The cabman's story

„I from the influence of thy looks receive/ access in every virtue, in thy sight/more wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were/ of outward strength"

Paradise Lost

He had replenished his stock of matches and smoked three full pipes before she stirred behind the room partitioner. He allowed her all the time she wanted for rummaging around, while he finished his smoke. When finally she turned up, hair unruly and hand pressed against into an aching nape, he turned away, leaving her privacy in case she wanted it.

"I brought you some breakfast from the confectioner's", he remarked by way of explanation, and waved his unoccupied hand into the direction of Madame Zhao's little kitchen.

„Thank you." Frances' voice was quiet and gruff, she was not quite awake yet. She disappeared, and he turned around in his seat again.

„I brought coffee as well", he called when he could hear the sound of boiling water. „Your tea-drinking friend does not share my breakfast preferences."

Her answer was muffled by the piping of the kettle, and a moment later, the smell of coffee filled the flat. He decided Frances had enjoyed enough privacy for once, and knocked out his pipe to join her in the kitchen. She stood by the table, peeling croissants and chocolate buns out of brown wrapping paper to put them on a large plate of rough eastern pottery. Lack of sleep seemed to render her monosyllabic, but he did not mind that. Pouring out the coffee, he maintained silence, and while she munched her pain au chocolat, he unfolded the newspaper he had bought on his way.

„Mr. Holmes", he finally heard her beyond the pages, and he lowered them to look across the table. „We again entirely wasted our time yesterday. Didn't we?"

He considered that, while she brushed the crumbs from her lap and rubbed her fingers with a napkin. „I mean, we established that the subterranean passage can still be used, and that the old church of St. Lazare was replaced with a new house of prayer, which might be very interesting to visitors on a tour of medieval Paris. To our undertakin, `owever…"

„We may not have found much in a positive sense, that I concede. But at least we made more or less certain the passage was not used as a hiding place, and probably has not been entered by anyone on years. That is something gained."

„Yeah, but we are not one step further in our investigation!" She complained.

He felt his facial muscles shiver at the sound of her words, and tried to submit them to his control again. When had the case of the missing Orb become `our investigation`? What did Frances presume was her part in it?

„Shouldn't you actually be at work at this hour?"

„No." She crossed her arms, and stretched out her legs, which made her slide down a little in her seat. „When Madame needs me at the workshop on Sundays, it is agreed I can taike off the following Monday instead."

He sighed softly. A strong point in Watson as a companion had been his willingness to vanish if he felt superfluous. With Frances, he felt this distinctly, it would not be so easy.

„So. You have all day to devote to - to our investigation. How do you suggest to make use of it?"

She shook he unruly hair, so it fell back over her shoulders, and gathered it to twist into a rage knot, which, since she did not have a band to tie it with, seemed rather pointless. „Well, I do not know yet. But one fink is for sure. Before we run off again ter follow up loose ends, we should use our loaves ter maike sure it'll be worth while. Contemplation is better than taikin' action helter-skelter."

He raised an appreciative eyebrow. She proved to be a promising disciple, after all. „Where do you think we should start, then?"

„I am not sure". She lower her chin into her hand, and softly bit into the tips of her fingers. „But one fink irks me. Ya remembers, when we were at the Montmartre café and talked about Madame's appearance in the tea shop?"

„Well, what about it?"

„You asked me why she would taike a cab for such short distances as the café or the tea shop, and I told ya she wan't a good walker."

„So?"

„Well, that's the fink! She wan't a good walker, but as a rule, she could cover these distances on foot. I remember now that each time I accompanied her to either place, we went on foot."

He shrugged. „The explanation is an easy one. She knew she was being followed, and felt more secure in a cab. You said she even had one driver she did call often, and probably could trust a little. It would make sense she would call him in order to escape from home in his cab."

„Yes, but that's exactly where finks stop maikin' sense!" She inclined toward him over the table in her excitement. „At `er age, it is a safer bet ter escape a follower by cab, even if the follower is also in a cab, than on foot. I taike into consideration `er cleverness, and we know she succeeded, using the tea shop's back door ter disappear. But why did she even do that? Would not the chances of been better ter escape by cab, to some plaice far away from Montmarte, where she could get off the car and vanish in the crowd?"

„I'm not sure. I'm not sure there at all, Frances." He shook his head thoughtfully. „The way she did it was very effective. With the cab waiting outside, she had managed to trick the men. Probably she was even carrying the orb on her person, trying to get it to some place of safety. If the men knew or suspected this, they would have expected her to fly, to leave the town, maybe the country. They would not expect her to try and disappear in the middle of Montmartre. But this was exactly what she did, and they were baffled. No Frances - „ he shook his head again. „No, I don't think I agree with you."

„Where could she go to in Montmartre? There was nothing for her to do but to return to her flat, where it is more than probable they chime ter get `er. The whole course of action ain't clear to me. Why didn't she ask `er cabbie ter drive `er to the countryside, where she might lay low? Why didn't she at least ask `im ter taike `er to a train station?"

„Probably because a train station would be the first place to come to the mind of her followers? They would have known where to chase after her, even if they lost her cab - to the Gare du Nord, to the Gare de l'Est, to - „

He gasped, and the words in his mind failed to be delivered by speech. However, that was unnecessary. Frances froze for a second, then she called out: „ - to the trainstation St. Lazare! Oh what idiots have we been, not ter fink o` that!"

oooOOOooo

It was a chill day, and we both had our fists buried in our pockets as we trudged, side by side, down the street.

„I still fink we should go to the station first!" I exclaimed, shoving open the door to the cab service bureau with my elbow. „What can a common driver possibly `aver ter tell us?"

„Frances, wasn't it youth told me an hour ago it was useless to take hot-headed action? Pray what would it avail us to go to St. Lazare? It is a train station, we both know what they look like."

We ceased quarreling, for the man at the counter window was raising his head to watch us. Holmes aimed at him directly. „Good morning. We would like to engage the services of a certain cabby. Unfortunately, we know neither his name, nor the number of his cab, we only know he is a regular at Rue Lombard No. 16a."

The man behind the counter raised his eyebrows. „That is a most unusual request, Monsieur - ?"

„Sherlock Holmes", he promptly replied, and the expression on the man's face changed. Obviously, the name meant something to him, for a message was dispatched without further ado. We were bidden to wait in the ante-room until a plump, young man arrived, dressed in a cabman's outfit.

„Monsieur?" He insecurely turned his round cab in his chubby hands, not quite sure what was expected from him.

I forestalled Holmes, rising from the bench we had sat on. „Are you not the cabbie what used ter come for to pick up Madame Zhao from `er `ouse?"

„That's right, Mademoiselle." He nodded his affirmation, maybe he even remembered seeing me with Madame sometime, for he had no reservations with me. With Holmes, it was a different question entirely.

„I will not speak with the police, I won't!" He spluttered, as soon as my companion had explained the nature of our business. „I have done nothing, seen nothing, heard nothing!"

„Calm yourself!" I entreated the man. „We `ave nowt ter do wit the police. We are just friends of Madame, and very worried about `er. But pray you, let us go somewhere we can talk undisturbed. Would you like a glass of beer? `ave you `ad luncheon?"

Monsieur Romain - for that was the cabman's name - had had none. After some argumentation to and fro, we succeeded in persuading him to accompany us to a nearby inn, where the cabbies were wont to take their meals. He was a hungry as any man of his wearisome occupation, but his distrust was not entirely gone, and was to be seen in the glances he directed at us across the brim of his ale glass.

„So, what do you want with me?" He finally asked, cutting his mutton into rough stripes. „I told you already I know not what happened to the poor woman. It is only today that I hear she's missing."

„We believe you", Holmes assured him suavely. „Our interest lies with a certain excursion Madame took with you, a fortnight ago? Can you remember it? You drove her to a tea shop in Montmartre and waited outside. Shortly after your arrival there, some men entered the shop, and came out again after a little while. However, Madame did not return, and after some time, you drove away."

„How d'you know that?" Romain wanted to know, suspicion blatant now in his guarded tones.

„The lady in the shop told us that much", I returned. „Monsieur, we are afraid these men were after a certain object, then in Madame's keeping. We think it possible that violence was done to her because of this object, that maybe she came to harm. Now if you could tell us anyfink that you can remember from this day, it might jus' help us to find out what happened…and where Madame has been brought to."

He hemmed and hawed a little. I realized Holmes was loosing patience with him, but lightly raised one hand to restrain him. Eventually, Romain turned to me and said: „Can you promise? No police?"

I blinked. Only a few days ago, Holmes had had an equally hard time, trying to persuade me to give up my knowledge. Had Madame made the cabman promise, too? Why had she been so afraid of the police? Surely, there must be a reason for that.

„Monsieur Romain." I tried to look my most confidential. „You have my word on it."

„Alright then." He swallowed hard, and, talking to me rather than to Holmes, quickly related: „It was on that day that you mentioned - that queer day. I had picked her up upon her calling, as I did often, you know that, Mademoiselle. But I was surprised when she asked me to drive to the tea shop at top speed, I can tell you! A racing start for a two minutes drive? Why did she not just walk there?"

My response was clearly expected here, so I nodded my agreement. „A very strange request, that."

„I did as I was bidden, however", the cabman resumed his narrative. „I drove to the tea shop at break-neck speed, and as soon as we came to a halt, madame beckoned me down from my seat and to her window. She - handed me something."

„Something - what?" Holmes broke in, but I hushed him.

„I do not know. A parcel. Something round, wrapped in paper. Size of an apple. She gave it to me, with instructions that I should hide it on my person and wait for her a while. I was to remain calm and stay in my seat, whatever happened. If she did not return, I should drive to the train station - St. Lazare. There, I should leave the parcel in one of the lockers, and keep the key for her. On no condition was I to talk to the police."

Holmes and I exchanged a glance, breathless. Monsieur Romain shrugged.

„It sounds like a madwoman's talk, doesn't it? I did what she told me to do, though. I climbed back into my seat, parcel beneath my coat, as she went into the shop. A minute later, some men arrived in another cab. They had a ruffianly sort of look, and I didn't like it a bit when they stormed into the shop! But Madame had told me to remain where I was, and so I did."

„What happened then?"

„Well, they made some noise in there, but they came out again soon enough. I waited until I was sure Madame would not come back. Then I drove."

„…to St. Lazare?"

„Aye. I hid the parcel in the locker - No. 115 it was - and there it still is, as far as I know."

Holmes leaned back in his chair, exhaling hard as was his habit when particularly satisfied. He watched with utter satisfaction how a couple of coins changed hands, and, after a little more debate, a small, sliver key was finally forwarded and placed in my outstretched palm.

Hullo!

So…Is the parcel still in place, and will it contain what they think it contains? What further hints to the solution of the mystery can it possibly provide?

We shall see!

Love, Mrs. F