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THE STRANGE CASE OF LORD DERRINGFORD After my marriage, and the establishment of my new home, I saw less of Sherlock Holmes than hitherto, and as a consequence became less familiar with his activities. Consulting my notebooks, I see that I have details of few cases from that period of my life, so the case - the facts of which I am about to set down - was unusual. In one particular respect, it was extraordinary - so much so that its publication at the present time would severely affect the reputation of people still living. I shall therefore deposit it in a strong box with instructions that, if there is any continuing interest in the exploits of Sherlock Holmes one hundred years from now, it may be published at that time, but not before. The story begins with one of my rare visits to Holmes's rooms in Baker Street, late one November morning. An interval of several weeks had passed since our previous encounter. I found him agitated and irritable. "The London criminal classes are quite without imagination at present," he barked. "Mislaid heirlooms, petty thefts from gentlemen's clubs, missing racehorses. What satisfaction can be gained from resolving such trivia." I remembered the case of the thoroughbred racehorse, whose theft had been an audacious attempt to corrupt the outcome of the Cheltenham Gold Cup, the solving of which had secured Holmes no little acclaim. Puzzled by his ennui, I wondered with alarm whether his mood was the precursor of one of his lapses into the habit, which I abhorred, of dulling his senses by the injection of Cockaigne. I had never understood why so great a mind required such unwonted solace that could surely never satisfy his need for intellectual stimulation. "Things cannot be so bad, Holmes," I opined. "Worse, far worse," was Holmes's lament. But then, just as I was expecting a litany of further complaint, the great detective stiffened and hurried to the window. "But wait," he said, "we seem to have an unexpected caller. Perhaps this may be the precursor of something more satisfying." The sound of two sets of footsteps on the stairs confirmed the arrival of the visitor, whom Mrs.Hudson ushered into the room. "Well, Mr.Holmes," said a bulky, florid man, "I have wanted to meet you for a long time. I have heard so much about your talents." Holmes smiled. "You have the advantage over me, sir. I know nothing of you, except for the fact that you have hurried here from the United States to consult me about an urgent family matter." The visitor stared. "Allow me to introduce myself, Mr.Holmes. My names is George Derringford. But how...?" Holmes brushed the question aside with an impatient gesture, and continued, as if to a rather dim-witted schoolboy, "There are two cabin trunks strapped to the roof of the hansom you have waiting outside. You have therefore recently disembarked from an Ocean liner. This morning's Times informs me that the Princess of Teck was due to dock in Liverpool at 6 o'clock this morning, inbound from New York. Your coat is cut, and your hair dressed in the American style, and your speech, although admirably British, carries something of the lilt of one who has resided on the East Coast of America for several years. You are sporting a wrist watch rather than a fob watch. Your two-tone shoes, although undoubtedly of high quality, could never have been made by a London cobbler. As for the urgency, you have not been shaved this morning, so you plainly hurried through the formalities of customs, and caught a train to London immediately. The earliest train you could possibly have caught would have arrived at Euston..." Holmes glanced at the clock, "...twenty-eight minutes ago. The fact that your trunks are still with you confirms that you did not take a few moments to send them before you to your place of abode in London. As to the matter in hand, your long residence in the United States suggests that your property and business interests lie in that country. If there was a problem with one of them, you would surely have consulted an American detective. But your British origins suggest that you have family in this country, and a troubling family matter is therefore the likeliest explanation of your presence in these rooms." Holmes, always delighted when presented with an opportunity to display his talent for deduction, paused, attentive, as if awaiting congratulation. "Why Mr.Holmes," said Derringford, "my business interests are pretty widely spread in the world. But as for everything else, you are one hundred per cent correct. I am the younger brother of the late Lord Derringford, and I am currently in the throes of attempting to settle his affairs. That is the matter that brings me to you." Holmes motioned the visitor to an armchair, and the three of us sat. I vaguely recalled hearing of Lord Derringford's death, which had taken place in Rome (where he had occupied the position of Her Majesty's Ambassador) some weeks before. He had died as a result of an unexpected seizure, and so I could well imagine that difficulties had arisen in the management of his estate. "But surely there can be no difficulty," said Holmes. "Derringford had a son and heir. The property and assets of the late Lord must pass to him." "There you have it, Mr.Holmes," cried George Derringford. "The young Lord Derringford is not yet of age. It would normally fall to trustees to manage his affairs until he turns twenty-one early next year. But he has disappeared. And Lady Derringford is resisting the appointment of the trustees on the grounds that it cannot be proved that the young Lord is alive. She insists she has no useful information about the young Earl, and is being most unhelpful. She can be a most exasperating woman. The estate is in limbo, which is a most unsatisfactory state of affairs." Holmes drummed his fingers on the table. "In the absence of a male heir, the estate and title would presumably pass to yourself." "The title yes, but Lady Derringford would retain a lifetime interest in the estate. But that is not the point. The position of the heir needs to be established and the management of one of the richest estates in England settled at the earliest opportunity, and it is imperative that the matter is resolved by the end of this year." Holmes drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "The matter is not without its points of interest," he declared. "I shall make some preliminary enquiries and let you know how I intend to proceed." He stood up. "But for now," he continued, "you must be anxious to reach your accommodation in order to recover from the rigours of your journey, so I suggest we agree to meet in, say, three days' time." It was not, in fact, clear that George Derringford wished to terminate the interview, but Holmes brushed aside his protests professing a need to think carefully about the matters he had raised; and so, after some little fuss, our visitor left. "Well, Watson," said Holmes, "what do you make of that?" I shrugged. "Surely it is reasonable to want the Derringford estate to be properly settled?" "Mm." Holmes looked sceptical. "But why the urgency? Why does the matter need to be settled by Christmas? And why the curious animus between George Derringford and the dowager Lady Derringford? Why is Lady Derringford not helping to find the son and heir: it is surely in her interest that the estate be settled on him at the earliest opportunity? And what of the trustees? You will have observed that Derringford said very little about them." "Surely that is a minor matter, Holmes," I said. "The principal point must be whether the young Earl is alive and can be found so that the probate of the estate can be granted." "Perhaps," said Holmes. His absent look suggested to me acute mental activity beneath the surface. "Perhaps you are right. We shall see." Holmes fell into silent thought and so, after a little longer, I left. ++++++ The following morning I received a summons from Holmes, who seemed to have taken it for granted that having witnessed the interview with George Derringford, I would involve myself in the case, no matter what the consequences for my patients. But as it happened, my workload remained light, and so with a sigh, I set off for Baker Street. "Welcome, Watson," said Holmes. "Welcome indeed. It is quite like old times. We are," he said without any attempt to establish whether it was convenient to me, "to see Lady Derringford this morning at her London residence in Mayfair." Holmes was silent as our cab clattered through the crowded London streets, so I was unable to ascertain what Holmes sought to determine from speaking to Lady Derringford. We arrived shortly outside a handsome, double fronted house in a quiet, cobbled street not far from Shepherd's Market. Holmes rapped on the door with his cane, and we were ushered into a large, airy drawing room, more reminiscent of a country house than central London. French windows flanked by heavy, gold coloured velvet curtains looked over a long garden; the cream-painted walls were covered with portraits and landscape paintings; and the room was graced with a collection of genteel furniture - polished walnut tables, an immaculate parquet floor, a leather chesterfield with the graceful patina of age, easy chairs upholstered with velvet, and an embroidered fire screen (the room was warmed by a coal fire). There were two figures in the room. A good-looking woman in mourning black was standing by the mantelshelf. She held a telegram in one hand, and glanced at it, nodding as we walked into the room. I gathered that it must be from Holmes, requesting or perhaps merely announcing our impending call. This Lady, whom I took to be Lady Derringford, was perhaps a little more than four decades old, looked at us intently. I formed the impression of an intelligent woman who was used to being listened to. She had evidently been a great beauty in her younger days, and undoubtedly still held an appearance and a presence which would have been a powerful influence over many a man. The second figure was considerably younger, a slight blonde girl wearing her long hair down. She was bent over a piece of embroidery as we entered, but looked up and gave us a tight little smile before returning to her sewing. I guessed her to be about twenty years old, or perhaps even younger, although her smooth-featured face was powdered more lavishly and made up more carefully than one might perhaps have expected from a young lady of that age. She was wearing a rather beautiful, pale blue gown of silk taffeta. When she moved, as she did shortly to pour tea and hand round a plate of fancies brought in by a maid, she did so with easy elegance and grace which belied her young years. Her skin was smooth, her features regular, and her expression spirited. I recollect with some shame that I was prey to the usual reactions of a healthy male confronted with feminine youth and beauty. But Holmes's reaction was different. He was, I saw, looking at her closely as she resumed her sewing for a second time. His expression was thoughtful, and he glanced at Lady Derringford, an eyebrow raised in enquiry. "My companion, Miss Linda Carstairs," said Lady Derringford. "We met and became friends in Italy. She has been a godsend to me in this difficult time." "So she is not related to the family?" Lady Derringford did not contradict Holmes's surmise. Miss Carstairs acknowledged our greeting: her voice was pleasing, her speech a carefully modulated, deep, rich alto - to my ear a little surprising from one of so slight a frame. Holmes inclined his head and then turned once more to the dowager countess. "It is this difficult time that we must talk about, Lady Derringford. As you might know, I have been asked by your brother in law to establish the whereabouts of the young Lord Derringford." Lady Derringford's expression hardened. "And what, pray, is George's interest in the matter? It is I who am Lord Derringford's mother, and I have advised George that I am sure that the young Lord will return to us in his own good time." These words were at odds with George Derringford's assertion that Lady Derringford had suggested to him that the young Lord might not still be living. I could see from his expression that Homes had been struck by the same thought, but he did not at the time make reference to the fact. He looked at Lady Derringford evenly and spoke quietly. "I am sure that your brother-in-law has Lord Derringford's interests at heart...." (Lady Derringford gave an unladylike snort of disbelief.) "...and that he merely seeks the orderly settlement of the estate." "Mr Holmes," said Lady Derringford haughtily, "you may be sure that George Derringford has nobody's interests at heart but his own. As to Lord Derringford, his whereabouts are not something I wish to speculate about, and I certainly have no information to disclose about his current situation." "But as his mother," I blurted, "are you not anxious to know whether he still lives?" Lady Derringford smiled - the expression assumed a somewhat sinister aspect - and said coolly, "Dr.Watson, a mother is always anxious about her child; but sometimes a mother knows that the child must be left to make his own way through life. I believe that my son is alive and well, but I cannot at present prove to society that that is the case. These matters must be given time to resolve themselves." "Perhaps," said Holmes, and then, turned to Miss Carstairs. "Did you have any dealings with the young Lord before returning to England? Perhaps he might have let slip something to you that might help us understand what course of action he has since taken." Linda Carstairs looked up at Lady Derringford, and then glanced at us, her expression unreadable. I noticed, however, that her hands were shaking. A look passed between the two women, and I gained the impression that Lady Derringford was impressing on Miss Carstairs that she should not join in the conversation. Eventually, Miss Carstairs shook her head, saying nothing. "Miss Carstairs and my son saw little of each other." Lady Derringford was clearly anxious to end the conversation. Holmes hesitated before making his next remark. "You are, I believe, resisting the appointment of trustees to manage the young Lord's estate, even though - by your own admission - you believe him to be still living." Lady Derringford stiffened. "Indeed so," she said. "I fail to see how the appointment of trustees for a period of four months could be of value. The estate is well managed and run by my late husband's agent. There is no need to sell or mortgage the property or to set in hand any major changes to the management of the estate. If there were to be any such proposal, it is right a proper that it should be considered by Lord Derringford personally after he comes of age." Holmes bowed. "Thank you for your assistance, Lady Derringford. I see that I must make other enquiries. I will speak to you again when there is progress to report." On our return journey, Holmes was in thoughtful mood. "Well, Watson, a singular performance was it not?" he asked. "We resolved nothing," I ventured. "Quite right, Watson," agreed Holmes, "but Lady Derringford presented us with information to brood upon." I looked at him enquiringly. "Did you not observe how little worried Lady Derringford was about her son, and you could surely not fail to be surprised by her clear refusal to become involved in our investigation of his whereabouts? As you so pertinently said, a mother would normally be all too eager to find a missing son. And what of Miss Carstairs?" "What of her?" I asked. "A young lady of breeding would normally have been taught the arts of womanhood, but the embroidery on which she was working could have been the product of an infant. If she had had a governess to teach her, there was no sign of it this morning." "But what does it all mean?" I asked. "We shall see," said Holmes. "We shall see. In the meantime, I must seek some answers in Italy." ++++++ For the next two days, I was occupied with my patients, and did not see Holmes or hear from him. But on the third afternoon, after having completed my rounds, I called on him in Baker Street to find him in a state of agitation. "My inquiries in Italy have revealed nothing," he said, striding up and down in the sitting room, his voice clipped and agitated, his movements abrupt and almost angry. "No information, no rumours, no gossip. Sir Arthur Bellingham, whom you remember we helped some months ago, and who is currently in Milan on business, tells me that his contacts avow that there has been no sight, nor rumours of any sight, of the young Lord Derringford since his father died." I did indeed remember Bellingham, who had consulted Holmes about the theft of three valuable works of art, a theft which Holmes had eventually demonstrated to have been orchestrated by a ring of Fenian outlaws who had sought to profit from the proceeds of their crime and use their gains to finance a reign of terror in London. "To cap it all," added Holmes, "I have been summoned to meet Mycroft this evening. I have no idea why. But I hope that you will consent to accompany me." My curiosity aroused, I had no thought to demur from Homes's request, and so, an hour and a half later, we found ourselves alighting from a hansom before the imposing entrance to the Diogenes Club. Holmes gave his name to the commissionaire, and we were shown to the extensive library on the upper floor of the building. As always, I was struck by the atmosphere of easy luxury and impressive and extensive intellect - the volumes on the numerous shelves epitomising the thirst for learning of the club's august members. There was a hum of conversation in the library - the Diogenes unlike many such clubs imposed no rule of silence in its library - the quiet but strangely intense conversation between thoughtful and influential men. We quickly spotted Mycroft's vast bulk in an easy chair. Beside him on a small table stood a decanter, a heavy glass containing liquor of some description, and a pile of papers. He was speaking to a servant as we approached. "This must go to Whitehall instantly. Be sure you give it to the gentleman you will find at the rear entrance - the rear entrance mind - and bring me his card to confirm it is on the way to its rightful destination. I shall expect you back here in five minutes. Sherlock..." here he turned towards us, "and Dr.Watson. How good to see you both." Homes returned his greeting. "You have returned from the Palace, I see." "Indeed, a brief interview with the secretary of the Privy Council. And you have visited Islington this afternoon." "A minor matter. No need to speak of it now," returned Holmes. "When do you set off for Oxford?" "I see you have been examining my waistcoat," replied Mycroft. "No need to leave before..." "Before nine," interrupted Holmes. Mycroft nodded. There was silence for a few moments, broken ultimately by Mycroft. "You are aware why I have summoned you?" "The Derringford case," said Holmes. "It can be nothing else." Mycroft inclined his head in agreement. "Tell me, what progress have you made." Holmes looked at the ceiling for a moment reluctant, I perceived, to admit to having learned nothing of substance. Eventually, he repeated to Mycroft what he had told me earlier that evening. "As I thought," said Mycroft. "My own enquiries in the Lords have revealed with complete certainty that the young Lord Derringford is not being harboured by any member of the aristocracy in England. So you would not find him by making enquiries amongst either the English or the Italian nobility. Nonetheless, a close and lengthy examination of Derringford's associates in Italy is the course you must pursue if you are to take on the case." "You do not wish me to locate Derringford?" asked Holmes. "Why, Mycroft, are you interested in the case?" Mycroft grunted. "You have been retained by George Derringford, I believe?" Holmes nodded his assent. "Derringford is a most dangerous man. He has agents in a dozen countries dedicated to advancing the cause of anarchism. He is clever enough to avoid incriminating himself, but it is evident to us that he was influential in the conspiracy to assassinate the Russian prime minister last year, and our intelligence suggests that he is involved in plots aimed at overthrowing, or at the very least undermining, the governments of Russia and Austria in the coming months. He provides the planning, the intelligence, and the finances to permit these clandestine operations to take place. I need scarcely tell you that if the plots were successful, there would be turmoil in the Balkans and in the whole of Europe east of the Elbe. The damage to British interests would be inestimable." "But how," I asked, "could this be connected to the disappearance of the young Lord Derringford?" Mycroft looked at me. "You put your finger on the nub of the issue. George Derringford's resources have been extensively committed to his cause, and they are a wasting asset. He seeks to replenish his funds by laying his hands on the estate of Lord Derringford." Holmes nodded as if he understood where this was leading, but I must have looked blank, because Mycroft continued, "The late Lord Derringford's will dates from twenty-five years ago before his marriage. It provides for the estate to be managed by trustees in the event of Lord Derringford dying before an heir reaches the age of maturity. Three trustees were appointed, but two of them have died. George Derringford would therefore be the sole trustee once probate were granted. The terms of the will enable him to alienate or dispose of the estate - in the interest of the heir of course - without restriction. He could, therefore, easily use the assets of the estate to finance his political terroristic ambitions." "But," I said, "surely if the young Lord Derringford is dead, the estate would pass to George in any case? It can make no difference to him whether the young heir is alive or dead." "Not quite," said Mycroft. "In the event of Lord Derringford dying childless, any surviving spouse is left with a lifetime interest in the estate." I remembered that George Derringford had indeed said that to us. "If, therefore, the young Lord Derringford is dead, Lady Derringford is left with control of the estate for the foreseeable future. George Derringford has taken Lady Derringford to court and argued that in the absence of evidence to the contrary, the court should assume that the young Lord Derringford is alive, and George should have control of his assets. Lady Derringford has, however, persuaded the court that nothing should be done which imperils her lifetime interest in the property, in the event that the son and heir has passed away." "Hence," said Sherlock, "George's imperative to prove that the young Lord is still alive." "Exactly," said Mycroft, "and he has only a few weeks to do so. The heir will turn 21 years of age in February. Only if he is discovered to be alive before then will George have an opportunity to lay his hands on the late Earl's assets." "Surely," I said, "he could hardly dispose of the estate in four months." "George Derringford," barked Mycroft, "could liquidate the property within four days if he were allowed unrestricted control over it." There was silence. Holmes, seated, was sunk in thought. Mycroft looked at him intently from beneath hooded eyes. At length, Holmes said, "So,Italy." Mycroft nodded. "Patterson?" "An excellent suggestion." I looked at Holmes and then at Mycroft nonplussed by this exchange. There was a pause of a few seconds, and then Mycroft continued, "You will speak to George Derringford?" "I have an appointment with him tomorrow." "Well, then. And Lady Derringford?" "I will speak to her after I have seen George." "And you have...?" "I believe so," said Holmes. And on that obscure note, the interview with Mycroft came to an end. Leaving the club, we hailed a cab, and as it lurched forwards, I could contain my frustration no longer. "For God's sake Holmes, tell me what you and Mycroft have agreed." Holmes was in the process of spreading a blanket over his knees, and for a moment the sound of clattering hooves precluded any reply as our cab swerved to avoid another vehicle. But eventually, as our progress became calmer, Holmes leaned towards me. "It is plainly against the interests of England for the young Lord Derringford to be found before February. I must, therefore, inform George Derringford that I cannot help him. I shall cite pressure of other work, which at the moment prevents me from travelling to Italy where we are most likely to hear from those who might have seen Lord Derringford after the death of his father. In doing so, I shall suggest that George retains the services of Algernon Patterson." I knew Patterson as one of the few consulting detectives currently active in London other than Holmes himself. Holmes continued, "Patterson is short of work at present; he is thorough, determined, patient, and above all totally lacking in imagination. He will conduct enquiries rigorously, interviewing every Englishman and half the Italians he meets, perpetually convinced that success is around the corner. In doing so, he will waste George Derringford's money and likely not solve the case before Lord Derringford comes of age." "But what if he does find news of Lord Derringford in Italy?" Holmes closed his eyes and leaned back against the upholstery, ignoring the lurching of the carriage. "Lord Derringford is not in Italy," he said. +++++ I was not present at Holmes's interview with George Derringford the following morning, but according to Holmes's account it was not a good- tempered affair. Derringford was put out by Holmes's refusal to take on the case, and angrily attempted to persuade him to change his mind. Holmes, who could not of course conceal from me his delight at Derringford's assertion that he was the best man for the job, stood firm, and recommended Patterson as the best man to pursue the enquiry. Derringford eventually agreed, with somewhat ill grace, to engage him. I was relieved not to be present at that interview, but I am ashamed to say that I was consumed by curiosity to find out what would pass between Holmes and Lady Derringford. And so, handing over my roster of patients to my colleague Smithers, I joined Holmes for lunch the following day with the intention of interviewing Lady Derringford in the afternoon. ++++++ In the days since our first interview, the dowager countess had retreated to her estates in Surrey, presumably to avoid any possible encounter with George Derringford. So Holmes and I took a train from Waterloo, alighting at Hook, the nearest station to Derringford Hall. Although Holmes had telegraphed ahead to announce our visit, there was nobody to meet us at the station, and Holmes spent a little time searching for and then hiring a huckster with a pony and trap to convey us to the Hall. This proved to be a handsome building dating, I should say, from the time of Queen Anne, built in soft yellow stone more redolent of the Cotswolds than of Surrey. The Hall was fronted by an imposing carriage drive - a pleasing contrast to the uncomfortably rutted track which led from the station - and at the rear we could see an expanse of carefully manicured parkland. A footman emerged from the house as we approached and handed us down from our ungainly vehicle, giving a disdainful glance at the huckster whom Holmes had paid to wait for us while we interviewed Lady Derringford. We were led to a substantial, well-proportioned drawing room with a view over the park at the rear of the house. In the distance, we could see two retainers attending to the hedges and ditches separating the park from the fields beyond. The room faced West, and a watery November sun illuminated the interior of the room. A log fire provided warmth and comfort, and the room was opulently furnished with chesterfield benches and chairs upholstered with fine old leather. The floor was covered by a Turkey carpet, and the room was hung with portraits of Derringfords past; on the wall opposite the chimney breast was a landscape which to my amateur glance might have been a Gainsborough. Lady Derringford and Miss Carstairs were seated at a card table before the fire, playing bezique. As we entered, Lady Derringford stood up, surveying us with a look of mild distaste, and positioned herself by the chimney breast. Again, she was clad in mourning black. The elegant Miss Carstairs remained seated. She wore a voluminous cream skirt with a matching short jacket, over a silk blouse the colour of old gold. She gave us a nervous glance as we approached, and then looked away, avoiding our eyes. I gained the impression that our visit had instilled some sort of apprehension in her, but could not understand why. By contrast, Lady Derringford's manner was cool and distant. Her look and her very posture conveyed a reluctance to talk to us which again I found strange. Holmes opened the conversation by thanking her for receiving us at short notice, after which there was a period of silence while we awaited a reply. But Lady Derringford seemed in no hurry to move the conversation forward. She eyed Holmes icily. Eventually she said, "You have come to tell me how you propose to carry forward your search for Lord Derringford." "On the contrary, Lady Derringford, I have come to tell you that I have decided not to take on the case. I have been persuaded that it would be against the interests of England for Lord Derringford to be found before he comes of age. So I will neither do nor say anything more about the case." "And?" Lady Derringford appeared to relax a little, but her single syllable reply could hardly be said to be friendly. "I believe that George Derringford has, at my suggestion, engaged Algernon Patterson to undertake the task." Lady Derringford opened her mouth to say something, but Holmes forestalled her. "I understand he will start his work by travelling to Italy and interviewing both English and Italian associates of your late husband, and perhaps other members of the English community in that country." This information appeared pleasing to Lady Derringford, who glanced at Miss Carstairs with an expression I could not interpret. "And how do you estimate his chances of success, Mr Holmes?" Holmes appeared irritated by the question. "Patterson is a competent detective, and very diligent. You can be sure that he will leave no stone unturned in seeking the truth, however long it takes." Holmes gave emphasis to the final four words of his speech. "But you do not think he will succeed? Given what you have just said, you would hardly have recommended Patterson if you believed he was likely to find my son." Holmes had made no such suggestion, but the tone of his reply had appeared dismissive of Patterson's capabilities. "I did not say that," said Holmes, and hesitated for a few seconds. "I have told George Derringford that if there is anything to find in Italy, I am sure that Patterson is capable of uncovering it." Lady Derringford smiled, apparently reassured by the ambiguous tone of Holmes's reply. But she could not resist a final dig at the great detective. "I am sure that if the task of finding Lord Derringford is beyond your own considerable powers, then Patterson is unlikely to find what you have failed to detect." It was the worst thing she could have said. Holmes whitened, his expression disdainful. I could tell by the thinning of his lips that an angry reply would be forthcoming, and I took a step towards him hoping in vain to forestall it. "I did not say that the task was beyond my powers," said Holmes. "I merely said that I had chosen not to undertake it for the reasons which I explained to you." He looked hard at Lady Derringford and then at Miss Carstairs, and I thought for a moment that he was going to end the conversation with an abrupt departure from the room, but after a few seconds' apparent indecision, he continued. "It is evident to me that Lord Derringford is most unlikely to be in Italy, and I have heard nothing to suggest that he is lodged with any family of note in England. It is quite evident to me that you do not think for one moment that he is dead, and I therefore draw the conclusion that you have been instrumental in concealing him." Miss Carstairs stood, clumsily knocking over a chair. Her look was one of apprehension, but neither she nor Lady Derringford said anything. "It is difficult if not impossible to conceal a member of the aristocracy in this country. The chances of discovery become all the greater when the number of people who know of the deception is multiplied. I therefore deduce that you have kept the information about the noble Lord's whereabouts to the smallest circle possible. I further suggest that in order to do this, you have avoided sending him any distance away from you. Where, then, could he be concealed? The safest course, I believe, would be to conceal him close to you in plain sight. I put it to you that Lord Derringford must be in this very house. In fact," Holmes took a step towards Miss Carstairs, "probably in this very room." Miss Carstairs recoiled backwards, as if she expected Holmes to attack her, and retreated towards the windows. Her movements, hitherto so graceful and elegant, became abrupt and uncoordinated. She bumped into furniture, and almost tripped on the edge of the carpet in her effort to escape Holmes. Lady Derringford extended a reassuring hand, and appeared about to deny the truth of Holmes's suggestion, but it was Miss Carstairs who spoke first. "I see you have guessed the truth, Mr.Holmes." Her voice was somehow different - less melodious, less carefully modulated, perhaps a little deeper. "What do you intend to do now?" "I? Do? Why, nothing of course. Did I not say that I had recused myself from the task of searching..." he hesitated for a moment, "my Lord?" I looked at Holmes open-mouthed, and then at Miss Carstairs who seemed incapable of speech, breathing in great vents of breath and shaking uncontrollably. Was Holmes really suggesting that this elegant young woman was in fact Lord Derringford? Lady Derringford moved over to her and put a protective arm around her. Miss Carstairs gradually regained her composure, but Lady Derringford now found it impossible to conceal her anger. She spoke calmly but furiously. "I suppose, Mr.Holmes, that I should be pleased that you intend not to reveal what you have asserted." She did not, I noticed, acknowledge that Miss Carstairs was, in fact, the Derringford heir. "But I find your intrusion into our lives intolerable. I must ask you to leave. Immediately." She pulled on a bellrope and a few seconds later the footman we had seen previously entered the room. Holmes gave a shallow bow, and retreated from the room. Not knowing what to say, I followed him. ++++++ And that might have been the end of the story - which as an unsatisfying and inconclusive case would probably not have found its way on to these pages - were it not for an incident that took place some two years later. My wife and I were attending the opera with my colleague Smithers and his wife. It was one of those modern works by signor Puccini - full of noise and fury and passion, with an improbable ending where the heroine escapes her tormentor by leaping to her death from some battlements. Not to my taste. As we entered the theatre, two women attended by a footman brushed past me. The first was a fair-haired lady wearing a sumptuous silk gown in midnight blue, sleeveless with frills at the neck and shoulders, complemented by long black opera gloves in soft kid, extending above her elbow. A diamond bracelet was fastened around her right wrist, and she wore a matching necklace and earrings. The second woman was dark-haired with flashing, bold eyes. She wore a maroon gown, with long-sleeves buttoned at the wrist. As the skirts swirled around her legs, the colour of the material shifted - sometimes deep red, sometimes nearly black. For jewellery, she wore only a simple jet necklace; her lips were deepest red, and her eyes emphatically outlined. For a moment, I registered them only as two striking beauties - both were elegant and moved confidently through the thronging crowd - but then I was assailed by the unsettling feeling that I had seen them before. This nagging thought worried at me as we took our seats in the circle, and settled down for the first Act of the spectacle. As the lights began to dim, I perceived that the two ladies had taken a box on the same level as ourselves, diagonally opposite, some three to four yards away. The fair-haired woman was looking directly at me with a wary expression. As I returned her stare, she unfurled her fan, and hiding behind it, said something to her companion. This latter spun round to glare angrily at me. For a moment, this unwonted and odd reaction puzzled me. And then I remembered. The fair-haired lady was none other than the companion of the dowager Lady Derringford, whom Holmes had preposterously exposed as the young heir to the title. And the dark- haired companion was his bride. For shortly after Lord Derringford's twenty-first birthday, he had miraculously reappeared in London - a surprise, of course, to neither Holmes or myself, and nor to Mycroft - assumed the title, and shortly afterwards married an Italian countess after what was billed as a whirlwind romance. This countess - scion of one of the ruling family of one of those petty Italian states brushed aside some decades before by Garibaldi and Cavour - was unknown in English society, and the match caused something of a scandal at the time. Holmes and I had been invited to the wedding - presumably the dowager countess had come to understand Holmes's role in throwing George Derringford off the scent, and wished to register her gratitude for that service - and we had seen for the first, and I think only time the young Lord Derringford in his own identity. These recollections surged around my mind during the first Act, and then at the interval our party retreated with from the auditorium for refreshment. Once we had been served with drinks, I left my companions in the Crush Room, and made my way to the boxes. The footman I had seen with the two ladies as we entered the theatre was standing guard outside one of the doors, and I presented him with my visiting card, and asked for an interview with Lady Derringford (as the Italian bride had become) and her companion. The footman knocked on the door, was summoned into the box, and after quite a lengthy interval, emerged to say that the two ladies would be pleased to see me. When I entered the box, I found the two seated next to a small table on which stood a bottle of champagne and a tray of canap?s. They rose as I entered the room, the silks of their opulent gowns rustling as they stood. I motioned them to sit. Linda Carstairs (I could think of her only by that name) held my card in the fingertips of her gloved left hand, and was tapping one corner of it against her right palm. She looked at me cautiously; Lady Derringford stared hard at me, a hostile expression marring the beauty of her Mediterranean features. "Dr.Watson, how unexpected to see you once more. Have you come to make a scene?" Miss Carstairs spoke in a subdued voice, almost a whisper. Pale and nervous, her right hand trembled a little as it held my card. Lady Derringford snorted angrily, imperiously shaking her head, her raven black locks shimmering in the candle light. "No scene," I replied. "I came merely to renew our acquaintance." I hesitated. "And perhaps also to satisfy my curiosity." Linda relaxed a little. "About this?" she said, sweeping her right hand in an expansive gesture encompassing her attire and carefully made-up features. I nodded. "You have of course seen me in this guise before. Perhaps you think there is no reason for such a disguise now. And perhaps you are right. But I find it pleases me sometimes to dress in this fashion when in town. The theatre is, after all, a place for display." For a moment all was silent - save for the babble of conversation coming from the auditorium - as I considered how to respond to this statement. "But the risk?" I eventually said. Lord Derringford - Miss Carstairs - was not actually in breach of the strict (and some would say - including, I knew, Holmes - unjust) laws against unnatural relationships between men, but exposure of her occasional forays into the world of femininity would undoubtedly cause gossip, if not scandal, that would almost certainly exclude Lord Derringford from society. "The risk of discovery?" said Linda. "That is part of the spice, part of the attraction." I said nothing, absorbing this extraordinary statement, until she eventually continued, "And mayhap the risk is not so great as you think." That was perhaps true. The closed carriage, the footman in attendance, the private box - all calculated to reduce the need to mingle. But even so... I shook my head in bewilderment. "And you, Lady Derringford, does all this please you too?" If my question was unconscionably rude, Lady Derringford, who had calmed down now it seemed as though I posed no immediate threat to her companion and spouse, showed no sign of resenting it. "Non pensa che lei ? bellissima? Ed io? Sono molto contenta." She paused, and then continued in English. "There is so much more to our marriage than a masterful husband and a dutiful and obedient wife. I cannot tell you how much I value Linda's companionship." Miss Carstairs reached across the table, took Lady Derringford's hand, and smiling, squeezed it gratefully. The latter returned her smile, and then looked at me. "You see, we are both - how to put it? - quite at home with our life together." Her expression was calm and open, and quite devoid of any suggestion that she was saying anything out of the ordinary. She might have been talking about the weather. "In that case, you are most fortunate to have found each other," I said. And then, unable to grasp the simple truth of what I was being told, blundered on, "But it must have come as a shock. When did you..." "We have known each other for years," said Lady Derringford firmly. And then, with a trace of irritation, "We were introduced in Italy long before the late Lord Derringford died. We have known each other since childhood." Once again, Miss Carstairs gestured at her costume and maquillage. "We were soulmates. This was our secret game." "Perhaps not so secret," said Lady Derringford, for the first time contradicting her companion. "I always felt your mother..." "Suspected?" said Miss Carstairs, completing the sentence for her. "Perhaps. I never knew for certain. It hardly matters now." And then it all made sense. The decision to hide Lord Derringford's heir in plain sight by disguising him as Linda Carstairs, whether suggested initially by himself or by his mother, had been enthusiastically embraced by both. The success of the stratagem had been assured by its having been practised - whether in private or with his mother's silent connivance - for long years beforehand. And the romance with the now Lady Derringford had blossomed over the years, as the two had collaborated in their strange, forbidden game: the son of the great diplomat, isolated and far from home, prey to urges he did not understand, drifting into companionship with this tolerant aristocratic accomplice. I looked at them both, now serene and relaxed. "Well then, I wish you both the greatest of happiness." And then to Miss Carstairs, "You must give my regards to your mother." I inclined my head, preparing to depart. Miss Carstairs stood, seeming to give a delicate, delicious shiver at the sensation of her skirts swirling around her. "Perhaps one day you and Mrs.Watson might join us for dinner?" I thought for a moment. "Would that be sensible? An explanation would be required." Whether that explanation encompassed the reason for our being invited to share a table with two unchaperoned young women, or ventured into the dangerous territory of the habits of Lord Derringford, any meeting would without doubt pose the risk of generating gossip, whether arising from some unguarded remark or from the impossibility of keeping so great a secret. Miss Carstairs took my hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "I am sure we will find a way. Will you tell Holmes?" "That I had not thought to do." Holmes would not be shocked, but he would want to know every detail. And Mycroft would then certainly be told, with unknowable consequences for Lord Derringford's future. Miss Carstairs smiled and nodded in agreement. "It would be best, I think." I retreated from the box. As I did so, from the corner of my eye, I saw Lady Derringford in the act of closing the curtains. The two ladies stood hip to hip, each with an arm draped loosely around the waist of the other, in unmistakable, easy intimacy. As I closed the door behind me, I thought I heard the sound of a soft kiss. I rejoined my companions as they took their seats for the second Act. My own place was in the centre of our group, and my wife darted an enquiring glance at me as I struggled past her. I apologised for deserting her during the interval. "I was renewing an old acquaintance," I added, as some explanation was needed. "With the two ladies in the box who were staring at us earlier?" At times, my wife's powers of deduction semed to rival those of Holmes. "Indeed," I said as the light in the auditorium was dimmed. "I'll tell you about them later." I would need to think deeply during the second act about what, precisely, to say. At least that would distract me from the atrocious music.