next to Holmes, her head down, not even making a motion to escort him to the front.
The boy is growing uneasy, not sure if he wants to raise his voice to interrupt once Lestrade begins.
“Sherlock, I must tell you something. You know that Malefactor has ways of finding out things, people who can bring him news from even inside Scotland Yard…. Well, he came to see me this morning because … he had just found out that –”
“I am here this fine day,” announces the senior detective loudly, “to revel with you in the solution of the case of the vanishing girl!”
“What?” gasps Sherlock out loud.
“Here she is! Safe and sound!”
An apparition appears before them on the little platform.
Victoria Rathbone!
She steps forward, smiling, tightly gripping her father’s arm, leaning her pretty head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” says Irene, keeping her head down.
Sherlock scans the crowd. He spots three laughing young thugs in three different places. When he looks up to the podium again, he sees that Lestrade has noticed him, and is beaming.
“We have confounded the fiends,” proclaims Rathbone to a cheer. “We have proved once and for all that one must never give way to villainy. When we find them, I shall have their heads!” The crowd roars.
When they find them? The kidnappers haven’t been found? How can that be?
Lestrade steps forward again and puffs out his chest.
“Our tactics worked perfectly. After we consulted the public about this case, we received several helpful tips. A note came to us early this morning and through it we traced this dear child to the culprits’ lair just hours ago. The cads, having somehow been warned of our approach, had only just vacated the premises. But we shall catch them! I assure you that we are on their trail!”
Another cheer goes up.
“As to the location, she was found …”
“In St. Neots,” says Sherlock under his breath, “at Grimwood Hall.”
“… on our southern coast.”
The boy nearly drops.
“A perfect place to keep her, mind,” continues Lestrade, “where a sea-going getaway would be simple. But our knowledge of the workings of the criminal brain had caused us to suspect the region beforehand, and we already had elements of the Force in that area. The time between our gaining knowledge of her whereabouts and our arrival on the scene was barely more than an hour. A special locomotive has never moved so quickly!”
“Can you tell us where on the coast?” shouts Hobbs.
“The continuing pursuit of the villains prohibits that, sir. All shall be revealed when we have them in chains.” Lestrade fixes another smile on Sherlock down in the crowd.
But Holmes has stopped watching. His shoulders droop as he moves out through the reporters. Irene follows.
“Sherlock, I’m …”
He picks up his pace and leaves her behind. A tear streaks down her cheek as he walks away from her.
“About my acquaintance with Victoria … I …” she says to herself.
He has failed; failed miserably. There can be no doubt. Lestrade has once again put the bullet into
him
.
He wonders for a moment if the police are lying about where they found her. But it wouldn’t matter if they were.
They have her
. And why would they lie anyway? He thinks of his “evidence,” considers it coolly and rationally for the first time, and it all begins to seem ridiculous. It shatters like that bust dropped on the hard floor at Grimwood Hall.
Old Muddle had merely said he
believed
the residents of the manor house purchased the stationery – and he was deaf and barely of sound mind. Even if they did purchase it, what did that really prove? And the locked door upstairs at Grimwood? He remembers now that he didn’t locate the bolt. It was almost certainly locked from the
inside
… which means no one was keeping that girl captive – he had made absolutely unfounded deductions. She had obviously locked herself in and was crying about something else, maybe an argument with
The boy is growing uneasy, not sure if he wants to raise his voice to interrupt once Lestrade begins.
“Sherlock, I must tell you something. You know that Malefactor has ways of finding out things, people who can bring him news from even inside Scotland Yard…. Well, he came to see me this morning because … he had just found out that –”
“I am here this fine day,” announces the senior detective loudly, “to revel with you in the solution of the case of the vanishing girl!”
“What?” gasps Sherlock out loud.
“Here she is! Safe and sound!”
An apparition appears before them on the little platform.
Victoria Rathbone!
She steps forward, smiling, tightly gripping her father’s arm, leaning her pretty head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” says Irene, keeping her head down.
Sherlock scans the crowd. He spots three laughing young thugs in three different places. When he looks up to the podium again, he sees that Lestrade has noticed him, and is beaming.
“We have confounded the fiends,” proclaims Rathbone to a cheer. “We have proved once and for all that one must never give way to villainy. When we find them, I shall have their heads!” The crowd roars.
When they find them? The kidnappers haven’t been found? How can that be?
Lestrade steps forward again and puffs out his chest.
“Our tactics worked perfectly. After we consulted the public about this case, we received several helpful tips. A note came to us early this morning and through it we traced this dear child to the culprits’ lair just hours ago. The cads, having somehow been warned of our approach, had only just vacated the premises. But we shall catch them! I assure you that we are on their trail!”
Another cheer goes up.
“As to the location, she was found …”
“In St. Neots,” says Sherlock under his breath, “at Grimwood Hall.”
“… on our southern coast.”
The boy nearly drops.
“A perfect place to keep her, mind,” continues Lestrade, “where a sea-going getaway would be simple. But our knowledge of the workings of the criminal brain had caused us to suspect the region beforehand, and we already had elements of the Force in that area. The time between our gaining knowledge of her whereabouts and our arrival on the scene was barely more than an hour. A special locomotive has never moved so quickly!”
“Can you tell us where on the coast?” shouts Hobbs.
“The continuing pursuit of the villains prohibits that, sir. All shall be revealed when we have them in chains.” Lestrade fixes another smile on Sherlock down in the crowd.
But Holmes has stopped watching. His shoulders droop as he moves out through the reporters. Irene follows.
“Sherlock, I’m …”
He picks up his pace and leaves her behind. A tear streaks down her cheek as he walks away from her.
“About my acquaintance with Victoria … I …” she says to herself.
He has failed; failed miserably. There can be no doubt. Lestrade has once again put the bullet into
him
.
He wonders for a moment if the police are lying about where they found her. But it wouldn’t matter if they were.
They have her
. And why would they lie anyway? He thinks of his “evidence,” considers it coolly and rationally for the first time, and it all begins to seem ridiculous. It shatters like that bust dropped on the hard floor at Grimwood Hall.
Old Muddle had merely said he
believed
the residents of the manor house purchased the stationery – and he was deaf and barely of sound mind. Even if they did purchase it, what did that really prove? And the locked door upstairs at Grimwood? He remembers now that he didn’t locate the bolt. It was almost certainly locked from the
inside
… which means no one was keeping that girl captive – he had made absolutely unfounded deductions. She had obviously locked herself in and was crying about something else, maybe an argument with
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