It was a young man's voice at the front door, one that I recognized but could not immediately place. "Ms. Pandy? Scotland Yard police, please open up!" The man and woman through the window spoke in rapid, hushed tones; I heard one of them dart to the back of the house while the other walked to the front.
Constable Milton Lamb. His name appeared in my mind, corresponding with the sound of the voice at the front door. By some avenue of investigation he must have been led to Flint's hiding spot, and I wondered if he fully realized what he had discovered. I followed as Holmes hurried around the house to the back.
"He bolted from the back exit when we were at the church," I said.
"My thoughts exactly," said Holmes. "Let us see if he's a creature of habit."
Our intuition was correct. We spotted Flint scrambling out the back door, and we shared a brief moment of eye contact as he turned to us—his eyes were sharp and focused. Flint pivoted on his heel and sprinted in the opposite direction, kicking up dirt as he ran. Holmes was hot in pursuit, chasing Flint through a grassy back area and over a short wooden fence. Flint cut into a jagged alleyway, knocking over a pile of discarded carpentry supplies as he ran through; nails and wooden boards crashed down and scattered about in our path. Holmes deftly leapt through the debris, while I had to slow my step to avoid injury.
Flint burst out of the alleyway onto Clark Street, coated in a thin layer of fog, and bustling with carriage and foot traffic. Holmes and I weaved through pockets of Londoners in our pursuit. Flint was fast, and I could feel the distance between us expanding, I hadn't expected such a vigorous morning workout. Holmes was a few steps ahead of me, cutting in a beeline to a carriage rattling by. He leapt up and latched onto the back of the carriage, temporarily unbeknownst to the driver. Holmes sprang off the carriage as it overtook Flint, catching him with a flying tackle and sending them both crashing to the cobblestones. Holmes struggled with Flint on the ground, wrestling for position, when I arrived to pull Flint away and attempt to restrain him. He jammed his elbow into my gut as I put him in a headlock.
A crowd formed around us, with Londoners stopping to watch our brawl with Flint. "Break it up!" A constable rushed to our aid, blowing sharp bursts with his whistle, and brandishing a wooden baton.
"This is Sam Flint!" said Holmes. "Scotland Yard has a warrant out for his arrest!"
Flint broke free from my grip and shoved through Holmes and the constable. The constable's baton clattered onto the ground as I chased Flint through the crowd, Londoners scurrying out of our way. Flint looked back at me, and failed to notice a young boy ahead sticking his leg out into our path. Flint stumbled over the outstretched leg and slammed against the road, stunned momentarily, and I took the opportunity to pin him down before Holmes and the constable recovered and helped constrain him.
"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson!" Lamb called out to us between heavy breaths as he ran through the crowd. He had followed our trail to Clark Street. Lamb blew into his whistle in a sequence of shrill bursts; more constables would be on the scene any minute. Lamb stood over Flint as the first constable secured Flint's wrists in a set of handcuffs. Lamb said, "Sam Flint, you're under arrest in connection to the abduction of Ester Doughtry, with additional charges for evading the law, and the assault of a lawman!"
Flint struggled under the weight of the constable. "You're wrong!" Flint barked. "That's a lie!" Flint tried to break free to no avail.
Two more constables rounded the corner in response to the whistle bursts. Once Flint had been completely subdued by the law enforcement team, Lamb turned to Holmes and I. "When I saw those footprints behind Annette Pandy's house, I thought for a minute that they looked like yours, but I hardly thought I would find you here, at the end of the trail of footprints and destruction."
"We happened to come across the woman that Flint was staying with," said Holmes. "She inadvertently led us to Flint."
"Annette Pandy," said Lamb. "I got her name and address from one of the St. Aurelia's attendees, apparently a friend of Flint. Of course, I had no idea that she was hiding Flint, that was a fortunate coincidence. Thank you, both of you, for your help in apprehending him."
Flint was dragged to a police carriage that had pulled up to the scene. He was thrown into the back, much to his protest. "I never hurt her! I never hurt Ester!" he said. His loud cries were muted as the carriage door slammed shut.
"He's violent, flighty, and far from innocent," said Holmes. "But I don't believe he's the one we're looking for. We have a witness that placed Flint at a shop in Fulham at 12:30 on Sunday, yet Doughtry's friend, Grace Day, stated that Doughtry was meeting with someone in Woodberry Park at 12:15. Flint can't have been in two places at once, on opposite ends of the city."
"You know, I'm not surprised," said Lamb. "He seemed genuinely shocked when I stated his charges."
Pandy was taken in for questioning. She claimed that she had known Flint since they were young, and that he had come to her in desperate need of help—some misunderstanding with the police that he refused to detail. With permission from Lestrade, Holmes interrogated Pandy at the Scotland Yard station regarding her exact connection to Flint, and had her describe Flint's behavior, and every conversation that she had with him since he appeared at her door the day before. After half an hour of questioning, which did not shed any light on the mystery of Doughtry's disappearance, Holmes moved on to interview Flint.