.Theywerebothaliveandwell, though theoldwomancouldbarelybreathe,sodarkandoppressiveithadbeeninsidethehidingplace,whilstLittlePlaidCaphadpatientlyawaited themomenthissoldierwould freehim.

The soldier (who also happened to be a doctor)checkedLittlePlaidCap’sbarewrists,gentlyrunninghishands over the fading red marks on his skin. Afterpermitting the soldier a moment to reassure himself allwaswell, LittlePlaidCap ranoutsideandbroughtbackgreat stones. Together, they set up a contraption bywhichtheheavystonespinnedTheWolftothesideofanearbybridgesothathislegswouldnolongercarryhim,where he would be forced to await the arrival of theauthorities.

Allthreewerehappy;thegrandmotherateofthecakeanddrankofthewineandhadabitofrestorativebrandyaswell,andsoonfeltmuchbetter;andasforLittlePlaidCap,hesaid tohimself, ‘Neveragainwill I leavewithoutmy faithful companion.’ The flowersmadeGrandmothersneeze, so he presented them to the soldier, who likedthemverymuchindeed.

—TheEnd—

LittleRedCapandGrannyHolmesbyJacobandWilhelmGrimm,reinterpretedby

SandraLittle

(PartTwo:SherlockHolmesInfusedwithLittleRedCap)

ONCEuponatimetherewasadreadfullittlegirlwhowas hated by everyone who looked upon her, save forhergrandmother,whowouldhavegivenanythingforthehorrible child. She had even made her a little cap ofblood-red velvet, which suited the girl so well that shewouldneverwearanythingelse—andsoshewascalled‘LittleRedCap.’

Thoughitwaswithoutdoubtduetothecapandcloakher grandmother had made for her, Little Red Cappreferred to think the appellation arose from her greatloveofhazardousplants—particularlyof themushroomwhich bore that very name. Little Red Cap loved thedarkness of the forest, wherein all manner of poisonscould be found with just a scratch beneath the waxysurfaceof a leaf, buriedamongst roots, or hiddendeepwithin thecheerfully-coloured flowers.Shestudied themwithoutmercytilltheyyieldedtheirsecrets.

Hergrandmotherhadencouragedher inherstudies,but recently she had cautioned Little Red Cap on hergrowing recklessness. The old woman feared that hergranddaughter would be lured into dark magic, fromwhich there would be no turning back. When shediscovered Little Red Cap had poisoned her songbird,Grandmother refused to provide the girl with theequipmentneededtofurtherherstudies—unless itwasunder the tutelage of a Wise Woman. Grandmotherthought them a strange lot— solitary heathens withbohemian ways scattered throughout the land, so verydifferentfromvillagefolk—buttheyknewlightaswellasdarknessandcouldalwaysbetrustedtoguidesomeonesafelythroughthejourney.

ButLittleRedCaphadrefusedtosomuchasglanceatGrannyHolmes.Theoddwoman in thesecludedhutdidnot frightenher,asshehaddonetosomanyothers(though theystill foundcourageenough tocome toherforaid).LittleRedCapsimplypreferred tostudyonherown,withoutrestrictions.Especiallyfromotherhorridoldwomen.

One day her mother said to her, “Come, Little RedCap, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; takethemtoyourgrandmother,she is illandweak,andtheywilldohergood.Setoutbeforeitgetshot,andwhenyouaregoing,walknicelyandquietlyanddonotrunoffthepath,oryoumayfallandbreakthebottle,andthenyourgrandmotherwillgetnothing;andwhenyougo intoherroom,don’tforgettosay,‘Goodmorning’,anddon’tpeepintoeverycornerbeforeyoudoit.”

LittleRedCaprolledhereyes,butturnedtofacehermotherandsmiledpolitelyasshespoke.“Iwilltakegreatcare,”saidLittleRedCap.Alas,thewomandidnotknowwhatawickedcreatureherdaughterwas,forthiswasthe

opportunity she had been longing for. The old womanwas a hinderance. There were sacrifices to bemade inthepursuitofknowledge.

‘I must act craftily,’ she thought, and walked off thepathand looked round thesunlit forest in searchof theright flowers for a deadly effect. She saw a shadowyfigure walking along the road, carrying a small pouchmuchlikeherown.

“Goodday,LittleRedCap,”saidGrannyHolmes.“Thankyoukindly,Granny,”shereplieddemurely.“Whitherawaysoearly,LittleRedCap?”“Tomygrandmother’s.”“Whathaveyougotinyourapron?”The questions were becoming a nuisance, but the

doddering old womanwas harmless. And it would helpfor someone else to bear witness to the fact that hergrandmotherhadalreadybeenquiteill.“Cakeandwine;yesterdaywasbaking-day,sopoorsickgrandmotheristohavesomethinggood,tomakeherstronger.”

“Wheredoesyourgrandmotherlive,LittleRedCap?”“A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood;

her house stands under the three large oak-trees, thenut-treesarejustbelow;yousurelymustknowit,”repliedLittleRedCap impatiently,asshecontinuedtorefusetolookher in theeye, scanning thewoods instead for therighttoxinstoharvest.

GrannywalkedforashorttimeneartoLittleRedCap,and thensmiledwarmlyandsaid, “See,LittleRedCap,how pretty the flowers are about here—why do you notlook round? I believe, too, that you do not hear howsweetlythelittlebirdsaresinging;youwalkgravelyalongasifyouweregoingtoschool.”

Thismustbethemostanyonehadeverheardtheoldwoman talk. Perhaps her grandmother had already told

herofRed’s interest in the forest’s richesandOldLadyHolmeswasevaluatingherasapotentialpupil.LittleRedCap raised her eyes, and saw the sunbeams dancinghere and there through the trees, and pretty flowersgrowingeverywhere, but it brought her no joy.Shewasnot finding the mushrooms she sought, growing inraggedclumpsontheleewardsideofthetrees.

“Their smell and color are an embellishment of life.We have much to hope from the flowers,” said the oldwoman, who grinned broadly as she turned from thepath,movingdeeperanddeeperintothewood.LittleRedCapsmirked.‘Yes.Theflowersarequiteusefulindeed.’

She had found that which she had sought. Hergrandmotherhadeatenof thepoisoned foodanddrunkofthepoisonedwineandnoonehadbeenthewiser.Norwould any notice the disappearance of the modestsavingsofadeadwoman.

WhenLittleRedCapsetouttopurchaseabrandnewmicroscope from thecrippledoldpeddlerwhosomehowmadehiswayinfromTottenhameachweek,shenoticedthat that old HolmesWoman was there yet again, withthe unblinking eyes of a vulture, watching her carry ithome.Thatwouldn’tdo.Addledorno,theoldwitchknewfartoomuch.Certainlynoonewouldmakeasocialcall,andasidefromthebravesoulsseekingassistancenonewouldvisither…save foranotheroldwomanwhocamedelivering food, and a middle-aged woodsman whobroughtfirewood,suppliesfromthecity,andother itemsfrom localshopsasneeded.Rarely,avery large,nearlyancientmancouldbeseenhobblingdown thepath likean elephant in heeled boots. That was the extent ofGrannyHolmes’sregularvisitors.Thewitchwouldnotbemissed.

Each time the peddler came to town, she raided his

wares looking for something unique and intriguing, andupon the third visit she had found what she had beensearching for. A neat little thing it was, too— a small,black and white ivory box with a sliding lid. She set toworkoncreatingapoisonedtrap.

Her grandmother’s money did not go as far as shehad hoped, but it had been enough for themicroscopeand some of the rarer herbs: Tapanuli, Black Formosa,Devil’sFootRoot…all from far-awayplaces likeSumatraorKhartoumwhich shewas certain she’d visit soon. Allwith deadly potential.But shewas sentimental at heart,and prepared a draught from the same species ofmushroom which she had used to rid herself of hergrandmother.

Shepreparedthepotioncarefully,immersedthetipofsharp, metal spring in the solution, and concealed itwithinthebox.Whenthelidwaspushedopen,thepointwould dart out and puncture the finger of whomeverwould disturb it, like a fanged serpent, and deliver thepoisondeepwithinwhereitwouldfreezethevictim’sveryheart.Shewrapped it tightly inshinygoldenpaper,andwhen the courier cameby on his rounds she sent it offwithhim,andwaited.

Threedayslatertherecameaknockuponthedoorofher mother’s house. The courier wished to speak withLittleRedCapurgently.

“Iamsorrysir,but it isnotproperformydaughtertomeetwithagentlemanwhom—”

“Theapologyisminetomake,madam.Iamsorry,butthemattercannotbedelayed.GrannyHolmes—”

“It’sallright,mother,Iamsurethecouriermeansnottopropositionme,heonlybringswordofmyfuturetutor,though why I cannot be certain. Have you come fromGrannyHolmes,sir?”sheaskedsweetly.

“Ihavejustlefther.”“Whatofher,then?Howisshe?”“Sheisdesperatelyill.ThatiswhyIhavecome.”LittleRedCapmotioned him to sit, and in doing so,

caughtaglimpseof herown face in themirror over themantelpiece. She tried her best to school her featuresintogenuineconcern.

“I am sorry to hear this,” said she. “I scarcely knowGrannyHolmesasof yet, butwas considering studyingwithhernextspring.Ihavemuchrespectforhertalents,though I believewe have differing approaches. I am farmore interested in botany than…I suppose it would bealchemy,herspecialty?”

“It was on account of your special knowledge thatGranny Holmes desired to see you. She has a highopinion of you and thinks you the only one who couldhelpher.”

LittleRedCaptookaquickbreath.“Why?”sheasked.“WhyshouldGrannyHolmes think that I couldhelpherwithherillness?”

“Becauseofyourknowledgeofplant-bornedisease.”“Butwhyshouldshethinkthatthisdiseasewhichshe

hascontractedisrelatedtobotany?”“Because she has been working with Mariner’s

Landing seaweed. She fears she must not have takenadequateprecautions.”

Red Cap smiled pleasantly and picked up a small,leatherpouch.“Oh,that’sit—isit?Itrustthematterisnotsograveasyousuppose.Howlonghasshebeenill?”

“Aboutthreedays.”“Itmightresolveonitsownif—”“Youmustcome!”hepleaded,“Forsheisneardeath

andsaysshewishestoconsultwithyouandyoualone.”He rose from his chair and paced the room. “When I

camebyasusualtodeliverthefirewood,shewasunableto open the door. She asked who was there in theweakestofvoicesandwhenIsaiditwasJohn,herewithmorewood, she said I should just raise the latch. Thatshewastooweaktogetoutofbed.”

HelookedpleadinglyatRedCap.“Thenshestaredatme with terribly sunken eyes and askedme howmanycoinsIhadwithinmypurseandofwhatdenomination. Ihoped beyond hope she meant to see if had sufficientfunds to fetch a doctor for her, but she only bade merearrangethem—someinonepocket,someintheother.I was better balanced this way, said she. Some talkfollowedof random things.Of the increasing number ofoysters—”

“Sosheisdelirious!”“Yes.”“Othersymptoms?”Johnlookeddownashespoke.“Now,notmanyknow

ofthis,but…IamaRootDoctormyself.Ihavespokenatlength with Granny Holmes, often, about tinctures andsuch.SoIknowshewascertainlyfarfromherself.WhenI pressed her for information with which to attempt myown diagnosis she said she felt as if she was a tiny,flickeringcandle,stilltryinginvaintolightanentireroom.Itriedto…togetcloser.Toseeifshewasasfeverishasshe lookedtobewithher flushedcheeks.Shebadememoveback.Then…”RedCapcouldsee thispained theman to explain. “Then she saidmyworth was not as ahealer, but rather lay inmyability to fetch things.And Ishouldgofetchsomeone inwhomshehadconfidence.”He swallowed. “She said you have the finest tools andthe keenest mind with which to utilize them. Please.Pleasegotoher.”

“Itwouldbeinhumanenotto.Iwillseeher.”

“Imustleave.Iamtoolongfrommyerrands.Youwillseehertoday?”

“Youhavemyword.”When Red Cap arrived at the tiny hut she was

surprised to find thedoorstandingopen.The roomwasdim in the fading sunlight, but one could stillmake outthe gaunt, wasted face wracked with fever, dark crustsclinging toher lips,asshegazedout from thepartially-drawn bed curtains. The thin hand that attempted togestureRedCaptowardachairbesidethebedtwitchedincessantly. Her eyes closed as if drifting off. Red Capneeded her awake amoment or two longer, and shookherbytheshoulder.

“Is that you, Little Red Cap?” Granny whispered. “Ihardlydaredhopethatyouwouldcome.Itisverygoodofyou—verynobleofyoutoshowcharitytoonesuchasI.Iappreciateyourspecialknowledge.”

LittleRedCapgavenoresponseandmovedclosertoherbedside.

“Oh! Granny Holmes,” she said, “What a hollowedfaceyouhave!Whatflushedcheeks!Whatsunkeneyesandtremblinghands!Doyouknowwhatailsyou?”

““Betterforyoutotellme.Iamquitecertainyouknowwhat this is.” Granny Holmes’s voice nearly gave outentirelyasshefinished,“ForIbelieveittobethesame.”

“Ah!Yourecognizethesymptoms?”Shestruggledtogainthebreathwithwhichtospeak.

“Onlytoowell.Iknew.Thatyoudidit.Then.”“Oh,youdid,didyou?Watchingmyeverymove.And

now,crawlingtomeforhelp?”“Water!”shegasped.“You’repreciousnear yourend,but I don’twant you

togotillIhavehadawordwithyou,soI’llgiveyouwater.There…neatly, now! That’s right. Can you understand

whatIsay?”Shegroaned.“Ineversaidaword.EventhoughIwas

certain.Youwere…lookingfor…poison.Notflowers.Bythe trees. Do what you can…for me. Let bygones bebygones,” shewhispered. “Only cureme, and I’ll forgetit.”

“Forgetwhat?”“Youasgoodasadmityoukilledyourgrandmother.”

The old woman’s desperate words gushed out like astreamtumblingoverjaggedrocks.“I’llputthewordsoutofmyhead—Iswearit.I’lleraseitall.I’llforgetit.”

“You can forget it or remember it, just as you like. Idon’t see you in the witness box. You are destined forquite another type of box.” Little Red Cap smiled. “Itmatters little if you know all about my grandmother’sdeath;itisnothersweareheretodiscuss,butyours.”

“Yes.”“Thefellowwhocameforme—thedeliveryman—said

thatyoucontracteditfrommishandlingextracts.”“Icouldonlyaccountforitso.”“And yet you call yourself Wise? Well we know the

limitsofyourwisdom.Thinkback,witch.Canyouthinkofnootherwayyoucouldhavecontractedthis?”

“I can’t think. My mind is gone. For heaven’s sakehelpme!”

“Yes, I will help you. I’ll help you to understand justwhereyouareandhowyougotthere.I’dlikeyoutoknowbeforeyoudie.”

“Givemesomethingtoeasemypain.”“Well, youcanhearwhat I say, anyhow.Listennow!

Can you remember anything unusual around the timeyoursymptomsbegan?”

“Nothing.”“Thinkagain.”

“I’mtooilltothink.”“Listen!You ‘shall’hearme,witch!Doyouremember

abox—anivorybox?Itcamebypost.Youopenedit—doyouremember?”

“Yes, yes, I opened it. There was a sharp piece ofmetalinsideit.Someprankster—”

“Itwasnomerryprank.Whoaskedyoutokeepwatchonme? If youhadonly leftmealone, Iwouldnot havehadtohurtyou.”

“Iremember,”shegasped.“Thespring!Itdrewblood.Thebox—onthetable.”

“Theveryone—whichjustsohappenstofitperfectlywithin my pocket. You value knowledge. Know that Ikilledyou.YouknewtoomuchofGrandmother’sfate,soIhavesentyoutoshareit.Asforme…Iwillsithere,andIwillwatchyoudie.”

Granny’s voice had sunken to an almost inaudiblewhisper.

“What is that? Light the candle? Shadows begin tofall. Yes, I will. The better to see you, dear GrannyHolmes.”She lit the candle on the nightstand. “Is thereanyotherlittleservicethatIcandoforyou,‘Magistra’?”

Granny’s voice was suddenly both as clear and asquick as a mountain spring. “Yes, you can toss somemoreofJohn’s firewood into thestove,andthenput thekettleon.Ineedagoodrollingboiltocookthepotatoes.I’llhavetogetthebutterandsaltlater;firstthingsfirst.”

“What?”“Yes, I’m very hungry, and I think I would rather like

mashedpotatoes.Thebestwaytopretendtobeillis…tobeill,yousee.Igiveyoumyword—forthreedaysIhavetastedneitherfoodnordrinkuntilyouweregoodenoughto pour me out that glass of water. Well, I say good,thoughyouhadothermotiveswhichhadscarce little to

do with goodness. And the same can be said of yourlightingthecandle.Thatwasasignal,bytheway.Mighthavebeencumbersomeformetodosomyself,asIwasratherpreoccupiedwithfeigningmydeath,sothankyouforthat.Harken!Ihearthestepofafriend!”

Granny Holmes beamed as two men entered theroom. “Dearest Friend John, I thank you, for doing all Iaskedofyouwithoutexplanation.Andthankyouaswell,Constable Morton. I hope you have heard all that wasnecessary?”

“For the murder of Victoria Smith,” Morton stated,advancingonRed.

“And you might add my attempted murder as well.Yourprisonerhasasmallboxwithin thepocket-liningofher cape which I would handle very gingerly if I wereyou.” She turned to the courier and her smile faded.“John, I oweyoua thousandapologies.Andmyeternalthanksforconvincinghertocome.”

John’sfacewasasstone.“Youmusthaveknownshewould.”

“Knowinghervindictivenature,itwaslikelyshewouldwishtolookuponherhandiwork.”

Johnmovedcloser,hesitantly,andpeeredatherface.“Vaselineuponone’sforehead.”“Thebettertoreplicatetheravagesoffever.”“Youreyes,Granny…?”“Belladonna.Itisquitedifficulttoseeyou,infact.”“Andthentherougeandwax…”“Nothing to this disease which a sponge would not

cure.AndsonowyouseewhyIhadtouseeverymeansatmydisposalforyoutokeepyourdistance.Icouldnothavemy secrets revealed. You are far too perceptive tobedeceived;itwasmyonlyhopeagainstdiscovery.”

“You think I am perceptive and callme your dearest

friend, and yet you thinkme incapable of keeping yoursecrets.”

“Foryoutobedeceivedisdifficult;foryoutodeceive,impossible.Itisnotinyournature,John.Begladonthis.Youareagoodman,aprotector,ahealer.”

“Iamadelivererofparcels,”hespatout.She closed her eyes, let out a huff of breath, then

quietly said, “John,” upon reopening them, her headtilteddowninsupplication.

“No, it’s fine.My days of secrets and adventure andintrigueareallwellinmypast,and—”

“Ihadyousendmymessagetoamurderer,”GrannyHolmes smiled. “Or had you forgotten that small detail?That is a rather dangerous task, for even the best andbravestofmessengers.”

“I had no knowledge of that fact with which to layclaimtobravery.”

“And I… needed to feel I could fool you to ensuremyself that Icould foolher.Longenoughtillyourreturnwiththeconstable,atleast.”

“Youhaddoubts?”She looked at John and cleared her throat before

speaking. “Yes. And if I could fool you, I could foolanyone,fornooneknowsmebuthalfaswell.”

TherewasamomentofsilencebeforeJohnspoke.“Iknowyoumustbehungry.Youoftenareaftersolvinganypuzzle,letaloneonerequiringathreedayfast.”

Granny Holmes smiled. “I tried to get her to put akettleon.”

“Didyou?”“Yes. She was not as accommodating as she was

aboutthelightingofthecandle.”“Thenlet’sseetothatfirst,shallwe?Isthereanything

in particular I can prepare for you? Nothing too

complicated.Imaybeagoodmanandaprotectorandahealerandabravecourier,butIamnocook.”

“Could you, by chance, find itwithin your purview toboilsomepotatoes?”

—TheEnd—

“M

CRACKINGTHECASE

BYSTEVEANDPAMMASON

Basedon“HumptyDumpty”

r.Holmes, thanks somuch for seeingmeon suchshort notice. I admit I just have nowhere else to

turn.”ThewomanwhohadpresentedherselftoHolmesand

myselfwasghostlywhite,allcolordrainedawayfromhervisage,fromeitherfearorfatigue.

“Madam,Icannotofferyouaguaranteedsolution,butif I may somehow relieve the obvious stress you areunder, Iwilldomybest. IbelieveIspeakforDr.Watsonhetoowillsupportyouinthistimeofneed.Pleasetrytogive me the facts, succinctly and without too manydigressions.”

Thewomanshiftednervouslyonthechaise,teeteringontheedge.

“My husband and I have recently celebrated the 5thanniversary of our nuptials. While we have yet to beblessedwithchildren,ourplanscertainlyincludedhaving‘abasket’ofthem.Duetothe‘fragile’naturesofrelativesonbothsidesofourfamily,hedecideditwouldbenefitus

totakeoutaninsurancepolicyincaseofatragicendtoeitherofus.”

“Andwhatwastheamountofpayoutonthispolicy?”“10,000 pounds, which is not a princely sum, but

would have kept the surviving spouse and offspringcomfortable.Thepolicywas issued lastmonth,butwentintoeffectimmediately.”

“Interesting,” I stated; “I don’t believe immediatecoverageisnormal.”

“You’reright,Dr.Watson.However,myhusbandpaida higher premium for this provision. He is very anxiousharmmaycometohimintheverynearfuture.NowIamafraidhispredictionhascometrue.”

At thispoint,ourvisitorbecamemorevisiblyshaken.Holmesdirected that Iprescribeastiff beltofalcohol tosteady her. After a minute or two, she was able tocontinue.

“Myhusbandhadrecentlytakenupaverydangerousvocation,highwallwalking.Histeamwouldclosedownastreet,andthenchargetowatchmyhusbandwalkalongabuildingorwalledge.”

Holmes’browcreased.“Thatseemsaverydangeroussportforanyone.”

“It was, but my husband seemed to think he wasinvincible… he even had me convinced a fall simplywouldnotbefatal.”

I interrupted. “But ma’am, you just told us yourhusband paid extra for the insurance due to his fear ofimpendingharm.”

“At thetimeof thepolicy,hewasworried…butsincetaking up this newwork, his regimen had changed.Hisoutlookchangedalso.”

Sherlock continued the inquiries. “Did your husbanduseanetincaseofamisstep?”

“Normally yes, but he believed he hadmastered thearttothepointhenolongerneededtheprotection.”

Againwith the crying.And another belt of steadyingtonic.

“Yesterdaywashis firstperformancewithoutasafetynet.Thepolicebelieveitwasasimplemisstepashewasdistracted by a large bird flying near his head. He fellthree floors and landedhead first.As you canguess, itwasnotaprettysight.”

“I am so sorry… did you happen to witness thetragedy?”

“Iwas there for the stunt, but I had just entered thebuildingtousethefacilitieswhenhefelltohisdeath.”

Sherlock showed an expression of confusion. “Sopleaseexplainwhyyouarehere.Sothisseemsasimpleaccident, easily avoidable, but sadly, very straightforward.”

“I contacted the insurance agency yesterday… theyseem to think it might have been a suicide… a newpolicy,followedquicklybyadeath…”

“And of course, theywill not pay out on a suicide…thepolicyisnullandvoid,”Holmesopined.

“Please help me prove it was an accident, and myhusbanddidnottakehisownlife.Withoutthosefunds,Iwould have to pawnmy husband’swatch, just tomakeendsmeet.”

Withthis,shepulledoutanexquisitelyjeweledpocketwatch out of her pocket. Holmes eyebrows rose, butotherwise tried not to show too much interest in thetimepiece.

I was impressed with the piece. “That’s a beautifulwatch.”

“Yes. My father actually designed and built it. Ilearnedatmy father’skneehow toclean,maintain,and

repairclocksandwatches.”“Would you mind if I took a look at that? I have

thoughtofwritingasmallmonographonpocketwatchesandwhattheycanrevealabouttheowner.”

“Holmes,Iwouldappreciateitifyoudidnot…”“SorryWatson, Ididnotknowyouwerestillsensitive

aboutthesubject.”“Ma’am,wouldyoubewillingtoallowmetoholdonto

this watch for a few days. I would love to examine it alittlemoreclosely.”

Youcouldseetheextremehesitancyonherfeatures,butafterafewseconds,shequietlyrelented.

“And what did your husband do before his fatefulwalk?”

“Thesame thinghehasdoneeveryday for thepastweek.He visited a Turkish bath, which he claims helpshimclearhismindbeforeheperforms.Thewarmwatershavebeentherapeuticforhim.”

“If you were to return in two days, at four o’clock, Ibelieve Iwillbeable tosupplyyouwithampleevidencetoprovidetoyouragent.Thereisnodoubtyourhusbanddidnotdieathisownhand.”

“ThankyouMr.Holmes.Iwill indeedbeinyourdebt.Unfortunately,Iwillnotbeabletopayyouuntilthepolicyiscashedin.”

“Let’sworryaboutthataftermyworkiscompleted.”“Youareasaint.”“Weshallsee…”

AS USUAL, MY MEDICAL PRACTICE KEPT ME AWAY FROM OURroomsuntil theappointed time twodays later. Ihad just

arrived,with our client close onmy tail. She seemed tohave recovered slightly from her recent ordeal. Holmes,of course, was able to give her some comfort with hisgentlenature.

“Pleasehavea seatmadam. I have looked into yourcasemorethoroughly.AsIsaidtwodaysago,Iamsureyourhusbanddidnotcommitsuicide.”

“Ohwhat a relief. If youwould bewilling to sign anaffidavit to your findings, I believe I can put this messbehindme.”

Holmes leaned forward, so the end of his nosewasextremelyclosetoherownfacialfeatures.

“Madam, I will only say this once. This will not do. Imaybeable to assist you, but only if youarewilling totellthetruthtoDr.Watsonandmyself.”

Immediately our client became flustered. “I have noideawhatyouaretalkingabout,youimpertinentbeing.”

Holmescountered.“Youmayleavenow.Iwillprovidemy findings to the police, and they will be more thanhappytointerviewyoufurther.”

Figuratively, our client cracked under the witheringstareofHolmes.

“YouarecorrectMr.Holmes. I havenotbeenhonestwithyou.Iamatmywit’send.WhatamItodo?”

“Tellmewhathappened.Leavenothingout.Youwillbejudgedonyouractionsasfairlyaspossible,butonlyifyouopenup.Doyouunderstand?”

Theclientclosedhereyesandjustsatmotionlessforseveralmoments.Finally,Holmesattemptedtomovehertoaction.

“You have triedmy patience.Will you not followmyadvice,foryourownsake,Mrs.Dumpty.”

“Iwill…but first,mayIask,canyoutellmehowyoufiguredoutwhattrulyhappened?”

“I can… your husband’s ability to get an insurancepolicy, admitting to his unusual occupation, could onlyhappeniftheinsurerbelievedhewasimmunetodamagefromanaccident.SinceMr.Dumpty chose toworkwithnosafetynet, Ideducedsomethingmusthavechangedin his own physical make-up to him believe he wasinvulnerable to a tragic accident. You yourself providedmetwoofthecrucialcluestothecase.”

“…andwhatwerethose?”“First,youmentionedyourhusbandhadbeenvisiting

a Turkish bath for the week before the ‘accident.’ Ofcourse,thatseemedsostrangeforanoversizedegg.SoI visited the bath-house you had mentioned two daysago.Youare correct, hehadbeen visiting thepremiseseachday.Butthedayoftheaccident,hemadeaspecialrequest of the owner of the spa. He was placed into aspecial bath, whose water was brought up to boilingtemperatureforaperiodoffifteenminutes.

“Orsohethought.Mr.Dumpty,canIcallhimHumpty,used his own pocket watch for his time in the boilingbath.Littledidheknow thewatchwas running fast.Hisperceptionoffifteenminuteswasinrealitylessthannineminutes.While thiswouldbesufficient time tohardenasmaller being, a man of your husband’s size and heftwouldneverreachthesolidityhesought insuchashorttime.

“When last we met, you indicated you were thedaughter of a watchmaker, and had apprenticed underhim.Itwouldhavebeeneasyforyoutochangetheinnerworkingsof thewatch.HaveIcorrectly laidout the factstoyoursatisfaction?”

Onlyafewsnifflesthistime.Noneedforbrandy.“Yesyouhave.But every story has two sides, unlike

an egg.Humpty and I met several years ago, and as I

have already laid out, we married five years ago. Andthingswere “poachy”upuntila fewmonthsago.Duringour nightly outing to walk the dog, he tripped and fellagainst a light pole. For most people, that may haveresulted in bruise or even broken bone. For him, itcausedamajor crack inhisouter shell.Fortunately, hiscore yolk was unharmed, and surgeons were able topatchthecrack.

“Hechangedafter that.Hebecame“hard” toreach. Iguessmost people do after a life-threatening event. Hebecamemoredaring, almost as if hehadadeathwish.And he became very jealous of my pristine shell. Overand over, he would imply that a few cracks would addcharacter, andonly amajor crackwouldhelpmebetterappreciate what he had gone through. He evenpurchasedagiganticeggcrackerthathewouldholdovermeinbed.

“I couldonly take somuch.So I hatched a plan, nopun intended, to stop the threats. As you were able todeduce, once he decided to harden his inner beingthrough the boiling process, changing the watch so hewasundercookedwaseasy.”

Holmes interrupted. “Andwhenyoudisappeared intothebuilding, I amassuming itwas to “scramble”up thestairs,toreleaseacuckoobird.Thatparticularbreedhasa unique affinity toward eggs, and so it was notsurprising our feathered friend went straight to yourhusband,distractingjustenoughforhimtomisstep.”

“ThatwastheonlywayIcouldthinktogethimofftheroof.Thewindswerenotstrongenoughtopushhimoff.He was extremely agile and well-balanced. X-raysshowedhisyolktobeverywell-centered.

“There ismy story,Mr. Holmes. I am in your hands.Youcantakewhatstepsyoulike.AsIhavealreadysaid,

there isnowoman livingwhocan feardeath less than Ido.”

Thosewordssoundedstrangelysimilartome.WherehadIheardthembefore?

Holmes continued. “Well, it is a great responsibilitythatItakeuponmyself…Seehere,Mrs.Dumpty,we’lldothisindueformoflaw.Youaretheprisoner.Watson,youare a British jury, and I never met a woman who wasmore eminently fitted to represent one. I am the judge.Now,gentlemanofthejury,youhaveheardtheevidence.Doyoufindtheprisonerguiltyornotguilty?”

Againwiththesimilarlanguage.“Guilty,”saidI.Notallthingsstaythesame.“Ibelieve

youtobea“rottenegg”atheart.”“Watson,Ibelieveyouarejudgingheralittleharshly.

WhileIbelievehermotivetohavebeen‘mislaid’,Icannotingoodfaithcondemnhercompletely.‘AlthoughIcannotlayanegg,Iamaverygoodjudgeofomelets.’Afterall,‘An egg is always an adventure; the next one may bedifferent.’And remember, ‘A true friend is someonewhothinks that you are a good egg even though he knowsthatyouareslightlycracked.’”

“Holmes, you just stole three quotes from otherfamous personalities to justify your position. This isbeneathyou.Plus,allofyourpunsaresimplytotryand“crackmeup.”

“True, but I believe our client to be redeemable.Therefore,goforthintotheworldanddogooddeedsfortherestofyourdays.Thatwilljustifymyfaithinyou.”

A fewmonths laterwhile readingTheTimes, I foundanarticletosharewithHolmes.

“Itappearsourwidowwillbealrightafterall.Shehassuedtheking’smenformalpracticefornotbeingabletoput Humpty together again; she has sued the building

engineer and architect for defective design of the wall(notenoughsafety features),andevensued theCityofLondonfornegligence.Allweresettledoutofcourt,andeveryone has signed a non-disclosure form. This willmakeherrich.”

Holmesbroke out into a small smile. “Yes shewill. Iam sure whoever helped build her case was alsosufficientlycompensated.”

Weatewellthatnight,andformonthstocome.

—TheEnd—

S

I’LLBEBACK!

BYSTEVEMASON

Basedon“Death’sMessenger”

herlock Holmes stared down into the abyss,ensuringMoriartyhadreachedthebottomof thefalls.Hismindwasalreadydetermininghis next

steps.Focusingon thewatercascadingbyhim,Holmesdidnotnoticethequietapproachofthestrangeruntilhestood right beside the world’s greatest consultingdetective.“Ishedead…??”

“Yes, I accompanied him to the bottom of the falls.What’sleftofhimwillsoonbefishfood.”

Holmesglancedat thenewcomerwithasmirk. “I didnotknowyouhadasenseofhumor.”

The shrouded figure responded, “Just because myjob is to take living humans to the other side, does notprecludemefromenjoyingthework.”

“AslongasyourealizeI’mnotreadytogoyet.”Atthatmomentalargestonestruckoffthesideofthe

cliffwhere theywere standing, strikingDeath directly inthechest.Theforceoftheblowknockedhimdownontohisback.Immediatelyalargerstonelandednearhisfeet,

bouncedandcametorestonhismid-section.Theweightoftherockimmobilizedthespectreasabugpinnedtoadisplayboard.

Holmes glanced up and spotted the second mostdangerous man in London, Colonel Sebastian Moran.Thesnarlonhisvisagerevealedhisfrustrationthestoneshadmissedtheirintendedtarget,Holmeshimself.Morandisappearedfromtheedge,nottobeseenbyHolmesforthreeyears,acrossthestreetfrom221bBakerStreet.

The detective brought his attention back to Death,wholayunderthelargeboulder,utterlydefeated.

“YourealizeifIstayinthisposition,noonewilldieintheworld,anditwillgetsofullofpeoplethattheywon’thaveroomtostandbesideeachother.”

Holmes, taking pity on the messenger of demise,usedthe first rock tossedbyMoran,witha largebranchnearby,toleveragethestoneoffthechestofDeath.

Once composed, Death looked directly at Holmes,stating, “You know, I spare no one, and can make noexception with you – but that you may see that I amgrateful, I will promise you that I will not fall on youunexpectedly, but you will see me again at the time ofyournextfailureasadetective.”

Holmesresponded,“ItissomethinggainedthatIshallknowwhenyoucome,andatanyratebesafe fromyouforaperiod.”

HolmesleftDeathontheledge,tofulfilltheprovisionsof the ‘Great Hiatus,’ before returning to London tocontinue his career. The years went by, and he stayedlight-hearted, and enjoyed himself, and lived withoutthought. In his middle years, Holmes retired to SussexDowns, to live out the rest of his life, focused on hisapiaryanditsinhabitants.

–––-

One day, a knock on the door of his cottageawakenedHolmes fromhisdailyafternoonnap.Holmesslowlymovedtothedoor,peeringthroughthecurtain.Hewasalwayscareful tonotopen theportal tosolicitorsorunwanted clients. Happily, the face looking back at himwasverywelcomed.

“John,ithasbeenawhile.Pleasecomeit.”The duo retreated into the study, whereHolmes still

conducted small chemical tests, mostly for his ownentertainment.

“TowhatdoIowethisunexpectedvisit.”“Mr. Holmes, you know I come out to check on you

during the firstweekof eachquarter of the year. I havenotseenyousinceDecember.”

“You are right… it seems like I just saw you a fewweeksago.Howisthepractice?”

“Itkeepsmeverybusy,thepatientsarenotaspatientastheyusedtobe,nopunintended…”

“Andthewife…?”John winked. “She is wonderful, as always… you

knowsheisexpectingagain…”“Yourthird…?”“No,wewillbeup to four…twoboys, twogirls…we

shouldbringthemouthereforyoutosee…”Holmes smiled. “Oh, since thedaysof the irregulars

areover,IamnotsureIamuptohearingthepitterpatterofsmallfeetaroundthehouse.”

“I can understand… as I understand so manythings… but there is one thing I just cannot wrap mymind around… Holmes, you were born in 1854, if thecalculationsbytheBSIandothersaretobeaccepted.Itis 1996.Thatwouldmake you 142 years old…. It’s justnotfeasible…”

John’svoicetrailedoffwiththelaststatement.

Holmes wistfully looked out the window for a longperiod before responding. “You know, your greatgrandfatherwasthelastpersonIallowedtocallmejustby my surname. I believe my longevity is simple. Thebeeskeepmealive.Ihavedevelopedtheperfecthoney,beepollen,androyaljellycombination.Icansharesomewithyouifdesired.”

“Sorry, I amnot accepting that story.People all overthe world eat those ingredients and do not live toanywhereclosetoyourage.Tryagain.”

“And just like your ancestor, you cannot accept theeasiestexplanation.Then,letmeprovideyouthetruth…”

Holmes then related to the young physician the talewhenhemetDeathat theReichenbach falls,hissavingofthespectre’slife,andtheagreementreached.

“By the time I retired to this humble abode, I hadsuccessfullyconcludedover1,600cases,oradventures,asyourgrandfatherwaspronetocallthem.Ifyourecall,in the “The Five Orange Pips,” I indicated to JohnOpenshawthatIhadbeenbeatenfourtimes–threetimesbymen,andoncebyawoman.Thatadventureoccurredin September, 1887. You can guess the identity of thewoman,MissIreneAdler.Idonotneedtodetailthethreemen.

“Nowrecall,attheendofmymeetingwithDeath,hestated Iwouldseehimagain ‘…at the timeofyournextfailure as a detective.’ When I retired in 1914, my lastcase chronicled by Dear Watson as “His Last Bow.” Ittrulywasmylastbowasadetective.AndImayimmodesttotellyou,IwasneverdefeatedagainasadetectiveaftermyencounteronthefallswithDeath.

“SohereIam,andhereIwillbeuntiltheendoftime.This explains why the London Times has never carriedmyobituary.”

Johnhadnoresponsetothetale,sohe justsatandstaredattheMaster.

“You know, it hasbeen saidbymanyover the yearsaboutmyself, ‘SherlockHolmes—Themanwho neverlivedandneverdied…’well, theyarehalf right…I’ll seeyounextquarter…bringthekids…we’llhaveapicnic…”

—TheEnd—

T

WATSON’STITLE:SHERLOCKHOLMES&THEADVENTUREOFTHESICKDOGHOLMES’TITLE:

TRUSTYJOHN

BYKARENOLSON

Basedon“FaithfulJohannes”

I.APortentousDayin1892

hedaydawned frosty and heavywith a noxiousyellow fog creeping up and down the Londonstreets, rising higher than the windows of our

first-floorsittingroomat221BBakerStreet.Thethickfogconcealed numerous criminals and miscreants as theyquietlywentabouttheirsinisterdeedswhiledecentfolksgatheredaroundtheircoalfires.

HolmessaysthecoalfirescontributetotheinfamousLondon fogs,but I’mnotsosure.Holmes’knowledgeofweather may just be fake science. His agent, ConanDoyle stopped by the other day and he agreed withHolmes’ comments about the fog, but Doyle believes infaeries,sohowmuchcredencecanIgivehimconcerningaweatherphenomenon…

IamJohnH.Watson,MD, lateIndianArmysurgeon.SinceIarrivedinLondonafterbeing invalidedoutof the

army in 1880 due to wounds sustained in Maiwand, IhavebeenperiodicallysharingtheseBakerStreetroomswith Sherlock Holmes, the world’s first consultingdetective.AlthoughIhavearespectablemedicalpractice,I am more commonly known around the empire asHolmes’ biographer, and I have made a tidy sum byretelling our adventures for readers of The StrandMagazine.

Our cases have ranged from blackmail and theft tokidnapping and murder. The victims have spanned alllevels of society from royalty to street urchins.Wehavebeen targeted for elimination by none other thanProfessorJamesMoriarty,theNapoleonofcrime,andhishenchmen, including the Moran brothers, James andSebastian. Their murderous weapons include cudgel,firearms,explosives,poisons,thenewlyinventedGermanair rifle,garroting,andanythingelse thatcouldproducethedesiredfatality.

When my dear wife, Mary, is incommoded by mymedicalpracticeorabsentthecity,IreturntothedigsonBakerStreettoassistHolmeswithhisdetectionwork.

Last night’s marathon playing of his violin signaledthat he was between cases, a situation harmful to thehealth of a superior mind which craves stimulation. Ihopedthatthefogwouldnotdiscouragepotentialclientsfromseekinghiscounselanylonger.

Today,ashisusualhabit,Holmesspentmuchof theearlymorningreadingcriminalnewsandagonycolumnsin various newspapers. Later he alternated betweenreading Grimm’s Fairy Tales and consulting hiscommonplace book, a bibliographic work of his owninventionintendedtoreferencepeople,placesandthingswhich might present themselves in future cases. Hecheckedtheindexunder“K”andmumbled,“Keswick,the

London paperhanger; Klopman, the Nihilist; Ku KluxKlan…”

All thisbeforewesatdown toenjoyourbreakfastofblackpuddingandtea…SoonHolmeswasreadytolightuphisthirdpipeofshagforthemorningandhereachedfor that tobacco which he kept in the toe of a Persianslipperonthemantel.

II.TheTaleofaTail

Ourlandlady,thegoodMrs.Hudson,hadjustlefttheroom with our breakfast dishes when we heard apoundingonthefrontdoor.

Thenext thingweknew, thedoor to thesitting roomwas flung open and in stepped a small grubby ladclutchingahoundas largeashimself. Itwasdifficult toascertainwhichhadabsorbedthemostmudandgrit,theladorthedog.

“Here,here,”Isaid,“What…“Holmessaidflatly,“Hello,Wiggins.Whatseemstobe

thetroublewithfriendToby?”“HowdidyougetpastMrs.Hudson?”Iasked.“Please, Sir. I told her Mr. Holmes have told me to

bring him my dog. Sorry for the little lie, Sir. Oh, Mr.Holmes! I thinkhe’sdonebeenpoisoned!Canyouhelpus?”Thechildseemedquitedistressed.

“Well, let’shavea lookathimwhileyou telluswhatleduptothis.Doctor,whatdoyouthink?”

Holmessoughttoreassurethelad.“Ahah,well, the tissuesseema littledehydrated,but

hisheartbeatisstrong,noseiscold,andeyesarebright.”That’saboutallIknowaboutdogs.

Wiggins began: “Old Sherman giveme Toby to takecareofwhilehegonetoLochNessthisweektonetsomekindofbigfishhewantedtostuff.HesaidifItakegoodcareofToby,he’dgivemehisbadger.”

“Nowearlythismorningwe,thatismeandTobyhere,was over byPaddingtonStationwhen this toff comebyandask ifwewas forhire to tracksomebodywho’d justcameoff the train. I toldhim itwould cost him tenbob.Helookedlikehecouldpayandhesaidhewould.”

“What did this man look like, Wiggins?” Holmeslookedsuspicious.

“Heweredressed likeaswell,withadarksuitandawaistcoat,withagoldwatchonachain.Heweren’tmuchto look at.Hewere tall and thinwith a sharp nose anddark eyes. His hair were gray and hung on his collarunder his high hat. His foreheadwere tall, too, and hisfacewerekindofsunk inon thesides.”The ladpausedthoughtfully. “He talked real good though, kind of likeyou,Mr.Holmes.”

Hegivemeahandkerchief forTobytotakethescentand pointed out the way the man must have came. Itwereeasytofollowhim,eveninthefog.Butitturnsoutitweren’tnoHim.ItwereaHer.”

“MeandTobycaughtup toheronPittStreetasshegoneintoNumber41.Abutleropenedthedoorandsaid,‘Goodmorning,MissAdler.’“

“What did the woman look like,” asked Holmesexpectantly.

Wiggins paused again, then stated, “She were tallandshewalkedfunnyandIcouldn’tseeherface‘causeshe had this cloth wrapped around her head and facesortoflikeaA-raborarobber.Shedidn’thavenopursethat I seen. Her blue dress were fine. She looked likethem rich ones in the park onSunday, and sheweren’t

noservinggirleither;Icantellya.”“Sowegoesbacktothestationandtellstheman.He

givemethetenshillingsandtwopiecesofcake.MeandToby goes to KensingtonGardens and sits on a benchunder a tree. Theman had said that Toby should haveone piece of cake and I the other ‘causewe both donesuchagood job.Well, IgivesTobyhispiecebutbeforehe could eatmore than a small bite and before I couldeat any ofmine, this giant beast comes out of the fog,gulps both pieces of cake and starts to run across theparkwithmeandTobyrightbehindhim.”

“I swear, Doctor, it was just like thatmonster houndyou wrote about what killed them folks on the moors.Exceptthisonedidn’tkillnobody.Infact,half-waytothefountain, it just fell over, stone dead. There weren’t nomarks on him neither. He just looked like any other olddog,onlybigger.Buthemaybedidn’t looksobigwhenheweredead.”

Tobysniffedhimandthenbackedupandwouldn’tgonear that dog again. Honest, Mr. Holmes, I never seennothing like it, but I swear that’s what happened. ThatdeaddogandTobygettingrealsickafter thatgotmetothinkingthatmaybethatcakewerepoison.

“You can leave Toby with us for a day or two, but Ithinkhe’llbealright.SoundslikebothyouandTobyhada close call there. Did the man who hired you sayanythingelse?”,inquiredHolmesgently.

“HesaidheknowedI’dlikelygivemydogsomeofthecake,sohegivemeapieceformeandapieceforToby.Andhesaid thecakewerespecialandweshouldeat italluprightawaybecauseitwouldn’tkeep.Itbeensuchalongtimesincewehadcakeandnowitlookslikeweain’tnevergoingtogetnone.”

Onthelad’sdepartureIknewwecouldcountonMrs.

Hudson tocorrect thisdeficiency,and Ipatted theboy’sgrimyshoulder.

III.TheGameisAfoot

Holmes lookedangrybutsaidnomoreuntilafter theladhadleft.Thenhesaid,“Watson,pleasefetchTobyalarge bowl of milk and a soft blanket. Then, come,Watson!Thegameisafoot!”

IknewthatalthoughHolmeswastotallycommittedtohis profession, he had referred to Miss Irene Adler as“The Woman”, and although her methods were notstrictly legal, I thinkheadmiredher intelligenceandhercleverness.Besides that, shehada sparkle inhereyesand a beautiful countenance. It was, therefore, nosurprise that Holmes leapt at the chance to rescue thelady from possible harm from one whose description,according toWiggins, so perfectly fitted that ofMoriartyhimself.

We left hurriedly for Pitt Street and as Holmesrequested, I carriedmypistolandsomeextracartridgesinmyjacketpocket.Thefoghadliftedalittle,increasingvisibilitybyadozenyardsandleavingthesidewalkswithanoilysheenandanodourofsulfur.

Whenwereachedourdestination,weslippedintothedoorway of an abandoned building across the narrowstreet and waited. Almost immediately, the door tonumber41openedandoutcameawomaninalongbluedress who fit the description given by Wiggins. If thisreallywasIreneAdlerIknewHolmeswouldbeinamanicfugue for some days. Still, the woman’s face wascovered,notunusualinthefog,andshewalkedstraight

ahead, in an odd way with long strides and out-turnedfeet.

Suddenlyeverythingseemedtohappenatonce.Shewalkedstraight up tousandas shepointedher closedparasolatmycompanionshesaid,“Mydear,Mr.Holmes”in a deep, hoarse voice. Holmes somberly replied,“Sebastian.” The scarf covering her face slipped andrevealedasomewhatcoarse,masculinefacewithanevilsneer.ItwasnotIreneAdler!Atthatmoment,thepistolIwasendeavoringtoremovefrommyjacketslippedoutofmyhandandlandedonthesidewalkwithaloudreport.

The woman clutched her side, uttered an expletive,droppedherparasol,and fled intoahansomcabwhichmusthavebeenwaitingforherinthestreet.

I started to follow the poorwoman to see if shehadbeen seriously injured by my clumsiness. Now I sawdrops of fresh blood leading to the street. Holmesgrabbed me by the arm, and laughing, said, “TrustyJohn. You have savedmy life. I assumeColonelMoranwill not pose further threat for at least a few days. Icertainlywant to closely examine this cleverly disguisedairrifle.VonHerder’sinventionisdeadlybutfascinating,”hesaid,pickinguptheparasol.

“But,Holmes…”Istammered.Holmes hummed softly all the way back to Baker

Street and said, “Perhaps I should send a ‘speedyrecovery’missiveincareofProfessorMoriarty.”

Note:Ihavedelayedthepublicationofthisadventure

purely as a matter of vanity. Even though myactionsalonesavedtheday,thefullstorydoesnotreflectwell onmy intellectual capabilities,andmyheroismwas somewhat inadvertent.While always

endeavoringtofaithfullyreportthefactsofacase,Ihaverelegatedthistellingtothetindispatch-boxatCox and Co., the Charing Cross banking firm, inhopes that future readers will viewme with somemodicumofcharity.

J.H.W.

—TheEnd—

D

THEADVENTUREOFTHEGLASSSLIPPER

BYWALTERPIEPER

Basedon“Cinderella”

uring my long association with my friendSherlock Holmes there have been many casesthatwerestrange,horrific,andmightIsayeven

bizarre. But as I look over my notes, I find one inparticular that grabbed the attention of Holmesimmediately.

It was a cold, dreary day in November 1896. It hadbeenrainingforseveraldaysandtheswirlingyellowfogandthedampnessmadeonefeelfortunatetobeclosetothe fire inoursitting roomat221B.Holmes spentmuchof the time cataloging his various newspaper clippingsfrom theTimes,buthisdaysof inactivityhadmadehimrestlessandirritable.

It is times like this that makeme worry that Holmesmaybetemptedtoreachforthemoroccocasecontainingthe seven percent solution. I know that this demon issleeping but I fear that it can always awaken.However,with thesoundof familiar footstepson thestairs leadinguptoourquarters,Iknewthatanewcasewasathand.

“ComeinLestrade.It isalwaysapleasuretoseeoneofScotlandYard’sfinestatourdoor,”saidHolmes.

HolmeshadalwayshadcontemptforScotlandYard’sinspectors but always felt that Lestradewas the best ofthelot.

Lestradeopenedthedoor.“Myword,Mr.Holmes,howdidyouknowitwasme?”“Elementary, Lestrade.Theweight of your stepsand

thehesitationinyourstridemademerealizethatitcouldonly be you. How can I help you? I trust that you areseeking my assistance on some matter that is leavingScotlandYardataloss.Butfirstyoumustbeabsolutelychilled to the bone. Have some brandy. That shouldwarmyouup.Watson,wouldyoubesokind?”

Iwenttothetantulusandpouredsomebrandyfortheinspector.

“Thank you Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson,” saidLestradeashedranktheamberliquid.“Itdoeswarmthebones I have to admit. I am coming to you sir about aproblemthathasjustbaffledusdownattheYard.”

“SitdownLestradeandtellusallaboutit.”Holmessatbackinhischair,closedhiseyesandput

his fingertips together as he alwaysdoeswhenhe is intotalconcentration.

“Wellyouseesirit’slikethis.ApackagearrivedattheYardandwhenitwasopeneditcontainedaglassslipper.Now doesn’t that seem odd to you. Inside the packagewasanoteaskingus to find thewomanwhose foot fitsthisslipper.”

Holmes opened his eyes and leaned forward in thechair.

“Whosignedthenote?”heasked.“ThenotewassignedbyRogerThistlethorpe.”“NotTheThistlethorpesofBollingbrookeCastle.They

are one of wealthiest families in England. Their wealthdatesbacktothePlantagenetDynasty,”statedmyfriend.

“You’rerightonthatoneMr.Holmes.”“HasanyoneattheYardtriedtocontactthefamilyor

moreimportantlyRogerThistlethorpehimself?”“Aswespeak,StanleyHopkins isup there rightnow

investigatingthematter.Ibroughttheslipperwithmesoyoucouldexamineityourself.”

Lestrade gave the glass slipper to Holmes. Heexamined it very closelywithhis lensand turned it overseveraltimesintheprocess.

“Thisobject isverysingularandappears tobemadeof the finest crystal that comes from somewhere on thecontinent—perhapseasternEuropeaninorigin.Also, theperson who wore this slipper has a very small, narrowfoot.DoyoumindifIkeepthisLestrade?”

“Notatall,Mr.Holmes.”Holmeslookedatmeandsaid,“WellWatson,areyou

uptoatriptoBollingbrookCastle?”“Certainly.”“Thenpackyourbagsandtakeyourservicerevolver.

BeagoodfellowandlookonBradshaw’s.”“There’satrainleavingVictorianStationintwohours,

Holmes.”“Excellent!PleaseletMrs.Hudsonknowthatwemay

notbebackuntiltomorrow.”We left Victoria Station and after a few hours we

arrivedatBollingbrooktrainstation.We were met by Inspector Stanley Hopkins of

ScotlandYard.“A pleasure to see you again, Hopkins,” said my

friend.“SamehereMr.Holmes,Dr.Watson.Thisisastrange

business. Young Roger Thistlethorpe is distraught over

thematter.Hemetthisyoungwomanataballheldatthecastle. He was immediately smitten by her and dancedwith her all night.Whenmidnight approached, she fledfrom the castle and vanished into the darkness. Hediscovered that she had dropped one of her glassslippersonthesteps.”

“I take it thathedoesnotknowwhoshe isorwhereshelives.”

“Rightyouaresir.”Wedrovefromthetrainstationtothecastleinafour

wheeler.Itwasextremelyfoggywithbonechillingcold.AsweapproachedBollingbrook,thecastleloomedup

before us with its turrets and battlements piercing thesky. It isoneof theoldestcastles inEnglandanddatesbacktotheNormanConquest.

Over the centuries, additions were made to theoriginal structure making it a sprawling and imposingedifice.

Weexited thecarriageandweregreetedat thedoorbyyoungRogerhimself.

“I am so happy to see you Mr. Holmes. InspectorHopkins said that you would be coming to help in theinvestigation,”exclaimedRoger.

“Ineedtobegivenallthedataconcerningthismatter.Maywecomein?”

Wewereusheredintothegreatroom.Itremindedmesomuch of Baskerville Hall somany years agowith itsdark,gloomy,gothicinteriorandsenseofforeboding.

The young master told us of the ball that was heldthere several days ago and how he met this beautifulyoungwomandresseduplikeaprincess.

They danced all night and when the clock struckmidnight, she rushed down the steps and disappearedinto the night not to be seen again. In her haste, she

dropped one of her glass slippers on the steps of thecastle.

“This is all I have left to remindme of this beautifulwoman,Mr.Holmes.IamfilledwithdespairthinkingthatIwillneverfindnorseeheragain.”

“Did she accompany someone or did she arrivealone?”

“I asked other people who were present at the ballandfromwhatIcangatheritappearsthatsheworksforLadyHastingsandhertwodaughters,”saidHopkins.

“Lady Hastings has the reputation of being a vain,wickedshrewandfromwhatIunderstandherdaughtersare not much better. She treats her servants justdreadfully.Oneyoungwomaninparticular is treatedtheworst.”

“Whatisthenameofthisyoungwoman?”“She is known as Cinderella. She lost her mother

when she was a young child and was raised by LadyHastings and her daughters. All her life she has beentreated worse than a common servant girl. She wearsdirty raggedclothesandsleeps in theattic.Thestrangething, Mr. Holmes, is that the description that severaltownsfolk have given of her matches the description ofthiswomanthatyoungRogermetattheball.”

“Mr.Holmes,isitpossiblethatIhavenotlostherafterall?”saidRogerThistlethorpe.

“I do not assume until I have all the facts but itappearsthatthiscasemaybesolvedshortly.I justhavetogetafewmorepiecesofthispuzzle,”saidmyfriend.

“I thinkavisit toLadyHastingsandherdaughters isinorder.”

LadyHastings’ residencewas located in a very ruralarea only a few miles from the castle. Hastings Manorwasoncegloriousinappearancebuthadobviouslyfallen

onhardtimes.A rutted, muddy road led up to the front of this

decrepit building. Chickens, pigs and other animalsroamed freely overwhat hadoncebeenwellmanicuredgrounds. Itwas sad to seewhat this onceproudhousehadbecome.

Hopkins, Holmes and myself knocked on the frontdoor only to be opened by a slovenly servant. Holmespresented his card and asked to see the lady of thehouse.

Wewereshowninandtoldtowait forLadyHastingsin the front room. She was a large woman who woreshabbyclothesthatwereatonetimeratherelegantbutIcould tell that she still tried to present herself with anaristocraticstyle.

“Whatisitthatyouwant?”sherudelyasked.“Madam,” said Holmes, “we are making inquiries

aboutanindividualwhowefeelisresidinginthishouse.IbelievehernameisCinderella.”

“I knowof no suchperson. Iwould like you to leavemyhome.”

“Not until we search the premises. I am InspectorStanleyHopkins of Scotland Yard and I have reason tobelieve that there issuchaperson locked in theatticofthishouse.”

IleanedovertoHolmesandwhispered,“IfindeedwefindthiswomaninthehousehowwillwedetermineifsheisindeedthepersonRogerThistlethorpemetattheball.Iamsurethatherappearanceisvastlydifferentfromthepersonhesaw.”

Holmes replied, “I already have a means ofdeterminingifCinderellaisthesameperson.”

Aswerosetogoupstairs,LadyHastingsorderedherservantstorestrainus.

HerservantsblockedHopkins’pathbutHolmesandIwere able to bypass and raced up the stairs.When wereached the attic door, we heard a pounding and awoman’svoice.

“Please let me out. By all that’s holy please, dearGod,freemefromthisprison,”shescreamed.

Weheardfootstepsracingupthestairsbehindus.“QuickWatson!Wemustopenthisdoor.”The door was of thick oak with a massive lock. I

turnedtheknobbutthedoorwouldnotbudge.“Watsonshootthelock!”I pulledoutmy service revolver and fired.Thebullet

dislodgedpartofthelockbutthedoorstillheld.“Again,Watson!”I fired again, aiming at the very core of the

mechanism.Thistimetherewasanexplosionasthelockfinally blew apart and pieces of metal flew in alldirections.

We opened the door and rushed inside. Therestanding before us was a beautiful woman, who wasgrimy,barefootandwearingraggedclothes.

“Thankyoukindsirsforsavingme!”“AreyouCinderella?”Holmesasked.“Yessir,Iam.”“Thenquick,tryonthisglassslipper.”She held out her foot and Holmes slipped the shoe

on.Itwasaperfectfit.At the moment, Lady Hastings, her servants, and

InspectorHopkinsarrivedatthedoor.“Hopkins, the mystery has been solved. This is

Cinderella. The glass slipper fits her perfectly. PleaseinformyoungRogerthatwehavefoundher.”

Withthatthemysteryoftheglassslipperwasover.Afinalnote—RogerThistlethorpewasfinallyreunited

withhisCinderella.HolmesandIattendedtheirwedding.ThusthisfairytaleendsanddareIsaythattheylived

happilyeverafter.

—TheEnd—

I

THECURIOUSAFFAIROFTHESHOESTHATDANCEDTHEMSELVESTOPIECES

BYMICHAELJ.QUIGLEY,BSI

Basedon“TheShoesThatWereDancedtoPieces”

t was a cold, and dreadfully wet morning in earlyNovember in the year 1903.Mywifewasaway for afew weeks visiting an aging relation, and so rather

than knocking about an empty house in Queen AnneStreet,IdecidedtovisitBakerStreetforafewdaysorsoandtobeonceagaininfamiliarsurroundsandtobewithmy dear friend. On the morning after I had arrived, Iawoke to findmy friend’sdispositionwasalmostas foulastheweatheraswesatafterbreakfastoneithersideofa golden fire in the old room at Baker Street. SherlockHolmes had been silent all the morning, dippingcontinuously into theagony columnsof a successionofpapers until at last, having apparently given up hissearch, he sunk motionless folded in his chair andsmoking his cherrywoodpipe,which always signaled adisputatious mood, as he stared unblinkingly at thecrackling fire—his dejected newspapers in a pile on thefloor.

Athickfogrolledinbetweenthelinesofdun-coloured

houses while the patter of the rain drops were asconstantanddeafeningasthegunfirefromtheGhazisinthat dusty valley inAfghanistanmore than twenty yearsearlier.Forsomereason,Ialwaysequatedheavyrainasit battered the windows and sash with the sounds ofdistant combat. A clap of thunder only added to theillusion.Thehousesoppositeourroomsloomedlikedark,shapelessblursthroughtheheavyyellowwreathsoffogand slashing deluge which cast a sepia pallor on thewhite cloth and the glimmer of china and silver, for thetablehadnotbeenclearedyet.

Whensuddenly, therecametheringingofbells fromthegroundfloor.Itwasn’tthegentlejingleofthedoorbellthat always forecasted a new adventure. This was thejarring alarm of bells of the new-fangled telephone thathad been installed in the entry hall just a few monthsago. Holmes took an immediate practical liking to themodernconveniencewhenitwasinstalled,butaccordingto Mrs. Hudson, in the weeks since, it seems to haveentirelyescapedhisnotice. Iwish Icouldsay thesame.Even inmyshort timebackatBakerStreet, inevitably itwould sound its infernal and incessant ringing at themost inopportunetimes,suchasduringafternoonteaorin themiddleof thenightwhensomeconstableondutyat the Yard felt compelled to call upon “the greatSherlock Holmes” to inform him that there has been amurderinLimehouseoraburglaryinMayfair.Inasmuchas I came to despise the damn thing, Holmes, for hispart, seemed to be quite oblivious to clarion call everytime it rang. Only Mrs. Hudson ever answered thecontraption. And thus was so on this bleak morning. Iheardthemuffledtoneofourhousekeeper’svoiceasshepicked up the receiver mid-ring. Moments later, thestatelytrodofherfootfallsonthe17stepsthatledupto

the sitting room. I opened the door as Mrs. Hudsonplacedtheextensionatthetopofthelandingonasilversalver and proceeded to carry it into the room, its longfabric-covered wire trailing along behind her. “InspectorMartin of theGreaterManchester PoliceDepartment foryou,sir.”

“What,couldhepossiblywant?”queriedHolmes,notbothering to break his trace-like staring at the fire. “I’msure I don’t know!” quipped Mrs. Hudson, “said it wasurgent and then asked for you, sir.” Holmes unfoldedhimself, stood up to full height and stretched his armsover his head as if waking from a long slumber. “Well,then…wemustn’tkeeptheInspectorwaiting.”Takingthereceiver in hand with a condescending “Yes, Inspector,how can I be of service?” Holmes’ face betrayed hisgrowing interest inwhatever itwas that InspectorMartinhadcalledabout.“Indeed,“saidHolmes,“yes,quiteright.Ishallcomepresently.”

Holmes hung up the phone, gave a nod and a wrysmile to Mrs. Hudson, and dashed into his room tochange out of his dressing gown and put on properclothingwithouta furtherword. “Isay,Holmes!Whatonearthwasthatallabout?”“Adelightful littlemystery!”heshoutedthroughtheopendoorconnectinghisroomwiththesittingroom,“itwouldappearthatSirAlgernonGrim-Babbington of Grimsley Hall, Stockport, has made aninquiry to thepoliceof theutmostdelicacy.Butsincenocrimeappearstohavebeencommitted,theyreferredthemattertome.”

“Whatmatter?”“The curious matter of his daughter’s shoes having

dancedthemselvestopieces.”“Doesn’tseemverycurioustome,Holmes.Clearlyhis

daughterhasbeentosomecotillionorpartyanddanced

the night away. Hardly amystery and certainly not onethatIthinkrisesthelevelthatshouldinterestyou.”

A few moments later, my friend reentered the roomdressed inadark frockcoat,starchedcollaredshirtwitha silk cravat, and the emerald stickpin. I knewimmediately that therewasmoney in this case! Holmesonlyeverworethatpreciousstickpinwhenhewastryingtomakequitetheimpression.Itwas,afterall,agiftfromamostgraciousandnoble lady. Idaresay, Ican’t recallseeingHolmeswearingitsinceshediedonlyafewshortyearsago.

“Grim-Babbington… isn’t he the Conservative MPrepresenting Greater Manchester?” Holmes closed hiseyesandwitha flourishofhisarms,madeaslightbow,“quiteso,andadescendantfromsomeonewhowasbornon the wrong side of the blanket of one of thePlantagenets no less. I shall give you amore completeaccountingof the factsenroute. Ifwehurry,wecan justmake the 11:15 to Manchester.” Holmes packed hisGladstoneandwithinfifteenminutes,weweresplashingdown Baker Street in a Hansom on our way to EustonStation.

Itwasn’tuntilwewereseatedinourcompartmentthatHolmesmadegoodonhispromisetolaythefactsofthecase before me. “Sir Algernon has a daughter, Sophie,who is a headstrong youngwoman of twenty-one yearsand known to the local constabulary as a rabble-raiserwhenitcomestopoliticalandsocialwelfare issues.Shehas a suiter, a young law student named David NortonWorthington,who shares his father’s liberal politics andthereforedoesnotenjoythesupportofSirAlgernonasasuitable companion for his daughter. Sir Algernon has,for his part, forbidden his daughter from seeing Mr.Worthington under any circumstances. And has taken

rather extreme measures that she should be keptseparate from him; that of locking his daughter in herbedroomeach night to ensure that she does not sneakawayunderdarknessforamidnighttryst.

“My goodness! How utterly medieval of the man.” Iexclaimed… “butwhat does any of this have to dowiththestateandserviceabilityofhershoes?”“That,mydearWatson,isthedelightfulpartofthismystery.”Icouldseethat Holmes’ black mood was lifting even if the raincloudsandfoghadnot.“SirAlgernondidlockSophieinher room last night, but when the door had beenunlocked this morning by the housekeeper, shediscoveredthattheyounglady’sshoeshadbeenterriblyworn and scratched. Sir Algernon demanded to knowhowtheycametobeinsuchastate,butSophiedeniedany knowledge, and claimed that she had been asleepandsecuredinherroomallthenight.”

“Howextraordinary!” IsaidasI turnedto lookout thewindowaswespedthroughthesoggycountryside.“Buthonestly, Holmes. This is hardly a matter for you… nogigantichoundordancingmen,justayoungladyhidingalate-nightrendezvouswithaboyherfatherdisapprovesof.”

“Hardlythat,Watson.Hardlythat.”Therestofthejourneywasquiteuneventful.Ipassed

the time reading the Pink ‘Un, whilst Holmes smokedseveralcigarettes filling thecompartmentwithanodiousstench. He had the most extraordinary and unnervingabilitytostareatapersonforagreat lengthoftime,butbemilesawaylostinhisthoughts.Iwouldhavefounditquite rude and unsettling had I not gotten used to histrance-likestateasheponderedthefactsofanewcase.It was for these moments that I developed the habit ofneverbeingwithoutanewspaperorotherdistraction.

We came uponGrimsleyHall just after the rain hadsubsided and the sun had begun to shine its warmorangebeamson the lush freshlywatered landscape. Itwas something out of a fairytale! The timber-framedGrimsley Hall dominated the hillside overlooking anorchardandthewoodlandbeyond.Itwastheoldestandlargestmanorhouseinthearea,centeredonagreathalldating from the 14th century, but the majority of thehouse having been built in the Tudor period. We weremet at the front door bySirAlgernon himself.He didn’tstrike me as the sort of domineering father who wouldlockhisdaughterawayinthetower,asitwere,atall.Hewas a seemingly delightful gentleman. A balding manwhostoodabout six feet tall, abit portly, butwhocutaverystatelyfigure.Hehadawell-trimmedgreybeardandwasdressedinatweedNorfolkjacketandplus-fours.

“Hellogentleman.ThankyouverymuchforcomingallthiswayonawetSaturdaymorningforwhatmustseemmerelyatrifle.”

“Think nothing of it.” Holmes retorted, “There isnothingasintriguingasatrifle.”

“I must apologize for Inspector Martin’s absence.”SaidSirAlgernon,“Hewasquiteinsistentthatthismatterbeleftinyourcapablehands.”Thenwithanoutstretchedarm,SirAlgernonwelcomedusbothtoGrimsleyHall.Heledus insideanddowna longhall absolutelybrimmingwith medieval weapons and suits of glistening armour,until we reached the smoking parlor. “Will you have acigar,gentlemen?”

“With all respect sir,”Holmes said, “wehave comealong way in the rain. Please give us an account of thefactsasyouunderstandthemandpray,bepreciseastodetail.”

OurhostreiteratedwhathehadtoldHolmesoverthe

telephone, and that he had discovered further evidencethat his daughter had been “gallivanting” with youngMister Worthington. Dipping his left hand into his coatpocket,heproducedasmallMoroccancoveredbook.

“This ismy daughter’s dairy. As you can plainly seefrom her recent entries, including last night, the letters“DNW” written in her own hand and with no furtherexplanation.” He continued to relay how he hadquestionedhisdaughteraboutbothhowtheshoescameto be in such a state and about the diary entries. “Shedenied any knowledge of why the shoes should be soworndown,andbecamequiteindignantthatIwouldreadherprivatediary.Shehas lockedherself inher roomallmorning and will not answer any attempt to summonher.”

Holmes stood grimacing at Sir Algernon for anawkward few moments. Our host becoming moreuncomfortable and less genial as the silence lingered.Finally, Holmes said, “Sir Algernon, the shoes. I shouldliketoexamineSophie’sshoes.”

“Quiteso!Ihadcompletelyforgotten.”Sir Algernon motioned to the smoking cabinet

betweentwolargetufted leatherclubchairswheresatapair of lavender coloured suede women’s ankle bootsplacedneatlyatopthecabinet.Holmestookthembothinhis hands, walked over to the large window, and heldthem up very close to his eyes. “Hmmmm…. Theseshoesarenew,but the ivory ribbon forming thebowoneachisnot.”Takingouthissmallmagnifier,heexaminedthedistressedshoesforaboutthreefullminutes.

“Quite so. They were part ofmy late wife’s weddingdress. Sophie asked to decorate her new shoes withsomethingdearfromhermother’sthings.”

“Then these were to be Sophie’s bridal shoes?”

Holmesasked.“Yes.”SaidSirAlgernon.“And the groom was to be Mr. David Norton

WorthingtonofManchester?”“Yes,Mr.Holmes.Butthatwasbefore…”“Before…what,SirAlgernon?”“Before he began filling her head with dangerous

ideasthatwouldupsetthesocietalnormsandendangertheeconomy.Beforehesetmyowndaughteragainstmeand everything I had built my political career upon.”HolmeshadcrackedSirAlgernon’sgenialveneer.

“So you withdrew your permission for her to marry,forbade her from any contact with her betrothed, andlockedherinherroomatnighttoprotectsocietyandtheeconomy?”Holmesfinishedinspectingtheshoes,placedthemneatlyuponthecabinet,andsatinoneofthetuftedchairs.Hecrossedhislegsandhelpedhimselftooneofthe cigars that Sir Algernon had offered us when wearrived.Lightingthecigarandtakingafewpuffs,Holmesglancedatourhostandwithhiseyes,beckonedhim tosit beside him. “Come sir, surely there ismore to thesedraconian methods than mere politics. Let us have thefullfacts.”

Sir Algernon sat in the chair opposite Holmes andbreathingadesperatesighofrelent,hecametothepointhehadhopedtoavoid.“Youareright,Mr.Holmes.Ihavenot been as forthcoming as I know I should be in thismatter, but as I told Inspector Martin, it is a matter ofutmost delicacy. I haven’t even toldmy daughter of mytrue reasons for setting myself so firmly against Mr.Worthingtonandhermarriagetohim.”

“At first,heseemed tobeaneageryoung ladwithabright future as a solicitor before him. He didn’t comefrom a wealthy family, but his people are known within

the community and I wasn’t opposed to the match.SophiehadknownDavidforsomeyearsthrougha localcharitywhere they both volunteered, helping poorhousewomenfind jobsasseamstresses, typists,orothersuchemployment.”

“But I soon discovered that David had an ulteriormotivetoshowsuchinterestinmydaughter.Davidhasaseriousgamblinghabitandhasrackedupasizabledebt.Hehasbeenheard toboast in thepublichouse thathewillsoonbecomingintosomemoney.WhenIlearnedofthis, Iconfrontedhimoutright.Hedidn’tdenyit.Hesaidthat Sophie was completely within his power. That hewouldonlyhavetocallandshewouldcomerunning.”SirAlgernon became quite red in the face as he spoke. “ItriedtotellSophiethatDavidwasn’trightforher.Thathedidn’t haveher best interests at heart, but shewouldn’thearofit.SheclaimedthatIwastryingtocontrolherlife.Andnow I’mafraid that she is literary runningoff in thenight to dance into the sunset with a swindler… acharlatan…auserofwomen!”

Holmes looked up at the distraught father. “Shewasn’tdancing.”

“Thenpraytellmewhatcouldshehavebeendoingtobring such utter destruction to those shoes?” SirAlgernonqueriedinapuzzledtone.“No,MisterHolmes,Iamafraidyouaremistaken.TherewasaballlastnightinManchester city. Every year at this time, MisterWorthington’s law firmhostsa largeball for theirclientsandpartners.Sophiehasoftenattended inyearspast. Ifinditnocoincidencethattheshoesshouldbeinsuchastatethemorningaftertheball.Clearly,mydaughterhasbeendancing!”

Holmes didn’t even attempt to disguise hisamusement at being ‘put in his place’ by Sir Algernon.

“Sir,itis,asyousay,nocoincidencethattheshoeswereabusedinsuchamannerastheywereontheverynightof the ball, but only a quick glance at the shoes willconfirm that they were not destroyed by dancing, butratherbywalking.”

“Walking?”ShoutedSirAlgernon.“Well… perhaps a bit more than walking,” said

Holmes,“theyweremarchedtopieces.”“Marched? How can that be?” I asked. Sir Algernon

was clearly beginning to question the value of havingconsultedmy friend, “Nonsense,man!TheGuyFawkesparade is tonight. There was no parade for Sophie tohavemarchedinlastnight.Youareguessing.”

“I never guess. Besides, there are more reasons tomarch than just parades. Look at the shoes.Notice thebitsofcrushedbrick,glassandcharredpaperembeddedin theblackishmud that coats the soles.Notealso thattheribbonusedtotietheshoesarelikewisecharredandsmellofsmokeandcreosote.”Holmespassedtheshoestome.“Watson,whatdoyoumakeofit?”

“Well… there is quite a bit of glass as you say, andthefinefabricofthesuedeuppershasmanyscuffsandlacerations.”Isaid.

“Yes. Please continue.” Holmes stated as he againsankbackintohischair.

“The soles of the shoes are heavily trod and wellworn.”Icontinued.

“Precisely where are the soles most worn, my dearWatson?” asked Holmes as he locked eyes with SirAlgernon.

“Theheelsarenearlycompletelyworndownand theleftoneisofcoursemissingentirely.”Isaidemphatically.

“Excellent,Watson.Thankyou.”HolmessmiledasheandSirAlgernonstaredintoeachother’seyes.

Sir Algernon piped up, “That proves nothing. Shemighthavebrokentheheelwhilstdancing,surely.”

“Yousee,” saidHolmes, “butyoudonotobserve theplain fact thatawomandanceson theballsofher feet,yet it is theheels thathaveborne thebruntofSophie’slate night escapade.”Holmes continued, “And theblackmud and crushed glass? How do you account for that,SirAlgernon?”

“Idonotneedtoaccount.ThatiswhyIhaveengagedyou,sir!”

“Precisely. I would then direct your attention to themorningeditionoftheTimes.Inityouwillnotethattherewasamarch,ademonstration in fact inManchestercitylast night in front of the offices of an influentialconservativenewspaper.A largegroupofwomencallingthemselvestheWomen’sSocialandPoliticalUnion,tooktothestreetsinthenameofwomen’ssuffrage.Accordingto the press, they lit bonfires and smashedwindowsbyhurlingbrickswithpaperbillstiedtothem.”SirAlgernonexamined the shoes as Holmes spoke. “A new moremilitant wing of the suffrage movement is forming righthere in Manchester, Sir Algernon. But you, of course,alreadyknowthis.YouyourselfreportedSophie’spoliticalbiasasbeingadangertothestatusquo,buteitheryourarroganceoryourfeelingsforyourdaughterblindedyoutothesimpletruththatsheisamongthemanyhundredsandthousandsofwomenwhoaredemanding their rightto be counted and heard. You invented, in your ownmind, a fiction thatSophiewould run off in the night todance with her gentleman friend, perhaps even elopewithhim.ButIsubmittoyou,thatshehastakenasimilaraccount of Mister Worthington’s motives to becomeengaged to her. Indeed, I believe that his betrayal wasthe last strawwhich drove her tomoremilitant activities

withinthesuffragemovement.”Holmes’wordsreducedourhosttosilenceashisface

ashened to match the colour of his beard. He took amomenttoabsorbwhatHolmeshadtoldhimashetookthetatteredshoesinhandtoexaminethemhimself.“Yes,Mr. Holmes, I quite see how you might reach thatconclusion. The mud and bits of glass and brick arecompelling, but what of her diary entry? Surely the“DNW”entryrefertoDavidNortonWorthington!”Holmesabsentlyscoffed,“doesit?”Atthatmoment,Sophieburstintotheroom.

“Father,whoarethesemen?Shehadanervous,butdeterminedlookabouther.SirAlgernonglaredamomentat his daughter and said, “This is Mr. Sherlock Holmesand his associate, Dr. Watson. I have sent for them toshedsome light into youractivitiesandhowyour shoescame to such a state as this.” She swallowed a hardswallow and adopted a defiant pose extoling, “Father, ItoldyouthatIhavenoideahowtheshoescametoruin.Iawoketofind…”Holmesinterrupted,“Comenow,thatwillneverdo.Youknowperfectlywellhowtheseshoesweredestroyed. Your march will be for naught if you don’tstand up for the truth now.” Holmes’ words seemed tohaveaneffectontheyoungwoman.“Yes.Youareright,Mr. Holmes, I am responsible for the destruction of theshoes.ButIdonotseewhatbusinessitisofyours”

Sir Algernon’s face flushed, “it is MY business andthatofwhomIshouldengageonitsbehalf!Tellme,didyoumeetwithDavidlastnight?”

“Nofather,Ineverwishtoseehimagain!”“Thenwho is “DNW”?”SirAlgernonheld thediary in

front of her. Sophie’s eyes grew large and grabbed thediary fromher father. “Howdare you invademyprivacy,father!Howdare you!”She turned toward thedoor ina

huff.Suddenly,Holmessaidinaraisedtone,“Deeds,notwords!”

Sophie stopped dead in her tracks and turnedaround. “I beg your pardon, sir?” Holmes finished hiscigar and placed it in the ashtray. “Deeds, not words.Surelyyouunderstandmymeaning.”

“I do not!” steamed Sir Algernon. “What are youaccusingmydaughterof,sir?”

“Idonotaccuseherofanythingotherthanhavinganopinion.” Said Holmes. Themood in the room hung asheavyas thesmoke fromHolmes’cigar. I feltcompelledto break the tension. “Undoubtedly hemeans that yourdaughter’sdeeds, thatofsneakingoff tosee theyoungMr.Worthingtongivesevidenceagainstherprotestationsthat she did not. Come, come my dear, let’s have thetruthout.”

“No Watson,” said Holmes, “she is telling the truth,although not the full truth. She did not see Mr.Worthington last night, as sheherself attests.Thediaryentry of “DNW” are not initials of a man. They are theinitialsofamotto:‘Deeds,NotWords!’Theseverywordshave become the slogan of the Woman’s’ Social andPolitical Union, orWSPU. They adorn the banners andplacards the women demonstrating last night werecarrying.Theyaretherallycryofamovementfrustratedbyinactionandmererhetoric.”

Finding her pride and gathering her dignity, Sophiestraightened and boasted, “You are quite correct. Mr.Holmes.WhyshouldIbeashamedof it?Buthowcouldyouknowthis?”

Holmes reached fora secondcigar, lit it, andafteralong draw said, “Becausemy dear, it ismy business toknowwhatother’sdonotknow.”

“Come,Holmes,” I cried. “How could you knowwhat

the women were chanting at a protest you were notwitnessto?”AssoonasthosewordsslippedpastmylipsIknew Iwould regrethavinguttered them. “Watson, theanswer to that is an absurdly simple one I assure you.TheTimes!As I am fondof saying, thePress isamostvaluableinstitution.”

“Mr. Holmes, how did you know that I was asuffragette?”sheasked.

“Shoes do not disintegrate inexplicably overnight,MissGrim-Babbington.Nordothey‘dancethemselvestopieces’. Had you gone dancing, you would have takensome form of transport to the venue and danced on apolished floor. You would have returned by a similarconveyanceandyourshoeswouldhavebeensparedthefate that was ultimately visited upon them. But ademonstration… a march through the streets ofManchester would account for the black mud that mayonlybefoundinametropolitanthoroughfare.Thebrokenglassandcrushedbitsofbrickclaygiveevidencetoyourparticipation in the breaking of windows. And the wornand even broken heels tell a story of hardwalking andlikelyachase…perhapsfromthepolice?Mydear,onceyouhaveeliminated the impossible,whatever remains—howeverimprobable—mustbethetruth.”

Holmestookanotherpuffonhiscigar.“Thereremainsbutonemysteryunaccounted for…howdidyouescapefromalockedroomandreturnintoitinsuchamannerasnottodisturbthelock?Fortheroomwassurelysecuredfromwithout.”

“You are quite right, Mr. Holmes. Almost entirely.”Sophiesaidwithahaughtydemeanor.“Thehouseisveryold, dating back to the days of the destruction of themonasteries.WeareRomanCatholicandourhousehadapriestholeandseveralsecretpassages.Idiscovereda

loose floorboard in my dressing room with adjoins mybedchamber.Ifoundthatitconcealedapassagethatledunder themainhouseand toa largeboulder, theMassrock, just at the edge of woods opposite my window.Fromthere, Icouldeasilymakemywayto theroadandinto town. Ididmarchwith theWSPUandwedidsomemischief, Idon’tdeny it.Andyes,wedid flee thescenewhen thepolicewerecalled for. Imademywayback tomyroombythesamemannerinwhichIescapedit.”

“Butyousaid thatHolmeswasnotentirelycorrect. Itseemstomehewasbangon!”Isaid.

“Irejecthispremise,Dr.Watson.”“Whatpremise?”Iasked.“Mr. Holmes claimed to have ‘eliminated the

impossible’,buthisverywordsstatetheopposite…theyconfirm the very thing we were demonstrating andmarching for. Mr. Holmes, the word ‘impossible’, itselfstates‘I’mpossible!’”

Holmes took a moment to respond. “My apologies,MissGrim-Babbington.Youcutmetothequick.Youareindeedpossibleand,mayIsay,quiteremarkable.Inbothwords and deeds, you impress me as a woman…”Holmes suddenly stopped mid-sentence. “Forgive me.Youimpressme.”

HethenmadeapolitebowtoSirAlgernonandwithawaveofhishand,hedeclinedpaymentofanykind.WemadeourwaybacktoLondoninsilence.

WearrivedbackinLondonbyearlyevening.Therainhad long since ended and the sun had broken throughthegloomycloudsofthemorningandwasnowsettinginan orange and purple glow. London shined bright andclean like a newpenny! Itwasn’t untilwealighted fromthe cab that deposited us at 221B Baker Street whenHolmes spoke. “Watson, Old Chap! We are living in a

newagewhereeverything ispossible.WhatdoyousaytosomeroastbeefatSimpsons?”

—TheEnd—

T

THEADVENTUREOFTHEMISSINGIRREGULARS

BYLIESESHERWOOD-FABRE

Basedon“TheChildrenofHameln”

he knock came as Holmes and I sat down forbreakfast. Sherlock paused, his fork and knifesuspended above his plate, ready to attack the

kipperlyingthere.“Comein,Wiggins.”A lad of about sixteen stepped into the room, and

peeredatmyflatmate.“How’dya’knowitwasme?”“Quiteobvious, really.”Holmeschewedabiteof fish.

“Noonehadknockedon the front door, andyour stepswere too light for a man and too quick for a lady.Therefore,Mrs.Hudsonhadletinaboythroughthebackentry. I suppose it could’ve been another of theIrregulars, but given you are their leader, logically, itwouldbeyou.”

Wiggins’mouthformedano. “Laws.That’sa ‘nificentpieceofthinkin’.”

“What I am unable to ‘think’ out, however, is thepurposeofyourvisit.”

The young man sobered immediately at thispronouncement, his lower lip trembling. “It’s memates.

They’regone.”Sherlock’s next forkful froze halfway to hismouth. A

pieceofkipperswungfromthetines.“Gone?How?”“I dunno, ‘xactly. The six of us went to sleep, and

whenIwokeup,theywasgone.”“Thismorning?”Heshookhishead.“Yesterdaymornin’.Ispentallday

searchin’forthem.Walkedallovertown,whistlin’ourcalltocometogether.Nuthin’.”Hiseyesglistened.“Sumthin’bad’shappenedto‘em.It’sliketheearthswallowed‘em.”

A stone formed in the pit of stomach at the news oftheIrregulars’disappearance.Londonin1895hadvarietyofwaysof“swallowing”people,anditwasquitepossiblethatwaswhathappenedtotheboys.EvenHolmesmighthave trouble locating them. Sherlock, however,expressednosuchdoubts.

“Unless the laws of physics somehow shiftedyesterday, they are somewhere,” Holmes said. Hedroppedhisforkandkipperontohisplate,andraisedhisgaze to the boy. “As you can see, gravity has not beenaltered. Since physical laws are operating as theyshould, the same most definitely applies to theIrregulars.”

Heturnedtomeashepushedhimselfawayfromthetable.“Watson,shallwebegintheinvestigation?”

Mimicking Sherlock’s action of grabbing hisdeerstalker, I doffedmy own bowler as I followed themfromtheapartment.Andfearingtheworse,Ialsotuckedmyservicerevolverintomyjacket.

IhadaccompaniedHolmestomanypartsofthecity—aboveandbelowground, toopiumdens,anddown theThames—but I had never found myself so deep inLondon’s underworld as I did that daywithWiggins.Asour hansom moved from Baker Street toward

WhitechapelandtheEastEnd,thehousesgrewgrimmerandthestreetsmorenarrowandcrooked.

When the road became unpassable, we paid thedriverandproceededonfoot,steppingcarefullytoavoidsmall mountains of garbage and the open cess-troughrunning through the middle of the lane. Just as I haddetermined I could not abide another moment ofbreathing thismiasmawithout detrimental effects tomyhealth, Wiggins turned into a doorway and led us intoanothersortofhell.Drawingonmymilitarytraining,Isetmybackstraightandimmobilizedmyexpressionasifthestench of too many people living in too close quartershad no impact. I glanced at Holmes. He seemed asunaffected as I hoped I appeared. At one point, westeppedoveramansprawledacrossthehallway,acloudofgindriftingaroundhim.

Halfwaydown thecorridor,Wigginsunlockedadoor.The floorboardscreakedasweentered thesmall,slant-roofed room. The scent shifted from that of the squalidhallwaytoodorsfromapreviousmeal.Alongwithatableholding some unwashed bowls, small mounds ofblanketsandrags,mostobviouslyservingasbeds,werescatteredaroundtheroom.Sunlightleachedinthroughasingle grimywindow, dustmotes chasing themselves inandoutofitshaze.

“See,”Wigginssaid,movinghisarm inawidecircle,“they’sgone.”

Withasigh,hepokedatoe intooneof theblankets,his chin quivering once again. He turned to face thewindow,mostcertainlytocomposehimself.

“Is this exactly how you found the room when youawoke?”Sherlockasked.

“Yes, sir. I hadn’twanted to comeback.Hadn’t slepthere‘causeit’stooquiet.”

“Andthedoorwaslocked?Noonecouldgetinoroutwithoutakey?”Theboynodded.“Wheredoyousleep?”

Hepointedtothedoor.“Overthere.Tokeepanybodyfrombreakingin.Charliesleepsontopofourhidey-hole.We keep the sal’ry you give us under a loose boardthere.”

Deep lines creased Holmes’ forehead while heconsideredwhere the boy had gestured. “Please checkyoursavings.”

Despite the dirt on the urchin’s face, I could see itpalewhen themeaningbehindSherlock’s request sankin.Wigginsscurriedacrosstheroomandjerkedbackthecovers. Whoever had taken the money hadn’t evenbotheredtoreplacetheboard.Ablackholenowgapedinthefloor.

Hespunbackaround to facemy friend. “Why?Whywould they take it all and leave me like this? We wasfamily.”

Idroppedmygazetothewornboardsatmyfeet.Therealization of his companions’ betrayal hit me as if aphysical blow. I knew these boys. Had passed out theirshillingsinrewardfor informationtheycollected.Treatedmore than one injury for each one of them. If thisrevelationaffectedmesodeeply,whatmustitbedoingtoWiggins? And Holmes? With as much discretion as Icouldmuster, I checkedoutmy companion.His usuallystoicfeatureshadsoftened.

“I can’t tell youwhy—yet,”hesaid toWiggins. “But Icantellyou it isnotwhat itappearstobe.Andweshallbeginwiththatwindow.”

In a few long strides, he was at the casement,studying the frame, the latch, the top hinges and themurkyglassitself.

“You ain’t thinkin’ they left through there?” Wiggins

askedasthetwoofusobservedhisactions.“Thelatch’srustedtight.Weain’teverbeenabletoo—”

Sherlockpushedthebottomofthewindowframe,andit swung silently outward, leaving a gap wide enoughroomforaboytowigglethrough.Kneelingdown,Holmesstuckhisheadouttheopening.

Overhisshoulder,hereportedbackhisobservations.“Theroofonthelowerfloorextendsbeyondthisoneandprovidesnarrowpassage.Giventhetrailofdisturbedtilesleadingtothebackofthebuilding,Iwouldwagerwewillfindsomethingprovidingameans fordescending to theground from there.” He hauled himself back inside andstood.Afterswipinghishandoverthehingeatthetopofthe window, he rubbed his fingertips together andsniffed.

“What do you make of this, Watson?” he asked,extendinghispalm.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing first at Wigginsbefore stepping forward and inhaling the scent. Thelemony,slightlysweet,aromatookmebysurprise.“Waitamoment,”Isaid,pausingforanotherwhiff.“Irecognizethat.Butwhywouldchamomilebeonahinge?”

“Because,mydearcolleague, ithasbeenprocessedas an oil and used to lubricate the window. Whoeverlured these children away—and I do believe they weretempted from this room by someone—is most likely ofTeutonic origins, for the Germans are known for theirpreferenceforchamomileoil.Wehaveourfirstclue,andIknowwheretofindthesecond.”

Shutting thewindow, he turned and strode from theroom.Wiggins and I hustled to keep up with him. Theintensity of hismovements toldme hewas now caughtup in the hunt. At the bottom of the stairs, he turnedabruptlyonhisheeltoquestionWiggins.

“Howcanwereachthealleyway?”The boy pointed toward the rear of the building.

“There’sadoorthat-a-way.”Before he had even finished, Holmes was off again.

Exiting the house, I pulled up short on the small stoopthere, barely avoiding tripping over my friend. Sherlockwasbentatthewaist,studyingthegroundleadingtothealley.Wigginsburstoutasecondlater,runningintome.Iswayedprecariouslyforamoment,bilerisinginmythroatas the prospect of landing face down in the mud (andwhatever else was mixed with it) loomed before me.Wiggins, however, grabbed the back of my jacket andpulledme upright. I had no time to thank him. Holmesstraightenedandspokeup,pointingtoastackofwoodencratesbythesideofthebuilding.

“They used those to climb down from the roof,” hesaidandturnedhisgazetothegroundagain.“Themudistoochurnedupinthealleytoindicatewhichwaytheywentafterthat.What’sinthatdirection?”

Wiggins glanced to his right where Sherlock waspointing and shrugged. “More buildings like this one, I‘spose.”Hepointedtotheleft.“Notmuchthata-way.”

After glancing in both directions, Holmes took offtoward the less occupied direction. Again, we followed,withme cursing undermy breath about not having hadthe foresight to change my boots before I left. I wascertainIwouldhavetochucktheseoncewereturnedtoBakerStreet. Ididn’t think I’deverbeable to removeallthemuckfromthem.HowSherlockmanagedtokeephisfootingassureashedidwhilemaintaininghispacewasbeyondme.

At theendof thealley,hepausedforamomentandcontinued to the right toward what appeared to be anopenareaahead.Whenwereachedit,hestoopedagain

and picked up a piece of mud-spattered paper. Hesquintedatitandthentheareaaroundus.

“Therewasacircushere.”He handed me the bit of trash he’d retrieved—the

cornerofaposterannouncing thecircus’performances,endinglastnight.

“We was here, you know.” Wiggins stared ahead,speaking to the churned-up field lying before him.“Alwaysgoodpickin’satacircus.Thepeople,theydon’tnoticeyouinacrowd.Doyouthinkmematesjoinedthecircus?”

“I believe that may just be the case,” Holmes said.“We’lltalkaboutthepickpocketinglater.First,Ineedyoutotellmeaboutthecircus.Whatyoudid.Whatyousaw.”

The boy squeezed his eyes shut and puckered hismouth, as if forcinghismemories toappearbeforehim.“Wewentatnight.Whenthecrowdsweregreatest.Goodpickin’s,likeIsaid.”

“Didanyonecatchyou?Seemtobewatchingyou?”“I—no, wait.” His eyes widened as he stared at my

friend.“Therewasonefellow.Thesnakeman.Heplayedaflute.”

“I know the kind,” I said, glad to contribute to thediscussion. “Saw themall the time in India.Skinnymenin turbans and longbeards. The tunewas supposed tocharmacobraoutofthebasket.”

“That’s the one,” Wiggins said. “In a tent with othercircus sorts. You know, a lady with a beard, a strongman,themtypes.”

“Whatmakesyouthink thesnakemannoticedyou?”Sherlockasked.

Theboyliftedhisshoulder.“Itwasjustafeelin’Ihad.When you’re workin’ the crowds like we do, you sortagrow an extra eye. All the people were starin’ at the

snakewhatraisedhisselfoutofthebasket,a-wavingthiswayandthat.ButIcouldjustfeelthemanwatchin’us—notthesnake—allthewhilehewastootin’onthatpipeofhis.”

“I hate that horn,” I said with a shiver. “Sort of awhineysound.”

IimitatedthenasallysoundofthereedyfluteI’dseenduringmytimeinAfghanistanandIndia.

“Itdidn’t sound like thatatall,”Wigginssaid. “And itlookedmorelikeatinwhistle,butmuchfatterandlongerthantheonestheyplaysonthestreets.”

“Impossible,” I said. I’d seen dozens of these snakemen,andIwouldn’thavemyauthorityquestionedbythisboy. “You just didn’t study it. There’s a bulge in themiddle.”

Holmes focusedonme. “Watson, I’ve foundWigginstobeaveryreliablewitness.Ifhesaiditresembledatinwhistle, we must take him at his word. As for it beingimpossible,Ibelieveyouknowmyresponsetothat.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Sherlock hadalreadyspunonhisheelandwasmarchingbackthewaywecame.All IcoulddowaschaseafterhimasfastasIcouldwithoutslippinginthemud.

When Wiggins and I reached surer ground, wecaught up with my friend, and I asked, “Where are weheadingnow?”

“The train station. They will know where the circuswasheadednext.”

“And when we finds them?” Wiggins asked. “You’llhelpmebring‘emhome,right?”

That statement stopped him almost in mid-step. Heturned to theboyandplacedahandonhisshoulder. “Iknow the boys are your family. But you have tounderstandwecan’tmakethemreturniftheyarethereof

theirownvolition.”Theboy’smouth flattened to a straight line, and the

musclesinhisneckformedcords.Heknockedthehandoff his shoulder and fairly shouted at us. “They didn’tleavemeontheirown.We’reafamily,andfamiliesdon’tjust…don’t—…Iknowtheywouldn’t.”

Before either of us could respond, he took off downthe street, leaving us to stare at his back. My heartcontracted as the boy rounded the corner anddisappeared.Ihadtoagreewithhimthat itseemedoddfor theothers tohaveabandonedhim,but theevidenceseemedtopointtothatconclusion.Isaidasmuchtomycolleaguebutexpressedalsomyconcernfortheirleaderaswell.

“Shouldn’twegoafterhim?”“The boy’s emotions are running high.” His mouth

pulled down as he continued on his way. “Once he’scooled a bit, he’ll remember we are his best hope forfindinghis ‘mates.’ Iwouldn’tdoubthe’llbebackbeforewepurchaseourtickets.”

TheBowRoadstationservicedanumberofraillines.Wesoonfoundthatthecircushadarrangedpassageonanexpress to Ipswich last night, andwepurchasedourown tickets to that port city. Sure of Wiggins’ imminentreturn,heleftanotherticketfortheurchinwithadetaileddescriptionoftheladwithconductor.

Wehadbarelysettledourselvesintoourcompartmentwhenthetrainjerkedtolife.

My friend crossed his arms, and frown pulled downevery feature of his face. “The choice of a port city astheir destination suggests plans to leave for thecontinent. Let’s hope their departure wasn’t immediate.Oncetheyleavethecountry,Ifearitwillbemoredifficulttofindourlittlebandofruffians.”

The implication of losing the boys’ trail hitme like apunchinthestomach.AndIknewsuchaprospectdidn’tsitwellwithHolmeseither.Hespenttheentiretripstaringout the window at the passing landscape and theshadowsgrewinginlengthasthedayslippedintonight.Characteristically, he waved off my offer to bring himsomethingfromthediningcar.Iknewhepreferrednottoeat,butIhadnosuchqualms,ourbreakfasthavingbeeninterruptedhoursago.

At the Ipswich station our inquiries about the circuswererewardedwithdirectionstothecircusgrounds,andmyfriend’sstephadarenewedspringaswehailedacabtocarryusthere.

I peered around the driver in anticipation, hoping tocatchsightofatleastoneoftheIrregulars.Perhapstheywouldbecirculatingamong thecrowd, selling ticketsorsmall packets of sweets. Or assisting with the animalsbehindashowtent.Oncespotted,wewouldroundthemallupand—

“Holmes,haveyouthoughtaboutwhatyouwillsaytothem?Howtoencouragethemtoreturn?”

“I’mhopingWigginswillbeable todo that,”hesaid,also glancing around the driver. “As I predicted, he didreturn to the station and boarded the train at the lastmoment. While you were dining, I sought him out.Although still upset with me, he did accept my offer ofsufficientfundsforfoodandtransporttothecircus.”

I leaned back against the tufted seat, amazed asalwaysattheman’sinsights.

Despite our efforts to catch a glimpse of ourdestination, its aromas were the first to signal ourproximity.Thefirsthintwasthespicyscentofmeatpies.Even though I’d eaten only an hour earlier, my mouthwateredatthethoughtofsinkingmyteethintothecrispy

crust, the savory filling oozing intomymouth. Amuskyodor, not unlike that of the Irregulars’ lodgings, soonoverpoweredthefirstscentsandsquelchedmyappetite.In addition to the cacophony of fragrances—bothpleasant and foul—was the muddle of humanconversations,shoutsfromthebarkersenticingvisitorstospend their coins, and the protests from animals—bothwildanddomestic.

Asourdriverpulledthecabtoahalt,afigurerushedpastusandintothecircusproper.

Sherlock slapped his hand on his thigh. “Good lord,theboyisgoingtospoileverything.”

He sprang to the groundand took off afterWiggins,leavingmetopaythedriver.Onceagain, I foundmyselfsprinting to catch up with my friend. Weaving our waythrough the crowds, I craned my neck in search ofWiggins or the other Irregulars. Holmes made a sharpturn to the leftandheaded towardanelongatedcanvaspavilion.Aseriesofbannersstrungoverthetoppromisedasideshow,completewithasnakecharmer.

As we approached the tent, a dense crowd slowedour progress. With some effort, we pushed our waythrough to the entrance and learned the reason behindthecrowd’sinterest.Atall,muscularmanheldWigginsinatightgripagainsthischest.Theboy’sfeetpin-wheeledintheair,unabletotouchtheground,whilehelet looseabluestreakofcurses.

Hecaughtsightofusandshouted fromhiscaptivity.“Mr.Holmes,tellthisbrutetoletmedown.”

“Ain’tgoin’todonosuchthing,”themansaid,turningto my friend. “The cheater tried to sneak in withoutpaying.”

Wigginsstruggledintheman’sgrasp.“Iwasn’tsneakin’in.Iwouldaboughtaticket,butthe

linewastoo long.Justwantedtosee ifmymatesare inthere.Let.Me.Go.”

The behemoth shook his head, making no effort torelease poor Wiggins. In return, the boy continued toargue,demandingtobeputdown.

“Keep your voicedown,Wiggins,”Sherlock said in aharshwhisper.

My stomach knotted as my colleague’s concernbecame apparent. With all this attention, our suspectmight realize he was being sought. If we didn’t calmWigginsdown….

Isteppedup to themanand fished inmypocket forsomecoins.Holdingthemouttothebrute,Isaid,“Here.Morethanenoughfor threeticketsaswellassomethingforyourtroubles.”

Themandroppedour young friendandheldouthishandforpayment.

By the time I’d finished that transaction, bothdisappeared. I rushed through the tent entrance andfound theareadesertedexcept forawoman (Iguessedfromthedressshewore)withalongbeardseatedinanoverstuffed chair. She pointed to my left. “If you’reseekingamanandaboy,theyranthatway.”

I expressed my thanks and continued through thevarious exhibits promised by the sign outside—achimpanzee squealed at me from a cage, and anextremely obese man winked at me through fat almostobscuringhiseyes.Passingamanaboutthreefeettall,Icaughtupwiththetwointhenextsection.

Wigginshadathinmaninaturbanbytheshirt frontandwasshoutingintohisface.

“Iknowyouhave ‘em.Don’t lie tome.Wherearememates?”

Theman resembleda turtle,having tuckedhishead

into his shirt collar. He managed to sputter out aresponse.“I-Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Whatmates?”

“Myfriends.WewasatthecircusinLondon—”“ButIwasn’tinLondon,”themansaid.“I-ImeanIwas

inLondon,butIwasn’t—”Sherlock put a hand onWiggins’ arm and said in a

softvoice, “Steady,boy.This isn’t themanwe’re lookingfor.”

“Of course he is,” he said, not taking his gaze fromtheman’sface.“He’sthesnakeman,ain’the?”

Theman’scolorwaschangingfromcrimsontowhite,and I feared he was about to pass out before sharingwhatheknew.

“Look at the flute.” Holmes raised the man’s arm toWiggins’ line of sight. The man clutched a flute with alarge bulge in the middle, similar to those I’d seen inIndia.“Notatalllikeapennywhistle.”

Wigginssquintedattheobjectintheman’shandandletgoofhisshirt.Thesnakemandroppedtotheground,and Sherlock grabbed his arm to steady the poorinnocent.

A realization hit me about the same time as it musthave hit Wiggins. Before the circus man had fullyrecovered,theboygrabbedhisshirtonceagain.

“Where’stheothersnakeman?”Once againHolmes put a calming hand onWiggins

armtomakehimletgo.“I’vebeentryingtotellyou.”Theperformersmoothed

his shirt front and coughed. “He left. Took his fluteandthe snake. The ringmaster toldme to blow on this andpretendtocalloutthesnake.Thisone’sstuffed.Ipullonawiretomakeitcomeoutofthebasket.”

Wiggins’ gaze twitched between the man and the

basket on a raised platform along the backside of thetent. He rubbed the back of his neck, and I steppedtoward him, planning a kind phrase to share. Before Icouldspeak,hedrewinashakybreath,straightenedhisspine,andasked,“Where’dhego?”

“One of the clowns heard him say something aboutRotterdam.”Voiceswerecominginourdirection,andtheman glanced toward the entrance. “I got to get back tomyplacebeforethepeoplepassthrough.Idon’twanttohavetogobacktomuckin’outthemonkeys.They’rerightviciousvarmints.Bitmemorethanonce.”

No sooner had the man positioned himself on thefloor by the basket, then the crowds swarmed in. Theman began a tuneless succession of reedy tones fromhis“flute.”

“Where’sthisrottendam?”WigginsaskedSherlock.“RotterdamisinHolland,”Holmessaid,“Wemustsee

aboutbookingpassageassoonaspossible.”Onceagainour luckwaswithus,andwepurchased

threeticketsonashipleavingthatverynight.Despitethelate hour and the ship’s gentle rocking, the boy spentmostof thenightpacingaboutourcabin—untilwesenthimtodothesamealongthecorridor.

The morning broke sunny and clear, and as westeppedontolandagain,Wigginsstaredupandpointedto a tall tower on the edge of the dock. “Lors. What’sthat?”

“A windmill,” Sherlock said without glancing in thedirectionindicated.

Hewasoccupiedwithscanningthestorefrontsliningtheopposite sideof thestreet.He focusedonone,andthe boy and I were hard-pressed to keep up with hisquickmarchasheheadedtowardit.FrenchandGermanwritingcoveredthefrontdisplaywindowandasignwitha

pipehungabovethedoor.Inside the tobacconist’s shop, Sherlock spoke in

German to a man behind the counter. After a bit morediscussion,themanslidaboxofFrenchcigarettestoourcompanion,andwewereoffagaindownastreetleadingalongacanalandawayfromthedock.

“Whatwasallthatabout?”Iaskedbetweengaspsforair.

“Iwastryingtolocatewheretheremightbecrowds—amarketorsomesuchevent.”

“Igotsya,”Wigginssaid,notsoundinghalfaswindedasIdid.“Youwantsaplacewherethere’llbechildren.Aplacewheremeboys’llblendin.”

“Precisely. According to the tobacconist, there’s aweeklymarketnomorethanahalfmileorsofromhere.”

“Yougoin’tosmokethose?”Wigginsasked.My friendglancedat thepackageofcigarettes inhis

hand,almostsurprisedtoseethemthere.“Icouldn’tverywell take the man’s information without giving himsomething in return. You may have them, if you wish.They’re French. Youmay find them quite different fromourBritish.”

“I’ll save ‘em,”Wigginssaid, “andshare ‘emwithmemates.”

Mybreathwheezedpasta lumpwhich formed inmythroat. Would we find them? I glanced at Holmes. Hisgaze fixed on the path ahead, he gave no support toWiggins’ plans. Did that mean he knew what the otherIrregularswereupto?OrdidhewishtospareWigginsaharshtruthuntilthelastpossiblemoment?

My thoughts were cut short when several childrenpushed around us, running into a square at the end ofthe street.Awomanhitme in the back, almost causingme to topple into the canal’s murky waters. Sherlock

grabbedmyarmandsteadiedmejustintime.“Hetspijtmeheelerg.”saidthewoman.WhileIspoke

no Dutch, her contrite expression told me she wasapologizing.

Ihadnoopportunitytorespond.Ayounggirlofaboutsix squirmed and tugged against the woman’s grasp,jerkingherforward,“Haast,mama.Haast.”

“Something’s got all the children riled up,” I said,runningahanddownmyvestfront.“Mustbeacarrousel.Icanhearthemusic.”

Wigginsstilledforamoment,thenbrokeintoarun.“That ain’t no carrousel,” he shouted over his

shoulder.“That’sthesnakeman.Irecognizethesong.”Hepushedpastthewomanandherdaughter,joining

the others racing toward the square. Holmes and Ichasedafterhim,butacrowdofyoungstersimpededourprogress.Alargenumberofchildrenandadultscircledaman dressed in loose, colorful pants, a vest with everyhue of the rainbow, and a yellow- and red-printed scarftiedabouthishead.Iknewinamomenthewasn’tIndian,and while his dress suggested a gypsy, he was cleanshaven.

Any other observations fled my mind as the merrytuneheplayedhadmebouncingonmytoes.

ThethronghadalsoslowedWiggins,andwereachedhimattheedgeoftheassembled.Whenhemadeasiftomove closer to the center, Sherlock pulled him back byhisarm.

“I understand your impulse to confront the man,”Holmessaid ina lowvoice to theboy, “but Ibelieveyouknow my methods well enough to understand thatsometimes one must step back and observe, learn hismethodsaswell.”

Wiggins shoulders slumped and nodded. “You’re

right,Is’pose.”“Iwouldsuggestweseparate,takingdifferentpartsof

the crowdand see ifwe can spot any of the Irregulars.Thatiswhywearehere,”Sherlocksaid.

With a nod, I moved to the far side of the crowd.Remaining at the outer edge of those encircling theflautist, I triedtoviewasmuchofthecrowdaspossible.Theaudiencewasevenlydistributedbetweenadultsandchildren. The girls wore dresses similar to their Britishcounterparts, but with white aprons and a stiff peakedcap. The boys, on the other hand, wore loose-fittingshirtsandbaggypantssecuredattheankles.Akerchiefwas tied about the boys’ necks and a flat cap adornedtheir heads. Many of the adults were similarly dressed.Almost all wore shoes made of wood and were nowmakingaloudclompingsoundastheydancedabout.

Despitetheclappingandthumping,thetunethemanplayed reached all those in the square. The generalmerrimentcoaxedasmilefrommethatbroadenedwhenIcaughtsightofthejoyregisteringonboththefaceofthewomanwhohadrunintome.Ifoundmyselfdrawnevendeeper into the tune’s delight, now clapping my handswiththeothers.IglancedabouttoseewhatHolmesandWigginswereupto.Ididn’tseeHolmes,butWigginshadjoined in a group of youths dancing at the edge of thecrowd.

The flautistmadeaslight shift in the tune,speedingup thebeat. Thosegatheredabout tookup the rhythm.Thechildrenturnedtotheirparentsandheldoutahand.As if a natural response, the parents dug into theirpurses or pockets, gleefully handing over a coin. Thechildren then danced to the front and dropped it into acapattheman’sfeet.

“Geefmeeenmuntje?”

IjumpedwhenalittleDutchboyspokeatmyside.Herepeatedhisrequestandheldouthishand.

Although I had no clue what he said, I knew he’dasked for money to pay the flautist. More importantly, Idesired to do so. Without hesitating, I reached into mypocketanddroppedacoinintohisoutstretchedhand.Apart ofmewanted to sharemore. I stuckmy hand intomypocket,prepared togive theboymorecoins,buthehad already danced toward the front and the fluteplayer’scap—nowfilledwithasmallmountainofcoins.

My hand was still in my pocket when I felt smallerhand enter next to mine. I glanced down, and anotheryouth,dressed likeall theotherDutchboys,gavemeasmileashewithdrew therestof thecoins inmypocket.His gaze fixed on mine, and, unbidden, my left handstretched across my waistcoat to unfasten my watchchain. Iwasawareofhowthe linksweighedinmyhandas I pulled the family heirloom from its pocket. For amoment, I let it dangle in the air above the boy’s palm.Themoment I let it go, another, largerhandcaught thewatchbeforeitlandedintheboy’s.

Followingthehandtothearm,theshoulder,andtheface, I saw Sherlock’smouthmove, but couldmake nosenseofhiswords.Theflutemusicfilledmyears,brain,soul. I studiedmy friend,knowing that Iknewhim.Afterall, I could tell you his name was Holmes but couldn’tplace him. Also, his appearance was odd—correct, butnotcorrect.Anothermomentofstudy,andithitme.Theman had put down the flaps on his deer stalker cap tocoverhisears.

Sherlockgrabbedtheboybyhisshirtandpulledbothhim and me away from the square. Only after severalblocksdidthefirst faintcallsofseabirdsandtheslapofwaterinthecanalpenetratemyconsciousness.

“Canyouhearme,Watson?”myfriendasked.“OfcourseIcan,”Isaid,haltingthemiddleofastreet.

I facedhim. “Despitemy time ingunbattles, I’vealwayshadexcellenthearing.”

Heturnedtotheboy.“Whataboutyou,Charlie?”“Charlie? One of the Irregulars?” I crouched and

pulled off his cap to get a better view of his face. “Myheavens.ItisCharlie.”

Theboystaredatme,butwithout recognizingmeorthe words I spoke. I studied the blank eyes thatsuggested he was blind as well as deaf. With hisapparentlimitedfaculties,IconsideredifsafetoletgoofhimwhenIstood.Themomenthewasfree,however,heturned and sped off back to the square. I took off afterhim, but after a few steps, the flute music once againfilled my ears, and I stopped, knowing he’d beencompelledtoreturn.

HandsgraspedmyforearmsandpulledmebackwarduntilIwasonceagainawareofmysurroundings.

Spinning about, I faced my friend. “What’shappening?Where’sWiggins?”

“One moment, Watson.” He lifted the flaps of hisdeerstalkerandtied themontopofhisheadandpulledtobacco plugs from his ears. “Now I can hear you. I’mterriblysorry. Iwasn’table towarnyou. Ididn’tdiscoverthe power of the man’s flute before I sent you andWiggins off. I was barely able to save myself from itscontrol.Whilenotparticularlyappropriate,Iusedmypipetobacco to stopmy ears with the flaps to hold them inplace.”

“You’re saying the music…? Some sort of masshypnosis?”

“Ifhypnosis,it’sthemostdevioustypeI’veeverseen.Aformofcompletemindcontrol.”

“I’ve been to many concerts and listened to streetmusicians, but never felt compelled to hand over mymoney. It certainly is beyond any typical flute music.WhatabouttheIrregulars?Whathavetheygottodowithit?”

“Where’syourpocketwatch,Watson?”Theman’slipsturned up slightly in a most annoying smile when Icheckedmywaistcoattonoavail.Hedangledthewatchbetweenus.Only thendid I recall planning togive it toCharlie.“Isavedthisfrombeingpassedontothesnakeman.”

“While the children distract their parents with coins,the Irregulars fleece them of the rest,” I said once thewholescenariobecamecleartome.

“Precisely.Andwiththeparents’fullcooperation.”Iglancedupthestreettowardthesquare.“Wigginsis

stillthere.Willhebelike…Charlie?”“I don’t think so. Firstly, because hewasn’t included

when the others left. Secondly, my blocked hearingallowed me to observe the process. The children weretheoneswhocollectedthecoinsandtookthemforward.The parents provided the money, but none seemedpropelled to step forward themselves. I would say thatthe music has a more profound effect on children—perhaps just as dogs can hear sounds we cannot.Charlie’s control—and I assume that of the otherIrregulars—appears more complete. You saw that evenwhen you were no longer affected, he remained‘hypnotized,’forlackofabetterword.”Holmestippedhishead in the direction of the square andwas silent for amoment. “Themusicappears tohavestopped. I believewe’llbesafetocollectWiggins.”

Backatthesquare,thecrowdwasbreakingup.Littleknots of children and parents drifted in different

directions.Someshook theirheadsas if toclearout thefinal musical notes. The flautist, Charlie, and the otherIrregulars were nowhere to be seen. We did, however,findWigginsstandingnear thespot thesnakemanhadoccupied, staring at the bricks. Only when Sherlockshookhimdid theboy raisehis gazeand focus first onHolmesandthenme.HiseyeshadthesamevaguelightI had observed in his friend. His second glance at mycolleagueandme,however,heldmorerecognitionofourpresence.

“Whereishe?”Wigginsasked,jerkingabouttocheckalldirectionsinthesquare.“Where’dthesnakemango?”

“Somewhere to count his ill-gotten gain, I’m sure,” Isaid.

“We need to find him,” Wiggins said, panic in thisvoice.“Forcehimtotelluswhathappenedtomefriends.”

Sherlock raised his hands as if calming a rearinghorse.“Iagreewithyou.Wemusttakethemaway.Theydidn’t leave of their own free will. He has them undersomesortofspell,andIbelieveIknowhowit’sdone.”

He recitedwhatwehadobservedaboutCharlie,andhow it was all linked to the flute and its music. As helistened, Wiggins’ nostrils widened, and his mouthflattenedtoastraightline.Myfriendconcludedwith,“I’mafraid however he’s controlling your friends, it will takemore than justgetting themaway from themusic.EvenwhenDr.Watsonwasfarenoughaway,Charliewasstillunderthespell. Icanonlyhopewecanfindameansofbreakingwhateverholdthemanhasonthem.Andwhenwe do, we must be certain he can never enslave anyothers.”

“Let’s find them then,” said the boy. He searchedaboutthesquare.“Where’dtheygo?”

“Before we take off, I would suggest we prepare

ourselves.Weneedtopreventtheeffectsofthemusiconus. I seeanapotheek on the far sideof the square. I’mcertaintheywillhavethecottonwoolandwaxneededtosealourears.”

While the flautist’s trailmight have appeared cold tothe average person, when we returned to the square,Holmesglancedaboutthearea,takinginthestreetsthatled into the plaza. “We know they didn’t return in ourdirection,” he said, pointing back toward the port area.“Andhewould seek to blend into thepopulation.GivenCharlie’sdress, Iwouldsuggestweconsideraworking-classarea,whichwouldbethatway.”

Wetookoffinthedirectionheindicated,seekinganyadditional trace of their presence. Wiggins’ continuoussighing,andmyowngrowingsenseof desperationwaspushing me to suggest to our companion that perhapshisdeductionswerewrong.WhileIwasseekingawaytoform the words in the gentlest of fashions, Sherlockpointedtoamanstandingthedoorofabakery.

“They have most definitely passed in this direction.Andquiterecently.”

Dressed in a baker’s white apron, the man, slack-jawedandwithablankstare,stillheldouthisarmsasifhewerecarryingsomething,most likelybreadandothergoodiessharedwiththeIrregulars.

Wecontinuedon,butmighthavenevercaught themhad the flautist not decided a beer might go well withwhat theyhadalready taken.Asweneareda tavernwecould hear flute music—an Irish jig. Holmes pulled usinto an alley to stuff our ears before going further. Thesweatonmyfingersmadeitdifficulttomixthecottonandbeeswax to form theearplugs. I fearedwhat Imightbecompelledtodoshouldtheyfail.

Tomy relief, the plugsworked quitewell, creating a

rather disconcerting sensation. I foundmyself takenoff-guard and easily buffeted about those coming frombehind.Tokeepmyequilibrium, Imaintaineda focusonmy colleague’s back. His straight spine and sure steptold me he had no problems negotiating in this silentworld.

Ascenesimilartothatinthesquaregreeteduswhenweentered the tavern. Insteadofchildrenclapping theirhands, we discovered men and women movingrhythmically to an apparently lively tune. I followedHolmes’ lead of keeping to the back of the room andclappingintimewiththemovementsofthecrowd.

Wiggins, however, seemed less concerned withblendinginandstoodonhistoes,scanningthecrowd.Ahard ball formed in the pit of my stomach when hestiffenedbesideme. I followedhisgazeandonceagaincaught sight of Charlie easing himself beside a manwhose attention was fixed on the flautist. For a briefsecond, Icaughtsightofacoinpursebefore itdroppedintotheboy’spocket.Wigginsmusthaveseenthesamethingbecausehepushedthroughthespectators towardhisfriend.

Fearing he’d alert the snakeman to our presence, Itookoffaftertheboy.

BythetimeIwasabreastofWiggins,healreadyhadCharlie’s arm in a solid grasp. I checked around forSherlock,buthewasnowheretobeseen.Thetwoboystussled,andWigginsshoutedsomethingintohisfriend’sface. The younger Irregular didn’t respond to Wiggins,other than to twist about in his grasp. The tavern goersignored the thrashing in theirmidst aswell.My thoughtwastopullthetwoboysoutsideandseeifwemightnotbeabletobreakthesnakeman’scontrol.

Thefluteplayer,however,musthaverealizedhistune

wasn’tworkingoneverybodybecause the tavern’sotheroccupantsstilled, thenturnedononeaccordto facethethree of us.Mymouth dried as I recognized the blank,hardlightintheireyes.Ihadnointerestinlearningwhatthe flautist had designed for them to do. Wigginsrecognized our troubles as well and keeping Charlie inhis grasp, shifted himself so that his backwas tomine.Hands reached out for us, grasping at my neck. Istruggled toshrugoff theirhold,swingingmyarmsandkicking all that I could. I connected with many, but thesheer number of them was proving impossible toovercome.

My cries echoed within my head, andWiggins’ ownshoutingvibratedagainstmyback.Thehandstightenedabout my neck, cutting off my screams. Black patchesfloated through my vision. I continued to struggle butknewmyeffortswereslowinganduselessandpreparedmyselfformyfateonlytohavetheirgripsrelaxandstepaway from me. I gulped several breaths, and my sightcleared. All around me, the tavern-goers shook theirheads as light reappeared in their eyes. I turned to thesnakemanandsawHolmes toweringover theman,hisfoot onhis chest and the fluteheldhigh inonehand. Ipulled the plugs from my ears, and sounds rushed in:the murmuring of the crowd, the whining of the snakeman,andSherlock’sshoutedwarningthat themanbestnotmove.

I grabbedWiggins’ armandpulled him,withCharliestillinhisgrip,towardthetwomen.Iretrievedmyservicerevolverfromaninnerpocketandpointeditattheflautist.With thesnakemannowundermysupervision,Holmesremovedhisownplugs.

“Iseeyou’vefoundCharlie,”SherlocksaidtoWiggins.When the boy only squinted at him, Sherlock took

holdoftheyoungerboy’sarmtoallowWigginstounstophisears.

Assoonashecouldhearagain, theoldest Irregularscanned the room about him and asked, “Where’re theothers?”

“ThebriefestappraisalofCharlieheresuggests theyare still under the flute’s spell,” said Sherlock. “But I’mcertainthismanherecouldreverseit,ifhewished.”

“Why should I?” the snakeman asked in aGermanaccent. “I’vebeenmakingagood livingwith thoseboys.Best fleecers I’veeverhad.Nomorechildren’spennies.I’m on my way to making a true fortune. Just like myancestor.”

Sherlock turned the flute over in his hands. “Abeautiful piece of woodwork. Saxon in origin, if I’m notmistaken.” He glanced at me. “Have you heard of thepiedpiperofHamlin,Watson?”

“Asachild,Irecallafairytale—”“It’snotatale,”themansaid,hisupperlipcurlinginto

a sneer. “Story’s beenpasseddown throughour family,alongwith the flute.Mybrothersandsisters laughedatmewhen I practicedandpracticedon it, tryingdifferenttunes.Theydidn’tfinditquitesofunnywhenIcalledtherats. And screamed quite loud when the creaturesdevouredthemfromthefeetup.OnceIcouldcontroltherats,childrenwerethenextstep.ButIwantedmoreandgotit.Thankstothisboyandhisfriends.”

“Lookat‘im,Mr.Holmes,”Wigginssaid,acatchinhisvoice.Hepointedattheboyinhisgrasp.“He’sright.He’sstill gotCharlie and the rest ofmemates.He’s gots noreasontohelp,either.”

“Givemebackmy flute,and I’ll call themback.Takethespelloffthem.”

Sherlockstudiedtheinstrumentinhishand,andthen

toitsowner.“Ithinknot.There’snoguaranteeyouwon’tcallthemtoattackus.Orcalltherats.”

“Thenthey’llbegoneforever.Theyknowwheretogo.Seehowthatonesquirms inhis friend’sgrasp?Lethimgo, and he’ll disappear into a mountain. Same as theHamlinchildrendidsixhundredyearsago.”

Holmes rubbed his jaw. Rarely did my companionhesitate, but I could tell he was debating with himselfhowbest tosolve the issuebeforeus. Imyself lackedaclear path. We couldn’t let the Irregulars commit whatamounted to suicide. Neither did I have any confidencethatthemanwouldn’tjustabscondwiththefluteandtheboys.

“Get ‘em back,Mr. Holmes,”Wiggins said, his voicebreaking.“LookithowCharlie’sfightin’me.Ican’tholdallmemates.”

Sherlock fingered the fluteandput it tohis lips forabriefnote.HejerkedhisheadupandstaredatWiggins.

“Didn’tyoumentionyouhaveaspecialwhistlefortheIrregulars? Some way to call them back together whenyou’reseparated?”

The boy stared at Sherlock for a moment, then asmile split his face. “Laws, Mr. Holmes. Ain’t you thecleverone.”

“Whistleitnow.Andkeeprepeatingit.”With a nod, he puckeredhis lips andbegana high,

sweettune.Afterafewrenditions,Sherlocktookitupontheflute.Ashedidso,CharlierelaxedinWiggins’grasp.Amurmurpassedthroughthecrowdandonebyone,theother Irregulars appeared in the doorway and pushedtheirway towherewestood.Whenallwereassembled,Holmesstopped.Theboys’eyelids fluttereda few timesbefore they stared at each other and the tavern aroundthem.

“Binky,”Charlieaskedtheboynearesthim,“whatthedevilareyouwearin’?”

“Icouldaskthesameofyou,”Binkysaid.“Laws. Where are we?” the Irregulars asked one

anotherandtheirleader.“Rottendam. InHolland,”Wigginssaid. “I’llexplain it

all to you later.” The boy’s eyes shimmered when hefacedSherlock. “Thank you,Mr.Holmes. Thank you forsavingmefamilyandbringingusbacktogether.”

“ItwasamuchyourtuneasanythingIdid.Let’sheadbacktotheportandseeaboutpassagebacktoLondon.”Showing the flute to the snakeman, he said, “I’ll keepthis.It’smuchtoodangerousinyourhands.”

“Youaren’tgoingtotakehimbackwithus?”Iasked.“I doubt anyone atScotlandYardwould believe in a

magicalflute,but,ifI’mnotmistaken,wedohaveanewaddition to the itemsyouhavestored in thevaultatCoxandCompany.”

—TheEnd—

BAKERSTREETELEMENTARY

ORIGINALTALESWHICHTHISVOLUMEISBASEDON

I

“LITTLEBRIER-ROSEORSLEEPINGBEAUTY”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

npasttimestherewereakingandaqueen,whosaideveryday,“Oh,ifonlywehadachild!”buttheyneverreceivedone.Thenithappenedonedaywhilethequeenwassitting

in her bath, that a frog crept out of the water onto thegroundandsaidtoher,“Yourwishshallbefulfilled,andbefore a year passes youwill bring a daughter into theworld.”

What the frog saiddidhappen,and thequeengavebirthtoagirlwhowassobeautifulthatthekingcouldnotcontain himself for joy, and he ordered a greatcelebration.Heinvitednotonlyhisrelatives,friends,and

acquaintances, but also the wise women so that theywould be kindly disposed toward the child. There werethirteenoftheminhiskingdom,butbecausehehadonlytwelvegoldenplatesfromwhichtheyweretoeat,oneofthemhadtoremainathome.

The feastwascelebratedwithgreatsplendor,andatits conclusion thewisewomen presented the child withtheirmagicgifts.Theonegavehervirtue,thesecondonebeauty, the third onewealth, and so onwith everythingthatonecouldwishforonearth.

The eleventh one had just pronounced her blessingwhenthethirteenthonesuddenlywalkedin.

She wanted to avenge herself for not having beeninvited, and without greeting anyone or even looking atthem she cried out with a loud voice, “In the princess’sfifteenth year she shall prick herself with a spindle andfall over dead.” And without saying another word sheturnedaroundandleftthehall.

Everyonewashorrified, and the twelfthwisewoman,who had not yet offered her wish, stepped forward.Because she was unable to undo the wicked wish, butonlytosoftenit,shesaid,“Itshallnotbeherdeath.Theprincesswillonlyfallintoahundred-yeardeepsleep.”

Theking,wantingtorescuehisdearchild, issuedanorder that all spindles in the entire kingdom should beburned. Thewisewomen’s giftswere all fulfilled on thegirl,forshewassobeautiful,wellbehaved,friendly,andintelligentthateveryonewhosawherhadtoloveher.

Now it happened that on the day when she turnedfifteenyearsofage thekingand thequeenwerenotathome, and the girl was all alone in the castle. Shewalked around from one place to the next, looking intorooms and chambers as her heart desired. Finally, shecame to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow,

winding stairs and arrived at a small door. In the locktherewasa rusty key, andwhen she turned it the doorsprang open. There in a small room sat an old womanwithaspindlebusilyspinningherflax.

“Goodday,oldwoman,”said theprincess.“Whatareyoudoingthere?”

“I am spinning,” said the old woman, nodding herhead.

“Whatisthatthingthatissomerrilybouncingabout?”asked the girl, taking hold of the spindle, for she toowantedtospin.

She had no sooner touched the spindle when themagiccursewas fulfilled,andsheprickedherself in thefinger.The instant that she felt theprick she fell ontoabedthatwasstandingthere,andshelaythereinadeepsleep.Andthissleepspreadthroughouttheentirecastle.The king and queen, who had just returned home,walked into thehallandbegan fallingasleep,andalloftheir attendants as well. The horses fell asleep in theirstalls,thedogsinthecourtyard,thepigeonsontheroof,the flies on the walls, and even the fire on the hearthflickered, stopped moving, and fell asleep. The roaststopped sizzling. The cook, who was about to pullkitchenboy’s hair for having done somethingwrong, lethim loose and fell asleep. The wind stopped blowing,andoutsidethecastlenotaleafwasstirringinthetrees.

Roundaboutthecastleathornhedgebegantogrow,and every year it became higher, until it finallysurrounded and covered the entire castle. Finally,nothingatallcouldbeseenofit,noteventheflagontheroof.

A legend circulated throughout the land about thebeautiful sleeping Little Brier-Rose, for so the princesswas called. Legends also told that from time to time

princes came, wanting to force their way through thehedgeintothecastle.However,theydidnotsucceed,forthe thorns held firmly together, as though they hadhands,andtheyoungmenbecamestuckinthem,couldnotfreethemselves,anddiedmiserably.

Manylong,longyearslater,onceagainaprincecameto the country. He heard an old man telling about thethornhedge.Itwassaidthattherewasacastlebehindit,inwhichabeautifulprincessnamedLittleBrier-Rosehadbeenasleep forahundredyears,andwithher thekingand the queen and all the royal attendants weresleeping. He also knew from his grandfather thatmanyprinceshadcomeandtriedtopenetratethethornhedge,but they had become stuck in it and died a sorrowfuldeath.

Then the youngman said, “I amnot afraid. Iwill gothereandseethebeautifulLittleBrier-Rose.”

However much the good old man tried to dissuadehim,theprincewouldnotlistentohiswords.

Thehundredyearshadjustpassed,andthedayhadcome when Little Brier-Rose was to awaken.When theprince approached the thorn hedge, it was nothing butlarge, beautiful flowers that separated by themselves,allowing him to pass through without harm, but thenbehindhimclosedbackintoahedge.

In the courtyard he saw the horses and spottedhunting dogs lying there asleep, and on the roof thepigeons,perchedwiththeirlittleheadstuckedundertheirwings.When hewalked inside the flieswere asleep onthewall, thecook in thekitchenwasstillholdinguphishandasifhewantedtograbtheboy,andthemaidwassittinginfrontoftheblackchickenthatwassupposedtobeplucked.Hewalkedfurtherandsawalltheattendantslyingasleepinthehall,andabovethemnearthethrone

the king and the queen were lying. He walked on stillfurther, and it was so quiet that he could hear his ownbreath. Finally, he came to the tower and opened thedoor to the little room where Little Brier-Rose wassleeping.

Thereshelayandwassobeautiful thathecouldnottakehiseyesoffher.Hebentoverandgaveherakiss.When he touched her with the kiss Little Brier-Roseopenedhereyes,awoke,andlookedathimkindly.

Theywent downstairs together, and the king awoke,and the queen, and all the royal attendants, and theylookedatoneanother inamazement.Thehorses in thecourtyard stood up and shook themselves. The huntingdogsjumpedandwaggedtheirtails.Thepigeonsontheroofpulledtheirlittleheadsoutfrombeneaththeirwings,looked around, and flew into the field. The flies on thewalls creptaboutagain.The fire in thekitchen roseup,brokeintoflames,andcookedthefood.Theroastbeganto sizzle once again. The cook boxed the boy’s ears,causing him to cry, and the maid finished plucking thechicken.

And then the prince’s marriage to Little Brier-Rosewas celebrated with great splendor, and they livedhappilyuntiltheydied.

—TheEnd—

“LITTLEBOPEEP”

ENGLISHNURSERYRHYME

LittleBopeephaslosthersheepAnddoesn’tknowwheretofindthem.

Leavethemaloneandthey’llcomehome,Bringingtheirtailsbehindthem.

LittleBopeepfellfastasleepAnddreamtsheheardthembleating,

Butwhensheawoke,shefounditajoke,Fortheywereallstillfleeting.

ThenupshetookherlittlecrookDeterminedfortofindthem.

Shefoundthemindeed,butitmadeherheartbleed,Fortheylefttheirtailsbehindthem.

Ithappenedoneday,asBopeepdidstrayIntoameadowhardby,

TheresheespiedtheirtailssidebysideAllhungonatreetodry.

Sheheavedasigh,andwipedhereye,Andoverthehillockswentrambling,

Andtriedwhatshecould,asashepherdessshould,Totackagaineachtoitslambkin.

—TheEnd—

“THEGOOSE-GIRL”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

herewasonceuponatimeanoldqueenwhosehusbandhadbeendeadformanyyears,andshehadabeautifuldaughter.Whentheprincessgrewupshewasbetrothed

Ttoaprincewholivedatagreatdistance.Whenthetime

came for her to be married, and she had tojourney forth into the distant kingdom, the agedqueenpackedup forhermanycostlyvesselsof

silverandgold,and trinketsalsoofgoldandsilver,andcupsand jewels, in short, everythingwhichappertainedtoaroyaldowry,forshelovedherchildwithallherheart.

Shelikewisesenthermaid-in-waiting,whowastoridewithher,andhandherovertothebridegroom,andeachhad a horse for the journey, but the horse of the king’sdaughterwascalledFalada,andcouldspeak.Sowhenthehourofpartinghadcome,theagedmotherwentintoherbedroom,tookasmallknifeandcutherfingerwithituntilitbled.Thensheheldawhitehandkerchieftoitintowhich she let three drops of blood fall, gave it to herdaughter and said, dear child, preserve this carefully, itwillbeofservicetoyouonyourway.

So they took a sorrowful leave of each other, theprincess put the piece of cloth in her bosom, mountedherhorse,and thenwentaway toherbridegroom.Aftershehad ridden forawhileshe feltaburning thirst,andsaid to her waiting-maid, dismount, and take my cupwhich you have brought with you for me, and get mesomewater from thestream, for Ishould like todrink. Ifyouare thirsty, said thewaiting-maid,getoff yourhorseyourself,andliedownanddrinkoutof thewater, Idon’tchoosetobeyourservant.

Soinhergreatthirsttheprincessalighted,bentdownover the water in the stream and drank, and was notallowed to drink out of the golden cup. Then she said,ah, heaven, and the three drops of blood answered, ifthisyourmotherknew,herheartwouldbreakintwo.Butthe king’s daughter was humble, said nothing, andmountedherhorseagain.

She rodesomemiles further,but thedaywaswarm,the sun scorched her, and she was thirsty once more,and when they came to a stream of water, she againcried to her waiting-maid, dismount, and giveme somewater inmygoldencup, for shehad longago forgottenthe girl’s ill words. But the waiting-maid said still morehaughtily, if you wish to drink, get it yourself, I don’tchoose to be your maid. Then in her great thirst theking’s daughter alighted, bent over the flowing stream,weptandsaid,ah,heaven,andthedropsofbloodagainreplied,ifthisyourmotherknew,herheartwouldbreakintwo.

Andasshewas thusdrinkingand leaning rightoverthe stream, the handkerchief with the three drops ofblood fell out of her bosom, and floated away with thewaterwithoutherobserving it, sogreatwasher trouble.Thewaiting-maid,however,hadseenit,andsherejoicedtothinkthatshehadnowpoweroverthebride,forsincethe princess had lost the drops of blood, she hadbecomeweakandpowerless.

Sonowwhenshewanted tomountherhorseagain,the one that was called Falada, the waiting-maid said,Falada ismore suitable forme, andmy nagwill do foryou,and theprincesshad tobecontentwith that.Thenthe waiting-maid, with many hard words, bade theprincessexchangeherroyalapparelforherownshabbyclothes,andatlengthshewascompelledtoswearbytheclearskyaboveher, thatshewouldnotsayonewordofthistoanyoneattheroyalcourt,andifshehadnottakenthis oath she would have been killed on the spot. ButFaladasawallthis,andobserveditwell.

Thewaiting-maidnowmountedFalada,and the truebride the bad horse, and thus they traveled onwards,untilat lengththeyenteredtheroyalpalace.Therewere

great rejoicings over her arrival, and the prince sprangforward to meet her, lifted the waiting-maid from herhorse,andthoughtshewashisconsort.

She was conducted upstairs, but the real princesswasleftstandingbelow.Thentheoldking lookedoutofthewindowand sawher standing in the courtyard, andnoticed how dainty and delicate and beautiful shewas,andinstantlywenttotheroyalapartment,andaskedthebrideabout thegirl shehadwithherwhowasstandingdownbelowinthecourtyard,andwhoshewas.Ipickedher up on my way for a companion, give the girlsomethingtoworkat,thatshemaynotstandidle.

But the old king had no work for her, and knew ofnone,sohesaid,Ihavealittleboywhotendsthegeese,shemayhelphim.TheboywascalledConrad,and thetrue bride had to help him to tend the geese. Soonafterwardsthefalsebridesaidtotheyoungking,dearesthusband,Ibegyoutodomeafavor.Heanswered,Iwilldosomostwillingly.Thensendfortheknacker,andhavetheheadof thehorseonwhich I rodeherecutoff, for itvexedmeon theway. In reality, shewasafraid that thehorse might tell how she had behaved to the king’sdaughter.

Thenshesucceededinmakingthekingpromisethatitshouldbedone,andthefaithfulFaladawastodie,thiscame to the ears of the real princess, and she secretlypromised topay theknackerapieceofgold ifhewouldperformasmallservice forher.Therewasagreatdark-lookinggatewayinthetown,throughwhichmorningandeveningshehadtopasswiththegeese,wouldhebesogooodastonailupFalada’sheadonit,sothatshemightsee him again, more than once. The knacker’s manpromised to do that, and cut off thehead, andnailed itfastbeneaththedarkgateway.

Earlyinthemorning,whensheandConraddroveouttheir flock beneath this gateway, she said in passing,alas,Falada,hangingthere.

Then theheadanswered,alas,youngqueen,how illyoufare.Ifthisyourmotherknew,herheartwouldbreakintwo.

Thentheywentstillfurtheroutofthetown,anddrovetheirgeeseintothecountry.Andwhentheyhadcometothemeadow,shesatdownandunboundherhairwhichwaslikepuregold,andConradsawitanddelightedinitsbrightness, and wanted to pluck out a few hairs. Thenshe said, blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say, blowConrad’slittlehataway,andmakehimchaseithereandthere, until I have braided all my hair, and bound it upagain.

And there came such a violent wind that it blewConrad’shatfarawayacrosscountry,andhewasforcedto run after it. When he came back she had finishedcombing her hair and was putting it up again, and hecould not get any of it. Then Conrad was angry, andwouldnotspeaktoher,andthustheywatchedthegeeseuntil the evening, and then they went home. Next daywhen theywere driving the geese out through the darkgateway,themaidensaid,alas,Falada,hangingthere.

Faladaanswered,alas,youngqueen,howillyoufare.Ifthisyourmotherknew,herheartwouldbreakintwo.

And she sat down again in the field and began tocomboutherhair,andConradranandtriedtoclutchit,soshesaidinhaste,blow,blow,thougentlewind,Isay,blowConrad’slittlehataway,andmakehimchaseithereand there,until Ihavebraidedallmyhair,andbound itupagain.

Then the wind blew, and blew his little hat off hisheadandfaraway,andConradwasforcedtorunafterit,

and when he came back, her hair had been put up along time, and he could get none of it, and so theylookedaftertheirgeesetilleveningcame.

But in the evening after they had got home,Conradwenttotheoldking,andsaid,Iwon’ttendthegeesewiththatgirlanylonger.Whynot,inquiredtheagedking.Oh,because she vexes me the whole day long. Then theagedkingcommandedhimtorelatewhatitwasthatshedid to him. And Conrad said, in the morning when wepassbeneaththedarkgatewaywiththeblock,thereisahorse’sheadonthewall,andshesaystoit,alas,Falada,hangingthere.

And thehead replies,alas, youngqueenhow ill youfare. If this yourmother knew, her heartwould break intwo.

AndConradwentontorelatewhathappenedonthegoosepasture,andhowwhentherehehadtochasehishat.

Theagedkingcommandedhimtodrivehisblockoutagainnextday,andassoonasmorningcame,heplacedhimself behind the dark gateway, and heard how themaiden spoke to the head of Falada, and then he toowentintothecountry,andhidhimselfinthethicketinthemeadow. There he soon saw with his own eyes thegoose-girl and the goose-boy bringing their flock, andhow after a while she sat down and unplaited her hair,which shone with radiance. And soon she said, blow,blow, thou gentle wind, I say, blow Conrad’s little hataway,andmakehimchaseithereandthere,untilIhavebraidedallmyhair,andbounditupagain.

Then came a blast of wind and carried off Conrad’shat, so that he had to run far away, while the maidenquietlywentoncombingandplaitingherhair,allofwhichthe king observed. Then, quite unseen, he went away,

andwhen thegoose-girl camehome in theevening, hecalledheraside,andaskedwhyshedidallthesethings.Imaynot tell that,and Idarenot lamentmysorrows toany humanbeing, for I have sworn not to do so by theheaven which is above me, if I had not done that, Ishouldhavelostmylife.

He urged her and left her no peace, but he coulddrawnothing fromher. Then said he, if youwill not tellme anything, tell your sorrows to the iron-stove there,and he went away. Then she crept into the iron-stove,andbegan toweepand lament,andemptiedherwholeheart,andsaid,heream Idesertedby thewholeworld,andyetIamaking’sdaughter,andafalsewaiting-maidhasbyforcebroughtmetosuchapassthatIhavebeencompelledtoputoffmyroyalapparel,andshehastakenmy place with my bridegroom, and I have to performmenialserviceasagoose-girlifthismymotherknew,herheartwouldbreakintwo.

Theagedking,however,wasstandingoutsidebythepipeofthestove,andwaslisteningtowhatshesaid,andheard it.Thenhecamebackagain,andbadehercomeoutofthestove.Androyalgarmentswereplacedonher,and itwasmarvelloushowbeautiful shewas.Theagedkingsummonedhisson,andrevealedtohimthathehadgotthefalsebridewhowasonlyawaiting-maid,butthatthetrueonewasstandingthere,astheformergoose-girl.The young king rejoicedwith all his heartwhenhe sawherbeautyandyouth,andagreatfeastwasmadereadytowhichallthepeopleandallgoodfriendswereinvited.

At theheadof the table sat thebridegroomwith theking’sdaughteratonesideofhim,andthewaiting-maidon theother, but thewaiting-maidwasblinded,anddidnot recognize the princess in her dazzling array.Whentheyhadeatenanddrunk,andweremerry,theagedking

asked the waiting-maid as a riddle, what punishment aperson deservedwho had behaved in such and such away to her master, and at the same time related thewhole story, and asked what sentence such a personmerited. Then the false bride said, she deserves nobetterfatethantobestrippedentirelynaked,andput ina barrelwhich is studded insidewith pointed nails, andtwo white horses should be harnessed to it, which willdragheralongthroughonestreetafteranother,tillsheisdead.

It is you, said the aged king, and you havepronounced your own sentence, and thus shall it bedoneuntoyou.Andwhenthesentencehadbeencarriedout, the young kingmarried his true bride, and both ofthemreignedovertheirkingdominpeaceandhappiness.

—TheEnd—

“THEROBBERBRIDEGROOM”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

nceupona time therewasamillerwhohadabeautifuldaughter.Whenshecameofagehewishedthatshewas

Oprovided for and well married. He thought, “If a

respectablesuitorcomesandasksforherhandinmarriage,Iwillgivehertohim.”

Not long afterward a suitor came whoappeared to be very rich, and because themiller couldfindnofaultwithhim,hepromisedhisdaughtertohim.

Thegirl,however,didnotlikehimasmuchasabrideshould like her bridegroom. She did not trust him, andwhenever she saw him or thought about him, she feltwithinherheartasenseofhorror.

One timehe said to her, “Youareengaged tomarryme,butyouhaveneveroncepaidmeavisit.”

Thegirlreplied,“Idon’tknowwhereyourhouseis.”Then the bridegroom said, “My house is out in the

darkwoods.”Lookingforanexcuse,shesaidthatshewouldnotbe

abletofindthewaythere.The bridegroom said, “Next Sunday you must come

outtome.Ihavealreadyinvitedguests.Iwillmakeatrailof ashes, so that you can find your way through thewoods.”

When Sunday came, and it was time for the girl tostart on her way, she became frightened, although sheherself did not know exactly why. In order to mark thepath,shefilledbothherpockets fullofpeasand lentils.At the entrance of the forest therewas a trail of ashes,whichshefollowed,butateverystepshethrewacoupleof peas to the ground, to the right and to the left. Shewalked almost the whole day until she came to themiddleofthewoods,whereitwasthedarkest,andtherestood a solitary house. She did not like it, because itlookedsodarkandsinister.Shewentinside,butnoonewasthere.Itwastotallyquiet.

Suddenlyavoicecalledout:

Turnback,turnback,youyoungbride.Youareinamurderer’shouse.Thegirllookedupandsawthatthevoicecamefroma

bird,whichwashanginginacageonthewall.Itcriedoutagain:

Turnback,turnback,youyoungbride.Youareinamurderer’shouse.Then the beautiful bride went from one room to

another, walking through the whole house, but it wasentirely empty, and not a human soulwas to be found.Finally, she came to the cellar. A very old woman wassittingthereshakingherhead.

“Could you tell me,” said the girl, “if my bridegroomliveshere?”

“Oh,you,poorchild,” replied theoldwoman, “wheredid you come from? You are in a murderer’s den. Youthinkyouareabridesoon tobemarried,but it isdeaththatyouwillbemarrying.Look,theymademeputalargekettleofwateronthefire.Whentheyhavecapturedyou,theywillchopyoutopieceswithoutmercy,cookyou,andeat you, for they are cannibals. If I do not show youcompassionandsaveyou,youaredoomed.”

Withthistheoldwomanledherbehindalargebarrelwhereshecouldnotbeseen.

“Be quiet as a mouse.” she said. “Do not make asoundormove,orallwillbeoverwithyou.Tonightwhentherobbersareasleepwewillescape.Ihavelongwaitedforanopportunity.”

Thishadscarcelyhappenedwhen thegodlessbandcame home. They were dragging with them anothermaiden. They were drunk and paid no attention to herscreamsandsobs.

They gave her wine to drink, three glasses full, oneglassofwhite,oneglassofred,andoneglassofyellow,

whichcausedherhearttobreak.Thentheyrippedoffherfine clothes, laid her on a table, chopped her beautifulbody in pieces and sprinkled salt on it. The poor bridebehind thebarrel trembledand shook, for she sawwellwhatfatetherobbershadplannedforher.

One of them noticed a gold ring on the murderedgirl’s little finger. Because it did not come off easily, hetookanaxandchoppedthefingeroff,butitflewintotheair and over the barrel, falling right into the bride’s lap.The robber took a light and looked for it, but could notfindit.

Thenanotheronesaid,“Didyoulookbehindthelargebarrel?”

Buttheoldwomancriedout,“Comeandeat.Youcancontinue looking in the morning. That finger won’t runawayfromyou.”

Thentherobberssaid,“Theoldwomanisright.”Theygaveuptheirsearchandsatdowntoeat.Theoldwomanpoured a sleeping-potion into their wine, so that theysoonlaydowninthecellarandfellasleep,snoring.

When the bride heard them snoring she came outfrom behind the barrel, and had to step over thesleepers,fortheylayallinrowsontheground.Shewasafraid that she might awaken one of them, but Godhelpedher,andshegotthroughsafely.

The old woman went upstairs with her, opened thedoor,and theyhurriedoutof themurderer’sdenas fastastheycould.

Thewindhadblownaway the trail ofashes,but thepeas and lentils had sprouted and grown up, andshowed them theway in themoonlight.Theywalkedallnight,arrivingat themill thenextmorning.Then thegirltoldherfathereverything,justasithadhappened.

When the wedding day came, the bridegroom

appeared. The miller had invited all his relatives andacquaintances. As they sat at the table, each one wasasked to tell something. The bride sat still and saidnothing.

Then the bridegroom said to the bride, “Come,sweetheart,don’tyouknowanything?Tellussomething,liketheothershavedone.”

Sheanswered:Then I will tell about a dream. I was walking alone

through the woods, when finally, I came to a house.Insidetherewasnotasinglehumansoul,butonthewalltherewasabirdinacage.Itcriedout:

Turnback,turnback,you,youngbride.Youareinamurderer’shouse.Thenitcriedoutthesamethingagain.Darling,itwas

only a dream. Then Iwent through all the rooms. Theywere all empty, and there was something so eerie inthere.Finally,Iwentdownintothecellar,andtheresataveryoldwoman,shakingherhead.Iaskedher,“Doesmybridegroomliveinthishouse?”

Sheanswered,“Alaspoorchild,youhavegotten intoamurderer’sden.Yourbridegroomdoeslivehere,butheintends tochopyou topiecesandkill you,and thenheintendstocookyouandeatyou.”

Darling,itwasonlyadream.Afterthattheoldwomanhid me behind a large barrel. I had scarcely hiddenmyself therewhen the robbers came home, dragging agirlwiththem.Theygaveherthreekindsofwinetodrink:white, red, and yellow, which caused her heart to stopbeating.Darling,itwasonlyadream.Afterthattheytookoff her fine clothes, and chopped her beautiful body topiecesonatable,thensprinkledsaltonit.Darling,itwasonly a dream. Then one of the robbers saw that therewasstillaringonherringfinger.Becauseitwashardto

gettheringoff,hetookanaxandchoppedoffthefinger.The finger flew through the air behind the large barrel,andfellintomylap.Andhereisthefingerwiththering.

With these words she pulled out the finger andshowedittoeveryonewhowasthere.

The robber, who had during this story become aswhite as chalk, jumped up and tried to escape, but theguestsheldhimfast,and turnedhimover to thecourts.Then he and his whole band were executed for theirshamefuldeeds.

—TheEnd—

O

“LITTLERED-CAP”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

nceuponatimetherewasadear littlegirlwhowas loved by everyonewho looked at her, butmostof all byhergrandmother, and therewas

nothingthatshewouldnothavegiventothechild.Onceshegaveheralittlecapofredvelvet,whichsuitedhersowell that she would never wear anything else. So shewasalwayscalledlittlered-cap.

Onedayhermothersaid toher,come, little red-cap,hereisapieceofcakeandabottleofwine.Takethemtoyour grandmother, she is ill andweak, and theywill doher good.Set out before it gets hot, andwhen you are

going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off thepath,oryoumayfallandbreakthebottle,andthenyourgrandmotherwillgetnothing.Andwhenyougo intoherroom,don’t forget tosay,good-morning,anddon’tpeepintoeverycornerbeforeyoudoit.

Iwilltakegreatcare,saidlittlered-captohermother,andgaveherhandonit.

Thegrandmotherlivedoutinthewood,halfaleaguefrom the village, and just as little red-cap entered thewood, a wolf met her. Red-cap did not know what awickedcreaturehewas,andwasnotatallafraidofhim.

“Good-day,littlered-cap,”saidhe.“Thankyoukindly,wolf.”“Whitherawaysoearly,littlered-cap?”“Tomygrandmother’s.”“Whathaveyougotinyourapron?”“Cake and wine. Yesterday was baking-day, so poor

sickgrandmotheristohavesomethinggood,tomakeherstronger.”

“Wheredoesyourgrandmotherlive,littlered-cap?”“A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood.

Her house stands under the three large oak-trees, thenut-treesarejustbelow.Yousurelymustknowit,”repliedlittlered-cap.

The wolf thought to himself, what a tender youngcreature.Whataniceplumpmouthful,shewillbebetterto eat than the old woman. I must act craftily, so as tocatchboth.Sohewalked forashort timeby thesideoflittle red-cap, and then he said, “see little red-cap, howpretty the flowers are about here.Why do you not lookround. I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetlythe little birds are singing. Youwalk gravely along as ifyouweregoingtoschool,whileeverythingelseouthereinthewoodismerry.”

Littlered-capraisedhereyes,andwhenshesawthesunbeamsdancinghereandtherethroughthetrees,andprettyflowersgrowingeverywhere,shethought,supposeI take grandmother a fresh nosegay. Thatwould pleasehertoo.It issoearlyinthedaythatIshallstillgetthereingoodtime.Andsosheranfromthepathintothewoodto look for flowers. And whenever she had picked one,she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on,and ran after it, and sogot deeper anddeeper into thewood.

Meanwhile thewolf ranstraight to thegrandmother’shouseandknockedatthedoor.

“Whoisthere?”“Littlered-cap,”repliedthewolf.“Sheisbringingcake

andwine.Openthedoor.”“Lift the latch,”calledout thegrandmother, “Iam too

weak,andcannotgetup.”Thewolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and

without saying a word he went straight to thegrandmother’s bed, and devoured her. Then he put onher clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself inbedanddrewthecurtains.

Little red-cap, however, had been running aboutpicking flowers, and when she had gathered so manythat she could carry no more, she remembered hergrandmother,andsetoutonthewaytoher.

Shewas surprised to find the cottage-door standingopen,andwhenshewentintotheroom,shehadsuchastrange feeling that she said to herself, oh dear, howuneasy I feel to-day,andatother times I likebeingwithgrandmother somuch. She called out, “goodmorning,”butreceivednoanswer.Soshewenttothebedanddrewback the curtains. There lay her grandmother with hercappulledfaroverherface,andlookingverystrange.

“Oh, grandmother,” she said, “what big ears youhave.”

“Thebettertohearyouwith,mychild,”wasthereply.“But,grandmother,whatbigeyesyouhave,”shesaid.“Thebettertoseeyouwith,”mydear.“But,grandmother,whatlargehandsyouhave.”“Thebettertohugyouwith.”“Oh,but,grandmother,whataterriblebigmouthyou

have.”“Thebettertoeatyouwith.”And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one

boundhewasoutofbedandswallowedupred-cap.When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay

down again in the bed, fell asleep and began to snorevery loud. The huntsman was just passing the house,and thought tohimself,howtheoldwoman issnoring. Imustjustseeifshewantsanything.

Sohewent into the room,andwhenhecame to thebed, he saw that thewolf was lying in it. Do I find youhere, you old sinner, said he. I have long sought you.Then just as hewas going to fire at him, it occurred tohimthat thewolfmighthavedevouredthegrandmother,and thatshemightstillbesaved,sohedidnot fire,buttook a pair of scissors, and began to cut open thestomach of the sleeping wolf. When he had made twosnips, he saw the little red-cap shining, and then hemade two snips more, and the little girl sprang out,crying,ah,how frightened Ihavebeen.Howdark itwasinside the wolf. And after that the aged grandmothercame out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe. Red-cap, however, quickly fetched great stones with whichthey filled the wolf’s belly, and when he awoke, hewantedtorunaway,butthestonesweresoheavythathecollapsedatonce,andfelldead.

Thenallthreeweredelighted.Thehuntsmandrewoffthewolf’s skinandwenthomewith it.Thegrandmotherate the cake and drank the wine which red-cap hadbrought, and revived,but red-cap thought toherself, aslongasIlive,Iwillneverbymyselfleavethepath,toruninto thewood,whenmymotherhas forbiddenme todoso.

It is also related that once when red-cap was againtakingcakestotheoldgrandmother,anotherwolfspoketo her, and tried to entice her from the path. Red-cap,however,wasonherguard,andwentstraightforwardonherway,andtoldhergrandmotherthatshehadmetthewolf,andthathehadsaidgood-morningtoher,butwithsuchawickedlookinhiseyes,thatiftheyhadnotbeenonthepublicroadshewascertainhewouldhaveeatenherup.Well,saidthegrandmother,wewillshutthedoor,that he may not come in. Soon afterwards the wolfknocked, and cried, open the door, grandmother, I amlittlered-cap,andambringingyousomecakes.Buttheydidnotspeak,oropenthedoor,sothegrey-beardstoletwice or thrice round the house, and at last jumped ontheroof,intendingtowaituntilred-capwenthomeintheevening,andthentostealafterheranddevourherinthedarkness. But the grandmother saw what was in histhoughts.Infrontofthehousewasagreatstonetrough,so she said to the child, take the pail, red-cap. I madesome sausages yesterday, so carry thewater inwhich Iboiledthemtothetrough.Red-capcarrieduntilthegreattrough was quite full. Then the smell of the sausagesreachedthewolf,andhesniffedandpeepeddown,andat last stretched out his neck so far that he could nolonger keep his footing and began to slip, and slippeddown from the roof straight into the great trough, andwas drowned. But red-capwent joyously home, and no

oneeverdidanythingtoharmheragain.

—TheEnd—

“HUMPTYDUMPTY”

MOTHERGOOSE

HumptyDumptysatonawall,HumptyDumptyhadabigfall.

Alltheking’shorsesandalltheking’smenCouldn’tputHumptytogetheragain.

—TheEnd—

I

“DEATH’SMESSENGERS”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

n ancient times a giant was wandering along thehighway when suddenly a stranger jumped towardhimandshouted,“Stop!Notonestepfurther!”“What?” said the giant. “You, a creature that I could

crush between my fingers, you want to block my way?Whoareyouthatyoudaretospeaksoboldly?”

“IamDeath,”answeredtheotherone.“Nooneresistsme,andyoutoomustobeymyorders.”

But the giant refused, and began to wrestle withDeath. Itwasa long, violentbattle,and finally thegiantgot the upper hand, and knocked Death down with his

fist, causinghim to collapsebyastone.Thegiantwentonhisway,andDeathlaythereconquered,soweakthathecouldnotgetupagain.

“Whatistocomeofthis?”hesaid.“IfIstaylyingherein a corner, no one will die in the world, and it willbecomesofilledwithpeoplethattheywon’thaveroomtostandbesideoneanother.”

Meanwhile a young man came down the road.Vigorousandhealthy,hewassingingasongandlookingthis way and that. Seeing the half-conscious individual,heapproachedhimwithcompassion,raisedhimup,gavehimarefreshingdrinkfromhisflask,andwaiteduntilheregainedhisstrength.

“Do you know,” asked the stranger, as he stood up,“who I am, and whom you have helped onto his legsagain?”

“No,”answeredtheyouth,“Idonotknowyou.”“IamDeath,”hesaid.“Isparenoone,norcanmake

an exception with you. However, so youmay see that Iam grateful, I promise you that I will not attack youwithoutwarning,butinsteadwillsendmymessengerstoyoubeforeIcomeandtakeyouaway.”

“Good,”saidtheyouth.“It istomybenefitthatIshallknowwhenyouarecoming,and that Iwillbesafe fromyouuntilthen.”

Then he went on his way, and was cheerful andcarefree,andlivedonedayatatime.However,youthandgoodhealth did not last long.Soon came sickness andpain, which tormented him by day and deprived him ofhisrestbynight.

“Ishallnotdie,”hesaidtohimself,“forDeathwillfirstsend his messengers, but I do wish that these wickeddaysofsicknesswereover.”

Regaining his health, he began once more to live

cheerfully. Then one day someone tapped on hisshoulder.

He looked around, and death was standing behindhim, who said, “Followme. The hour of your departurefromthisworldhascome.”

“What?” replied the man. “Are you breaking yourword?Didyounotpromisemethatyouwouldsendyourmessengers to me before you yourself would come? Ihavenotseenaoneofthem.”

“Be still!” answeredDeath. “Have I not sent you onemessengerafteranother?Didnot fever comeandstrikeyou, and shake you, and throw you down? Has notdizzinessnumbedyourhead?Hasnotgoutpinchedyourlimbs? Did your ears not buzz? Did toothache not biteinto your cheeks? Did your eyes not darken? Andfurthermore,hasnotmyownbrotherSleepremindedyoueverynightofme?Duringthenightdidyounot liethereasifyouwerealreadydead?”

The man did not know how to answer, so hesurrenderedtohisfateandwentawaywithDeath.

—TheEnd—

T

“FAITHFULJOHANNES”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

herewasonceuponatimeanoldkingwhowasill and thought to himself ‘I am lying on whatmustbemydeathbed.’Thensaidhe ‘tell faithful

Johntocometome.’Faithful John was his favorite servant, and was so

called, because he had for his whole life long been sotruetohim.Whenthereforehecamebesidethebed,the

king said to him ‘most faithful John, I feel my endapproaching,andhavenoanxietyexceptaboutmyson.Heisstilloftenderage,andcannotalwaysknowhowtoguide himself. If you do not promise me to teach himeverything that he ought to know, and to be his foster-father,Icannotclosemyeyesinpeace.’

Then answered faithful John ‘I will not forsake him,andwill servehimwith fidelity,even if it shouldcostmemylife.’

At this, the old king said ‘now I die in comfort andpeace.’ Then he added ‘aftermy death, you shall showhimthewholecastle-allthechambers,halls,andvaults,and all the treasures which lie therein, but the lastchamberinthelonggallery,inwhichisthepictureoftheprincessofthegoldendwelling,shallyounotshow.Ifheseesthatpicture,hewillfallviolentlyinlovewithher,andwilldropdowninaswoon,andgothroughgreatdangerforhersake,thereforeyoumustprotecthimfromthat.’

And when faithful John had once more given hispromisetotheoldkingaboutthis,thekingsaidnomore,butlaidhisheadonhispillow,anddied.

When the old king had been carried to his grave,faithfulJohntoldtheyoungkingallthathehadpromisedhisfatheronhisdeathbed,andsaid‘thiswillIassuredlykeep,andwillbefaithfultoyouasIhavebeenfaithfultohim,evenifitshouldcostmemylife.’

When the mourning was over, faithful John said tohim‘itisnowtimethatyoushouldseeyourinheritance.Iwillshowyouyourfather’spalace.’

Then he took him about everywhere, up and down,and let him see all the riches, and the magnificentapartments, only there was one roomwhich he did notopen,thatinwhichhungthedangerouspicture.

The picture, however, was so placed that when the

doorwasopenedyoulookedstraightonit,anditwassoadmirablypaintedthatitseemedtobreatheandlive,andtherewasnothingmorecharmingormorebeautifulinthewholeworld.

The young king noticed, however, that faithful Johnalwayswalkedpast thisonedoor,andsaid ‘whydoyouneveropenthisoneforme.’

‘Thereissomethingwithinit,hereplied,‘whichwouldterrifyyou.’

Butthekinganswered‘Ihaveseenallthepalace,andIwanttoknowwhatisinthisroomalso,andhewentandtriedtobreakopenthedoorbyforce.’

ThenfaithfulJohnheldhimbackandsaid‘Ipromisedyourfatherbeforehisdeaththatyoushouldnotseethatwhich is in this chamber, it might bring the greatestmisfortuneonyouandonme.’

‘Ah,no,repliedtheyoungking,‘ifIdonotgoin,itwillbemy certain destruction. I should have no rest day ornight until I had seen it with my own eyes. I shall notleavetheplacenowuntilyouhaveunlockedthedoor.’

Then faithful John saw that there was no help for itnow,andwithaheavyheartandmanysighs,soughtoutthekeyfromthegreatbunch.

When he opened the door, he went in first, andthoughtbystandingbeforehimhecouldhidetheportraitsothatthekingshouldnotseeitinfrontofhim.

Butwhatgoodwasthis.Thekingstoodontip-toeandsawitoverhisshoulder.

And when he saw the portrait of the maiden, whichwas so magnificent and shone with gold and preciousstones,hefellfaintingtotheground.

FaithfulJohntookhimup,carriedhimtohisbed,andsorrowfullythought ‘themisfortunehasbefallenus,LordGod,whatwillbetheendofit.’

Thenhestrengthenedhimwithwine,untilhecametohimselfagain.

The first words the king said were ‘ah, the beautifulportrait.Whoseitit.’

‘Thatistheprincessofthegoldendwelling,answeredfaithfulJohn.Thenthekingcontinued‘myloveforherisso great, that if all the leaves on all the trees weretongues,theycouldnotdeclareit.Iwillgivemylifetowinher.YouaremymostfaithfulJohn,youmusthelpme.

The faithful servant considered within himself for along timehowtosetabout thematter, for itwasdifficulteventoobtainasightoftheking’sdaughter.

At length he thought of a way, and said to the king‘everythingwhich she has about her is of gold - tables,chairs, dishes, glasses, bowls, and household furniture.Amongyourtreasuresarefivetonsofgold,letoneofthegoldsmithsof thekingdomfashionthese intoallmannerofvesselsandutensils,intoallkindsofbirds,wildbeastsand strange animals, such as may please her, and wewillgotherewiththemandtryourluck.’

Thekingorderedall thegoldsmiths tobebrought tohim,andtheyhadtoworknightanddayuntilatlastthemostsplendidthingswereprepared.

Wheneverythingwasstowedonboardaship,faithfulJohnputon thedressofamerchant,and thekingwasforced to do the same in order to make himself quiteunrecognizable.

Then they sailed across the sea, and sailed on untiltheycameto thetownwhereindwelt theprincessof thegoldendwelling.

FaithfulJohnbade thekingstaybehindon theship,andwaitforhim.

‘Perhaps I shall bring theprincesswithme, said he,‘thereforeseethateverythingisinorder,havethegolden

vesselssetoutandthewholeshipdecorated.’Then he gathered together in his apron all kinds of

golden things,wentonshoreandwalkedstraight to theroyalpalace.

When he entered the courtyard of the palace, abeautiful girl was standing there by the well with twogoldenbucketsinherhand,drawingwaterwiththem.

Andwhen shewas just turning round to carry awaythesparklingwatershesawthestranger,andaskedwhohewas.

So he answered ‘I am a merchant, and opened hisapron,andletherlookin.

Thenshecried‘oh,whatbeautifulgoldenthings.’Andputherpailsdownand lookedat thegoldenwaresoneaftertheother.

Then said the girl ‘the princessmust see these, shehas such great pleasure in golden things, that she willbuyallyouhave.’

She took him by the hand and led him upstairs, forshewasthewaiting-maid.

When the king’s daughter saw the wares, she wasquitedelightedandsaid ‘theyaresobeautifullyworked,thatIwillbuythemallfromyou.’

But faithfulJohnsaid ‘Iamonly theservantofa richmerchant.ThethingsIhaveherearenottobecomparedwiththosemymasterhasinhisship.Theyarethemostbeautifulandvaluable things thathaveeverbeenmadeingold.’

When she wanted to have everything brought up toher,hesaid‘therearesomanyofthemthatitwouldtakeagreatmanydaystodothat,andsomanyroomswouldbe required to exhibit them, that your house is not bigenough.’

Thenhercuriosityandlongingwerestillmoreexcited,

until at last she said ‘conduct me to the ship, I will gotheremyself,andbeholdthetreasuresofyourmaster.’

At this faithfulJohnwasquitedelighted,and ledhertotheship,andwhenthekingsawher,heperceivedthather beauty was even greater than the picture hadrepresented it tobe,and thoughtnoother than thathisheartwouldburstintwain.

Then she boarded the ship, and the king led herwithin. Faithful John, however, remained with thehelmsman,andorderedtheshiptobepushedoff,saying‘setallsail,tillitflylikeabirdintheair.’

Within,thekingshowedherthegoldenvessels,everyoneofthem,alsothewildbeastsandstrangeanimals.

Many hours went by whilst she was seeingeverything, and in her delight she did not observe thattheshipwassailingaway.

After she had looked at the last, she thanked themerchantandwantedtogohome,butwhenshecametothesideoftheship,shesawthatitwasonthehighseasfarfromland,andhurryingonwardswithallsailset.

‘Ah, cried she in her alarm, ‘I am betrayed. I amcarried away and have fallen into the power of amerchant-Iwouldratherdie.’

The king, however, seized her hand, and said ‘I amnot a merchant. I am a king, and of no meaner originthanyouare,andifIhavecarriedyouawaywithsubtlety,that has come to pass because of my exceeding greatloveforyou.ThefirsttimethatIlookedonyourportrait,Ifellfaintingtotheground.’

Whentheprincessofthegoldendwellingheardthis,shewascomforted,andherheartwasdrawn tohim,sothatshewillinglyconsentedtobehiswife.

Itsohappened,whiletheyweresailingonwardsoverthedeep sea, that faithful John,whowas sittingon the

forepartofthevessel,makingmusic,sawthreeravensintheair,whichcameflyingtowardsthem.

At thishestoppedplayingand listened towhat theyweresayingtoeachother,forthathewellunderstood.

Onecried‘oh,thereheiscarryinghometheprincessofthegoldendwelling.’

‘Yes,repliedthesecond,‘buthehasnotgotheryet.’Saidthethird‘buthehasgother,sheissittingbeside

himintheship.’Then the firstbeganagain,andcried ‘whatgoodwill

thatdohim.Whentheyreachlandachestnuthorsewillleap forward to meet him, and the prince will want tomount it, but if he does that, it will run away with him,andriseupintotheair,andhewillneverseehismaidenmore.’

Spokethesecond‘butistherenoescape.’‘Oh,yes, ifsomeoneelsemountsitswiftly,andtakes

outthepistolwhichhewill findinitsholster,andshootsthehorsedead,theyoungkingissaved.Butwhoknowsthat.Andwhosoeverdoesknowit,andtellsittohim,willbeturnedtostonefromthetoetotheknee.’

Thensaid thesecond ‘Iknowmore thanthat,even ifthehorsebekilled, theyoungkingwillstillnotkeephisbride.When theygo into the castle together, awroughtbridal garmentwill be lying there in a dish, and lookingas if it were woven of gold and silver, it is, however,nothingbutsulphurandpitch,and ifheput iton, itwillburnhimtotheveryboneandmarrow.’

Saidthethird‘istherenoescapeatall.’‘Oh,yes,repliedthesecond,‘ifanyonewithgloveson

seizes thegarmentand throws it into the fireandburnsit, theyoungkingwillbesaved.Butwhatgoodwill thatdo.Whosoeverknowsitandtells it tohim,halfhisbodywillbecomestonefromthekneetotheheart.’

Thensaidthethird‘Iknowstillmore,evenifthebridalgarment be burnt, the young kingwill still not have hisbride. After thewedding, when the dancing begins andtheyoungqueenisdancing,shewillsuddenlyturnpaleandfalldownasifdead,andifsomeonedoesnotliftherup and draw three drops of blood fromher right breastandspit themoutagain,shewilldie.But ifanyonewhoknows that were to declare it, he would become stonefromthecrownofhisheadtothesoleofhisfoot.’

When the ravens had spoken of this together, theyflew onwards, and faithful John had well understoodeverything,butfromthattimeforthhebecamequietandsad, for if he concealed what he had heard from hismaster, the latter would be unfortunate, and if hedisclosedittohim,hehimselfmustsacrificehislife.

At length,however,hesaid tohimself ‘Iwill savemymaster,evenifitbringdestructiononmyself.’

Whenthereforetheycametoshore,allhappenedashad been foretold by the ravens, and a magnificentchestnuthorsesprangforward.

‘Good,saidtheking,‘heshallcarrymetomypalace,andwasabouttomount itwhenfaithfulJohngotbeforehim, jumped quickly on it, drew the pistol out of theholster,andshotthehorse.

Then theotherattendantsof the king,whowerenotvery fondof faithfulJohn,cried ‘howshameful tokill thebeautifulanimal, thatwastohavecarriedthekingtohispalace.’

But the king said ‘hold your peace and leave himalone, he is my most faithful John. Who knows whatgoodmaycomeofthis.’

Theywentintothepalace,andinthehalltherestooda dish, and therein lay the bridal garment looking nootherwisethanasifitweremadeofgoldandsilver.

Theyoungkingwenttowardsitandwasabouttotakehold of it, but faithful John pushed him away, seized itwithgloveson,carrieditquicklytothefireandburntit.

The other attendants again began to murmur, andsaid ‘behold, now he is even burning the king’s bridalgarment.’

But the young king said ‘who knows what good hemayhavedone, leavehimalone, he ismymost faithfulJohn.’

And now the wedding was solemnized - the dancebegan, and the bride also took part in it, then faithfulJohn was watchful and looked into her face, andsuddenlysheturnedpaleandfelltothegroundasifsheweredead.

On this he ran hastily to her, lifted her up and boreher into a chamber - then he laid her down, and kneltand sucked the three drops of blood from her rightbreast,andspatthemout.

Immediately she breathed again and recoveredherself, but the young king had seen this, and beingignorant why faithful John had done it, was angry andcried‘throwhimintoadungeon.’

Nextmorning faithful Johnwas condemned, and ledto the gallows, and when he stood on high, and wasabouttobeexecuted,hesaid ‘everyonewhohastodieispermittedbeforehisendtomakeonelastspeech,mayItooclaimtheright.’

‘Yes,answeredtheking,‘itshallbegranteduntoyou.’Then said faithful John ‘I am unjustly condemned,

andhavealwaysbeentruetoyou,andherelatedhowhehadhearkenedtotheconversationoftheravenswhenonthe sea, and how he had been obliged to do all thesethingsinordertosavehismaster.

Then cried the king ‘oh, my most faithful John.

Pardon,pardon-bringhimdown.’ButasfaithfulJohnspokethelastwordhehadfallen

downlifelessandbecomeastone.Thereupon the king and the queen suffered great

anguish, and the king said ‘ah, how ill I have requitedgreatfidelity.’

And ordered the stone figure to be taken up andplacedinhisbedroombesidehisbed.Andasoftenashelookedonitheweptandsaid ‘ah, if Icouldbringyoutolifeagain,mymostfaithfulJohn.’

Some time passed and the queen bore twins, twosonswhogrewfastandwereherdelight.Oncewhenthequeenwasat churchand the fatherwassittingwithhistwochildrenplayingbesidehim,he lookedat the stonefigureagain,sighed,andfullofgriefhesaid‘ah,ifIcouldbutbringyoutolifeagain,mymostfaithfulJohn.’

Then the stone began to speak and said ‘you canbringmetolifeagainifyouwilluseforthatpurposewhatisdearesttoyou.’

Thencriedtheking‘IwillgiveeverythingIhaveintheworldforyou.’

The stone continued ‘if youwill cut off the heads ofyour two childrenwith your own hand, and sprinklemewiththeirblood,Ishallberestoredtolife.’

Thekingwasterrifiedwhenheheard thathehimselfmust kill his dearest children, but he thought of faithfulJohn’sgreat fidelity,andhowhehaddied forhim,drewhis sword, andwith his own hand cut off the children’sheads.

Andwhenhehadsmearedthestonewiththeirblood,lifereturnedtoit,andfaithfulJohnstoodoncemoresafeandhealthybeforehim.

He said to the king ‘your truth shall not gounrewarded, and took the heads of the children, put

themonagain,andrubbedthewoundswiththeirblood,at which they became whole again immediately, andjumped about, and went on playing as if nothing hadhappened.

Then the kingwas full of joy, andwhen he saw thequeencominghehid faithful Johnand the twochildrenin a great cupboard.When she entered, he said to her‘haveyoubeenprayinginthechurch.’

‘Yes, answered she, ‘but I have constantly beenthinkingoffaithfulJohnandwhatmisfortunehasbefallenhimthroughus.’

Then said he ‘dear wife, we can give him his lifeagain, but it will cost us our two little sons, whom wemustsacrifice.’

The queen turned pale, and her heart was full ofterror,butshesaid‘weoweittohim,forhisgreatfidelity.’

Then the king was rejoiced that she thought as hehad thought, and went and opened the cupboard, andbrought forth faithful John and the children, and said‘God be praised, he is delivered, andwe have our littlesons again also, and told her how everything hadoccurred. Then they dwelt together in much happinessuntiltheirdeath.

—TheEnd—

A

“CINDERELLA”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

richman’swifebecamesick,andwhenshe feltthat her end was drawing near, she called heronly daughter to her bedside and said, “Dear

child,remainpiousandgood,andthenourdearGodwillalways protect you, and I will look down on you fromheavenandbenearyou.”Withthissheclosedhereyesanddied.

Thegirlwentouttohermother’sgraveeverydayandwept, and she remained pious and good. When wintercamethesnowspreadawhiteclothoverthegrave,andwhenthespringsunhadremoveditagain,themantookhimselfanotherwife.

Thiswife brought two daughters into the housewithher.Theywerebeautiful,withfairfaces,butevilanddarkhearts.Timessoongrewverybadforthepoorstepchild.

“Why should that stupid goose sit in the parlor withus?” theysaid. “If shewants toeatbread, thenshewillhavetoearnit.Outwiththiskitchenmaid!”

They took her beautiful clothes away from her,dressedherinanoldgraysmock,andgaveherwoodenshoes.“Justlookattheproudprincess!Howdeckedoutshe is!” they shouted and laughed as they led her intothekitchen.

There she had to do hard work from morning untilevening, get up before daybreak, carrywater,make thefires, cook, and wash. Besides this, the sisters dideverythingimaginabletohurther.Theymadefunofher,scatteredpeasand lentils into theashesforher,so thatshe had to sit and pick them out again. In the eveningwhen she had worked herself weary, there was no bedfor her. Instead she had to sleep by the hearth in theashes.Andbecauseshealways lookeddustyanddirty,theycalledherCinderella.

Onedayithappenedthatthefatherwasgoingtothefair,andheaskedhistwostepdaughterswhatheshouldbringbackforthem.

“Beautifuldresses,”saidtheone.“Pearlsandjewels,”saidtheother.“Andyou,Cinderella,”hesaid,“whatdoyouwant?”“Father, break off for me the first twig that brushes

againstyourhatonyourwayhome.”

Soheboughtbeautifuldresses,pearls,andjewelsforhis two stepdaughters. On his way home, as he wasriding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushedagainst himand knocked off his hat. Then he broke offthetwigandtook itwithhim.Arrivinghome,hegavehisstepdaughtersthethingsthattheyhadaskedfor,andhegaveCinderellathetwigfromthehazelbush.

Cinderella thanked him, went to hermother’s grave,andplantedthebranchonit,andsheweptsomuchthathertearsfelluponitandwateredit.Itgrewandbecameabeautifultree.

Cinderellawenttothistreethreetimeseveryday,andbeneathitsheweptandprayed.Awhitebirdcametothetreeeverytime,andwheneversheexpressedawish,thebirdwouldthrowdowntoherwhatshehadwishedfor.

Now it happened that the king proclaimed a festivalthatwastolastthreedays.Allthebeautifulyounggirlsinthelandwereinvited,sothathissoncouldselectabrideforhimself.Whenthetwostepsistersheardthattheytoohadbeeninvited,theywereinhighspirits.

TheycalledCinderella,saying,“Combourhairforus.Brushourshoesandfastenourbuckles.Wearegoingtothefestivalattheking’scastle.”

Cinderellaobeyed,butwept,becauseshe toowouldhavelikedtogotothedancewiththem.Shebeggedherstepmothertoallowhertogo.

“You, Cinderella?” she said. “You, all covered withdust and dirt, and you want to go to the festival?. Youhave neither clothes nor shoes, and yet you want todance!”

However, because Cinderella kept asking, thestepmotherfinallysaid,“Ihavescatteredabowloflentilsintotheashesforyou. Ifyoucanpickthemoutagain intwohours,thenyoumaygowithus.”

Thegirlwent through thebackdoor into thegarden,andcalledout, “Youtamepigeons,you turtledoves,andall you birds beneath the sky, come and help me togather:

Thegoodonesgointothepot,Thebadonesgointoyourcrop.”

Two white pigeons came in through the kitchenwindow,andthentheturtledoves,andfinallyallthebirdsbeneath theskycamewhirringandswarming in,and litaround theashes.Thepigeonsnodded theirheadsandbegantopick,pick,pick,pick.Andtheothersalsobegantopick,pick,pick,pick.Theygatheredallthegoodgrainsinto the bowl. Hardly one hour had passed before theywerefinished,andtheyallflewoutagain.

The girl took the bowl to her stepmother, and washappy, thinking thatnowshewouldbeallowed togo tothefestivalwiththem.

Butthestepmothersaid,“No,Cinderella,youhavenoclothes, and you don’t know how to dance. Everyonewouldonlylaughatyou.”

Cinderella began to cry, and then the stepmothersaid, “Youmay go if you are able to pick two bowls oflentils out of the ashes forme in one hour,” thinking toherself,“Shewillneverbeabletodothat.”

Thegirlwent through thebackdoor into thegarden,andcalledout, “Youtamepigeons,you turtledoves,andall you birds beneath the sky, come and help me togather:

Thegoodonesgointothepot,Thebadonesgointoyourcrop.”

Two white pigeons came in through the kitchenwindow,andthentheturtledoves,andfinallyallthebirdsbeneath theskycamewhirringandswarming in,and litaround theashes.Thepigeonsnodded theirheadsandbegantopick,pick,pick,pick.Andtheothersalsobegantopick,pick,pick,pick.Theygatheredallthegoodgrainsintothebowls.Beforeahalfhourhadpassedtheywerefinished,andtheyallflewoutagain.

The girl took the bowls to her stepmother, and washappy, thinking thatnowshewouldbeallowed togo tothefestivalwiththem.

But the stepmother said, “It’s no use. You are notcomingwith us, for you have no clothes, and you don’tknowhowtodance.Wewouldbeashamedofyou.”WiththissheturnedherbackonCinderella,andhurriedawaywithhertwoprouddaughters.

Nowthatnooneelsewasathome,Cinderellawenttohermother’sgravebeneaththehazeltree,andcriedout:

Shakeandquiver,littletree,Throwgoldandsilverdowntome.

Then thebird threwagoldand silver dressdown toher, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. Shequicklyputonthedressandwenttothefestival.

Herstepsistersandherstepmotherdidnotrecognizeher.Theythoughtshemustbeaforeignprincess,forshelookedsobeautifulinthegoldendress.Theyneveroncethought itwasCinderella, for they thought thatshewassittingathomeinthedirt,lookingforlentilsintheashes.

Theprinceapproachedher,tookherbythehand,anddanced with her. Furthermore, he would dance with noone else. He never let go of her hand, and whenever

anyoneelsecameandaskedhertodance,hewouldsay,“Sheismydancepartner.”

Shedanceduntilevening,andthenshewantedtogohome. But the prince said, “I will go along and escortyou,” for he wanted to see to whom the beautiful girlbelonged.However,sheeludedhimandjumpedintothepigeon coop. The prince waited until her father came,and thenhe toldhim that theunknowngirlhad jumpedintothepigeoncoop.

Theoldmanthought,“CoulditbeCinderella?”Hehad thembring himan ax and a pick so that he

could break the pigeon coop apart, but no one wasinside.When theygot homeCinderellawas lying in theashes, dressed in her dirty clothes. A dim little oil-lampwas burning in the fireplace. Cinderella had quicklyjumpeddownfromthebackofthepigeoncoopandhadrun to the hazel tree. There she had taken off herbeautifulclothesandlaidthemonthegrave,andthebirdhad taken them away again. Then, dressed in her graysmock,shehadreturnedtotheashesinthekitchen.

Thenextdaywhen the festivalbegananew,andherparents and her stepsisters had gone again, Cinderellawenttothehazeltreeandsaid:

Shakeandquiver,littletree,Throwgoldandsilverdowntome.Then thebird threwdownanevenmoremagnificent

dress than on the preceding day. When Cinderellaappeared at the festival in this dress, everyone wasastonishedatherbeauty.Theprincehadwaiteduntilshecame, then immediately took her by the hand, anddancedonlywithher.Whenotherscameandaskedhertodancewiththem,hesaid,“Sheismydancepartner.”

When evening came she wanted to leave, and theprincefollowedher,wantingtoseeintowhichhouseshe

went. But she ran away from him and into the gardenbehind the house. A beautiful tall tree stood there, onwhichhungthemostmagnificentpears.Sheclimbedasnimblyasasquirrelintothebranches,andtheprincedidnotknowwhereshehadgone.Hewaiteduntilherfathercame, then said to him, “The unknown girl has eludedme,andIbelieveshehasclimbedupthepeartree.

The father thought, “Could itbeCinderella?”Hehadanaxbrought tohimandcutdownthetree,butnoonewasinit.Whentheycametothekitchen,Cinderellawaslying there in the ashes as usual, for she had jumpeddown from the other side of the tree, had taken thebeautifuldressbacktothebirdinthehazeltree,andhadputonhergraysmock.

On the third day, when her parents and sisters hadgoneaway,Cinderellawentagain tohermother’sgraveandsaidtothetree:

Shakeandquiver,littletree,Throwgoldandsilverdowntome.

Thistimethebirdthrewdowntoheradressthatwasmore splendid and magnificent than any she had yethad, and the slippers were of pure gold. When shearrived at the festival in this dress, everyone was soastonishedthattheydidnotknowwhattosay.Theprincedancedonlywithher,andwheneveranyoneelseaskedhertodance,hewouldsay,“Sheismydancepartner.”

WheneveningcameCinderellawanted to leave,andtheprincetriedtoescorther,butsheranawayfromhimso quickly that he could not follow her. The prince,however,hadseta trap.Hehadhad theentirestairwaysmearedwith pitch.When she ran down the stairs, her

left slipperstuck in thepitch.Theprincepicked it up. Itwassmallanddainty,andofpuregold.

The next morning, he went with it to the man, andsaidtohim,“Nooneshallbemywifeexceptfortheonewhosefootfitsthisgoldenshoe.”

Thetwosisterswerehappytohearthis, for theyhadpretty feet.With her mother standing by, the older onetooktheshoeintoherbedroomtotryiton.Shecouldnotgetherbigtoeintoit,fortheshoewastoosmallforher.Thenhermothergaveheraknifeandsaid,“Cutoffyourtoe.Whenyouarequeenyouwill no longerhave togoonfoot.”

Thegirlcutoffher toe, forcedher foot into theshoe,swallowed thepain,andwentout to theprince.He tookher on his horse as his bride and rode away with her.However, theyhad to ridepast thegrave,and there,onthehazeltree,satthetwopigeons,cryingout:

Rookdigoo,rookdigoo!There’sbloodintheshoe.Theshoeistootight,Thisbrideisnotright!

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the bloodwasrunningfromit.Heturnedhishorsearoundandtookthe falsebridehomeagain,saying thatshewasnot theright one, and that the other sister should try on theshoe.Shewent intoherbedroom,andgother toes intotheshoeallright,butherheelwastoolarge.

Then hermother gave her a knife, and said, “Cut apiece off your heel. When you are queen you will nolongerhavetogoonfoot.”

Thegirl cut apieceoff herheel, forcedher foot into

theshoe,swallowedthepain,andwentouttotheprince.Hetookheronhishorseashisbrideandrodeawaywithher.When they passed the hazel tree, the two pigeonsweresittinginit,andtheycriedout:

Rookdigoo,rookdigoo!There’sbloodintheshoe.Theshoeistootight,Thisbrideisnotright!

He looked down at her foot and saw how the bloodwasrunningoutofhershoe,andhowithadstainedherwhitestockingall red.Thenhe turnedhishorsearoundandtookthefalsebridehomeagain.

“This isnot the rightone,either,”hesaid. “Don’tyouhaveanotherdaughter?”

“No,” said the man. “There is only a deformed littleCinderellafrommyfirstwife,butshecannotpossiblybethebride.”

Theprincetoldhimtosendhertohim,butthemotheranswered,“Oh,no,sheismuchtoodirty.Shecannotbeseen.”

But the prince insisted on it, and they had to callCinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean,and thenwentandboweddownbefore theprince,whogave her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool,pulledherfootoutoftheheavywoodenshoe,andputitintotheslipper,anditfittedherperfectly.

When she stood up the prince looked into her face,andherecognizedthebeautifulgirlwhohaddancedwithhim.Hecriedout,“Sheismytruebride.”

Thestepmotherandthetwosisterswerehorrifiedandturned pale with anger. The prince, however, took

Cinderellaontohishorseandrodeawaywithher.Astheypassed by the hazel tree, the two white pigeons criedout:

Rookdigoo,rookdigoo!Noblood’sintheshoe.Theshoe’snottootight,Thisbrideisright!

Aftertheyhadcriedthisout,theybothflewdownandlit onCinderella’s shoulders, oneon the right, theotherontheleft,andremainedsittingthere.

Whentheweddingwiththeprincewastobeheld,thetwo false sisters came, wanting to gain favor withCinderella and to share her good fortune. When thebridal couple walked into the church, the older sisterwalked on their right side and the younger on their leftside,and thepigeonspeckedoutoneeye fromeachofthem. Afterwards, as they came out of the church, theolderonewason the left side,and theyoungeroneontherightside,andthenthepigeonspeckedouttheothereye from each of them. And thus, for their wickednessand falsehood, they were punished with blindness aslongastheylived.

—TheEnd—

O

“THESHOESTHATWEREDANCEDTOPIECES”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

nce upon a time there was a king who hadtwelvedaughters,eachonemorebeautifulthanthe others. They slept together in one room,

wheretheirbedsstoodnexttoeachother.

Atnightwhen theywere lying there, the king closedtheirdoorandbarredit.However,whenheopeneditthenextmorninghesaw that their shoeshadbeendancedtopieces.

Noonecoulddeterminehow it hadhappened.Thenthe king proclaimed that whoever could discover wheretheywent dancing each night could chose one of themfor his wife and become king after his death. However,anyone who attempted this, but failed to make thediscovery after three days and nights, would forfeit hislife.

Aprincesoonpresentedhimself,offeringtoundertaketheventure.Hewaswellreceived,andthateveningwastakentoaroomadjacenttothebedroom.

A bed was made for him there, and he was told towatchwhere theywent and danced.So theywould notbeabletodoanythinginsecret,orgoouttosomeotherplace,thedoortotheirroomwasleftopen.

However,theprince’seyesfeltasheavyaslead,andhe fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning, thetwelvehadbeendancing,fortheirshoesallhadholesintheir soles. The same thing happened the second andthethirdevenings,andhisheadwaschoppedoffwithoutmercy. Many others came to try this risky venture, buttheytooalllosttheirlives.

Now it happened that a poor soldier, who waswounded and could no longer serve in the army, wasmakinghiswaytothecitywherethekinglived.

Anoldwomanmethimandaskedhimwherehewasgoing.

“I’m not exactly sure myself,” he said, then jokinglyadded,“ButIwouldliketodiscoverwheretheprincessesare dancing their shoes to pieces, and then becomeking.”

“That isnotsodifficult,”said theoldwoman.“Donotdrinkthewinethattheywillbringyouintheevening.”

Thenshegavehimacloakandsaid, “Whenyouputthisonyouwillbecomeinvisible,andyoucanfollowthetwelve.”

Havingreceivingthisgoodadvice,thesoldierbecameserious, took heart, went to the king, and announcedhimselfasasuitor.

He, liketheothers,waswell received,andwasgivenroyal clothes to wear. That evening at bedtime he wasescortedtotheanteroom.

Just as he was going to bed, the oldest princessbrought him a goblet of wine. However, he had tied asponge beneath his chin and let the wine run into it,drinkingnotasingledrophimself.Helaydown,andafteralittlewhilebegantosnoreasifhewereinthedeepestsleep.

The twelve princesses heard him and laughed. Theoldestonesaid,“Hecouldhavesparedhislifeaswell!”

Then they got up, opened their wardrobes, chests,and closets, took out their best clothes, and madethemselvesbeautiful in frontof theirmirrors,all the timejumpingaboutinanticipationofthedance.

Onlytheyoungestonesaid,“I’mnotsure.Youareallveryhappy,butI’mafraidthatsomethingbadisgoingtohappen!”

“You snow goose,” said the oldest one. “You arealwaysafraid!Haveyouforgottenhowmanyprinceshavebeenhere fornothing? Iwouldn’tevenhavehad togivethis soldier a sleeping potion. He would never havewokenup.”

When they were ready, they first approached thesoldier,buthedidnotmoveatall,andassoonas theythought itwassafe, theoldestonewent toherbedand

knockedonit.It immediately sank beneath the floor, and they all

climbeddown through the opening, oneafter the other,the oldest one leading the way. The soldier saweverything, and without hesitating he put on the cloakandfollowedaftertheyoungestone.

Halfwaydownthestairshesteppedonherdress.Frightened, she called out, “Who’s there? Who is

holdingmydress?”“Don’t be so stupid,” said the oldest one. “You just

caughtyourselfonahook.”They continued until they came to a magnificent

walkwaybetweenrowsoftrees.Their leaveswereallmadeof silver, and they shone

and glistened. The soldier thought to himself, “You’dbettertakesomeproof,”andhebrokeoffatwig.

A loud cracking sound came from the tree. Theyoungestonecalledoutagain, “It’snot right.Didn’t youhearthatsound?”

Theoldestonesaid, “That is justa joyful salute thatthey are firing because soonwewill have disenchantedourprinces.”

Thentheycametoawalkwaywherethetreeswereallmadeofgold,andfinallytoathirdone,wheretheyweremade of clear diamonds. He broke a twig from each ofthese.

Thecrackingsoundfrightenedtheyoungestoneeachtime, but the oldest one insisted that it was only thesounds of joyful salutes. They continued on until theycametoa largebodyofwater.Twelveboatswere there,andineachboattheresatahandsomeprincewaitingforthem.

Eachprincetookaprincessintohisboat.Thesoldiersatnexttotheyoungestprincess,andher

prince said, “I don’t know why the boat is so muchheavier today. Ihavetorowwithallmystrength inordertomakeitgo.”

“It must be the warm weather,” said the youngestprincess.“It’stoohotformeaswell.”

On theothersideof thewater therewasabeautiful,brightly illuminated castle. Joyful music, kettle drums,and trumpetssounded forth.They rowedoverandwentinside.

Each prince danced with his princess. The invisiblesoldier danced along as well, and whenever a princessheldupagobletofwine,hedrankitemptyassheliftedittohermouth.

This always frightened the youngest one, but theoldest one silenced her every time. They danced thereuntil three o’clock the next morning when their shoesweredancedtopiecesandtheyhadtostop.Theprincesrowedthembackacrossthewater.

This time the soldier took a seat next to the oldestprincess in the lead boat. They took leave from theirprincesonthebankandpromisedtocomebackthenextnight.

When theywere on the steps the soldier ran aheadandgotintobed.Whenthetwelvetiredprincessescamein slowly, he was again snoring so loudly that they allcouldhearhim.

“Wearesafefromhim,”theysaid.Thentheytookofftheir beautiful clothes and put them away, placed theirwornoutshoesundertheirbeds,andwenttobed.

The next morning the soldier said nothing, for hewanted to see the amazing thing once again. He wentalong the second and third nights, and everythinghappenedasbefore.

Each time they danced until their shoes were in

pieces. The third time he also took along a goblet as apieceofevidence.

Thehourcamewhenhewastogivehisanswer,andhe brought the three twigs and the goblet before theking.

The twelve princesses stood behind the door andlistened towhathehad tosay.Thekingasked, “Wheredidmydaughtersdancetheirshoestopieces?”

He answered, “in an underground castle with twelveprinces.”

Then he told the whole story and brought forth thepiecesofevidence.

Thekingsummonedhisdaughtersandaskedthemifthesoldierhadtoldthetruth.Seeingthattheyhadbeenbetrayed,andthattheirdenialsdidnogood,theyhadtoadmiteverything.

Then thekingaskedhimwhichonehewanted forawife.Heanswered,“Imyselfamnolongeryoung,sogivemetheoldestone.”

Their wedding was held the same day, and thekingdomwaspromisedtohimfollowingtheking’sdeath.

But the princes had as many days added to theircurse as they had spent nights dancingwith the twelveprincesses.

—TheEnd—

I

“THECHILDRENOFHAMELN”

JACOBANDWILHELMGRIMM

n the year 1284 a mysterious man appeared inHameln. He was wearing a coat of many colored,brightcloth, forwhichreasonhewascalledthePied

Piper.Heclaimed tobea ratcatcher,andhepromised that

foracertainsumthathewouldridthecityofallmiceandrats.The citizens struckadeal, promisinghima certainprice.

The ratcatcher then tooka small fife fromhispocketand began to blow on it. Rats and mice immediatelycamefromeveryhouseandgatheredaroundhim.

Whenhethoughtthathehadthemallheledthemtothe River Weser where he pulled up his clothes andwalked into thewater. Theanimals all followedhim, fellin,anddrowned.

Nowthat thecitizenshadbeenfreedof theirplague,they regretted having promised so much money, and,usingallkindsofexcuses,theyrefusedtopayhim.

Finally, he went away, bitter and angry. He returnedon June26,Saint John’s andSaintPaul’sDay, early inthemorningatseveno’clock(otherssayitwasatnoon),nowdressed inahunter’scostume,withadreadful lookonhisfaceandwearingastrangeredhat.

He sounded his fife in the streets, but this time itwasn’t rats and mice that came to him, but ratherchildren: a great number of boys and girls from theirfourth year on. Among them was the mayor’s growndaughter.

The swarm followed him, and he led them into amountain,wherehedisappearedwiththem.

Allthiswasseenbyababysitterwho,carryingachildinherarms,hadfollowedthemfromadistance,buthadthen turned around and carried the news back to thetown.

Theanxiousparents ran indroves to the towngatesseekingtheirchildren.Themotherscriedoutandsobbedpitifully. Within the hour messengers were senteverywherebywaterandbylandinquiringifthechildren— or any of them— had been seen, but it was all for

naught.In total, one hundred thirty were lost. Two, as some

say,hadlaggedbehindandcameback.Oneofthemwasblindandtheothermute.Theblind

onewasnotabletopointout theplace,butwasabletotellhow theyhad followed thepiper.Themuteonewasable to point out the place, although he [or she] hadheardnothing.

Onelittleboyinshirtsleeveshadgonealongwiththeothers,buthad turnedback to fetchhis jacketand thusescaped the tragedy, for when he returned, the othershad already disappeared into a cave within a hill. Thiscaveisstillshown.

Until the middle of the eighteenth century, andprobablystilltoday,thestreetthroughwhichthechildrenwereledouttothetowngatewascalledthebunge-lose(drumless,soundless,quiet)street,becausenodancingormusicwasallowedthere.

Indeed,whenabridalprocessiononitswaytochurchcrossed this street, the musicians would have to stopplaying.

The mountain near Hameln where the the childrendisappearediscalledPoppenberg.

Two stone monuments in the form of crosses havebeenerected there,oneon the leftsideandoneon theright. Some say that the children were led into a cave,andthattheycameoutagaininTransylvania.

The citizens of Hameln recorded this event in theirtown register, and they came to date all theirproclamationsaccordingtotheyearsanddayssincethelossoftheirchildren.

AccordingtoSeyfriedthe22ndratherthanthe26thofJunewasenteredintothetownregister.

Thefollowinglineswereinscribedonthetownhall:

Intheyear1284afterthebirthofChristFromHamelnwereledawayOnehundredthirtychildren,bornatthis

placeLedawaybyapiperintoamountain.

Andonthenewgatewasinscribed:

CentumterdenoscummagusaburbepuellosduxeratanteannosCCLXXIIconditaportafuit.

[Thisgatewasbuilt272yearsafterthemagicianledthe130childrenfromthecity.]

Intheyear1572themayorhadthestoryportrayedinthechurchwindows.

The accompanying inscription has become largelyillegible.

Inaddition,acoinwasmintedinmemoryoftheevent.

—TheEnd—