Disclaimer: See Part One.
*****
There was dead silence in the room for perhaps a full minute, broken only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside, the sound of Leopold trying to soundlessly clear a particularly stubborn blockage in his sinuses, and the feeling that I had just tripped over an erroneous conclusion and fallen flat on my face.
"It's very pretty," she said finally, just as the silence was about to reach uncomfortable proportions. "Where did you find it?"
"It was in the coat pocket of the current suspect," I summarised.
"And the police don't have it because...?"
"Fortune interceded. He grabbed the wrong coat on the way out."
She was thoughtfully silent for a few moments. "Of all the people they might have accused," she said finally, "I wouldn't have expected Dr. Watson to be one of them. That was his watch, wasn't it?"
I nodded soberly. Her reasoning was sound; the initials J. H. W. monogrammed on the watch-cover and my unsolicited interest alone would have proven a personal interest. Add to that the fact that I knew he had grabbed the wrong coat...
"Well, if it's any consolation," she continued, "I didn't see him at the debutante."
"I proves nothing, of course," I replied, "By your own account the guest list was extensive. Anyone - especially the thief - could go unnoticed." Besides which, I reflected, even I could not account for Watson's whereabouts on that evening, as he had stepped out for about three hours, from roughly five-fifteen to eight-thirty, and when I asked him what had summoned him out in such rotten weather he simply said he'd had some business to attend to, after which he retired to his room for the remainder of the evening.
"So you believe he did it?" She looked incredulous.
"I believe nothing of the sort at this point," I retorted, "I believe only in the facts of the case, of which we have far too few to form any conclusions." I stood, preparing to embark on the next stage of my investigation.
"In that case," she replied, also standing, "I think we had better get to work at finding out who did this."
I stopped halfway to the door and turned to look at her. "I do not wish your help in this matter," I said stiffly, "But thank you for offering."
"We both have a stake in this case, Mr. Holmes," she replied, returning my look, "I wish my jewelry back, and you wish your friend exonerated for the crime. And a lot of people besides us wish to see justice done."
"You know nothing of detectivework. You're--" I stopped myself, but there it was all the same.
She frowned. "I'm what, Mr. Holmes?"
"Nothing," I replied, on the off-chance that she would drop it. She folded her arms across her bosom and looked at me coldly. I turned back towards the door.
"An amateur?" she pressed, "So are you, as far as employment goes. So what am I? Inexperienced?"
So. She was going to force the issue, was she? I sighed. "The issue is not open to discussion, Miss Cartwright," I said calmly, "I will contact you as soon as I have heard anything about your stolen jewelry."
I was nearly out the door when she asked one final question. "It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?"
I stood there, bristling at her audacity and weighing several possible responses, most of which sounded like hollow excuses. Except for one.
"Yes," I said simply, "It's because you're a woman. Are you satisfied now?"
"No." Her voice was calm, but with an edge like a razor to it.
"As I said, the matter is not open for discussion. Good-day, Miss Cartwright."
The fact of the matter was that I knew this case would likely be dangerous, especially for a young lady, and I wished to investigate it alone without having to babysit her. It was mainly my own pride - and the certainty that she would argue even this point - that prohibited me from explaining any further.
I was actually out in the hallway when she threw the bracelet at me. It was not heavy, but it caught me just so between the shoulder-blades so that the unexpected impact jolted a surprised exclamation from me. The door slammed shortly after.
"She doesn't like being talked down to, Mr. Holmes," Leopold informed me from his post by the door as I stooped to retrieve the bracelet.
"So I surmised," I replied, tucking the bauble securely into my pocket.
"I blame her upbringing, personally," he added cryptically, but would say nothing else against her as he led me back to the sitting room.
*****
"I trust Emily did not give you too much trouble?" Mr. Cartwright smiled, though his attention was focused on a point over my shoulder. I turned in time to see Leopold's face finish rearranging itself into an expression of sober obedience. I deduced that whatever had been on the butler's face immediately prior had told his master all he needed to know about the tone of the interview.
"Yes," I replied, "Your daughter has a keen eye for observation, all the same. She was very helpful to the investigation."
"Is there anything else you require, then, Mr. Holmes?" he asked, preparing to show me to the door.
"Yes," I said, and watched his mouth twitch slightly in annoyance, "I would like a list of the guests who had arrived early to the debutante, up to the time the jewelry was discovered missing, as well as a list of the companies hired in connexion with the ball."
"You think one of my guests took Emily's jewelry?"
"I must consider all the possibilities. Miss Cartwright tells me that there were a lot of people present that evening... any one of them could be the culprit."
"Well, there is such a list... it was made out while we were trying to figure out who might have seen something."
"Excellent. May I have a copy of this list for my own investigation?"
"I'm sure Emily would be happy to let you see it." He paused. "She's been examining it herself during the last couple of evenings. I believe she fancies herself some sort of sleuth."
"I see. So what you're telling me is that Miss Cartwright has the only copy of this list?"
"Of course. We weren't expecting any outside help, let alone unsolicited."
My mouth tightened slightly in annoyance. I hoped that Miss Cartwright would not decide to throw anything further at me when I returned to request this list.
*****
"Oh, you again," Miss Cartwright said, the very model of cordiality, when she answered my knock on her door. "I expect you're here because you found out I have something you want, after all. Isn't this a pretty problem?"
"And I expect that you are not about to give over the list without a fight," I replied in a similar tone, resenting the idea of being forced into anything, let alone a partnership, regardless of how intelligent she had shown herself to be.
"So here we are."
"Yes. Here we are."
The silence crawled.
"All right," she said finally, "I'll give you the list, on one condition."
"That being?"
"We collaborate on this case."
"I beg your pardon?"
"As I said before, we each have a stake in this. You want to clear your friend's good name; I want my jewelry back."
"You of all people know, through Watson's accounts, that I utilise rather unorthodox methods of detection."
"I'm no prude."
"I set a brutal pace."
"It gets the job done, does it not?"
"It could be dangerous."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were worried about me."
I stiffened. "On the contrary, I believe you can take care of yourself."
She smiled. "Then there's no problem."
Checkmate.
"If at any point I think that you cannot keep up with me," I said, "I will send you home. Is that understood?"
"Quite," she said, "But I shall keep the list with me at all times. Is *that* understood?"
"Understood," I growled.
This had started out as such a simple case...
*****
End of Part 6.
*****
There was dead silence in the room for perhaps a full minute, broken only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside, the sound of Leopold trying to soundlessly clear a particularly stubborn blockage in his sinuses, and the feeling that I had just tripped over an erroneous conclusion and fallen flat on my face.
"It's very pretty," she said finally, just as the silence was about to reach uncomfortable proportions. "Where did you find it?"
"It was in the coat pocket of the current suspect," I summarised.
"And the police don't have it because...?"
"Fortune interceded. He grabbed the wrong coat on the way out."
She was thoughtfully silent for a few moments. "Of all the people they might have accused," she said finally, "I wouldn't have expected Dr. Watson to be one of them. That was his watch, wasn't it?"
I nodded soberly. Her reasoning was sound; the initials J. H. W. monogrammed on the watch-cover and my unsolicited interest alone would have proven a personal interest. Add to that the fact that I knew he had grabbed the wrong coat...
"Well, if it's any consolation," she continued, "I didn't see him at the debutante."
"I proves nothing, of course," I replied, "By your own account the guest list was extensive. Anyone - especially the thief - could go unnoticed." Besides which, I reflected, even I could not account for Watson's whereabouts on that evening, as he had stepped out for about three hours, from roughly five-fifteen to eight-thirty, and when I asked him what had summoned him out in such rotten weather he simply said he'd had some business to attend to, after which he retired to his room for the remainder of the evening.
"So you believe he did it?" She looked incredulous.
"I believe nothing of the sort at this point," I retorted, "I believe only in the facts of the case, of which we have far too few to form any conclusions." I stood, preparing to embark on the next stage of my investigation.
"In that case," she replied, also standing, "I think we had better get to work at finding out who did this."
I stopped halfway to the door and turned to look at her. "I do not wish your help in this matter," I said stiffly, "But thank you for offering."
"We both have a stake in this case, Mr. Holmes," she replied, returning my look, "I wish my jewelry back, and you wish your friend exonerated for the crime. And a lot of people besides us wish to see justice done."
"You know nothing of detectivework. You're--" I stopped myself, but there it was all the same.
She frowned. "I'm what, Mr. Holmes?"
"Nothing," I replied, on the off-chance that she would drop it. She folded her arms across her bosom and looked at me coldly. I turned back towards the door.
"An amateur?" she pressed, "So are you, as far as employment goes. So what am I? Inexperienced?"
So. She was going to force the issue, was she? I sighed. "The issue is not open to discussion, Miss Cartwright," I said calmly, "I will contact you as soon as I have heard anything about your stolen jewelry."
I was nearly out the door when she asked one final question. "It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?"
I stood there, bristling at her audacity and weighing several possible responses, most of which sounded like hollow excuses. Except for one.
"Yes," I said simply, "It's because you're a woman. Are you satisfied now?"
"No." Her voice was calm, but with an edge like a razor to it.
"As I said, the matter is not open for discussion. Good-day, Miss Cartwright."
The fact of the matter was that I knew this case would likely be dangerous, especially for a young lady, and I wished to investigate it alone without having to babysit her. It was mainly my own pride - and the certainty that she would argue even this point - that prohibited me from explaining any further.
I was actually out in the hallway when she threw the bracelet at me. It was not heavy, but it caught me just so between the shoulder-blades so that the unexpected impact jolted a surprised exclamation from me. The door slammed shortly after.
"She doesn't like being talked down to, Mr. Holmes," Leopold informed me from his post by the door as I stooped to retrieve the bracelet.
"So I surmised," I replied, tucking the bauble securely into my pocket.
"I blame her upbringing, personally," he added cryptically, but would say nothing else against her as he led me back to the sitting room.
*****
"I trust Emily did not give you too much trouble?" Mr. Cartwright smiled, though his attention was focused on a point over my shoulder. I turned in time to see Leopold's face finish rearranging itself into an expression of sober obedience. I deduced that whatever had been on the butler's face immediately prior had told his master all he needed to know about the tone of the interview.
"Yes," I replied, "Your daughter has a keen eye for observation, all the same. She was very helpful to the investigation."
"Is there anything else you require, then, Mr. Holmes?" he asked, preparing to show me to the door.
"Yes," I said, and watched his mouth twitch slightly in annoyance, "I would like a list of the guests who had arrived early to the debutante, up to the time the jewelry was discovered missing, as well as a list of the companies hired in connexion with the ball."
"You think one of my guests took Emily's jewelry?"
"I must consider all the possibilities. Miss Cartwright tells me that there were a lot of people present that evening... any one of them could be the culprit."
"Well, there is such a list... it was made out while we were trying to figure out who might have seen something."
"Excellent. May I have a copy of this list for my own investigation?"
"I'm sure Emily would be happy to let you see it." He paused. "She's been examining it herself during the last couple of evenings. I believe she fancies herself some sort of sleuth."
"I see. So what you're telling me is that Miss Cartwright has the only copy of this list?"
"Of course. We weren't expecting any outside help, let alone unsolicited."
My mouth tightened slightly in annoyance. I hoped that Miss Cartwright would not decide to throw anything further at me when I returned to request this list.
*****
"Oh, you again," Miss Cartwright said, the very model of cordiality, when she answered my knock on her door. "I expect you're here because you found out I have something you want, after all. Isn't this a pretty problem?"
"And I expect that you are not about to give over the list without a fight," I replied in a similar tone, resenting the idea of being forced into anything, let alone a partnership, regardless of how intelligent she had shown herself to be.
"So here we are."
"Yes. Here we are."
The silence crawled.
"All right," she said finally, "I'll give you the list, on one condition."
"That being?"
"We collaborate on this case."
"I beg your pardon?"
"As I said before, we each have a stake in this. You want to clear your friend's good name; I want my jewelry back."
"You of all people know, through Watson's accounts, that I utilise rather unorthodox methods of detection."
"I'm no prude."
"I set a brutal pace."
"It gets the job done, does it not?"
"It could be dangerous."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were worried about me."
I stiffened. "On the contrary, I believe you can take care of yourself."
She smiled. "Then there's no problem."
Checkmate.
"If at any point I think that you cannot keep up with me," I said, "I will send you home. Is that understood?"
"Quite," she said, "But I shall keep the list with me at all times. Is *that* understood?"
"Understood," I growled.
This had started out as such a simple case...
*****
End of Part 6.