by secreting ourselves, with difficulty, in the lady’s bedroom. However, the young person herself had not been present. What Lady Eleanor was proposing was quite unacceptable.
‘I am sorry, Lady Eleanor. I am otherwise occupied,’ said Holmes. ‘But I have in mind the perfect solution.’
‘But, sir—’
‘No,’ said Holmes, firmly.
Lady Eleanor was taken aback. As pleasant and reasonable as she seemed, she was also clearly not used to hearing the word ‘no’.
‘Here is my solution, madam. I will send over one of my deputies. A young woman who will fit right into your school, a minnow in a school of minnows.’
‘A deputy?’
‘I have employed her before, and more than once. Her name is Hephzibah O’Malley.’
‘That is an … unusual name,’ said the lady.
Holmes noted this and glanced at me. ‘Heffie, as she is known, is an East End orphan, half Jewish and half Irish, and you can well imagine she has felt the brunt of prejudice. She has learned to defend herself masterfully. She is an accomplished street-fighter. But that is the smallest of her skills. Heffie is intelligent, subtle, and observant – an easily underestimated young person.’
Lady Eleanor looked doubtful, but Holmes pressed on.
‘The assailant, judging from his lack of success and his willingness to be frightened off so readily, is not a professional. Heffie will be able to handle him, should he return.’
I wondered that I had not heard of her before.
‘How old is this Heffie?’ asked the lady.
‘Sixteen.’
‘You would send a child to defend my Judith?’
Holmes sighed. ‘Heffie is no ordinary young lady. Her late father was a boxer and wrestler and I have seen her hold her own against several men. Heffie will also fit in perfectly as one of your rescues. There could be no one better suited to watch over Judith. Your assailant, if he is connected with the school, will not even realize that Judith has acquired a bodyguard. Even Scotland Yard has made use of her services. Do you see? Heffie is precisely what you need.’
‘I need you, Mr Holmes.’
‘Madam, I am not free at present. And consider this. I would stand out in that environment like a giraffe in a pen of kittens.’
‘I beg you to refrain from referring to my girls as minnows or kittens,’ said the lady with dignity. I will admit that I, too, was taken slightly aback by Holmes’s colourful analogies. ‘But if it is not to be, it is not to be.’ She rose, her disappointment obvious.
She glanced once more around the room, revisiting the considerable clutter, including the grotesqueries on the chemistry table. She drew herself up, then ran a hand along the fireplace mantel. A finger came away dirty. She tapped some books, lying askew on a nearby bookcase.
‘Mr Holmes. You could benefit from more meticulous housekeeping. Order reflects competence! One of my girls would do wonders with this unhealthy room. She would clean thoroughly, organize all. Will you consider hiring one? I am always looking to place a girl. One of my best is available starting immediately. Anna would—’
‘Much as I enjoy appearing competent, no thank you, Lady Eleanor,’ said Holmes with a small smile. ‘Now if you will excuse us, please.’
‘It is hard to take no for an answer, Mr Holmes. You say Heffie can do the job I require and have insisted, past my reservations. Yet you will not take my advice. Why not consider Anna? She would tidy up this mess in a day.’
‘Thank you, madam,’ said Holmes more firmly, ‘but this room is exactly how I like it.’
‘But it is very kind of you to suggest,’ I offered.
She paused. ‘I will expect your … Heffie, then. When exactly?’
‘I will have her there by morning. In the meantime, place Judith temporarily in a new room with other girls. Please have an extra bed made ready in Judith’s room for tomorrow.’
She nodded and departed without another word.
‘What an extraordinary woman,’ I exclaimed.
‘In what way, Watson?’
‘So elegant, so self-contained. And quite lovely for her age.’
‘She is only a few years older than you. And she, or her girl, is lying, at least about a few things.’
‘What? Seriously, Holmes?
‘The knife is suspect. It is too dull to have made a small wound. And when Lady Eleanor withdrew the knife, I also spotted a receipt dated today from Verrey’s Restaurant.’
‘What does that matter?’
‘Odd to dine socially while on an errand such as this. Perhaps it is nothing. But you know me, Watson. I do not find most women all that trustworthy.’
‘Well, I disagree. I think Lady Eleanor was simply upset. Anyone would be.’
‘Let us drop the subject, Watson. We have more substantial work to do. It is now past five and already dark. I am going to fetch Heffie and set her on the job.’
‘I shall go with you,’ I said, curious about this girl whose description had frankly intrigued me.
‘I have another task for you, Watson. As the Goodwins have not sent over the list of Luminarians which they promised, I would like for you to go to Mayfair and retrieve it from them. That should, at least, prove entertaining. Meanwhile, I shall be back for supper by eight, and will see you then.’
‘Shall we dine at Simpson’s, Holmes? You could do with a fine roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!’
‘You persist, Watson! Yes, then. Eight o’clock? I look forward to it.’
My career had taken me through challenging terrain on three continents, but I will admit that there were corners of London which could seem both foreign and unnerving to me. Mayfair was one.
Before departing, I sent over a quick note to the Goodwin brothers to politely warn of my impending visit and made an effort to elevate my appearance – a close shave, a fresh collar, and a quick change back to my ‘ostentatious gold watch’, as Holmes had called it. While he teased me about pretension, these touches added needed gravitas, or so I felt.
My curiosity rose as my cab drew near Grosvenor Square. I had long admired the grand houses nearby but had never set foot inside one. Thankfully, the rain had ceased, but the wet streets gleamed and a touch of frost appeared on the grass on the lawn in the centre of the square. The air had grown much colder and a further freeze during the night would turn the pavements treacherous.
We pulled up to an enormous home not far from the square. The Goodwins’ residence was startling in its grandeur. Three storeys high, gleaming in marble and masterful plaster, a frieze of cavorting ancients across the portico, it was a remarkable edifice. Set back from the street, and fronted with a half-moon of private driveway, the enormous house buzzed with activity and glowed with numerous outdoor electrified lights.
Bathed under this bright glow, the Goodwins’ own carriage, shining black with a gilded coat of arms painted discreetly on the doors, stood at the entrance. It had recently arrived, for a glossy matched pair of chestnut beauties stamped and snorted, their breaths showing as white puffs in the frigid air.
A driver sat atop, rubbing his gloved hands for warmth, while two servants,