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Chapter 2: The Lady's Tale

"I find it is always advisable to begin at the beginning." Holmes gently reminded our guest. "If you would, Miss Matthews, recount the story in its entirety. Leave nothing out. The smallest of details can determine a case." Holmes settled back in his chair, his hands resting on his stomach, fingers crossed lazily. It was a position I had seen him assume many times, and although he seemed half asleep, I knew he was in actuality, deeply engaged in the tale Miss Matthews would soon recount.

She took a moment to steady herself, and then began in a firm, sure voice, to explain the order of events that had lead to the arrest of her fiancée.

"I am engaged to be married to a man by the name of Franz Muller. He is a friend of my father's and the son of a gold merchant here in town. I came to know him through my father, and by and by came to love him. By some miracle, he returned my love and so it was that he proposed to me barely a month ago. He has been visiting the house daily ever since."

"It was on the morning of July the 9th that the whole business began. Franz came to our house that morning to join in our breakfast, as was his custom. He was very pleased with himself. He had been given a gold watch chain the evening before by some men who claimed to owe his late father a favor. Franz had taken the chain to another jeweler, a man by the name of Mr. Death." Holmes suddenly sat forward in his chair, and seemed about to ask a question, but she forestalled him. "Yes, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Death is his real name, it is an odd coincidence, is it not?" There was, indeed, a macabre humor in the fact that a man named Mr. Death would be involved in a murder mystery.

"Mr. Death took the chain in exchange for another, for Franz was in need of a watch chain, but had felt it more honest to trade the one he had been given. He felt the chain should circulate in the business his father had vacated. Franz, you must understand, did not wish to take over his father's business and I believe he felt some guilt regarding his desertion of the family trade. He was in school to become a barrister."

"On the morning of July the 9th, Franz, as I said, came to visit. He brought with him the new watch chain, still in its little black box with the words "Mr. Death, Jeweler" inscribed in gold letters on the top. Franz was so proud of the new chain. He showed it to me and to my father, and gave the box to my young sister, Mary. We had just sat down to breakfast when there came a furious knocking upon our door. Father opened it and admitted two police officers and a Scotland Yard inspector. The inspector showed us all a top hat and asked us individually who it belonged to. Of course, I had seen it many times and knew very well that it belonged to Franz, himself. I had to tell them, I daren't lie to the police. When they saw the box from Mr. Death's shop, we were forced to explain how Franz had purchased a new watch chain. Then, without further ado, the inspector read Franz his rights and he was whisked away. I have not been permitted to see him since."

Holmes took a moment to digest her story before leaning forward in his chair, his eyes bright. "And what is he accused of?"

"Of murdering a man by the name of Thomas Briggs. Mr. Briggs was apparently murdered as he sat in his train compartment. The case against Franz is very strong, I am told. They found his hat in the compartment, and the watch chain that was taken from the dead man was the very one he traded to Mr. Death the evening before. Mr. Holmes, I know it seems hopeless, but I cannot believe that Franz would kill a man to steal his watch chain. Franz has no need of that money and he is an honest man. He no more committed the murder than I did."

"And you have come to me in the hopes that I can clear his name?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes."

Holmes looked to me, keen as a hound on a new scent. "It is a pretty problem, is it not, Watson? Most singular. Have you any more details of the crime itself?"

"My father and my fiancée thought it prudent to conceal the more unpleasant details from me," she explained shortly.

Holmes smiled, "And I see you don't agree with them. No matter, we'll enquire at Scotland Yard. Can you describe the inspector who came to your home?"

"He was a rather short man with a long face and small eyes. He reminded me of a rat, in a way." Miss Matthews said with a little laugh, then added quickly, "Though you must not think me disrespectful."

"Could it be Lestrade, Holmes?"

"I do believe so." He turned with sympathy towards the girl, "Yes he does tend to remind one rather of a rat or a weasel perhaps." Miss Matthews covered her mouth to conceal her laughter as a cough. "I will look into your problem, Miss Matthews." Holmes said briskly, standing to indicate that the interview had reached its end.

Miss Matthews also stood, but did not move towards the door, regarding Holmes as if sizing him up. I felt rather uncomfortable by the stare she fixed on him, though Holmes showed no signs of discomfort, he seemed loath to break the silence however, and at last Miss Matthews did so herself.

"I find that men are quick to discount a woman in matters of importance. They say she will 'get in the way' and so she gets pushed aside. Mr. Holmes, I will not be pushed to the sidelines in this. I think you will find me more of a help than a hindrance if you dare keep me involved. So I must request that at the very least, you inform me of the progress of the case. I will promise not to be in the way." She said this with a little smile, as if she were secretly amused by her words. Then her ghost of a smile disappeared and she became very serious, "Franz is my fiancée and one day, with any luck, he will be my husband. I care too deeply about his welfare to allow myself to simply watch from the sidelines while others attempt to free him."

To my surprise, Holmes did not try to merely placate her, instead he drew himself up to his full height, looked her in the eye and said, "Miss Matthews, I promise you that I will keep you informed of my progress. You may, before the end, prove a vital part of the solution."

She relaxed after hearing his words and smiled once again. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You are a better man than I expected you to be." She handed him a small card, "This is my father's home. You can find me here if you need me. Or send a telegram to that address and I shall come to you." Holmes nodded, and took the hand that she extended. "Good day, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson." She smiled at me before turning towards the door, which Holmes had opened for her. "Thank you for your help."

"Good Day, Miss Matthews," I called to her as she began to descend the stairs. Holmes closed the door and turned to me, his eyes shining, but whether with excitement or mirth I was at a loss to say.

"A singular woman, wouldn't you say, Watson? And quite a little problem." He retrieved his pipe from the mantle piece and began to pack the bowl. "I believe our first course of action shall be to call upon Scotland Yard." He glanced at the clock on the mantle piece. "In an hour, Lestrade will be settled in his office with the mountains of paperwork the yard is so fond of. We should be able to catch him then, I think Watson."

"What shall you do until then?" I asked him.

"Read the paper." He answered, and made good his word, burying himself behind the London Times.

I sat in my chair to make some notes on Miss Matthew's tale, but not before I noticed that the date on Holmes' paper was not July 11th, the current day, but rather the evening paper from two days ago. "Holmes, you are reading an old paper." He merely grunted in agreement and the room lapsed into silence. Shaking my head in bewilderment, I turned to my notepad and absorbed myself in my notes.