heard something shatter nearby and saw a lamp lit from inside a room. The door opened and I saw a silhouette standing over me. It bent forward and I fought to crawl away, sure the intruder had come to finish me.
“Martha, stop struggling,” said Mr. Holmes in a stern voice. He lit a lamp and I focused on his tall, thin profile.
“An intruder came to rob you, Mr. Holmes.” I held my head in my hands to block the pain, and I felt a weakness settling over my body.
“An intruder? How did you come to—” He faced me, and I saw his eyes widen. He walked quickly over to me, removing my hand from my face to find it was covered in blood.
Remaining calm, he asked if I could stand. When I responded in the negative, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me gently from the floor. “Watson?” he called. Dr. Watson responded sleepily. When his drowsiness had left him, he quickly took me from Mr. Holmes and carried me to his own quarters.
Dr. Watson began to wash my face, while Mr. Holmes conducted a search of the house. He returned to the room puzzled. “Nothing is missing,” he said, his brow knitted.
“I swear on my life there was someone here,” I said in distress.
“That fact is obvious,” Mr. Holmes replied, examining me closely, “But what did they want?” He tapped his pipe against his jaw, staring blankly. Then he frowned slightly.
“It is not I, but you Miss Beauregard, who is the victim of this crime.”
“I only meant to save you from any harm.”
“Look down at your hand.”
I did so, and indeed, the ring that Rupert had given me was missing. “But why?” I asked in alarm. “Why would someone want to steal a ring made of glass?”
“Is it?” my master answered in some surprise. “If that is the case then it is our thief who has been deceived. I will call on Mr. Hudson to make certain of this fact.”
Within the hour Rupert was again at Baker Street. He ran up the stairs calling my name, and when he found me grasped my hands and kissed them.
“Mr. Hudson,” said Mr. Holmes interrogatively. “The ring you gave Miss Beauregard yesterday is missing. She insists, however, that the ring would be of little worth because it is made of glass. Is this true?”
Rupert grew pale again and was quiet for some minutes.
“Speak, man,” Mr. Holmes insisted impatiently.
Rupert stared at me intently, his eyes full of sadness. “No, it is not true.”
“What?” I whispered, stunned.
“I said it was glass so that you would not argue with me over its price,” he said. “But the ring is actually a diamond…a Giuliano diamond.”
I gasped, horrified, at this revelation. “How could you?” I asked, my anger mounting. “You have deceived me. How can I trust you if our marriage begins with lies?”
“Can you forgive me?” Rupert reached for my hand, but I pulled away. He shifted to the edge of the bed, head bowed.
A tense silence followed. Mr. Holmes said at last, “We will find the ring.” His eyes searched both of us in turn, his brow furrowed in concern. When I would not meet his gaze, he spoke to the room at large.
“Do you remember anything?”
“A black glove seized me by the throat, and let go just before I would have fainted away.”
“Yes.” Mr. Holmes lifted my chin and was examining my neck when Rupert suddenly stood up and left the room. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the front door opened and closed, and he was gone.
Mr. Holmes watched him carefully, then turned back to me. “The marks on your neck indicate that our intruder was a woman.”
I looked at him incredulously. “Mr. Holmes, you would think that I would have strength over someone of my own sex.”
“It is not a question of strength,” he replied. “Watson, how would you account for the blood?”
In the events that had recently passed, I had entirely forgotten that Dr. Watson was present. He answered, “A heavy object came down upon the left side of her head. Am I correct,
“Martha, stop struggling,” said Mr. Holmes in a stern voice. He lit a lamp and I focused on his tall, thin profile.
“An intruder came to rob you, Mr. Holmes.” I held my head in my hands to block the pain, and I felt a weakness settling over my body.
“An intruder? How did you come to—” He faced me, and I saw his eyes widen. He walked quickly over to me, removing my hand from my face to find it was covered in blood.
Remaining calm, he asked if I could stand. When I responded in the negative, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me gently from the floor. “Watson?” he called. Dr. Watson responded sleepily. When his drowsiness had left him, he quickly took me from Mr. Holmes and carried me to his own quarters.
Dr. Watson began to wash my face, while Mr. Holmes conducted a search of the house. He returned to the room puzzled. “Nothing is missing,” he said, his brow knitted.
“I swear on my life there was someone here,” I said in distress.
“That fact is obvious,” Mr. Holmes replied, examining me closely, “But what did they want?” He tapped his pipe against his jaw, staring blankly. Then he frowned slightly.
“It is not I, but you Miss Beauregard, who is the victim of this crime.”
“I only meant to save you from any harm.”
“Look down at your hand.”
I did so, and indeed, the ring that Rupert had given me was missing. “But why?” I asked in alarm. “Why would someone want to steal a ring made of glass?”
“Is it?” my master answered in some surprise. “If that is the case then it is our thief who has been deceived. I will call on Mr. Hudson to make certain of this fact.”
Within the hour Rupert was again at Baker Street. He ran up the stairs calling my name, and when he found me grasped my hands and kissed them.
“Mr. Hudson,” said Mr. Holmes interrogatively. “The ring you gave Miss Beauregard yesterday is missing. She insists, however, that the ring would be of little worth because it is made of glass. Is this true?”
Rupert grew pale again and was quiet for some minutes.
“Speak, man,” Mr. Holmes insisted impatiently.
Rupert stared at me intently, his eyes full of sadness. “No, it is not true.”
“What?” I whispered, stunned.
“I said it was glass so that you would not argue with me over its price,” he said. “But the ring is actually a diamond…a Giuliano diamond.”
I gasped, horrified, at this revelation. “How could you?” I asked, my anger mounting. “You have deceived me. How can I trust you if our marriage begins with lies?”
“Can you forgive me?” Rupert reached for my hand, but I pulled away. He shifted to the edge of the bed, head bowed.
A tense silence followed. Mr. Holmes said at last, “We will find the ring.” His eyes searched both of us in turn, his brow furrowed in concern. When I would not meet his gaze, he spoke to the room at large.
“Do you remember anything?”
“A black glove seized me by the throat, and let go just before I would have fainted away.”
“Yes.” Mr. Holmes lifted my chin and was examining my neck when Rupert suddenly stood up and left the room. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the front door opened and closed, and he was gone.
Mr. Holmes watched him carefully, then turned back to me. “The marks on your neck indicate that our intruder was a woman.”
I looked at him incredulously. “Mr. Holmes, you would think that I would have strength over someone of my own sex.”
“It is not a question of strength,” he replied. “Watson, how would you account for the blood?”
In the events that had recently passed, I had entirely forgotten that Dr. Watson was present. He answered, “A heavy object came down upon the left side of her head. Am I correct,
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