On the cold trail

„I have received, to answer thy desire/ of knowledge within bounds/ beyond abstain to ask.„

Paradise Lost

My discomfort with the man's monosyllabic calm and his searching eyes grew steadily. I would have liked to take refuge in words, in the most eloquent, though possibly the most abstruse explanations - but I had given Holmes my word I would remain quiet and react only to his prompts. He seemed content to cock an eyebrow, smile, and wait an unnerving stretch of time for the man to reply. He, however, did not oblige, but stood silently with his hands in his sleeves, a circumstance that was apt to heighten my nervous excitement.

„Comment? How do you mean, she does not come here anymore? She expressly suggested for us to come here if we wanted to learn more about the holy practices!"

Holmes maintained a friendly, though slightly bewildered facade. We were not supposed to know about her disappearance, since her name had been kept out of the newspapers.

The oriental eyed us passively. „She doesn't come here anymore", he repeated with a tone of finality.

„I see…" Holmes appeared to falter. „Even so…We were told that visitors would be allowed into the temple for evening services. Is that not so?"

„Guests are allowed tonight. But I must ask that strangers do not bring weapons of any sort into this sphere of peace."

His eyes continued to rest on us, and I suddenly wonderer whether Holmes was hiding fire arms somewhere on his person. He had been known to do so if the situation required it - only I had no way of knowing how to assess our situation. It might well be a peaceful cult as the guardian of the door claimed, or it might not, and we were walking straight into a trap with no means of protection.

While these thoughts flickered up in my mind, Holmes reverted his lapels to show he was unarmed, and was allowed to pass, but when I wanted to follow suit, the guardian stopped me. Inclining his head gravely toward my casaque, he seemed to demand that I take it off - and I obeyed, confused by the suspicion that was directed at me, a woman! But somehow, the taciturn sentry demanded my respect, and meekly, I even turned the cape inside out to prove myself clean.

The man made a slight bow, and I was allowed to follow Holmes through the tinsel-draped entrance door into a correspondingly low and narrow corridor. It was illuminated by torches on the walls, similar to the one we had seen outside. The ceiling was so low Holmes almost had to duck his head, and it was impossible to walk side by side. I am a victim to claustrophobia, though in a mild form, and in the dim light, the walls seemed to draw in ever more closely, and the apprehension of walking into a trap impressed itself more deeply on me.

However, the hall we entered at the end of the corridor presented a delightful change. We stood at the doorway of a salon of kinds with bright carpets and wall hangings, heavily perfumed and filled by the unobtrusive sound of eastern musical instruments. People clad in cheerful colors were mingling in the room, sitting on sofas and ottomans and talking pleasantly to each other.

The vast majority bore east and south asian traits, though there was a sprinkling of European attendants as well. Many of them, men and women, had had their heads clean shaven, others looked perfectly ordinary, wearing neutral hairstyles and clothing. In fact, if it hadn't been for the many asiatic faces, we might as well have walked in on the tea party of some eccentric society lady with a craze of the Far East. There was even a kind of buffet with refreshments for the guests.

Without turning my head, I gingerly tugged at Holmes' sleeve. „Did ye bring yer revolver?" I murmured from the corner of my mouth.

„Yes, I have."

I inhaled deeply and smiled at a couple of ladies who were passing by. „And do you fink you will need it?"

„You never know", he replied noncommittally. „You talk to the people. I will take a look around."

And without further explication, he was gone.

I slowly circulated around the room, taking everything in, from the bald-headed men in orange tunics (priests of a kind?) to the large brass tripod in which incense seemed to be burned. It was obvious that the gathering was of a social nature, and that the actual service had not yet begun.

For my first victim I chose an elderly lady whose broken French seemed to indicate she had nor spent her whole life here. Thus similarly situated in life, she seemed a promising source who might well be acquainted with Madame Zhao. I engaged in innocuous conversation with her, dropping the name once or twice, but it seemed to mean nothing to her. When I mentioned Madame for the third time, she asked whether there was a familial connection with the Zhao's in Vincennes.

„No, no, I don't think so", I returned impatiently. „To my knowledge, Madame Zhao does not `ave any relatives in France."

„Isn't she from Canton originally?" A young man interposed, standing beside my conversation partner in a familiar way that indicated they were mother and son. How stupid of me. I had forgotten that Madame preferred the company of the young to that of her own age group.

„Yes, I believe so!" I said, trying not to sound too eager.

„Pierre Huang, pleased to meet you", the young man introduced himself politely. I indistinctly mumbled my bogus name, keen to return to the topic of interest as soon as possible. But I hadn't reckoned on the duet that commenced between Mrs. Huang and Huang junior.

„Certainly you know her, mother! Can't you remember? She was the lady who invited you to tea several times…"

The elderly lady resolutely shook her head. „No, you mistake, son. Bù renshi Zhao nüshi. Renshi jin Bali Vincennes de Zhao mén… You stubborn son! You question mother's memory!"

Seriously piqued, she shook of young Huang's appeasing arm and rushed off to talk to somebody more pleasant. Her son gave me an apologetic smile.

„Mother tends to forget things when it suits her…and knowing Madame Zhao, well, you must know that she can be a little - shall we say, possessive?"

I felt a surge of indignation for Madame's sake - how dare the sapling talk about her hospitality and her good intentions in that manner? Still, it would not be wise to flare up now and reprimand him, who might possibly have precious information. Besides, I knew he was right about her.

Thus, I smiled guiltily and agreed with him. „You must know her very well indeed."

„Oh, only cursorily - like everybody knows everybody a little in the community. We talked once or twice."

„Oh yes? What about?" I tried to give myself an air of being a little bored, and just chatting with the youth out of politeness.

„This and that, you know…the difficulties of getting quality tea and foodstuffs from home…she gave mother the address of a shop in Montmartre that she frequents. And you? How have you come to know each other?"

„Well we…live in the same house", I lied spontaneously, not wanting to get too close to the truth. „But I don't see her much lately, she seems to have retired a bit. She hasn't been here in a while, has she?"

„No - now that you mention it…" He creased his forehead. „She used to come regularly, but I don't think I have seen her these…two weeks…oh, look who's there! Will you excuse me?" He said politely, spotting somebody across my shoulder.

I dismissed him in disappointment, wondering what I had hoped to glean from the conversation. The religious group did not seem menacing or even mysterious any more, hardly more exciting than an ordinary Sunday service in church. There was nothing to be learned here. And where the deuce was Holmes?

Discreetly, I provided myself with directions to the privy from a solitary lady, and slipped out through the door she had indicated. This side of the salon, the building had been operated with more respect to the requirements of free movement; I stood on a polished marble floor that was lost in darkness halfway between me and the staircase that led downstairs to the privy.

I was pondering whether, lacking better plans, I should really go down there, when the handle of a broad door opposite to me was pressed down, and one wing was cautiously opened. Involuntarily, I took a step backwards - but it was only Holmes who slipped out of the room, silent as a shadow.

„What are you doing `ere?" I whispered insistently.

„Just surveying", he whispered back. „There's a large room back there equipped for cult practices, but I could find nothing suspicious. Did you learn anything of interest?"

I shook my head. „Mr. `olmes, we shouldn't be here. I made sure Madame wasn't seen here since her disappearance. We're wasting time."

He shrugged his shoulders. „We can still talk to people. It couldn't hurt, could it?"

„No", I conceded grudgingly, and opened the door into the salon.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that the very moment Holmes and I re-joined the congregation, the guardian of the main entrance appeared in the mouth of the passage we had come earlier, exactly opposite to us. He saw us, and though his stoic features remained unchanged, I instinctively felt he had made a decision. My instinct was proven correct when a moment later, he turned around and disappeared in the passage whither he had come.

„Mr. `olmes!" I hissed.

„Yes, I know."

„I think he is going to fetch the police!"

My stomach turned at the thought. Holmes, however, seemed amused by the idea.

„Is he indeed? Well, the setting is unusual, but I would be charmed to meet the gentlemen of the Sûrété again so soon!"

„Let us go", I pleaded, and he looked down at me in surprise.

It took him a moment to reply. „Well, if you want to! We can use the exit via the backyard if you should prefer it to the front door."

„That sounds reasonable." I smiled weakly, and made to sneak out through the door again. Holmes followed closely, but in the gloom of the hallway, I could not distinguish the expression of his face.

oooOOOooo

„Not a very successful excursion, that", I remarked, genuinely disappointed, as we stumbled though the darkness of the run-down district. We had been obliged to climb a wall in the cult house's backyard, and although I had had the benefit of Holmes' helping hand, my dress had been torn a little on the top spikes.

„You had hoped for better? That marks you as still inexperienced in the criminal investigation", he observed airily. „There will always be dead ends and thoroughly unprofitable detours, or at least, one may think so at the time. Occasionally, however, one is able to tie up all the loose ends at the termination of a case. There!"

He stopped abruptly and raised his hands to form a funnel before his mouth. „Cab! Eh, cocher!" His voice slashed through the night so loud and harsh that it was not difficult for me to imagine he had spent some time among cabbies and learned their mannerisms. But my relief was intense when the vehicle turned and approached. I was cold, and my feet were tired.

„Au centre ville!", he commanded, handing me inside.

We set in motion, and I sighed involuntarily. „There may be somefink in what you say. Still, I feel we have learned nothing…only that she hasn't been there in two weeks, an' that she gave this lady the address of the delicatessen…the one we already knew she liked."

„And we will go there tomorrow, first thing when you are free in the afternoon", he decided. „Afterwards, we can have a look at this café you put down on your list. But speaking of delicatessen - „ and he gave me shrewd side glance, „ - you are fairly hungry, are you not?"

„Ye can read me mind!" I cried. „It must ´ave been hours since I `ave eaten. I was about to have supper when you knocked on my door!"

„Then it must be stale now", he stated. „We shall dine at the hotel. Even compared to Mrs. Hudson's cuisine, their fare is rather decent."

I laughed out loud. „What an idea, Mr. ´olmes!"

He smiled lightly. „I can see no flaw in my proposition?"

„Then I will enlighten you. First, I am not dressed appropriately for dinner at the Meurice. Second, I don't even own a dress that would come near to appropriate for dinner at the Meurice. And third, there is a large tear in the dress that you want to take me to dinner in!"

He waved me away, as if it were all beside the question. „My rooms were booked by the Home Secretary's clerk, and my breakfast company consisted of the Président de la Républic. Surely, it would be a pettifogging management that could object to a little tear in a dress under the circumstances. Besides -„ and he reached down one of his trouser legs, „I am afraid I am a little worse for wear myself."

„That's different", I insisted, „you are a guest there."

„And you a guest's guest."

„At least let me stop at home to change quickly!" I pleaded, but he was adamant.

„That is not to be considered, we are starving as it is, and it takes women amazing lengths of time to change quickly! And if the lady in question makes a living out of fashion, I should expect the process to be even more long-winded. Any what is more, we are there already."

The cab halted, and as he stepped out to pay the driver, I gathered all my coolness and dignity to sustain me under the scrutiny of fastidious eyes. Alighting to the splendiferous facade of the noble house, I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders, and treated the footmen to no glance as I entered on Holmes' arm. Inwardly, I naturally cursed my choice of the plain, striped cotton dress. But how could I have foreseen what the day would bring?

It was worse in the marble vestibule, where I caught the eye of the very same staff members who had politely turned me away some days earlier, when I had enquired after Holmes. But a light, reassuring pressure on my forearm gave me confidence, and my the time we went into the restaurant, I did not care very much about wry looks any more. I was too busy looking at everything myself!

Hello friends, I begin to like Fanny a little better and hope you feel the same. She is just a girl hiding her vulnerability beneath a mail suit of animosity. Hopefully, she and Holmes will advance on the road to reconciliation. What with me thinking just as far ahead as the next chapter, I could not even tell!

All the Best, Mrs. F