Two pairs of boot clad feet clattered on the stairs. Ida stood up from where she had been kneeling to clean the skirting board, and stood with her back to the wall, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The two men passed her in single file, without a glance.

'I wish you'd let me publish, Holmes…'

'Watson, we've been through this…'

'…but surely by now word has spread! It's not as if you've not been active. And this latest case…'

The man who had been speaking trailed off. Ida's eyes flicked over to the pair, now outside a door a little way down the corridor, just in time to catch the warning glance the taller man had given his companion. She quickly dropped to her knees once more and resumed her scrubbing.

Ida gave no further thought to the matter until later that evening, when she and Prudence were peeling the potatoes for dinner. The pair of them made up the entire staff of Mrs Beech's Boarding House in Keswick, and although Prudence was technically her superior in the hierarchy of servitude, they were good friends. And it was Prudence who brought the subject up

'Do you have any idea how long those gentlemen in rooms 4 and 5 are staying?' she asked, tossing another potato onto the finished pile.

'No,' Ida looked at her, 'why?'

'Well, Mrs Beech told me that Mr Holmes – he's in room 5 - said his room was not to be cleaned. He was most particular about that…'

'Really? Well, less work for us, eh?'

'Yes. But earlier this afternoon, I went in there by mistake. I mean, I'd got into the habit of cleaning all the rooms… And…' Prudence hesitated. Her voice had taken on a conspiratorial tone, and Ida's imagination started to generate all sorts of lurid possibilities,

'And what?' she prompted her friend, 'what did you see?'

'He's got a dog in there!'

'A dog,' repeated Ida, her interest evaporating.

'Yes! A beautiful bloodhound…But no wonder he didn't want Mrs Beech to find out…'

'Mmm hmm,' said Ida, not really paying attention

'…but it's a disgrace, isn't it? Keeping a dog shut up in a room in a boarding house?'

'Yes, I suppose it is…'

'I've a good mind to tell Mrs Beech, you know…What do you…'

The peal of the doorbell cut the conversation short

'I'll get it,' said Ida, wiping her hands on her apron.

The man standing on the doorstep did not resemble Mrs Beech's normal clientele. His clothes were filthy, although, as Ida took a second, more detailed look, the suit had originally been expensive. His footwear, though entirely unsuitable for country walking looked as though it had carried him along many a muddy footpath, and one shoe appeared to have lost its laces. But it was the open cut on his forehead, with its trail of dried blood down onto his eyebrow, and the fiercely hostile gaze he fixed her with which made her draw back in alarm.

'Stared enough?'

'I…' she gaped, floundering for a reply

'Is this Beech's Boarding House?'

'Er…yes…Are you…?'

'I'm here to see Mr Holmes.'

'He's…'

'…here.'

finished a male voice. Ida spun round, to see the tall, lean, dark haired man from earlier descending the stairs

'Holmes?' exclaimed the man on the doorstep, shoving past her to stand at the foot of the staircase,

'I see you've had a difficult journey Mr Grimshaw,' continued Holmes. 'That wound's not too serious I trust,'

'Holmes, there's no time…'

'…very well.'

Holmes reached the bottom step, and looked down at Mr Grimshaw, his expression inscrutable. Then he stepped to the floor, and walked briskly to the door, which Ida was still holding open.

'I won't be taking dinner tonight, Miss…?'

'…Greene, sir. Ida Greene…'

'Miss Greene. I'd be much obliged if you would tell the good doctor that I've gone to tie up a few loose ends…'

'As you wish, sir…'

He nodded curtly, then turned to Mr Grimshaw with an expectant look. The strange man shook himself, then barged past Ida again, and hurried down the front steps to the street, Holmes following close behind.

Ida slowly closed the front door, and leant against it on the inside.

'Ida?' called Prudence from the kitchen, 'Ida, who was that?'

'Oh, just someone for Mr Holmes,' she called, trying not to let the unease she felt creep into her voice. She made her way back into the kitchen, where Prudence looked at her questioningly.

'A man to see Mr Holmes,' she repeated. 'He left with him, said he wouldn't be back for dinner...'

Prudence tutted, looking at the glistening pile of newly peeled potatoes,

'these spuds won't eat themselves…'

'No…' murmured Ida in reply, still lost in thought.

'And I bet he left that poor dog behind…'