A Scandal in Battersea (Elemental Masters #12)(61)
The Watsons arrived a little after luncheon—to Nan’s surprise, they appeared on the doorstep in a coach, a small one suitable for two or three, with Alderscroft’s crest painted discreetly on the door. This coach was a good bit more old-fashioned than Alderscroft’s usual coach, and nowhere near as ostentatious. She ran out to meet them as the coachman opened the door for them.
“Where on earth did that come from?” she asked. “I mean, other than from Lord A?”
“Apparently his Lordship has more than one vehicle, as I should have known all along,” Mary Watson replied as John handed her out. “His servants at the Hall use this one, along with the estate wagon, several carts, and for all I know, a traveling coach. He’s given us the loan of this one for the duration, since it has mostly been used only for conveying the butler, housekeeper, and his valet to church on Sundays, and ordered us to telegraph if we need the larger one.”
“What does Holmes think of all this?” Nan asked, as they brought the Watsons to Sahib’s study, “And do you need luncheon?”
“He’s utterly intrigued, and yes, please,” John replied, seating Mary first, before taking a spot himself. “I’ve prevailed on Dr. Huntley at Hampstead Heath Hospital to take in the first girl, even though her family cannot possibly afford his services. I pointed out that having two such patients doubled our chances of finding a cure.” He smiled thinly. “I will not pretend that I did not exert the gentle threat of Sherlock paying a visit, then followed it with the inducement of Lord Alderscroft being interested in the case.”
Mary gave him an admonishing look. “I think he was persuaded without that, dear. Underneath it, Dr. Huntley is a good doctor and he saw the advantages of having two such girls there. After all, this means he can try different treatments on them at the same time.”
Nan held her peace; she had a very good idea which of the two girls was going to get the “benefit” of the more drastic treatments. Which would possibly have made a moral difference, had there been anything like a human spirit in either of them. As it was . . .
As it is he might just as well be experimenting on a pair of sausages.
Selim himself arrived at just that moment with a tray. He had begun to open his mouth, probably to apologize for the scant luncheon, when Watson forestalled him. “Ah Selim, excellent, thank you. How thoughtful of you! A couple of plates of curry are exactly what we need after that cold drive. You must share Memsa’b’s mind reading talents!”
“Not at all, Doctor, I am glad the selection pleases you,” Selim replied, with great dignity. He left the tray on a small table between the Watsons, and took his usual spot, standing behind Sahib’s desk.
The man himself arrived a moment later with his wife. When everyone was settled, John Watson began the full story, interrupted only by spoonfuls of curry and rice or sips of good hot tea.
“This girl was found very near where the other was, by the local constabulary again. Having had one girl wandering witlessly about already, they immediately took her to a hospital instead of the police station—although,” he added a little sourly, “I imagine the fact that she was dressed expensively and extremely well didn’t hurt. And they sent around to the rest of London to see if there was a missing girl matching her description. There was. Cynthia Denniston, a niece of Lord Denniston, had been missing since a group led by Lord Denniston’s oldest daughter went on a visit to the Grosvenor Gallery. She was last seen in the company of a well-dressed young man, whose name the other girls did not remember, but they thought he made money in some manufacturing trade. Lord Denniston was quite adamant that Cynthia would never have gone off with a stranger of any sort, much less a strange man. The girls were adamant that no man, especially not one as good-looking as this one had been, would ever be interested in Cynthia.”
“But that’s a couple of assumptions that don’t hold up, if we assume this man wanted her for—for whatever occult purpose is leading to these girls ending up as prey,” Sarah pointed out. “He could have overpowered her, after all.”
“And yet, the guards at the Gallery and the various coachmen and cabmen waiting outside are absolutely certain that no man of any description carried off a girl who was struggling, or fainting, or anything suggesting foul play.” Watson held up his hand, as Memsa’b looked about to speak. “Yes, Memsa’b, I know you are about to point out that someone with your talents could easily overpower the girl’s mind and get her to go with him. Someone with the more mundane ability at mesmerism could do the same—as could virtually any Master and many magicians. This is merely information so we can eliminate outright abduction-by-force.”
“Of course,” Memsa’b replied. “Do continue, Doctor.”
“Naturally I said nothing of this to the police, nor to Lord Denniston.” He shrugged. “It’s really of no use to suggest anything in the way of the mystical to the police, it would only make them think I’d taken leave of my senses.”
“Did Dr. Hunter call on you again?” Sarah asked.
“No, actually,” John told her. “It was Sherlock who brought me in this time, and Sherlock who was brought on the case first, instead of the other way around. Denniston sent for him as soon as he learned the girl had been found, and I came with him. Sherlock suggested mesmerism, which . . . honestly, is not out of the question, and the police did not disagree with that notion, which is broad-minded of them.” He made a face. “Then again, Lord Denniston jumped on the notion like a cat on a fat mouse, and the police are eager to please him.”