that you didn’t have a body … only his spectacles and some blood.”
Sherlock smiles and Irene notices.
“That is all we need, Miss Leckie,” replies Lestrade quickly. “They were enemies, Nottingham stole his wife, it is Hemsworth’s studio — we have a young witness who saw him enter many times — and it
is
his hat! Nottingham is missing — exploded to death or some such thing. Hemsworth has always envied the Wizard — he likely had the guillotine there to copy him, clothes like his for similar reasons. We have no doubt who our man is.”
“But Sherlock’s evidence seems worth investigating,” says Irene, taking her eyes from Beatrice and turning to Lestrade.
“Evidence? Speculation, I’d say! My father will laugh at it.”
Holmes gets to his feet and turns his back on the other boy. Irene isn’t pleased either. “Well,
I
think it’s enough to make you re-examine your evidence, to consider allowing Mr. Hemsworth temporary freedom … until you are certain.”
“Oh you do, do you? Scotland Yard does not!” Lestrade has had enough of Irene Doyle.
“Have you found Mrs. Nottingham yet?” asks Beatrice.
Lestrade is getting it from all sides. He glares at Miss Leckie and says nothing.
“That means no,” says Sherlock.
“That means you do not have the right to inquire,
any
of you!”
“But if she is missing, shouldn’t she be a suspect too?” asks Irene.
Lestrade is steaming. He gets to his feet.
“Might I simply ask you this?” inquires Holmes through his teeth, still looking away. “Who actually
owns
the studio? Hemsworth may live there, or perhaps Nottingham. We can look into that. But who
owns
it? Is it one of them? Surely, you have searched the records.”
“Yes, surely we have! And if you must know; if this will stop your pestering: it does
not
belong to Nottingham. His name is
not
on the ownership. Satisfied?”
“And Hemsworth’s is?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” asks Beatrice.
“Miss Leckie, it is
not
appropriate for you —”
“Whose is? Whose name is on record as the owner?” asks Irene.
“We believe it was being let to Hemsworth.”
“Let to him? From whom?” asks Irene.
Lestrade pauses again. “This is the last thing I will say and then you will all leave this to the proper authorities. The owner is someone who would have no motivation to murder Nottingham. He is a businessman, a Jew, named Riyah. We … cannot locate him at present.”
And with that, he leaves the shop.
BEHIND THE WALL
H olmes knows he shouldn’t return to The World’s End Hotel that night. And he also knows why he’s doing it.
“You must go back, Sherlock,” said Irene not long after young Lestrade left the shop that morning. She had walked over and seated herself close to him. Until then, the two girls and the boy had been silent. “You need to fetch the hat. If you can, I am sure we could find a way to get the Lestrades to try it on His Highness’s head. My father might help.”
“It might not matter who helps. If Hemsworth is brought before the magistrates, our esteemed inspector might convince them that modeling the hat isn’t necessary, despite any pleas that we or even the solicitors for the defense might make. The police will point out that it was found in the accused’s workshop, that his initials are on it, and do so in the midst of presenting
all
that motivation. Any protestations would be waved off.”
“Then we have to get the hat onto his head
before
he is in court. Perhaps I could arrange a visit, sneak it in, and slip it to Hemsworth in his cell. Then we could force theLestrades to take a look. But whatever we do, we need that hat, and we need it now.”
“I suppose I —”
“Steal evidence from a crime scene?” asks Beatrice. “What would they do to you if you were found with it? You can’t afford to take this chance, Sherlock, not with everything going so well at school, with your ’opes for university. Perhaps there is
Sherlock smiles and Irene notices.
“That is all we need, Miss Leckie,” replies Lestrade quickly. “They were enemies, Nottingham stole his wife, it is Hemsworth’s studio — we have a young witness who saw him enter many times — and it
is
his hat! Nottingham is missing — exploded to death or some such thing. Hemsworth has always envied the Wizard — he likely had the guillotine there to copy him, clothes like his for similar reasons. We have no doubt who our man is.”
“But Sherlock’s evidence seems worth investigating,” says Irene, taking her eyes from Beatrice and turning to Lestrade.
“Evidence? Speculation, I’d say! My father will laugh at it.”
Holmes gets to his feet and turns his back on the other boy. Irene isn’t pleased either. “Well,
I
think it’s enough to make you re-examine your evidence, to consider allowing Mr. Hemsworth temporary freedom … until you are certain.”
“Oh you do, do you? Scotland Yard does not!” Lestrade has had enough of Irene Doyle.
“Have you found Mrs. Nottingham yet?” asks Beatrice.
Lestrade is getting it from all sides. He glares at Miss Leckie and says nothing.
“That means no,” says Sherlock.
“That means you do not have the right to inquire,
any
of you!”
“But if she is missing, shouldn’t she be a suspect too?” asks Irene.
Lestrade is steaming. He gets to his feet.
“Might I simply ask you this?” inquires Holmes through his teeth, still looking away. “Who actually
owns
the studio? Hemsworth may live there, or perhaps Nottingham. We can look into that. But who
owns
it? Is it one of them? Surely, you have searched the records.”
“Yes, surely we have! And if you must know; if this will stop your pestering: it does
not
belong to Nottingham. His name is
not
on the ownership. Satisfied?”
“And Hemsworth’s is?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” asks Beatrice.
“Miss Leckie, it is
not
appropriate for you —”
“Whose is? Whose name is on record as the owner?” asks Irene.
“We believe it was being let to Hemsworth.”
“Let to him? From whom?” asks Irene.
Lestrade pauses again. “This is the last thing I will say and then you will all leave this to the proper authorities. The owner is someone who would have no motivation to murder Nottingham. He is a businessman, a Jew, named Riyah. We … cannot locate him at present.”
And with that, he leaves the shop.
BEHIND THE WALL
H olmes knows he shouldn’t return to The World’s End Hotel that night. And he also knows why he’s doing it.
“You must go back, Sherlock,” said Irene not long after young Lestrade left the shop that morning. She had walked over and seated herself close to him. Until then, the two girls and the boy had been silent. “You need to fetch the hat. If you can, I am sure we could find a way to get the Lestrades to try it on His Highness’s head. My father might help.”
“It might not matter who helps. If Hemsworth is brought before the magistrates, our esteemed inspector might convince them that modeling the hat isn’t necessary, despite any pleas that we or even the solicitors for the defense might make. The police will point out that it was found in the accused’s workshop, that his initials are on it, and do so in the midst of presenting
all
that motivation. Any protestations would be waved off.”
“Then we have to get the hat onto his head
before
he is in court. Perhaps I could arrange a visit, sneak it in, and slip it to Hemsworth in his cell. Then we could force theLestrades to take a look. But whatever we do, we need that hat, and we need it now.”
“I suppose I —”
“Steal evidence from a crime scene?” asks Beatrice. “What would they do to you if you were found with it? You can’t afford to take this chance, Sherlock, not with everything going so well at school, with your ’opes for university. Perhaps there is
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