The Case of Em

by halavana

Silly little pastiche relating the true identity of the infamous Porlock. A little toy that was something to do while recovering from surgery several years ago.

The Case of Em
by halavana (with apologies to A. Conan Doyle)

Found in a portfolio in the desk of the late Frederick Robertson at the time of the disbursement of his estate. A note attached read as follows:
My Dear Fred,
This is a manuscript of my first encounter and friendship with your family. I don't feel right about sending it to my publisher as long as some harm may come to those involved because of it, and as long as I have it the temptation to publish will remain. Do with it what you will.
Warmest regards,
John Watson

And another note:
Fred & Bert,
Enclosed you will find some notes taken during my acquaintance with your family, your aunt Emelia in particular. I've been trying to sort through my papers, in order to prevent someone else having to do it when I'm gone, and sending them to their proper recipients. Do with them what you will. I continue to remember you fondly and if you are ever in the area I'm sure you know the way to my door.
SH

Throughout my long friendship with Sherlock Holmes, I have been allowed the privilege of being in his confidence on innumerable occasions. The events of the following tale began shortly after the case of Shoscombe Old Place in the early years of the all too short reign of King Edward VII and culminated in my friend's retirement.

Evening at 221B Baker Street found Holmes and me relaxing in the drawing room, reading the day's correspondence. His eyes remained on a single sheet for an unusually long time.

"Look at this, Watson," said Holmes at last, as he handed the slip of paper to me.

"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it could be to retain his attention so.

"Read. Read," said he, gesturing with his hand and steepling his fingers as he waited for me to commence.

I cleared my throat and read the following:

Dear Mr. Holmes,
Please accept my most profound thanks for the great service which you have rendered me. If my meager abilities can ever be of service to you, please do not hesitate to make use of them.
Your most grateful servant,
E. M. Robertson

Considering the number of persons who could have stated such I chuckled and asked, "Who is E. M. Robertson?"

"First I've heard of him. This card was enclosed."

"E. M. Robertson, translator/interpreter, specialized in Chinese and Arabic. London address. What's this? 'All services subject to standard fee' struck through. Most singular, I'd say." "Quite. Well, we have at our service a specialist in Chinese and Arabic. Not a wealthy one either if I'm not mistaken, or not given to unnecessary displays. The paper is of a quite common type as is the envelope. The card is of good quality but simply printed. The hand writing is most androgynous; I would say it was written by a woman if not for the strength of the hand. A pity I've no need for him. It would be most interesting to find out what was this 'great service'. Ah well, file it, Watson. There may be a story in it yet."

My practice occupied my attention for several days. Upon returning to Baker Street, I found Holmes searching furiously through his files. When he saw me, a look of relief spread over his features.

"Watson! Watson, where is that paper?"

"What paper?"

"The translator. Chinese and Arabic. Thanks for unstated services rendered." "Oh. That. Try 'Accomplices' under R."

"Accomplices! Watson, have we turned to crime at last?" he said as he leaped toward the one untouched shelf in the room.

"I thought of 'Sources of Services' but 'Accomplices' was more amusing at the time," said I, chuckling at the disarray of the room and the reaction sure to arise from Mrs. Hudson. "Amusing, you say?" said he, looking up at me sharply, then back to the file. "Ah, here it is. Roberts, Robertson, E. M. Hm. Too far. It will have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, Watson, tell me what you make of those documents on the table. No. Over there."

"Oh, these. Heavens. Hieroglyphics and hen scratching to me. And what's this piece of leather? Ink scribbles."

"To us, my dear Watson. To us, but to Mr. E. M. Robertson, Chinese and Arabic."

"Where did they come from?"

"Two cases. Most curious. The leather was found in the home of one Mr. Appleby. Merchant. I took it to an Arabian living on the South Side but he said it was merely a passage from the Koran."

"Written on leather?"

"Used as a decoration, or so he said. Showed me the door and shut it behind me. Slam! Most curious. Well, it shall have to wait until we see Mr. Robertson. Will you come along?"

"Most assuredly. But am I needed? Can I be of use?"

"My dear Watson, what would I do without my biographer? The cases may be of interest so I'd like you to see first hand. On the other hand, they may be a dreadful bore. We shall see. Which ever the case, would you not enjoy a drive to one of the most beautiful park areas around London?"

"I would."

"There. If the business is boring, you shall stroll the grounds and enjoy nature at its cultivated best."

The next morning we arrived at the front door of an old but well tended manor house. Upon ringing we were greeted by a middle aged gentleman of average height and build with auburn hair.

"Yes? May I help you gentlemen?" he asked in a low pleasant voice.

"We've come to inquire of Mr. Robertson," stated Holmes.

"I am he. Please, come in," said Robertson and stepped aside for us to enter.

The two of us followed him into a small drawing room and were seated upon genuine oriental furnishings. Our host gave directions to two young boys in a language quite unintelligible to either Holmes or me and the boys ran out and returned quickly with a pot of hot water and a bowl of fruit and pastries.

"You've no doubt missed breakfast to arrive this early. Will you not eat a little before stating what you need of me?"

I thanked him most kindly and helped myself to the slices of fruit. Holmes declined the food but did accept the offer of tea.

"I hope you will forgive our lack of the usually preferred English tea but most of my household prefer the type served in the Orient." With that, our host brought out from a cupboard a large bowl which contained several small cups, a tiny tea pot and a small pitcher.

"Are we to witness a Japanese tea ceremony?" I asked, certainly hopeful and intrigued.

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not. I've never been to Japan and know only the Chinese way. It's still rather ritualized but not nearly so formal. If you please, I don't want to waste your time, but green tea should be served as green tea, wouldn't you agree?"

"Most definitely," said Holmes and breathed deeply from the container our host offered to him. "In deference to the tea, allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and biographer, Dr. John Watson."

Mr. Robertson looked at us, both delighted and puzzled. "How may I serve you?" He poured hot water over the articles in the bowl and one at a time set them on a tray on the table.

"Some days ago I received your note of thanks and offer of translation services. I have need of a bit of translating," said Holmes and presented the note and card.

The gentleman glanced at it with raised eyebrows and said, "I did not write this, but I know who did. Please wait here a moment. I'll see if Em is at liberty." He left, as Holmes and I regarded each other side long, and the taller of the boys took his place, taking dry tea from the can with bamboo tongs and stuffing it into the small pot. He then poured hot water in the pot and let it steep briefly, then tipped the pot over a small pitcher. He poured the tea into cylindrical cups and handed one to Holmes who wafted the tea under his nose and nodded, smiling. I drank mine straight off and found it very strong. Holmes and the tall boy smiled and the other boy snickered in a good natured fashion, leading me to believe I had erred in some way, but no one said anything to me. The first boy poured more water into the pot and then poured the tea into tiny bowl shaped cups, like demitasse used for Turkish coffee, delivering these to us as well. Perhaps my continence expressed some dismay for our young hosts and my friend smiled more broadly.

"My friend," said Holmes. "The first was merely to test the fragrance of the tea. This one is for drinking."

"Oh," said I quietly and drank, finding this cup more to my taste.

The boy in charge of the tea repeated his performance, pouring water into the pot and from the pot into the cups several times until Robertson returned and motioned us to follow him up a flight of stairs and down a wide hall. He stopped in front of an open door, the wall opposite of which was dented and scraped as if someone had thrown both heavy and sharp objects across the hall with some force. Robertson stood in front of the door and motioned for us to enter quietly. Holmes turned to step across the threshold and halted abruptly, causing me to dance in order to avoid treading on his heels.

In the room at a desk sat a woman. A flash of white and slate blue told us she had looked up and caught our surprise. She was writing intently on a sheet of plain paper, referring now and then to a page of a manuscript in some other language.

"Excuse me, we..." Holmes began.

The woman held up her right hand, halting him and continued to write with her left. Abruptly and also without raising her eyes, she motioned us to enter and be seated at two chairs in front and to the side of the desk. Holmes looked at Robertson, who motioned us to obey, murmuring his relief that no missile had greeted us. We sat in the chairs, Holmes in front, I to the side. The woman continued writing as before.

At this point perhaps I should describe the room and its inhabitant, for we waited some time as she worked. The desk was large with stacks of papers and reference books at her right. Her writing implements were at her left. A box of rocks sat on the floor near her chair. She herself had a pleasant enough countenance, but dressed in complete disregard to current fashion. Her hair trailed down her back past her waist in a single braid. Though her ears were pierced, she wore no earrings. She was dressed in a light weight cotton tunic buttoned across her right shoulder in oriental style. Underneath, she wore trousers commonly preferred among Chinese women.

During our time of waiting and observation, Robertson withdrew noiselessly and returned quickly with our tea. After some minutes the woman ceased writing, put down her pen, sat back and stretched her arms.

"I've been working on this infernal bit of translation for three hours. At last! It's done. I beg you pardon me for ignoring you, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson but if I don't write what's in my head while it's there, often it leaves and does not return until much later, if even then."

"So you know me?"

"Of course. Very few men would call on me at this hour of the morning unannounced. Since I sent only one message saying 'if ever... don't hesitate,' it could only be Mr. Sherlock Holmes and if accompanied by his friend Dr. John Watson. The fact that you came without sending ahead suggests either rudeness or urgency but I prefer to give you benefit of the doubt and assume the latter. Had I known to expect you, I should have been more suitably attired. What can I do for you, gentlemen?" she said and folded her hands on top of her desk, gazing at us expectantly.

Without comment, Holmes handed the five documents to her and sat back, watching her intently. She looked at each document in turn then returned to the one in Arabic.

"What do you know of this?" she asked.

"It is Arabic, a passage from the Koran, on some type of leather."

"Quite. Where was it found? Your dwelling or..."

"The home of a client."

"I see. The leather must be horse hide, if it is intended as I suspect. The writing is a passage from the Koran, sura 3, verses 122 through 124. I could translate it for you but the words have nothing to do with their meaning in this context."

"Which is?" asked Holmes.

"I advise you warn your client to beware of arson or other means by which his property may be destroyed. It is a threat. In the Arab world, one man's superstition can be another's signal to action. Receipt of such as this has frightened the life out of more than one sheik. Is this all one case or..."

"Two different."

"I see. On to the Chinese. This is a bill of sale. Furniture. From a Mr. Wang Shr-Ming to, well, you can read the romanization here. This is Mr. Wang's name seal. Next, here's an invoice. Same names. Tea, articles of porcelain, tea sets, trays, that sort of thing. And this!" she laughed as she took up the fourth document. "May I copy it?"

"What is it?"

"A puzzle. It's called the seven meaning wonder. Did you copy it or is this as it came to you?"

"As it came to me. Copy it if you like."

"Thank you. From left to right it has three interpretations. From right to left it has four." She took a sheet of clean paper and wrote each interpretation for us and copied the puzzle for herself on another. "There. Now for the last one. Where did you get this?"

"From a client."

"You wouldn't tell me who, would you. Not even under threat of Dr. Watson's life, no doubt." She looked up and smiled wanly at Holmes stern expression. I myself was rather taken aback until she quickly continued, "And may the Lord have mercy on any who make the threat seriously. You needn't be offended, though in your place I certainly would be." Her voice trailed off, mumbling unrelated words as she studied the final document. Abruptly she took another sheet of clean paper and a pencil and thrust them across the desk.

"Holmes! Here, take this and write the first letter of each word I say. I beg your pardon. I mean Mr. Holmes."

"Quite all right. I'm ready."

"Thunder, horse, East, gold, urn, anchor, rain, dog, sheep, anchor, thunder..." She continued naming off nouns as Holmes and I grew increasingly enwrap as the letters became words. At last she said "Yellow," collected the five documents with translations and handed them across her desk just as Holmes leaped from his seat and snatched them.

"That's solved it! Watson, we have him! We must be off, no time to lose!"

With some difficulty Miss Robertson stood, took a cane from where it had been leaning against the wall and followed us, watching as we raced to the door. We took our hats from one of the boys, who met us on our way, and jumped into our carriage. As we drove away I looked back to see Miss Robertson at the door, leaning on her cane and watching us with a rather amused expression on her face.

Two weeks passed in which I was once more occupied with my practice. When I again called on my friend I found Holmes sitting cross legged in his chair, smoking his pipe of discontent, looking at the letter from E.M. Robertson in his hand before him.

"I have made a grave error, Watson," said he, and sighed morosely.

"In what way?" I asked. Holmes has often been quite harsh with himself in regard to errors of which no one else takes note. I was wondering what he noticed this time that I had not.

"I have become bereft of manners and can hardly forgive my conduct toward Miss Robertson, especially in light of her obvious infirmity. Yes, Watson, I did notice the cane leaning against the wall near her desk. In my haste upon her most efficient disclosure of the Chinese code, I ran out, not even giving the slightest sign of my gratitude."

"She did not seem to expect it," said I, relieved to know it was something I had in fact noticed.

"All the more reason to give it," he replied.

"Well, truth be told, when I looked back, she seemed more amused by your reaction than offended, I'd say."

Holmes sighed. "Women are such unpredictable, inscrutable creatures and yet she comports herself as if she were familiar with the habits of men and has quite adapted them for herself. I do not wish to trouble the lady beyond necessity, for she is clearly kept quite busy by her work, however I shall need her services again soon."

"The trial?" I asked.

"The trial. I do not see how I am to help those youngsters without her."

We sat quietly a long while. Abruptly Holmes grabbed a piece of note paper and pen and scribbled a message.

E M R
MUST DISCUSS MATTERS. THURSDAY AFTERNOON TWO O'CLOCK ACCEPTABLE?
S H return post paid

"I'm off to send a telegram," he said as he put on his coat and hat and headed out the door.

The reply came by return post within a few hours:

S H
QUITE WELCOME. COME AT YOUR CONVENIENCE. BROTHER SAYS FEEL FREE TO STAY OVER. WATSON WELCOME TOO.
E M R

"Ah, it is as I suspected. They are blood relation. He looks elder but acts younger. She looks younger but acts elder. What do you think Watson?"

"He's elder, no doubt, but has reservations about disturbing his sister's work."

"Quite. You noted the dents and scratches opposite her door. She does not like to be disturbed in her work, has a temper, and is either a bad shot or intends to miss. Gets up early. We arrived at 9 o'clock and she had been working three hours already."

"Remarkable head of hair she has. On a sweeter tempered woman it would be quite attractive."

"Perhaps. She's gone prematurely gray. Not yet forty, I think."

"Yes, I noted that, Holmes. She's almost an auburn roan. Quite long too. Her hair, that is. Her brother's hair is quite dark though."

"Not even a distinguished touch at the temples. Doesn't suggest heredity, does it."

"Trauma of some kind, no doubt."

"Related to the unnamed great service rendered, if I'm not mistaken. I should very much like to know what was that great service," said Holmes as he refilled and relit his pipe.

Upon our return to the Robertson manor, we rang and were admitted by a distractingly beautiful woman, slim, delicate and Chinese. She motioned us to enter and delivered us to the young boys from our previous visit. They deferred to her, calling her "Ma" so I assumed she was their mother. The boys took our hats and coats as we followed them to the tea room where we first spoke to Mr. Robertson. I wondered at the absence of servants in such a house, but the children performed their duties without complaint so I thought to ask Holmes for his observations later. Robertson was there now preparing the tea as he had before in the Chinese manner. He said something to one of the boy, who placed the hat and coat he carried on the rack and went to a small wood heater and brought it to the table where he sat it on a marble slab at Mr. Robertson's side.

"Please come make yourselves comfortable. This is my eldest son, Lo Bai-son," said Robertson, gesturing to the boy at his side. "His English name is Frederick."

Frederick acknowledged us with a solemn bow, said "How do you do, sirs," quite properly and stood by his father. Robertson continued, "Lo Bai-li is the other, whose name in English is Hubert. We usually call our children by their Chinese names at home, though they have been instructed to answer to either, if addressed by an adult. If you hear us speaking in a language you don't understand, we do not mean to offend, but rather we don't wish them to lose their mother tongue. If this troubles you, you've only to speak, and we will refrain."

"On the contrary," said Holmes, "I find listening to you speak to each other quite fascinating."

"Your attitude is most refreshing," said Robertson with a kind smile. "My sister will be here shortly. She and Yasmina are teaching some missionary candidates wives Arabian dance. Not that they will be doing much of it as missionaries but we think they need to know what to expect from the culture once they arrive on the field, so to speak, so as to avoid unnecessary shock."

"Some missions might be more successful if that were done more often," said I.

"Or fewer missionaries would actually go. We are in the process of weeding out tares. Em is not at all satisfied with certain of the candidates just now. If she refuses to recommend any of them, I shall back her. Women have a way of seeing so much more in a relationship between husband and wife than a man can, I'm afraid."

The conversation lagged while Robertson prepared the tea until Holmes said, "I suppose I should explain why I'm here."

Mr. Robertson shook his head and waved a hand in the air, after which he filled our cups. "I make it a practice to leave my sister's business to my sister. She resents my interference so I wait until she comes to me, which is most rarely. She is quite capable. More so than ever I thought a woman could be, but then she is quite like our mother. Won't allow me to spend a tuppence on her up keep. Pays her own way completely with her translation work. Where it all comes from I don't know but she's quite an expert in languages."

"Which?" asked Holmes. "Chinese, Arabic and...?"

"All the European languages. A couple of African and Asian. She's almost a universal interpreter. Needs only hear a language spoken or read what she can find of it and after some intense study becomes quite an adequate interpreter for any matter of common occurrence. Gift of tongues some say. I speak the languages with which I grew up, English, Arabic and Chinese. My sister, on the other hand, is quite a phenomenon."

"So it seems. I have met very few women with her, shall we say, direct manner," said Holmes

"Quite. She was not always so, however."

"Is she married or ever been?" I asked

"I don't know."

"Oh come now, surely..." I responded.

"I know how it sounds but truly I can not say yes or no with absolute certainty. You see, my sister disappeared and was missing for several years. After her return, she looked with suspicion and distaste upon any man who might express affection for her and declared she would never marry. From that time on, she has buried herself in her translation work."

Holmes leaned forward, intensely interested. "Pray, continue," said he.

"She was engaged to be married within a year of our return to England. That is my return. She was born in Nazareth and had never set foot on English soil until the age of 25," continued Robertson. "But she broke off the engagement suddenly, without explanation. There is so much more to it than just that I'm afraid. It will take some time."

"For such an intriguing story, I have all the time you need," stated Holmes.

"Very well," began Robertson and would have said more, but he was interrupted.

"Do you know who we are?" asked a woman's voice from the door. "You might begin there, Edwin, rather than jumping into a description of my tawdry past."

Robertson was less flustered than annoyed by his sister's sudden entrance. "Really, Em, nothing I know of your past can be described as tawdry. It's just such comments which serve to keep me speculating. If you would just tell me. Explain something of it and I would gladly cease my pointless wondering."

"I was engaged to a colleague of our mother's brother."

Robertson nodded. "Why the sudden rejection?"

"The man was a scoundrel."

"Then where did you go?"

"I thought the matter was settled but found, just before the proposed day of the wedding, they would have the match by force. So I fled to Edinburgh by a circuitous route to father's relations."

"I know that. Where and how did you go from there?"

"You might tell Mr. Holmes who we are first. Shufen is in the kitchen with Huang Tai-tai, and Yasmina and Alicia are dealing quite well with the two ladies, about whom we can speak later. We need not trouble our guests on their account. I should like to change clothes before sitting down to business. Arabian dance clothing may be somewhat distracting."

Here I agreed with her. She stood in the doorway wearing what are called harem pants and a tunic made of a turquoise cotton cloth which showed her figure more than any English lady would dare. A belt of coins rode just above her hips but other than that she wore no jewelry. I couldn't help feeling a chill at the coldness in her blue-gray eyes when my gaze finally met hers.

After she left Holmes reclined against the chair back. "Perhaps your sister is right. When I received her letter it was signed only E. M. Robertson. Can you tell me more? What do the initials stand for?" he asked.

"The E is for Emelia Louise. Em for short. The M..." Robertson hesitated. "The M would likely tell all."

"Yes?" encouraged Holmes, waiting.

"It is our mother's maiden name."

"Which is?"

"Moriarty."

Holmes stood with a "Ha!" and paced the room, his characteristic smirk on his face.

"And your mother's brother was?" I asked with rising anticipation.

"The infamous Professor Moriarty," murmured Robertson.

"Whom I killed," said Holmes, turning to face Robertson with his hand over his heart.

"In self defense!" broke in Robertson and I in chorus, befuddling me considerably.

"Believe me," continued Robertson earnestly. "We bear you no animosity. Without regard to what various papers said at the time and in spite of what our uncle James, Colonel James Moriarty, says, we are convinced that he was as wicked as you claim. In fact we have more than your word. We have Yasmina, but she has never told her story except to us, and I am sure she knows at least part of my sister's."

"Your mother was the professor's sister?" said I, feeling my head spin.

"That is correct."

"Pardon my incredulous repetition, but I was not aware he had a sister," said I.

"Few people are. She married young and a missionary doctor at that. Our parents took us, my elder sister and me, to Palestine when I was only five. The two younger children were born in Nazareth. There were four of us when we left Palestine and traveled overland. The baby was buried just outside Damascus and our eldest sister was laid to rest not far from Baghdad. At last we came to inner Chinese territory, were taken in by some Chinese Jews, if you can believe it, and settled in again, eventually being granted permission to stay so long as our presence was not a disruption. It was quite a privilege. The Jews were quite helpful in teaching us Chinese. We and they all could read Hebrew from the Bible so the Holy Tongue became our regular mode of communication. We traveled frequently, father studying their style of medicine and helping when allowed. Father and our host were both doctors. Oh. Em is coming. It is such a long story and she generally does not care to discuss it. Perhaps it would be wise to continue at a later time when you do not have business to discuss."

"Quite all right. I spent some time in the Orient myself. Mr. Robertson, I am fascinated," said Holmes, seating himself again.

"Then would you consider taking it as a case? The years my sister was missing I mean? It need not interfere with your other cases. I fear only Em can reveal the truth, but she will not. If you can find out anything, make it a case between cases when you have nothing else on which to work. I should be glad to make it worth your while."

Holmes pondered a moment. "As a case I see definite points of interest in what you have related. If what I suspect is true, your sister spent those years with the professor. I suppose I have an unwarranted interest in the man, and that in itself makes it worth my while. It will be worth it to discover more about him. I thought I knew as much as was possible, but your sister can perhaps tell me more. I should be delighted."

We spent an enjoyable evening listening to stories about the orient and when the time came to retire, the two boys led us to our chambers, which were two very well appointed rooms connected by a door.

"If you find anything amiss, ring and one of us will correct it immediately," said Fred.

I couldn't help myself, but commented, "Are there no servants in the house to see to such things?"

Fred smiled slightly. "English servants don't seem to care for serving in a household of Chinese, and father thinks it best for us to know what is expected of servants so that we won't be too harsh on them when they do serve us. Father brought cooks and grounds keepers with him when he came to England so we've no need of others. And we like to care for our own horses."

"Just so," nodded Holmes and bade them good night. After Fred and Bert were gone, Holmes paced the room slowly. "Well, Watson, are you ready to retire in earnest or are you up for a chat?"

"I am as you are. Curious about this singular household."

"They make no attempt at concealment, except the two boys. They are up to something which has nothing to do with us, but would cause their father great annoyance. I've been wondering if I should say anything, but it isn't seriously criminal. Just disobedient, and possibly dangerous. Fred's explanation for no servants is plausible. The serving classes have their views on who is worthy of their service and who is not. I can imagine one who is used to being served by orientals may resent having to serve them."

Holmes yawned and then said, "Ah well. Good night Watson."

"Good night." With that we took to our own chambers. I heard Holmes pacing briefly, but I was soon sleeping soundly.

"My sons were expressing disappointment that they saw no example of your deductions yesterday," said Robertson later when we sat down to breakfast. "I've told them you no doubt had observed quite enough of us and see nothing of interest; otherwise you would have said something. But they seem to doubt your reputation."

Holmes smiled slightly. "Perhaps I might speak with them a moment before they carry their doubt too far." On our way out, when the boys brought us our hats and coats and ushered us outside to the step, Holmes drew Fred aside. "Your father tells me you are disappointed in not witnessing an example of deduction. I had thought to say nothing of my observations but you have forced my hand with your doubts. I advise you to cease your visits to the excavations on your neighbor's property, considering that your father would not approve of the trespass and your neighbor has expressly forbidden it. I shall say nothing to either of your parents, unless this trespass continues. Considering how I value their good will, however, should you continue your explorations, I shall have little alternative then to suggest that they find other activities to occupy your time."

The boys began to protest but Holmes halted them with a wave of the hand and a silent look.

When they subsided, my friend sighed. "It really is of no use. The scuffs upon your toes and heels, traces of chalk inadequately cleaned from the soles of your shoes, the inexpertly mended tears to your trousers, compared with those well done, indicate you have been pursuing an activity without approval. Since I saw the sign on your neighbor's fence warning of danger because of excavations on his land and expressly forbidding trespass on that account I deduced that the clandestine activity on your part related to that property. I was a boy once myself, given to roaming the countryside and know how such a warning would have affected me. Now, can you truthfully tell me that I am completely in error?"

"No, they can't," said a young feminine voice behind us.

The boys motioned for her to go back inside.

"Be quiet Alicia," said Fred.

"I will not be quiet," said the young lady. "Mr. Holmes is mistaken only in the severity Father used in forbidding your explorations on Mr. Broadhurst's land. He has also very kindly promised to say nothing. I have not. You know that father wants us to attract as little attention to ourselves as possible and why. Should either of you be found with your heads bashed in at the bottom of that pit, it will certainly draw the wrong..."

"Alicia! Shwo chongwen! Holmes Shien-shung hwei dong ni!" said Bert, beseechingly but his sister remained unmoved.

"I will not speak Chinese in Mr. Holmes' presence," the girl replied with such coldness that Bert stepped backward, his eyes downcast. "Have you not listened to Aunt Emelia or our parents? If anyone has a right to know of our situation, if he is interested, it is Mr. Holmes.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. You are correct," said Fred in resignation. "Will you really not tell our parents?"

"I have given my word already, and under what conditions. Your sister is the one with whom you have to bargain," said Holmes.

The girl turned away, but paused before closing the door and said quietly over her shoulder, "You know the price of my silence.". Then she was gone.

Fred sighed. "We've really put our foot into it now."

"It was your idea," said Bert sullenly.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," said Holmes. "What matters is that you don't continue." With that we entered our carriage and drove off.

On the day of the trial, Holmes and Miss Robertson took their seats behind the defendants, two chinese boys who seemed more awe struck at the buildings than frightened by the charges against them. I followed, seating myself directly behind my companions. The boys just ahead of them spoke quietly in their language and Em began to write in a small notebook:

L: What are they saying?
R: Don't know. What did Wang shien-shung say to you?
L: He said everything would be all right, but the ghosts are unpredictable.
R: What do they want from us?
L: Something about their law. I don't understand

It was then Holmes turn to give testimony which he did, concisely, indicating the boys innocence in the matter.

"Are you an expert in Chinese then?" asked the judge with a hollow laugh.

"No, but I am acquainted with one," Holmes replied cooly.

"Please share with the court this person's identity."

Holmes gestured toward Miss Robertson, who stood and nodded toward the bench. A murmur rose from the courtroom, not least from the prosecution.

"Please take the stand," said the judge in a bored tone.

She did so and answered all questions about her background, which satisfied the judge, if not the prosecution. She was then dismissed.

"May I make a statement?" she asked.

"Of course," said the judge, looking up from the notes he was writing.

"I know for a fact the two accused have not been made to understand the charges against them."

"Who told you this?" said the judge, lowering his pen and steepling his fingers.

"They did. Though not directly. I overheard them speaking with each other," said she in a matter of fact tone.

"You understand them?" The steeple fell.

"Of course. Their speech is uneducated and a little coarse but quite intelligible," she replied.

"Can you speak to them?" asked the judge, rubbing his chin.

"Possibly. They may be shocked upon hearing a ghost-woman speak their language and I can not promise results, but I can try." At that she turned to the boys and said something to them. They were, as she had predicted, shocked, but not for long. They stood and bowed to her, smiling sheepishly. In turn each answered her questions and sat down. The western dressed Chinese man at the prosecution went grim faced and Holmes smiled to himself as he watched the proceedings. Em translated to the boys the charge, handed to her by the bailiff and as she read the boys faces grew at first anxious, then horrified. They broke into a chatter and were finally silent under a sharp glance from the judge and a word from Em.

"I take it they now claim innocence," said the judge, taking up his pen once again.

"Now that they understand the charge, yes, your honor," replied the lady.

From the prosecution bench came a stream of Chinese to which Em responded coldly in the same language.

"What did he say?" asked the judge, pounding his gavel for silence.

"It was a threat, your honor and as a subject of his majesty the King, I trust I may rely upon the protection of his court?"

"Of course, but what did he threaten?" asked the judge, gesturing toward the prosecution with the gavel.

"Nothing which has never been attempted before but which I prefer not to state openly before the court. It has very little bearing on the case," said she.

"Then write it," said the judge. "I'll not be ignorant of happenings in my own court."

"As you wish," she said and took a pen and paper from the bailiff, wrote a few lines and returned pen and paper to the bailiff, who passed them on to the judge. His Honor read it and looked toward the prosecution with a sharp expression.

"If I may make a comment, your honor, often these things are said to indicate what one thinks to be just desserts and not what one plans to do himself," said Miss Robertson

"I see. The prosecution will refrain from further outburst or will be held in contempt."

The Chinese man nodded his assent, glaring at Miss Robertson.

"Have you anything to add, madam?"

"No your honor," she replied. The judge requested that she remain to appraise the boys of the court's proceedings so when he dismissed her she returned to her seat and leaned forward, translating what was spoken and answering their questions. I must say, I had a difficult time paying attention to the court, for her interaction with those youngsters fascinated me. Once they had grown accustomed to her, they regarded her with the utmost respect.

Later, on the way to Baker Street, Holmes and I congratulated her. "You handled that quite well. In fact you appeared positively serene," I said.

"Yes," said Holmes. "I don't see how we could have succeeded without you."

"You are very kind to say so. Though the boys were quite delightful, I wasn't feeling serene. I have seen that gentleman somewhere before but I cannot remember where. Is there a place to lie down? My back has begun to pain me. I seldom am required to sustain so much activity for so extended a time."

Upon arrival at Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson ushered Em into her private sitting room where she lay on her side on a sofa, her eyes closed. Holmes went upstairs, leaving Mrs. Hudson and me to see to Miss Robertson's comfort. Our landlady sat reading her book until our charge stirred abruptly.

"Holmes!"

"He would be in his rooms. Shall I get him for you?" I asked.

"Yes, please do."

I ran upstairs and returned with Holmes following.

"Bring a chair and sit near me. I want to talk with you."

Holmes grabbed a cushion from a chair and sat upon it on the floor.

"I remember where I have seen him before. For some reason I was connecting him with the death of my father, though I do not think he was directly responsible. I saw him in China at about that time. Then I saw him again a few years ago. I fear I shall be telling you more than I wish to, but it can not be helped. I translated for the professor for some time and he called upon me to interpret between the two of them. Wang's English was quite good but he felt more comfortable speaking Chinese. The whole time was spent negotiating a business transaction. But if you remember the name of the gentleman, written in English letters on the bill of sale..."

"Yes. Wai Fu Ren."

"Yes, which is a most unusual name. It means 'foreign somebody.' Literally those words. It would be most unusual to name a son merely 'somebody' in any culture, especially in one which values sons as highly as do the Chinese."

"Yes. It would," mused Holmes.

"I determined to look at his name stamp. This may be of no significance to you, but his name stamp is the same as that on the invoice you showed to me."

Holmes eyes lit up. "Wang, Wang somebody."

"Wang Shr-ming."

"Yes. Yes, that is the name, though we may be unable to do anything about him for the time being, other than prevent his hanging a murder on two innocent boys. Well, well, well. It is good to know more about him than a red stamp on an invoice, and a ridiculous pseudonym. And you did tell me more than you intended. But rest. I promise not to ask. Rest."

He patted her arm, rose and left the room.

As it turned out, Holmes' testimony was enough to clear those two youngsters and they were soon embarked, returning to their homeland. Wang Shr-ming remained to trouble the court, for he was now under charges of perjury, but eluded capture by the authorities. Considering, however, that Holmes' services had not been requested, he forbore and pursued other cases.

The following conversation was shared over a pipe and a glass of port after another visit to the Robertson manor. During the visit I had been keeping an eye on my friend and have included a few of my own observations. Also I have altered certain names and left places blank. I beg the reader's indulgence, for neither Holmes nor I wish any further trouble to come to Miss Robertson, her kin, or any member of her household.

"Watson, my friend, we may indeed have gained a remarkable set of accomplices, as you originally named Em Robertson. Before and after dinner, the lady and I held quite a discourse near the paddock while you were observing the horsemanship of her nephews," he began and left me to listen and take down notes.

"As you have no doubt deduced," Miss Robertson told Sherlock Holmes, "there is more to my story than my brother knows. When I found that the professor, for though there be blood between us, I'll not name him my uncle, would force the match with his associate upon me, I took action immediately. My hair at the time was still quite short, my brother can tell you why, and I was quite slim so I could easily pass for a boy when wearing men's clothing. I took my horse and fled, having planned my route to go in the opposite direction from my destination. The professor was undoubtedly not amused when he found out I was a hundred miles away however and completely enjoying my freedom. I had very little money but among horse people it is not hard to get on once they have seen you work, as you have experienced, or so Dr. Watson has written. My first settled job was at a tavern called in . I stayed a fortnight and took leave, getting as far as where the tavern keeper's brother worked as trainer for a racing stable. I do not suppose you heard of a dark horse winning the cup at 99 to 1 odds some years back?"

Holmes brightened. "Yes. I was consulted on that, briefly, but other matters of a more pressing nature compelled me to decline. There was some controversy about the jockey I believe."

"Yes. He, or I rather, had bet heavily on himself and won, then disappeared after collecting the winnings. Caused no small uproar about sportsmanship but the owner of the horse said he wished all his jockeys were so confident. He made a pretty bundle out of it as well. From there on I had no need to work and could travel in some comfort, though I went horseback the whole way.

"When I arrived at my relation's estate I did not dare let myself be known until I was sure none of the professor's people were about. I was hired as a stable hand. A rather comical occurrence took place when one of my young cousins, not knowing I was a woman, fell in love with me. I had informed only my father's brother and his wife so no one else knew. Angered the young man who was her suitor but it came out all right in the end. They are now happily married. I took her aside and told her it would be better for her to stay with the other as I was not a man.

She said, 'Not yet, you're not but a boy. You'll grow up! I can wait.'

'No, I am neither man nor boy. I am your cousin Emelia,' I replied.

"She was quite shocked but then promised to keep my secret. I had stayed there two months when one day on an errand for my uncle (my father's brother, that is." Holmes nodded.) "I met some of the professor's men. He had hired an Australian, expert tracker. I bluffed my way past them and went about my uncle's business. On the way home, however, having chosen to go cautiously, I came upon them lying in wait, gave them a merry chase too. If not for the rains, I should have escaped but a slippery place at a sharp turn on a fast horse and a tree ensured my capture. My horse bolted for home, still a mile away. I felt quite bruised but determined to put up as much of a struggle as I could. But there were four of them and I was no match. My back was injured, I had three cracked ribs and a nasty knock on the head. They were prepared, however. Had a coach not far away. I was bundled into it and taken to Edinburgh where the professor was waiting. He had hired a special train which was how we returned to London. He was more intrigued than angry. Took me to a doctor he knew, who never let anyone know I was a woman. For a while only the two of them knew but after I began to recovered, the Australian found out.

"I had been whiling away the hours, translating for the professor, when it suddenly came upon me to go out for a walk. I started walking daily to renew my strength. A boy was always sent with me. One day after some preparation, I convinced him to run some errand for me. When he returned, I was gone. I never saw him again and do not know what happened to him. He himself did me no harm and it bothers me sometimes that I may have caused his demise." She was silent for a moment, sighed and continued. "I was brought back of course. I escaped several times but the first was the longest I was away. I spent a week at the tavern I told you of before. The owner was happy to see me since his business was thriving and he was short handed. Imagine a missionary doctor's daughter serving as assistant barkeep. Before this the Australian had almost caught me but I put up a fight like he had not anticipated. I think he found out I was female at that time. He had an arm across my chest when he suddenly froze. I took my chance, put an elbow against his nose and broke for it. Later found out he went to see the professor a bit angry. I thought I saw a glimpse of him a few days later but did not know he had made an agreement with the barkeep. I was to be allowed to work there until his nephew returned. I was quite skittish by then, planning my next move best I could. Decided to leave suddenly by night but Ausie, as he was called, was keeping watch. After slipping out the back all I remember is a strong smell of chloroform and an equally strong arm about my neck. Woke in a coach outside the professor's front gate. No bruises, no pains anywhere. He'd been quite gentle about it. I escaped twice more, once dressed as a maid, out the front door, but I never could shake him longer than three days." She fell silent and fondly rubbed the nose of a horse which nuzzled her arm.

"There's more?" asked Holmes gently.

"Oh yes there's much more. But not just now, please. It is now close to dinner time and Huang Tai-tai and Yasmina dislike to serve cold food. Will you join us?"

"By all means. I delight in things of the Orient and you have most generously made available to me an abundance of them." Holmes took her arm, folded it into the crook of his elbow and they walked to the house. Though Holmes was rarely known to allow himself the indulgence of a heavy meal, he found he could not resist the combination of Chinese and Arabic cuisine which greeted him. Mr. Robertson was gracious enough to serve green tea afterward, at which time Holmes related to the brother what his sister had revealed while the ladies were occupied elsewhere.

"It all seems so commonplace. Puzzles me to think that she refused to speak of it at all to me." The man's brow furrowed and then cleared. "But there is more even than she told you yet. Perhaps that is the reason she didn't wish to reveal any of it. Well, you have more than fulfilled my request merely by encouraging her to come out with it. What amount could I give you for your pains?"

"My dear Mr. Robertson, I can hardly accept any amount before the case is completed. I feel I have barely scratched the surface. When I have delved a trifle deeper, then I may mention a sum, but as it stands your hospitality has more than recompensed me. I would continue the inquiry merely for its own sake. I pray you don't fret yourself."

At that point the young boys came in and reminded their father of a promise he made before dinner concerning a new trick they were trying to teach an old pony, which I also wished to observe. Em indicated she wished to speak more with Holmes. As they continued their walk outdoors Em spoke briskly.

"Yasmina has finally given permission for me to tell her part of the story and as it is a most disagreeable topic of conversation, I shall be brief. She was brought here by the professor as a plaything for one of his richer and less moral associates. All I knew at the time of her origin is that someone traded her to pay off a gambling debt. No doubt he also intended to use her to entrap him. Hardly more than a child at the time, she was kept in the professor's care until I discovered the sordid use to which she was to be put. At that point, I hid her, then arranged for my brother to find a place for her when I could hide her no longer. You are perhaps aware of a particular nobleman who was tried and convicted of a certain perfidious crime regarding children?"

Holmes' face grew stern, his glance keen. "I believe I am aware of the case of which you speak."

She turned to face him. "Then you perceive the service which you have rendered me, and my family, in dispatching the professor. Even Ausie was horrified when I told him what was planned for her and aided me in her rescue. For that I am forever in his debt and also rendered him aid in fleeing the country when I discovered you were so close to stopping all the professor's criminal activities."

They walked on in silence for a few moments and she spoke again. "Did you ever discover the identity of Fred Porlock?"

Holmes smiled slowly. "That is a question which has often passed through my mind but I have never troubled to discover the answer."

"Would it surprise you to know that, I, along with a confederate who is now deceased, was Porlock?" she asked with a wry smile.

Holmes stopped in his tracks, gazing steadily at Em for a long moment, then broke into the heartiest laugh I had ever heard escape my friend's lungs.