The Copper Pleaches

„High matter thou enjoin'st me, O prime of man/ Sad task and hard, for how shall I relate/ to human sense th`invisible exploits/ of warring spirits"

Paradise Lost

He passed her a handkerchief in silence, and she dabbed her eyes with it, breathing hard to recapture her composure. It was a transient attack of emotional overcharge and hysteria- nothing worse than that. Enough time was everything required to restore her to calm.

So he gave her time. Pouring tea into the two deserted cups, he marveled at his own wisdom…he had learned a lot during the long years of having to deal with people. And at bottom, it was so easy. Rogues would be rogues. Girls would be girls. It all came to that, in the end. And collectors, he suddenly thought, turning the thin, majolica blue cup in his hand, would be collectors….

Ah, no. He was wool-gathering. Setting the cup back on its saucer, he straightened himself. The fact that the late Baron Gruner had collected pretty china did not make the owner of these tea things a wily criminal. If she was alive, she had to be somewhere out there, hindered from her return by force. If not….

He turned around and lightly touched the girl by her shoulder. She raised her face, like a deer in headlights.

„Shall we sit?" He asked quietly.

She followed his invitation, and sat down, drawing her anthracite shawl more closely around herself. Her vibrant red locks contrasted with the sombre color in a way that gave him a headache. What was it about these red-headed women that he was thrown together with them time and again?

He remembered a client one of whose auburn locks had been lined out against the white round of her ear. It had teased him to an extent that was wholly irrational, until he had, in passing, given in to temptation and grazed the curly strand of hair with his fingertips. A fairly embarrassing incident, come to think of it. Fortunately, both the lady and Watson had passed it over without comment.

Fanny sat quietly. Her hands cradled the small blue tea cup, and she gazed into it as though there were the solution to a cosmic mystery on its bottom. She knew what was coming, and she knew he could not spare her.

He cleared his throat, abandoning all intentions of settling the more personal questions before applying himself to the other matter. Clearly, Frances could only take so much, and it was more important to make her speak. But her silence did not sound very forthcoming.

He sighed, and folded his hands on top of the table. „Frances, I am aware you must have a very good reason for not trusting anyone with what knowledge you have. I am not in the official forces, and I cannot make you give up your information, nor do I wish to do so. You have now less occasion to trust me than ever, I am afraid. Still, I cannot forbear asking: Is there anything you can tell me without compromising the justice of your reasons?"

She hung her head so limply he was afraid she had fainted. When she spoke, it was hardly audible due to the veil of pleached hair her words needed to permeate.

„Mr. `olmes, I cannot. It would be a breach o` confidence."

„Ah! You have promised silence to someone."

She nodded.

„And that someone was Madame Zhao, was it not?"

She nodded again. He relapsed into his chair, exhaling sharply. „I knew it! This puts everything into a different light."

He steepled his hands, and brought them closely to his nose. It was odd, but the gesture helped him think. When he had said she had now less reason than ever to trust him, Frances had not contradicted. He would have to try another approach to convince her it would be in the best interest of everybody if she talked.

But that proved unnecessary. Frances, by reclining her head, had parted the thick veil of red hair. She set down the tea cup, and fixed her eyes on him.

„Mr. `olmes", she said brusquely. „If I were ter tell ya what happened - could ye promise ye would not act on that knowledge without my sanction?"

„I could not." He shrugged his shoulders, impatiently. „That is, it would depend on the nature of your reservations. But you cannot specify them without betraying all, I presume?"

Her watery grey eyes peered at him. „You must not share it wiv the police, Mr. `olmes!"

He inclined his head on one side. „Why not, pray?"

„Because that is the promise I made. Not ter tell the coppers."

Holmes considered that for a moment. Then he nodded. „Very well. I, concealing information from the police - ha! It would not be an unheard of occurrence."

Frances gave him a tiny smile before she began to speak. It was a rare enough expression with her to give cause for moderate optimism. Holmes listened with all his attention riveted on her.

„Awright then. It was on Monday - the day that I saw her last. She had had this thing- the King's Orb - in `er workshop for a coupla weeks, and it kept `er so busy I had not seen `er much lately."

Frances' brows drew together in an effort to remember everything as it had happened. „A note reached me at work, in the afternoon. It was from Madame, an` she asked me ter meet `er at `er favorite Café after hours, saying it was urgent."

He leaned forward. „That was the Montmartre place - where we were the other day?"

„The same. I arrived before her, and chose the table…the one ye rightly pointed out ter me, in the bow window. From there, I could see Madame's cab draw up."

„Her - cab?"

„Ah well - not `er cab, of course. One that she hires often, `cause she likes the lad what drives it."

„But the Café! It is not far from here, is it?"

„No no, it is in walking distance. You know Madame is not a good walker. Still, it seemed odd ter taike a cab for such a short way - but it got more odd when Madame came awt, and entered the Café."

„Odd? In what way?"

„Why -„ Frances flung her hands as she despaired of finding the right words. „She was awt of `er mind. I told ya she was `er usual self that day…she wasn't. `er barnet was in a great disorder, and there was a kinda wild look on `er face."

„What happened then?"

„I greeted her, an`she came ter sit at my table. The very moment she had been seated, a group of three or four men came into the Café. They split up an` took the two tables closest to ours. I couldna swear to`t, but I fink one of them was the runner who `ad brought Madame's note to our shop. I began ter feel rather uncomfortable."

„Yes, yes, naturally. Did you bring this to Madame's attention?"

„I could not!" Frances whispered. „Madame talked an` talked, excitedly, rapidly. She spoke a lot of humbug, as she always does when excited. I could `ardly get a word in edgewise."

He hesitated. „What did she say, then?"

„She talked about being followed, and that she would disappear soon. I would have assumed she had gone crazy- if it hadn't been fer the men in the Café, sitting so close to us. I suggested calling in the police, if she did not feel secure. At the suggestion, Madame, if possible, grew even more agitated. She seized my wrists - like so - and `er eyes bored into mine like those of a maniac. `Me girl`, she said, and it sounded so earnest I did not talk back, `Whatever you do, do not go to the police! Tell `em nofink.` Those were `er words."

„Did you ask her whether this was to do with the orb?"

„O`course, that was the first fink that came to me mind. But she did not respond to that at all. Of a sudden, she became chatty in a childish manner, as though she were a girl and I her puppet, `aving pretend tea wiv `er. She poured it out fer me, an' said I should look after me health a lot from now on, an' drink tea an' go to the country perhaps. She said she would pray for me health to St. Lazare."

He issued a whistle. „ I see! Had she mentioned this particular saint to you before?"

„Not that I remember. Maybe he was a new fad of `ers? She `ad a way of gettin` interested in somefink, an' for weeks on end it would be all the rage wiv `er, an` then she would tire of it, and look for some new interest."

„It is possible. What happened next?"

„Well…nofink, really. That's all. Madame left me wivout drinking `er tea, an` as soon as she ad' left, the men on the neighboring tables got up, an' went after `er. I had a great mind ter ignore `er words an` call the police. It was too shady. But she `ad made such an impression on me wiv `er exhortation I could not bring myself ter do it. When Superintendent Dulage came to the boutique the next day to tell me her flat had been broken into and she had disappeared, I knew she had been lucid."

„And that is all you can tell me?"

„That is all I can tell you."

„What about La vie de St. Lazare?"he enquired lightly.

Frances blushed. „You do notice ever`thing, Mr. `olmes, don't ya?"

„I would be a pitiful criminal investigator if I didn't realize when somebody tries to smuggle things under my nose. Why did you take that book?"

„For no partic`lar reason…I saw the name on the cover and it made me recall my last conversation with Madame. I thought - I jus' thought - „

„You thought. Obviously." He sighed deeply. „Have you had a look into the book?"

„Yes, Mr. `olmes", she replied, with a sheepish look.

„And…?"

„It is the Vita of St. Lazare. Nothing in it. You may `ave a look at it yerseln, but I leafed through it already. It is just a rummy old book."

„Frances!" His voice was a hiss, or maybe it was the whirr of the air, cut by his fist as it was slammed into his palm. „It is a clue!"

She rubbed her hand over her forehead, suddenly looking tired. „Mr. `olmes, you didna listen ter me. I told ya there was nothing in it. Re`lly. I held each separate page against the light to look for invisible messages."

„No, no, no Frances, you do not understand. Madame Zhao gave you a more subtle clue than lemon juice writings. Oh, she was a clever one!"

„Is a clever one", she insisted, crossing her arms across her chest.

„She knows she is being watched. That much is obvious. She does not like to call in the police, so what does she do? She takes the King's Orb, knowing it can only be for its sake those men follow her, and hides it somewhere. So far, so good. But what will happen to it after the kidnapping she foresees has taken place? Nobody will know where to find it. Then, she thinks of you."

She seemed incredulous, but he continued unperturbed.

„She does not dare communicate with you openly. But on the other hand, her mail might be under surveillance as well, and even if she could talk to you in private, it would probably put you into severe danger as well. So what can be done? Madame compromises. She meets you in public, within hearing distance of the enemy. What she says seems the nonsensical ramble of a woman frightened well-nigh out of her wits. But there is a method to her madness."

Frances lifted her head and looked at him with a critical eye. „Do ye mean to say there was a meaning to the rubbish she talked?"

„Precisely so. And like any code, her `rubbish`, as you term it, should be decipherable. As such, she is talking about your health when she is really talking about something else. The `tea` you are supposed to drink is a substitute for we don't know what, a variable X. The `trip to the country` stands for somewhere you are supposed to go, possibly the hiding place of the Orb. Remains the clue of St. Lazare. Can you make something of that?"

„I looked `im up in the Encyclopedia." She shrugged. „St. Lazarus of Bethany was a friend of Jesus Christ, who effected his resurrection after death. In the 12th century, an order of knights was founded in Jerusalem, and dedicated to the saint. The order members ran a hospital for lepers, from which the French word `lazaret` derives."

„Aha! A good saint to look after one's health." He got up, and walked to and fro within the confined space of the kitchen. „The book, of course, was left lying about here to set you on the right trail in case you had taken her words for humbug, as indeed you have. It is inconspicuous, and, in itself, not the carrier of any information. Madame, it appears, had hopes you would be able to find out something. That something might be the place where she is hidden, or the place where she hid the orb, or both, possibly."

„But -„ she was clearly befuddled by the implications. „But in this case, she overrated me cleverness, because I hain't the faintest idea what it all means!"

„Are you sure? Can you swear you had never before heard of the saint in connection with Madame? I think you mentioned she was a regular attendant at church."

„That's right…she would go to the service at Sacre Coeur every Sunday, because it is close and has a breathtaking view over the city."

He nodded. The snowy white cupolas of Sacre Coeur, topping the crown of the Montmartre hill, sounded like a spot the aestheticist whose flat he had thoroughly searched would like to frequent. „And the book…had you ever seen it before?"

„No, never. I think you are right, Mr. `olmes. He was not one of `er fads, but just a means ter catch me attention an` maike me think."

She creased her brow.

„Only, I don't `ave any associations wiv the Saint Lazare, save religious ones. Could it be…" and she fixed him again with an intense peer. „ Isn't there a church here in Paris, called St. Lazare?"

He had left the kitchen before she had finished talking, marching straight into Madame's parlor and taking the civic address book from the shelf. They had had the same idea, simultaneously.

Hullo!

New developments and a heartfelt thank you to skater. I was beginning to think my story was going the way of all sequels, namely nowhere….you gave me a new impetus! I think I can write with much more drive now. Already have a couple of new ideas!

Love. Mrs.F