It was some time before I could answer Blue’s question, as first he had to untie my hands and feet, and then remove the gag from my mouth. Then, when I could speak, I insisted that we lift the trapdoor and investigate whether Mr Phillimore was still alive. A cursory examination carried out from six feet above his fallen body showed our victim to be unconscious but breathing regularly.
‘Just knocked ’im out,’ Blue commentated with some satisfaction. And I agreed, though to be on the safe side I still insisted on re-locking the trapdoor before we moved on.
‘His name’s James Phillimore,’ I explained. ‘He’s the one who went missing from his wife.’
‘The one there’s a reward for?’
‘Yes, that’s the man. I’d forgotten about the reward. Why, Blue, you might get some money! We can ask Mr Rumbelow all about it. He has the money in cash so perhaps he can give you something today!’
‘Mr Rumbelow…’ He lingered on the name. ‘That’d be good, Flottie. You can ask him for us. Just think of that. A reward…’
‘But what are you doing here, Blue? You couldn’t have known that I needed rescuing.’
He shook his head. ‘Came to say goodbye, Flottie. There’s a boat leaving for New Zealand late tomorrer. A mate can get me a place, cheap like. I’ve got just about enough to get me there and I’ll trust to luck after that. So I came to tell yer. Gave me a right shock when I saw you all tied up, an’ that geezer heading down for the cellars. What was ’e after?’
‘The Malabar Rose. He didn’t find it though.’
‘You mean it’s here?’
‘Somewhere.’
Blue let his eye wonder over the chaos that surrounded us. The floor was littered with broken plates and shattered glass and all manner of displaced objects.
‘Think o’ that, eh! A ruby big a bloomin’ egg somewhere at me fingertips!’ He dwelled on the thought for a moment, then turned back to me and shrugged. ‘But what would I do with a ruddy great ruby? You can’t flog somethin’ like that in a back alley, can yer?’ He signalled to the trapdoor. ‘What about him?’
‘Prison, I suppose. It’s sad really. I don’t think he wants money for himself. He just thinks he needs it because of a girl.’
‘Pah! Serves ’im right then.’ Blue smiled cheerfully, then stiffened in his seat. ‘Listen. Voices!’
He was right, although they were still very distant. Somewhere along Baker Street two people were approaching.
‘I’m off, Flot. Don’t want to meet no one. And they’re sure as shovels to be comin’ here. There’s always folks comin’ and goin’ here in the middle o’ the night.’
‘But you don’t need to rush off, Blue. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Nah, don’t fancy stayin’. An’ besides, I got somethin’ else to do tonight. Got to see a man about somethin’…’
He reached out then and put his arms around me. I remembered the tiny child in the orphanage, too frightened to touch anyone for fear of a scolding, and a lump rose in my throat.
‘Good luck, Blue,’ I whispered.
‘And to yerself, Flot.’
He winked at me then, with the finest blue eyes I’d ever seen, then turned and walked away, out of the kitchen, up the area steps and out into the snow-lined night. When Mrs Hudson and Scraggs entered the kitchen a minute later, I was still sitting quietly, letting him go.
If I had expected Mrs Hudson to register any consternation or dismay at the destruction of her lovingly ordered kitchen, I was most definitely disappointed. If she felt any surprise at all at the devastation that greeted her, it was expressed in the raising of a single eyebrow as she surveyed the scene.
‘So he’s been here, has he?’ she asked, as much to herself as to me, and then bustled over to where I was sitting and placed a hand on my shoulder while she surveyed the damage.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I replied. ‘Mr Phillimore, I mean. He tied me up.’
‘And has he been gone long?’
‘Gone? Oh, no, ma’am. He’s still here. I’ve locked him in the cellar.’
It was only then that I had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs Hudson surprised, for on hearing this news both her eyebrows twitched upwards and she rewarded me with a look of unabashed approval.
‘Scraggs,’ she declared, ‘I think Flotsam has something of a story to tell us. See if you can revive the fire while I light some lamps. And let’s try not to tread on any of the best china, shall we?’
It is hard to imagine that a room so thoroughly ransacked could ever be considered welcoming, but such was Mrs Hudson’s power to bring order to chaos that her simple instructions proved enough to transform the place. Soon the lamps were lit and the night shut out, the fire revived, and the fallen chairs righted amidst the wreckage and arranged around the table. While all that was being accomplished, I told them how Mr Phillimore had appeared from the linen chest and had wreaked havoc throughout the house, only to be laid low by my friend with the blue eyes.
Mrs Hudson listened attentively and when I had finished my tale she tiptoed gingerly over to the pantry and peered inside. After studying the debris for a brief moment, she returned to the kitchen table, her face content.
‘He didn’t find it, did he, ma’am?’
She gave a little snort in reply. ‘Certainly not, Flotsam. He only looked in the places he himself would have hidden it.’ She looked across at Scraggs and chuckled. ‘The male brain is like that. If he’d found the stone tonight I’d have eaten my…’ She paused, the shadow of a smile on her lips. ‘Well, never you mind what I’d have eaten. Now, enough of all this chatter. I think it’s time we had a word with the famous James Phillimore. From the noises down below, it seems he’s come to.’
Scraggs paused in his tidying and looked up with considerable enthusiasm.
‘Shall we tie him up, Mrs H?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, Scraggs. I don’t think we’ll find much fight left in him. But perhaps you should keep yourself between him and the door, just in case. Now, let me see…’ She bent down, and from the debris at her feet retrieved a dusty brown bottle. ‘Ah, just as I thought. The Wellington port. And not too badly shaken by the look of it, which is a great blessing. Flotsam, while we fetch up Mr Phillimore, would you be so kind as to decant this very, very carefully? I think tonight we deserve a little celebration.’
Mr Phillimore, when supported from the cellar and placed in a chair, cut an extremely sorry figure. The blow to his head clearly pained him, but more dispiriting to him than the physical discomfort appeared to be the stern face of Mrs Hudson and the determined figure of Scraggs barring the doorway. Our captive was bruised, out-numbered and defeated, and on all counts he knew it. He seemed to shrink into his chair, a thin, tired man with despair etched across his features. He eyed Mrs Hudson with dull foreboding.
‘Why have you haunted me this way?’ he asked. ‘I’ve seen you. Always on my scent. Visiting my wife, harassing Polly, advertising for information about me. And taking away the ruby. I saw you in the hotel that day, you know. If it wasn’t for you I’d be on the way to Canada with the ruby in my pocket by now.’
‘Mr Phillimore,’ Mrs Hudson’s voice had a steely edge to it and she fixed him with her sternest gaze. ‘Mr Phillimore, I care very little for rubies. But some good men were tasked to guard that stone and they were faced with ruin by your little plot. And Mrs Smithers, your mother-in-law, has been genuinely concerned for your safety. More concerned than you deserve.’
Mr Phillimore bowed his head at that, apparently not so hardened as to be completely beyond shame.
‘Now I’ve something important to say,’ Mrs Hudson went on. ‘Shortly Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard will be here. You will be charged with breaking and entering, theft, arson, illegal imprisonment and attempted murder. You will be taken from here to a prison cell where you will remain for a very long time.’
‘No!’ he cried. ‘It’s not like that! All those things you’ve said. They’re not true! I’ve done so little. Just some errands for that man Salmanazar.’
Mrs Hudson continued to eye him coldly.
‘Tonight I delivered to Mr Rumbelow, the solicitor, a statement by the Great Salmanazar explaining precisely how the two of you plotted to steal the Malabar Rose. It tells precisely how he came to recruit you to help with his act, how he was looking for a contortionist of sorts, someone who was no longer known in theatrical circles. He’s put it all down. How you first helped him in Budapest, how you bound up his cut hand the night he stole the Romanoff tiara. He says it was you who planned the theft of the Malabar Rose from the start.’
‘That’s not true,’ he groaned. ‘Not the last bit. It was all his plan. It was he who knew all about Perch. It was he who thought of changing the real jewel case for a mechanical one. He even insisted on finding the right sort of butterfly to put in the case. That was the sort of showman he was. He wanted the whole world talking about him.’
‘That may be true, Mr Phillimore.’ Mrs Hudson rose from the table and gathered up a pile of laundry that had earlier been tipped to the floor. She selected a single sheet and began to fold it while Mr Phillimore looked on, wondering, his attention seized by something in her tone. ‘But the Great Salmanazar has escaped to Spain leaving only his statement behind him. Your great friend Polly Perkins has escaped too, you know. That leaves only you, and the police will be keen to have a scapegoat.’
‘What? Polly has gone?’ He had turned even paler. ‘But why?’
‘Because by telling her your plans you had made her an accessory.’ Mrs Hudson looked up from her laundry and impaled him with a stern glare. ‘Meanwhile you still have a wife here, and a good, honest mother-in-law. If you were to stand trial the full story would come out – all about you sneaking off and them not guessing, and all about you and Miss Perkins. It would cause them terrible embarrassment and distress. Much more distress than you have caused them so far. To spare them that, I am prepared to offer you an alternative.’
Such was the power of her presence that Mr Phillimore said nothing, but for the first time since we’d hauled him from the cellar, I saw a tiny gleam of hope in his eye.
‘In two hours’ time,’ Mrs Hudson continued, ‘a train leaves Waterloo for Portsmouth. You will take that train. It’s the slow train, stopping at every station, so it will be breakfast time when you arrive at Portsmouth Harbour. As soon as you get there, you will go to the front door of the offices of the Meyer & Stallard Steam Company. The front door, mind. You will stay there until five o’clock, waiting for someone to come and find you. When they do, you have a choice. They will have a pair of tickets for a boat departing for Canada. You can either accompany them on that boat, or remain in this country and wait for the police.’
Mr Phillimore was looking mystified. ‘The choice seems an easy one. Who will it be, this guardian angel sent to take me away?’
In reply, Mrs Hudson shook her head. ‘You will find out tomorrow. However, it is possible no one will come to find you. If they haven’t come by five o’clock – and the timing is vital here, you understand – then you will find your way to the back door of the offices. Wait there. The instruction remains the same. Someone will be looking for you and when they find you, go with them.’
‘And if no one comes to that door? What then?’
‘Oh, they will, Mr Phillimore, they will. In that respect you are a lucky man.’
‘But why all this mystery? Why can you not tell me who I am looking for?’
Mrs Hudson sighed. ‘I can’t help thinking, Mr Phillimore, your time is better spent making yourself scarce than asking unnecessary questions.’
At this Mr Phillimore began to rise, only to sink once more back into his chair.
‘But what’s the point?’ he sighed. ‘Without Polly, what’s the point? Oh, I know how generous your offer is. I don’t fully understand why you should do so much to help me. But without Polly there’s no future for me anywhere. I might as well stay here and rot in gaol.’
Mrs Hudson nodded and finished the folding of a second sheet before reaching into her apron and passing him a slim, cream envelope.
‘As it happens, I spoke to Miss Perkins earlier this evening, before she fled. She asked me to give you this.’
Mr Phillimore took the letter with a look of awe on his face and with fingers that trembled as he opened it. The note was clearly short, for by following his eyes I could see that he re-read it a dozen times before folding it reverently into his pocket.
‘She begs me to go,’ he said quietly. ‘She says it would break her heart for me to be locked away. She says that if I love her I must escape, even if it means we can never be together.’
For a long time after that, he sat with his head bowed. A stillness settled on the room around him, a stillness so intense it seemed I could hear it, a stillness only broken when Scraggs, very softly, stepped away from the kitchen door. When Mr Phillimore finally looked up, his eyes were moist with tears.
‘Very well,’ he whispered hoarsely, rising to his feet. ‘I don’t understand why, but Polly says I am to trust you. The Meyer & Stallard Steam Company, you say?’
‘That’s right, Mr Phillimore. The front door.’
‘Then I shall go.’ He took one step towards the door and paused, almost as if he expected us to stop him. When nothing happened, he continued to the door and there, with the night beckoning him, he paused once more.
‘I have a sister…’
‘Yes, we know. We will get word to her of what has happened to you.’
He nodded briefly, then turned away, and in a moment he too had vanished into the night.
I can’t pretend that I wasn’t bursting with questions about Mrs Hudson’s decision to release the man we had spent so long plotting to catch. However, after witnessing Mr Phillimore’s departure, neither Scraggs nor I had opportunity to ask a single question before Mrs Hudson cleared her throat and began to direct the clearing up of the disordered kitchen. If it occurred to either of us that such an operation might reasonably have waited until the following day, it was a thought that Mrs Hudson’s stern demeanour was sufficient to put out of our heads; and we found ourselves stacking china, repopulating shelves, rescuing provisions and filling the dustbins with broken glasses. We had already returned the pantry to a semblance of order and had largely cleared the floor of debris when we were disturbed by a timid knock at the kitchen door.
‘Mr Rumbelow!’ I cried on opening it, the blinking, slightly bewildered-looking lawyer being the very last person I expected to find on our doorstep in the early hours of the first morning of the year.
‘Er, yes,’ he mumbled. ‘It is indeed me. Quite so. And if I may be so bold, a happy new year to you, Flotsam. And to you, Mrs Hudson. Scraggs, you’re here too? Extraordinary hours you all keep…’
We shepherded him into the kitchen and seated him by the fire.
‘I must say, sir,’ Mrs Hudson observed, ‘your own hours are a little unusual. And you appear a little put out. Is there anything we can do for you?’
‘Do for me? Do for me?’ Mr Rumbelow seemed to find the question astonishing. ‘But you sent for me, Mrs Hudson. Just now. And I came as soon as I could. Unfortunately I have suffered a slight mishap on the way.’
Mrs Hudson and I exchanged puzzled glances.
‘A mishap, sir?’ she asked gently.
‘Well, in truth, something a little worse than that. A failing in my professional duty. I cannot imagine what my client will say.’
Mrs Hudson decided help was needed. ‘Flotsam, the moment for that port has finally arrived. If you would be so good as to fetch Mr Rumbelow a small glass of it… Now, sir, please go on.’
‘That boy you sent, Mrs Hudson. I fear he is not entirely honest.’
‘Sir, I’ve sent no boy for you this evening.’
‘You have not?’ The stout solicitor half rose in his seat and then sank back down with a groan as a terrible understanding dawned. ‘Then I’ve been tricked, Mrs Hudson! Most blatantly, cunningly tricked!’ He passed his hand weakly over his forehead. ‘A quarter of an hour ago I was roused by a young boy. He said that you required my presence here most urgently to attend to the case of James Phillimore. He said you asked most particularly that I should bring with me the reward money that his wife had placed with me. A sum of £30, if you remember.’
‘I see, sir.’ Mrs Hudson nodded soothingly. ‘Here, try a little of this.’
Mr Rumbelow sipped at the port and closed his eyes for a moment in quiet contemplation.
‘Ah, yes! The Wellington port. Quite sensational. And so few bottles left…’ He opened his eyes again. ‘But I scarcely deserve it. You see, when I had pulled on my clothes and returned to the street, the boy was waiting for me. Helped me on with my overcoat, he did. Well, naturally I expected him to accompany me here, but no sooner did we step off the pavement than he simply ran off. And do you know, the little scamp took my wallet with him!’
While Mr Rumbelow paused to mop his brow, Mrs Hudson gave me a questioning glance.
‘Tell me, sir,’ I asked timidly. ‘This boy, did you notice if he had blue eyes?’
Mr Rumbelow sat up as if startled. ‘Why, Flotsam! How remarkable! Do you know, that’s the only thing I noticed about him. The boy had the most striking blue eyes imaginable.’
I couldn’t help but smile at the news, and Mrs Hudson let out a long, low chuckle.
‘So justice has been done. I think you can enjoy your port after all, sir. It seems that James Phillimore’s captor has found his own way to claim the reward.’
‘Reward, Mrs Hudson?’ A new voice from the edge of the kitchen interrupted us and I saw that the door into the basement area had opened a little to admit the head and shoulders of Sherlock Holmes. ‘I fear our vigil tonight has had no reward. We have waited all night for that man Phillimore to walk into our trap and we’d be there still if we had not seen the error of our ways. I’m afraid your plan has failed, Mrs Hudson.’
‘Ah, Mr Holmes, sir,’ Mrs Hudson beamed. ‘I’m very pleased to see you. Now you two gentlemen come in here and get yourself warm. There are a few things you need to know.’
‘Not just the two of us,’ the detective replied. ‘We had two assistants in our watching. And I fear they are as cold and dispirited as we are.’
He pushed the door open to reveal, alongside Dr Watson, the shivering forms of Rupert Spencer and Hetty Peters.
‘But, Hetty!’ I exclaimed. ‘I thought Rupert was taking you home?’
‘Well, you know, Flottie,’ she began brightly as they were ushered in, ‘I rather think Rupert thought the same. But obviously I wasn’t going to miss the fun. So when we got home, I went upstairs and climbed out of the window.’
‘Oh, Hetty, you didn’t!’
Rupert Spencer manoeuvred her a little closer to the fire with a wry grin.
‘I’m afraid she did. Apparently the next door’s footman witnessed the whole episode. They needed to revive him with brandy, I believe.’
‘What nonsense, Rupert! I’m inclined to think he rather enjoyed it. He certainly didn’t seem in any hurry to stop looking.’
‘Rooted to the spot in horror, no doubt,’ Mr Spencer concluded and then turned to listen to Mr Holmes, who was interrogating Mrs Hudson.
‘You say there’s something we need to know, Mrs Hudson? Is it about the whereabouts of James Phillimore?’
‘No, sir,’ she responded calmly. ‘I’m afraid Mr Phillimore has fled the country.’
‘He has? About the man Salmanazar then?’
‘No, sir. I’m afraid he has fled the country too.’
‘You know this for certain?’
‘I do, sir.’
He looked around and nodded wisely.
‘I see from the state of this kitchen that there are things you no doubt wish to share with us. But if you can’t tell us the whereabouts of those two gentlemen, Mrs Hudson, then I’m afraid that little you say can be of any comfort to us.’
‘Oh, come, sir. You were asked to safeguard the Malabar Rose and that stone is now safely in front of you.’
‘I do not see it, Mrs H.’
‘No, sir. But you see a large iced fruitcake. Now Flotsam here knows that I abhor an iced fruitcake. This will be the only one of its kind you are ever offered in this house, sir. However there is no denying that a thick layer of royal icing sugar can hide any number of flaws beneath its surface. It is a trick that any cook learns at her mother’s knee. Perhaps we shall have a slice presently. It is hardly the ideal accompaniment to the Wellington port but, after all, it is Christmas.’
‘Great Scott!’ Dr Watson exclaimed. ‘You mean the world’s most famous ruby is inside that fruitcake?’
‘Of course, sir. If Mr Phillimore had ever worked in a busy kitchen, he would have thought of that immediately. But, of course, if he ever had, I wouldn’t have hidden it there.’
Sherlock Holmes eased himself out of his coat and reached for his pipe.
‘You know, Watson, Mrs Hudson is right. We may have made no arrest, but the plot to steal the Malabar Rose has been thwarted, the plotters are fled and the stone itself is safe. The gentlemen of the press will be able to announce that a dangerous plot has been foiled, which will reflect well on both the government and ourselves, so all in all the Home Secretary has every reason to feel pleased. He could scarcely ask for much more, could he, Mrs Hudson?’
‘Oh, but he could, sir. That is what I wished to tell you. You see, I thought it would be helpful if you could tell him where to find a few other things too.’
Mr Holmes raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Such as?’
‘Such as the Godolphin sapphire, sir. Or the Von Metzen diamonds or the Star of the Danube. Or the Rheims altarpiece or the Lafayatte necklace. Or the Plevski emeralds. Or even that dreadful jewel-encrusted camel that was stolen in Naples.’
‘But those things have all vanished,’ put in Dr Watson, clearly confused. ‘Each was stolen in the most mysterious of circumstances.’
‘Yes, sir. By the Great Salmanazar. But they are all very difficult to sell, so he kept them all in a strong box in Paris while he decided what to do with them. The key to the strong box is over there, sir, next to the fish kettle.’
Dr Watson sat down heavily.
‘Do you know, Mrs Hudson,’ he muttered faintly, ‘I rather think you’re going to have to start right at the beginning.’
The fire was built up so high that our faces were brightly lit as we sat around it and listened to Mrs Hudson’s explanations. Fresh coals hissed satisfyingly in front of us, and Scraggs had been tasked with roasting chestnuts over the flames, so that every now and then a nut would leap in the pan or sigh sweetly at us as the heat began to work its changes. The Wellington port had been shared around, although Mrs Hudson had taken great care to steer some of the company in other directions. Mr Holmes had been furnished with a bottle of brown ale, Dr Watson with a substantial glass of brandy and shrub, and Miss Peters with a glass of champagne and a slice of lemon, a combination which she insisted was all the rage that season at London’s most fashionable establishments.
From time to time in the telling of her tale, Mrs Hudson would break off to savour the port, providing an opportunity for one of the rest of us to leap in with a question.
‘So we now know how they made the ruby vanish, Mrs H,’ Dr Watson commented at one such moment, ‘but I don’t understand all the rest. I mean, how did that magician chappie make himself disappear this evening. We all saw him go into that alley. And then the wretched fellow simply vanished under our noses!’
Mrs Hudson nodded calmly at the row of faces turned to her.
‘Well, you see, sir, their plan was going fine until I got hold of the ruby. They thought that once the ruby had vanished, they had all the time in the world to obtain the mechanical jewel case. After all, there was no reason for anyone to guard it particularly closely. But after I had spoiled that plan, they were lurching from one crisis to another. James Phillimore attempted to burn the evidence of how Perch’s box could make the stone disappear. You see, once we could prove that, the authorities would be willing to track down Perch, and Perch was the weak link in their chain. So they packed him off to South Africa as quickly as they could.’
‘Yes, Mrs H, but you haven’t answered Dr Watson’s question about events this evening.’ Mr Holmes’ tone suggested that he was every bit as puzzled as his friend, but I had learned to recognise a certain glint in his eye that showed itself at particular times, a glint that led me to suspect Mr Holmes had already placed a great many pieces of the jigsaw into their rightful places.
‘No, sir. And I’m coming to that. You see, our plan to trap James Phillimore was a good one, but I confess that there was one detail I was uncomfortable with.’
‘What was that, Mrs H?’
‘It was the fate of Mr Phillimore and the Great Salmanazar if we handed them over to the police. The may have been charged with conspiracy to steal, but the evidence against them was scanty. Perch could link Phillimore to the crime, as it was Phillimore who commissioned the boxes. But there was nothing much against Salmanazar. I could imagine a botched arrest followed by a hasty acquittal. So instead I thought it would be helpful if I arranged to have a little word with our great magician.’
‘But how did you manage that, Mrs Hudson?’
‘Oh, quite simply, sir. I just helped him to escape this evening.’
‘You? But how?’
‘That boy who bumped into him by Charing Cross station told him what to do. The Great Salmanazar knew he was being followed, you see, and he was lost in a strange city. So I simply gave him the message to follow the pantomime horse. Of course, only the British really know what a pantomime horse is, but he soon grasped the idea, and he was able to follow the horse into the alley by Admiralty Arch.’
‘That’s right, Mrs Hudson,’ Dr Watson agreed. ‘We saw all that happen. But how do you know so much about it?’
Mrs Hudson looked at him in great surprise.
‘Why, sir, who do you think was inside the pantomime horse?’
‘Eh? What? You mean… ? You?’
Mr Holmes chuckled at his friend’s confusion. ‘Of course, Watson. Surely it is obvious? I’m surprised that even you haven’t grasped it by now.’
Mrs Hudson nodded gravely at the great detective. ‘Of course, sir, as you will no doubt have realized, Scraggs and I were in the horse costume at the start of the evening. When safely out of sight in the alley, Scraggs and the magician swapped places. Like a true showman, the Great Salmanazar proved rather adept at playing the rear end of the horse. After that, it was all easy. I escorted him back to his hotel room and we had a little talk. I pointed out the serious view taken by British justice of attempts to steal the Queen’s jewels. I talked a little about the determination of the police to make an arrest and a little about the state of our prisons. After a little he was very eager, in return for a boat ticket and a promise of a safe journey, to tell me the whereabouts of all his past prizes.’
‘But, Mrs Hudson,’ Rupert Spencer put in, ‘you’ve just said that the evidence against him was scanty. Why should he co-operate like that?’
‘He co-operated, sir, because I was able to show him a statement I’d obtained earlier in the day from Miss Lola Del Fuego. In the hands of any police force in Europe, it would put him behind bars for the rest of his life. You see, through working with him so closely, she and James Phillimore had learned a good many of his secrets.’
Dr Watson snorted. ‘But if you had that sort of evidence, Mrs H, why let the fellow go at all? Why, we could have him safely under lock and key already.’
Mrs Hudson took another sip of port before replying.
‘Well, sir, this way we get all the other jewels back. But I confess that wasn’t my main reason. You see, sir, he’s simply far too good a magician to waste away his life in gaol. What good would that do for anyone? The Great Salmanazar really is from Spain, it turns out. He learnt his skills very humbly, as an itinerant magician in the villages of Andalusia. Once I had his agreement that he would return directly to that region and never again attempt to leave it, then I was quite happy to let him go.’
‘But how can you be sure he will stick to any such an agreement?’
‘Because he knows I have Miss Del Fuego’s letter, and that I will not hesitate to use it.’ She rolled her wine glass between her fingers, so that the port seemed to glow with the light from the fire. ‘And you know, when all was settled, when he saw that his adventure was finished, I rather think the prospect ahead of him did not wholly dishearten him. He talked at length of his days on the lanes of Andalusia, the winter snows and the dust in summer, and the welcome in every house he came to. Very moving it was. He told me of all the small children in tiny, unvisited villages, who would run out a mile or more to greet him. I like the thought they will have a performer amongst them who once held the whole of Europe under his spell. Yes, gentlemen, I’m inclined to think that more good will come of the Great Salmanazar returning to the mountains of Spain than in keeping him rotting in a crowded British cell.’
‘And James Phillimore?’ Dr Watson asked. ‘What has become of him?’
She looked at me and for a moment one eyelid flickered meaningfully before she turned back.
‘The full story of James Phillimore will remain a mystery, I fear, sir. However, it appears his wife in Ealing has received word that he has fled the country never to return. So I think we have no alternative but to assume we have heard the last of him. He was never really a proper criminal, sir, just as he was never really a proper contortionist.’
‘And Lola Del Fuego?’ Miss Peters asked. ‘What happened to her?’
‘Also gone abroad. Her love for James Phillimore, and his for her, is one of the more moving aspects of this story. It seems that all along she was willing to give up her fame and her wealth just to be with him. I think it was his idea that she could only be happy living in luxury, and it was that mistake that drove him to steal the Malabar Rose.’
‘So, Mrs Hudson,’ Mr Holmes concluded, ‘the protagonists are all fled. Their plot is broken and their careers over. Tonight we shall cut your excellent cake, and tomorrow the Malabar Rose shall be placed on public display in all its glory. Tell me, would you find it in any way embarrassing if I was to raise a glass and drink your health?’
If I had questions still to ask, I decided then that they could wait a little. For by then the chestnuts were ready to eat and the level of the port was falling steadily. By the time both were finished, Miss Peters was asleep on Mr Spencer’s shoulder and the first sounds of traffic were to be heard in the streets outside.
‘Time for me to go,’ mumbled Mr Rumbelow, looking at his pocket watch.
‘Indeed, sir,’ concurred Mr Holmes, prodding Dr Watson when he realized that his friend was beginning to nod off in front of the fire.
‘What about this, sir?’ Mrs Hudson asked, indicating the iced cake that sat in front of us. ‘Would you like to cut it now?’
She held a knife out to him and he reached to take it, then seemed to change his mind.
‘Do you know, Mrs Hudson, until we get it safely to the Home Office, I think the Malabar Rose may as well stay where it is. Though I fear that way you lose an excellent fruitcake.’
‘They’re never so good once they’ve been iced, sir.’ She shook her head and rose to see the gentlemen to the door. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess up there, sir. You must do what you can tonight, and Flottie and I will sort it all out tomorrow. And as for the rest of you,’ she continued, turning back to the kitchen, ‘it’s high time you all got some sleep. So back to your homes and into your beds, before I get you to do the washing up. Oh, and a very happy new year to you all, as well.’
We stood in the kitchen doorway and watched them go, Scraggs yawning hugely and Miss Peters barely awake as Mr Spencer supported her up the iron steps. The last, weary snowflakes of the night drifted to the ground in front of us. Soon it would be day.
‘Tell me, ma’am,’ I asked as we turned back into the kitchen, ‘was it you who told Mr Phillimore’s wife that he was going abroad?’
‘It was, Flottie. I went to see her yesterday, when I was confident we’d trap him one way or another. I told her that her husband had been foolish, that he was destitute and on the run, and that the only chance for him was to escape to Canada to start a new life. I told her that he would be waiting for her in Portsmouth and I explained very clearly that if she valued him and wished to be with him, that she was to go to the offices of Meyer & Stallard. To the front door, Flotsam. I told her to take the money he had sent her, as it would be all they had. And I made it as clear as I could to her that if she did not travel to Portsmouth, if she did not reach him by five o’clock this evening, that he would depart without her and she would never hear from him again.’
‘You told him to go with whoever comes to the front door, ma’am.’
‘That’s right, Flotsam.’
‘And if no one comes by five, he’s to go to the back door.’
‘Indeed, Flottie.’
‘Where Miss Perkins will be waiting?’
‘No doubt.’
‘But if Mrs Phillimore travels to Portsmouth too… ?’
‘Then he has a wife who loves him.’
‘But what would happen to Miss Perkins?’
‘She will travel on a different boat, to a different part of Canada.’
I considered this arrangement thoughtfully.
‘I don’t imagine Mrs Phillimore will much like the thought of Canada, will she, ma’am?’
‘You may be right, Flotsam.’
‘She’s very fond of hats and she has plenty of money now.’
‘She does indeed.’
‘So what will happen, ma’am? Who will end up where?’
Mrs Hudson had picked up a sheet from a pile of crumpled laundry that had been pushed hastily into the laundry chest. She waited until she had folded it into a perfect, crisp, white square before she turned to answer my question.
‘That’s really not for us to say, Flotsam. Events will take their course. We don’t need to know what happens next.’
I nodded as if I understood, but made a mental note to visit Ealing in a fortnight’s time, to see if Mrs Phillimore still lived in the house in Sefton Avenue.
‘You went to a lot of trouble to help Mr Phillimore, ma’am. All that planning and those boat tickets. I don’t really know why. Was it really because you wanted to save Mrs Smithers and her daughter from scandal, or was it because Lola Del Fuego loved him so much?’
‘Oh, a bit of many things, Flotsam. I didn’t need to worry about the cost of the tickets. I think Mr Holmes will be happy to cover our expenses. So perhaps the thing that really decided me was Dr Watson’s neckwear.’
I blinked at her in astonishment.
‘Those lurid cravats, Flottie. Surely you’ve noticed them?’
‘Why, yes, ma’am…’
‘And his walks in Hyde Park? It is a strange time of year to develop such a habit.’
‘Hyde Park, ma’am?’
She appeared to be concentrating her full attention on the folding of a large double sheet, but I saw her eyebrows twitch very slightly.
‘I saw a playbill in town yesterday, Flottie. It appears that a trapeze dancer called Miss Fidelma Fontaine is performing at the Oriental Theatre. And it occurred to me that the Oriental Theatre is not very far from Hyde Park.’
‘Why, ma’am!’ I exclaimed. ‘You mean… ?’
‘I mean no more than I say, Flottie. But I confess it has occurred to me that Maud Phillimore has disadvantages enough already. The additional scandal of a brother in gaol would hardly encourage the attentions of an honest man.’
I spent a moment considering this and decided that perhaps I should observe Dr Watson’s behaviour a little more closely in the months ahead.
‘Do you think he will want to write the story of the Malabar Rose, ma’am?’
‘Oh, perhaps he will, Flotsam. But as always I shall insist he doesn’t mention us. I don’t think we were cut out for the limelight.’
I sat and gazed into the fire for a moment longer, trying to work out what it was about the case of the Malabar Rose that still worried me.
‘Just one more thing, ma’am,’ I asked at length. ‘Mr Phillimore really did try to steal the ruby, ma’am. Are you sure it’s all right to just let him go?’
‘Your friend Blue, Flotsam. I believe he tried to steal your purse…’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am but I…’
Mrs Hudson raised her eyebrows and began to fold the next sheet. Instead of continuing with my reply, I looked into the fire and considered the case of Blue and the case of James Phillimore, and all the things they’d taught me about appearances and disappearances, about despair and love. I suppose those thoughts led me onto other things, and while Mrs Hudson worked her way peacefully through the rest of the sheets, I remembered something that in all the excitement I had almost forgotten: I had a mystery of my own to solve. So when Mrs Hudson had finished folding the last pillowcase, I was still thinking of the unexpected tickets I had received on Christmas Day. And when she spoke to me, I didn’t even hear her, for I was utterly lost in contemplation of a future that seemed to teem with secret admirers.