The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (books for 8th graders .TXT) 📗

She stared at him before answering, as if deciding whether or not he was worth her time.

‘I can have you arrested for breaking in on a young lady who is minding her own business,’ said she, pleasantly.

‘You will not, however,’ said Holmes, ‘as you do not want the police to know of this private sanctuary. Who sent word we were coming? It certainly was efficient.’

‘Polly. You’ve met her,’ said she. She smiled and stood up. ‘She preceded you here by minutes.’ She was clearly proud of the fact. ‘You are not familiar with Cambridge?’

‘Not as much as I intend to be,’ said he. ‘Miss Wyndham, I have reason to believe that you may be in danger. A doll designed to look like you was found in the Jesus Lock last night. Mutilated, I might add.’

She threw back her head and laughed. It was a tinkling, charming laugh. ‘That is creative!’ said she. ‘And so somebody called a London detective.’

Holmes and I exchanged a look.

She sized us up and came to some kind of decision. We were not prepared for what came next. Dillie Wyndham approached Holmes and stood before him, dangerously close and most improperly. She proceeded to inspect him minutely in a presumptuous and arrogant manner. A man doing such a thing would have received a sharp retort or worse. To his credit, Holmes did not move a muscle.

‘You are not so terrible up close,’ she said with the hint of a friendly smile. ‘Though I wouldn’t have you.’

Holmes said nothing but returned her unwavering look.

She reached out and straightened his tie. It had not needed straightening. Holmes was nothing if not fastidious in his dress. The girl was outrageous, and it was clearly a cultivated act.

‘You are too thin,’ said she. ‘You live on, I don’t know, coffee and nerves, perhaps? Or worse. Your eyes are tired. There is a sadness there.’

Holmes did not reply, which frustrated her. She changed tactics.

‘I do not care about this or about you!’ she exclaimed. ‘Be sad. Be whatever you like. You think you are much smarter than you are. Some women find you attractive. I do not.’

My friend appeared not to respond but I noticed his right hand twitch almost imperceptibly. I guessed it was from her proximity rather than her words.

I stood at the ready, but for what I could not fathom.

Without stepping back from Holmes, she looked over at me. ‘And you! You have the appearance of a faithful dog, awaiting scraps to be thrown to you. But ready to defend the pack with loud barking and perhaps even a bite or two. Down, boy.’

I stifled a retort and wondered at this peculiar display.

She turned her attention back to Holmes. ‘Now what are you going to do?’ she said, thrusting her face inches from his.

Again, he did not move. ‘This act must impress your young university gentlemen,’ he replied coolly. ‘Daring, I suppose is what they think. Daring and exciting! How often do you disguise yourself in men’s clothing and accompany them to parties and sporting events?’

She looked momentarily surprised, then backed off to glance over at her closet at the man’s linen suit hanging there. She exhaled sharply in frustration, then jabbed a long delicate finger not so delicately at Holmes’s chest more than once for emphasis as she said, ‘You don’t know that. What makes you think that that is mine? I may not be so daring after all. Just extremely improper. Perhaps that costume belongs to a suitor.’

She poked him once more, hard. She was trying to provoke him, and I wondered why.

He reached up and clasped her hand, lowering it gently to her side. ‘Perhaps. As I assume someone, not your father, is paying for this room. And yet those clothes are yours,’ said Holmes, indicating the blue linen suit. Then, with surprising impropriety equal to the young lady’s own, he reached out and placed his hand flat upon her hair at the top of her head. She recoiled, and I noticed a moment of extreme fear. But of course he would never hurt the girl. Instead, he deftly removed a long hairpin. She gasped.

He held it up before her.

‘You have pinned all of your hair up under that straw hat over there and have done so recently. The dampness I remark on that linen shirt hung out to air – and on your own hair there – indicates a recent outing in the hot sun. You have not bothered to change your shoes – men’s tennis shoes, I wager – since you have returned. And that pair of dark spectacles meant for the bright sun, there on your bedside table, added an effective touch to your disguise. One of the better male impersonations, I would imagine, and the trousers, being a bit worn at the hems, tell me that this was certainly not your first such adventure.’

As he spoke, her fear transformed into anger at having been so revealed, and a storm of emotions clouded her beautiful face. Clearly she had not expected his response. But then fury won out and she slapped him. Hard.

He winced only momentarily, averting his face from the stinging blow, then looked back at her, undaunted. The red imprint of her hand showed on his pale face.

Holmes smiled at this improbable creature, and I marvelled at his self-control. My friend was never fully at ease with women, and at times could be oblivious. But he was always civil and usually a gentleman, except in the face of duplicity. To have two women slap him in the space of twenty-four hours was certainly some kind of record.

I almost suppressed a laugh at the thought, but the remarkably spoiled young lady before us did not find this humorous at all. She glanced at me.

‘Stop smiling. It is not funny. Get out! Both of you!’ she cried.

CHAPTER 16

An Uneasy Alliance

Holmes did not move. ‘Or what, exactly, Miss Wyndham?’ said Holmes gently. ‘We have already