Sorry I have taken so long to get this chapter up!
Holmes sat bolt upright. "Etta Cadge? The daughter of our client?"
"The very same," I said gloomily, "Here, I'll read you the article.
"October 12, 1882. The top story today is the disappearance of a young lady named Etta Cadge, aged 19, from the East end of London. Apparently, the girl was last seen by her mother, who saw her step into a cab on Crewe Lane, at approximately 6 pm yesterday. According to her mother, Mrs. John Cadge, the girl had been on her way to visit fiancé, who lives across town, in West London. He was to take her to a local theatre production. When she did not return for over 10 hours, Mrs. Cadge became worried, and informed the police of the girl's disappearance. It was soon ascertained that the girl had vanished, and probably not of her own free will.
Upon speaking with the girl's fiancé, Mr. Henry MacLean, Scotland Yard investigators became suspicious of his statement that neither the girl, nor the cab, had arrived at his house. Investigators were unable to locate the cab driver who had transported the girl. They know very little at this point, and only assume the girl was kidnapped because there are no personal items missing, and no note. Inquiries have been made to many of the girl's friends and relatives, and her fiancé, Mr. Henry MacLean, has failed, and Miss Cadge's whereabouts are still unknown. Any information that may be helpful in locating her should be immediately conveyed to Scotland Yard."
I put down the paper and glanced at Holmes. He had leaned back, and was thoughtfully puffing on has pipe; sending great gusts of black smoke towards the ceiling.
"So." he said, "The crime was committed at about 6 pm last night, so it probably was not investigated until this morning at least. That means that soon after I visited young Mr. MacLean, the police came and took him away. Odd that he didn't mention the girl's failure to show up last night."
"Well, perhaps he didn't think it was of consequence. Or possibly he wasn't expecting her to come." "You agree with the police and think the girl's fiancé kidnapped her, Watson?" "Anything's possible. However, I was thinking more along the lines that maybe their evening was cancelled. Perhaps he received a message from someone whom he thought was Etta Cadge, saying she wouldn't be coming that night, but was actually the kidnapper." "Interesting thought Watson, but one mustn't make theories without first knowing all of the facts. In the morning, we will investigate the girl's disappearance. Until, then, try to put it out of your mind, old chap." Despite his calm words, I could see that Holmes was excited. A case that had been incredibly dull for him had suddenly put forth a spark of interest. Long after I went to bed that night, Holmes stayed up, smoking and mulling over the case. However, the next morning he was as energetic as ever, eager to get started on working out his mystery. At seven o'clock, when I stumbled blearily out of bed, I found Holmes had already finished his breakfast and left.
I settled down to a leisurely breakfast, and spent the morning organizing my papers. At ten to one, Holmes appeared in the door, fresh- faced and full of energy. "Sorry to leave without you Watson, old man, but to recognize a day's potential one must begin as early as possible. I have had a rather unproductive morning, I'm afraid. I first want to visit the local cab companies, and according to each or them, none of their drivers had been dispatched to anywhere near Crewe Lane. However, these places usually keep rather shoddy records, and several establishments were closed, so I really don't know that that investigation gave any help at all. "I next visited the home of our lovely client, Mrs. Cadge. She is distraught, but answered my questions coolly enough. However, she was entirely unhelpful. Yes, she had seen the girl get into the cab. No, she had not heard from her since. No, she did not know why Mr. Cadge did not do anything when Etta failed to show up. She went o and on, but really did not say anything of use at all. I must she annoyed me to the point of infuriation. I was glad to get out of that house. And now, here I am, home to Baker Street for lunch." With this pronouncement, Mrs. Hall entered, carrying a plate heaped with food. As we ate, Holmes said to me, "After lunch, Watson, let's have a pop up to Scotland Yard, try to see Mr. MacLean, and hear his side of the matter. Who knows, we may hear something that will help us determine if he is truly guilty!"
After lunch, we did indeed head towards Scotland Yard. Holmes was not nearly as well-known there then as he is today, but he had already gained the reputation of a private detective, and was usually allowed to see any criminal he wanted. That day we had no difficulty obtaining an audience with Mr. MacLean. As soon as we entered Mr. MacLean's cell he sprang up, a desperate look in his eyes. "Mr. Holmes! What are you doing here? Surely you do not condemn me like the rest of them!" "Certainly not!" my friend replied, "I am merely here to get the facts of a most unusual case. I am trying to locate my client's daughter, but at the same time trying to find out the truth. I do not denounce you without evidence! Surely you must think better of me than that. If you are innocent, you can only help your case by telling us everything you know. Perhaps one little detail might help locate your young lady!" "Well, Mr. Holmes, I'll tell you all that I know. I hope I can trust you. You see, there is something I did not tell the police."
Holmes sat bolt upright. "Etta Cadge? The daughter of our client?"
"The very same," I said gloomily, "Here, I'll read you the article.
"October 12, 1882. The top story today is the disappearance of a young lady named Etta Cadge, aged 19, from the East end of London. Apparently, the girl was last seen by her mother, who saw her step into a cab on Crewe Lane, at approximately 6 pm yesterday. According to her mother, Mrs. John Cadge, the girl had been on her way to visit fiancé, who lives across town, in West London. He was to take her to a local theatre production. When she did not return for over 10 hours, Mrs. Cadge became worried, and informed the police of the girl's disappearance. It was soon ascertained that the girl had vanished, and probably not of her own free will.
Upon speaking with the girl's fiancé, Mr. Henry MacLean, Scotland Yard investigators became suspicious of his statement that neither the girl, nor the cab, had arrived at his house. Investigators were unable to locate the cab driver who had transported the girl. They know very little at this point, and only assume the girl was kidnapped because there are no personal items missing, and no note. Inquiries have been made to many of the girl's friends and relatives, and her fiancé, Mr. Henry MacLean, has failed, and Miss Cadge's whereabouts are still unknown. Any information that may be helpful in locating her should be immediately conveyed to Scotland Yard."
I put down the paper and glanced at Holmes. He had leaned back, and was thoughtfully puffing on has pipe; sending great gusts of black smoke towards the ceiling.
"So." he said, "The crime was committed at about 6 pm last night, so it probably was not investigated until this morning at least. That means that soon after I visited young Mr. MacLean, the police came and took him away. Odd that he didn't mention the girl's failure to show up last night."
"Well, perhaps he didn't think it was of consequence. Or possibly he wasn't expecting her to come." "You agree with the police and think the girl's fiancé kidnapped her, Watson?" "Anything's possible. However, I was thinking more along the lines that maybe their evening was cancelled. Perhaps he received a message from someone whom he thought was Etta Cadge, saying she wouldn't be coming that night, but was actually the kidnapper." "Interesting thought Watson, but one mustn't make theories without first knowing all of the facts. In the morning, we will investigate the girl's disappearance. Until, then, try to put it out of your mind, old chap." Despite his calm words, I could see that Holmes was excited. A case that had been incredibly dull for him had suddenly put forth a spark of interest. Long after I went to bed that night, Holmes stayed up, smoking and mulling over the case. However, the next morning he was as energetic as ever, eager to get started on working out his mystery. At seven o'clock, when I stumbled blearily out of bed, I found Holmes had already finished his breakfast and left.
I settled down to a leisurely breakfast, and spent the morning organizing my papers. At ten to one, Holmes appeared in the door, fresh- faced and full of energy. "Sorry to leave without you Watson, old man, but to recognize a day's potential one must begin as early as possible. I have had a rather unproductive morning, I'm afraid. I first want to visit the local cab companies, and according to each or them, none of their drivers had been dispatched to anywhere near Crewe Lane. However, these places usually keep rather shoddy records, and several establishments were closed, so I really don't know that that investigation gave any help at all. "I next visited the home of our lovely client, Mrs. Cadge. She is distraught, but answered my questions coolly enough. However, she was entirely unhelpful. Yes, she had seen the girl get into the cab. No, she had not heard from her since. No, she did not know why Mr. Cadge did not do anything when Etta failed to show up. She went o and on, but really did not say anything of use at all. I must she annoyed me to the point of infuriation. I was glad to get out of that house. And now, here I am, home to Baker Street for lunch." With this pronouncement, Mrs. Hall entered, carrying a plate heaped with food. As we ate, Holmes said to me, "After lunch, Watson, let's have a pop up to Scotland Yard, try to see Mr. MacLean, and hear his side of the matter. Who knows, we may hear something that will help us determine if he is truly guilty!"
After lunch, we did indeed head towards Scotland Yard. Holmes was not nearly as well-known there then as he is today, but he had already gained the reputation of a private detective, and was usually allowed to see any criminal he wanted. That day we had no difficulty obtaining an audience with Mr. MacLean. As soon as we entered Mr. MacLean's cell he sprang up, a desperate look in his eyes. "Mr. Holmes! What are you doing here? Surely you do not condemn me like the rest of them!" "Certainly not!" my friend replied, "I am merely here to get the facts of a most unusual case. I am trying to locate my client's daughter, but at the same time trying to find out the truth. I do not denounce you without evidence! Surely you must think better of me than that. If you are innocent, you can only help your case by telling us everything you know. Perhaps one little detail might help locate your young lady!" "Well, Mr. Holmes, I'll tell you all that I know. I hope I can trust you. You see, there is something I did not tell the police."