With the utmost care, Holmes ascended the first few steps which creaked ominously beneath his feet. Turning, he gave the candle to the taller girl – Abigail, I presumed – who accepted it with both hands, still clad in mittens.
"Mr. Fisher," Holmes called, "I would be much obliged if you would go light a fire in the schoolroom. In the meantime, Watson, I'm going to pass the girls up to you. Make sure they're unharmed. I don't anticipate needed help to climb out of here myself."
I secured my own candles out of the way and knelt as close as I dared to the broken stairway. Holmes whispered something to Lucy, who turned her head from his lapel to look up fearfully at me. Abigail held the candle up higher as Holmes eased one foot onto the stepstool. He shifted Lucy so that she faced me and, leaning forward, I could just grasp her arms above the elbow. It was neither the most practical or comfortable position for any of us. Fortunately, it took only a swift pull up and backward, standing as I did, to draw her out of the cellar entirely.
"Go and tend to her, Watson," Holmes suggested. "Have Mr. Fisher come back here help Abigail out."
I nodded and carried Lucy out of the storage shed into the relative warmth and light of the schoolroom. It was a pleasant surprise to see the superintendent had not stinted on the coal, especially since it was technically school property and to be used during school hours. Briefly I explained that Holmes had need of him and he promptly left to help. Meanwhile, I attempted to set the child on the large teacher's table for examination.
Lucy had my coat in a death grip that I pried off as gently as I could and removed her mittens. I introduced myself as a doctor as simply as I could, to which she replied that she already knew who I was; "Mista Home" had told her. Then she asked how long it would take to get warm again and go home.
I smiled and assured her it wouldn't take long, which was true. Small bodies are more susceptible to cold but conversely they warm up faster. I pulled the table closer to the fire and began a cursory examination. Her fingers and face were chilly and reddened. At my query, Lucy declared that her toes were cold and hurt her. Immediately I began removing her muddy, icy boots to warm her feet.
Lucy was content to leave me to my own devices until Abigail joined her, followed closely by Mr. Fisher and Holmes, respectively. Then excitement at being together and freed from what was in essence a prison got the better of the sisters. It was only by warning them the longer it took to get warm the longer it would take to return home that they settled down to the business of thawing out their limbs.
Holmes did not voice his questions as to their health; a glance their way and raised eyebrows sufficed. In response, I smiled reassuringly. I found no signs of true frostbite and that was half the battle there. Hunger, thirst, and sleepiness would be easy to alleviate.
Taking my permission for granted, Holmes crouched by them without blocking the fire and assumed his most soothing manner. "Can you tell me how you came to be in the cellar?"
Abigail toyed with one of her mittens. "I wanted to see the school again and I had to take Lucy with me because Mama said I have to take care of her."
"Why did you want to see the school again?"
"Because . . . because Mama said maybe when Papa gets out of prison we could go to school for the first time and she said Papa was going to get out of prison very soon and I was so excited I couldn't wait to see it," the child blurted out, eyes still downcast.
"But when you arrived at the school you were not allowed in so you decided to look around by yourselves," Holmes finished kindly.
"The door in the back was open," Lucy put in, "an' we wen' in an' we saw another door and we wen' in but it was dark."
"We just wanted to see what they had in the cellar," continued Abigail. "We went down the stairs but it was just too dark to see. But when we tried to go back up the stairs they broke and we tore our clothes and we couldn't get back up." Tears began to glaze her eyes. "We tried to call for help but nobody came. Nobody came for days and days."
"It sounds like it was very frightening," Holmes replied, "but you were brave and clever. I saw that you tried to fix the stairs and that you kept warm by staying together in that old crate. It was not a good idea to go wandering where you knew you shouldn't go" – here Abigail giggled self-consciously – "but overall you both did well. Now, I am going to find us a cab to take you home. I think, Watson, that by the time I return they will be sufficiently thawed. I shall also alert the Irregulars that they themselves are free to go home and warm up," he added, sotto voice.
I nodded distractedly, a new and troubling thought suddenly occupying my mind. Worry for the fate of the girls had momentarily overrode concern for my own ailments. Now I was all too aware that I was not well. I could not in good conscience expose two young patients with compromised immune systems to whatever pathogen I might be harboring; however, I was the only present physician and one who was willing to forego payment for the sake of the greater good. Mrs. Lynch's finances were such that health care would surely be limited.
I had just determined that keeping a scarf about my face would be reasonably effective at preventing the spread of disease, and girls had become restless with boredom, when Holmes re-entered. A gust of wind and swirl of snow accompanied him.
"We shall have to make haste," reported he. "Conditions are growing worse. Are they about ready to leave? Capital. Mr. Fisher, I thank you for your assistance in this matter. I hope you were not too inconvienced."
"Not at all, Mr. Holmes," exclaimed Mr. Fisher, shaking my friend's hand with enthusiasm. "I am only glad I was able to help."
"And a great help you were. No, Lucy, wear your mittens too. It is even colder outside than it was in the cellar."
The reunion of mother and daughters was as joyful and tearful as one might imagine. Mrs. Lynch's anxious face crumpled at the sight of the girls and almost immediately she was on her knees to embrace them both. Quietly Holmes dismissed the last Irregular on the premisis and proceeded to explain what had happened. "We almost died," Lucy added, with that peculiar cheerfulness unique to children once the fear is in the past.
"Don't say such things!" her mother admonished sharply. "Mr. Holmes, I cannot thank you enough. I didn't know what to think when you asked me to draw Miss Pringle out of her rooms for as long as I could tonight."
"A mere precaution," replied he, "and one I am grateful proved fruitless. I am only sorry it took me until tonight to realize where they had gone."
"Oh, no! We are utterly in your debt. You found them and they are alive and well. I don't know that I can pay you right away --"
"Mrs. Lynch," Holmes interrupted, "do not trouble yourself over the matter of fees. I consider this case a reimbursement to your husband, concerning a matter between the two of us. There will be no bill."
The lady hesitated, clearly wanting to argue the point but not wanting to force a confidence. "I will discuss it with Victor," she murmured at last. "He is to be released Friday, you know."
"Yes, I was aware."
Any more conversation between them was dashed by the girls' request for something to eat. This was our cue to leave. As we did so, however, Mrs. Lynch paused and looked at us over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said again, simply and forcefully.
Were this an account meant for publication, I should end the story there, with Holmes in the role of masterful detective and I the silent admirer. I wish it had ended there. Unfortunately circumstances were to continue in an anxious and emotional vein. The cabbie seemed relieved that we had not made him wait very long for us and I concurred. The weather, as Holmes had said, was worsening by the minute. We rode in a silence punctuated by the irregular little thuds of freezing rain against the roof and windows.
"Did you suspect Miss Pringle even to the last?" I asked finally.
Holmes looked up from the brown study he had fallen into. "I could not be sure that she had not imprisoned the girls somewhere, perhaps in the school. I had Evans slip into her rooms to look around while Mrs. Lynch distracted her. Fortunately it was nothing more than a case of misplaced exuberance and not something more sinister. Forgive me, Watson, but I do not feel much like parsing the intricacies of this case."
"It was a success," I pointed out.
"A success in that the children were found reasonably unharmed," replied he. "The chain of events behind it are less pleasant. They venture to the school in the first place because they had been denied a chance to attend. They were denied a chance to attend because of their father's incarceration. Their father's incarceration . . . " Holmes stopped himself suddenly and settled back with a sigh.
I repressed a sigh of my own. There was no point to tell Holmes that whatever guilt he harbored over Victor Lynch's crimes was misplaced, and the guilt he appeared to be assuming over the disappearance of Victor's daughter was doubly so. For one, my friend would dismiss it. For another, it was all too apparent to me that what I had been suffering from for the past few days was not a simple case of fatigue and would not dissipate after some much-needed rest.
