Dr Watson & Love All

Miss Oakes leaned forward in keen interest at hearing Wiggins' suggestion: "Oh, that does sound like a good idea. But the letter says I must go alone. Do you think I'll still be approached if I have two other girls with me?"

Wiggins rubbed his chin: "That's what I don't know, Miss Maude, but if I was a lackey charged with such a task I think I would not stand high in my employer's estimation if I found you waiting as agreed and didn't bring you back simply because of two other girls being with you. After all, they couldn't be the peelers, could they, because there's no such thing as female police officers, thank the Lord."

He grinned at both of us at such an impossible idea and then became serious again.

"Look, Miss Maude, if this cove who sent you the letter only wants a photo then he won't mind two more females being there. And if he's got worse planned for you, then the more the merrier, hey? No point in dwelling on such details but think of it this way. You send a servant out to buy a loaf of bread and he comes back with the loaf and two free ones as well. Well, wouldn't that servant think he'd done well and deserved praise for bringing in the extra rations? I judge that's how your collector will think and he'll let the girls come with you rather than go back to his master empty handed."

Miss Oakes nodded eagerly to show her understanding while I pondered over Wiggins’ words.

"But what instructions will you give your girls, Wiggins?"

"Well, Doctor, in the first place, to help us follow the party. There's tricks they can use. A piece of colored chalk hidden in the toe of a shoe lets you put marks on the ground to leave a trail. Very useful long skirts are for concealing that. And the girls have a notepad of green paper hanging inside their skirts with a slit in the sides to reach through, and a pencil hanging there as well, so they can write an address on the paper once they've heard it. They've learned to do that with their hands inside their skirts though it's taken them a deal of time to get the knack of it."

"For what purpose?

"Why, say they're being taken away in a cab with some of my irregulars tagging behind. Once they've heard the address they can write it down without being seen, crumple up the paper and then generally find a way of dropping it out of the cab. My lads notice that scrap of green paper, being it's such an unusual color, they read the address and then it doesn't matter if they lose the cab in the traffic, for they know where it's going."

"That's clever, Wiggins, clever," I admitted. "But what if the worse should occur and Miss Maude and your young ladies should be spirited away and lost touch with completely?"

Wiggins spread his hands apart as if making a good natured concession of a temporary check.

"Then perhaps the smoke rocket trick will work again, Doctor. And if all else fails Christina and Angel will have their pistols ready and loaded as final arguments."

"In their garter belts Mr Wiggins?" Maude asked.

He grinned: "In a manner of speaking, Miss Maude. I told you about the slits in their skirts so they can reach inside them to write a note in secret. Well, the girls each have a holster sewn onto their corsets, and they can reach in through the same slits in their skirts and produce a loaded gun in a flash. That's a trick which usually takes the villains by surprise."

"But would they be prepared to use the firearms if necessary?" I asked. "After all, they are only females."

"Bless you, doctor," Wiggins said cheerfully, "Angel and Chrissy were brought up in the docks around Wapping. They'd blow up Parliament for me if I promised them a guinea apiece and a bottle of gin to share afterwards. Were you to look at their bonnets closely you'd find each of the little demons has got a cut throat razor blade sewn into the brim. Some sailors who pressed the chase too closely on that pair have gone back aboard with more stitches in their faces than in their sails."

"Good gracious," Miss Watson responded. "They seem like useful companions to have. But what about me? Can I also take a pistol with me?"

Wiggins chuckled and held up a warning finger: "Ah, it takes a while how to deal comfortably with a loaded pistol, Miss Maude. Accidents can happen very easily. The last thing we'd want is for you to be having a sudden explosion going off in your underclothing."

This time I was almost sure that Miss Oakes was on the verge of hysteria as she bent forward with her shoulders shaking. Yet when I offered my assistance she waved me away and tapped at her throat as if clearing it from a coughing attack.

"No, Miss Maude," Wiggins continued. "Pistols are fearfully dangerous things to be carried around unless you've been trained to them. But if you were to have an empty gun you couldn't do yourself any harm with that, and any blaggard you point it at won't know it's empty. Of course you'd have to come back to my office for the girls to fit you up with a holster."

"A holster? Sewn onto my corsets?"

"Oh, I think we might have one in your size already. One of our special sets of ladies' undergarments I mean. The girls will find you somewhere you can use as a fitting room. And they can tell you some of the tricks of their line of work before we go to work this afternoon."

This was all happening far too hastily for my peace of mind.

"Wait a moment, Wiggins" I said. "I don't like this at all. To put Miss Oakes in danger merely because of a stolen tennis racquet still seems to me to be the height of foolishness. Miss Maude, I beg of you, please reconsider the whole matter and simply reconcile yourself to playing with a new racquet."

She shook her head and then stood up as straight backed with pride as a British Grenadier under fire: "No, Doctor, I thank you for your concern and for your help but I am determined to go ahead with this venture. I'm sure I can do no better than place myself in Mr Wiggins' capable hands."

"And very welcome you'll be in them, I'm sure, Miss Maude," Wiggins answered heartily. I thought for a second I saw him wink at her as he spoke but I must have been mistaken. He would never have dared to be so familiar with a well bred client.

"Very well," I conceded. "If that is your decision, Miss Maude, I can only applaud your courage and wish you God speed. Wiggins, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why, no, Doctor, I don't think so, not at the moment. But if you were to stay here I'd know where to send for you if required."

"Very well. The best of luck to both of you."

I felt desperately ill used by circumstances as the pair of them left. Both young, strong determined, ready for anything. And all I was fit for was to doze beside the fireside like a rheumatic old blood hound. Curse this gout!

Yet there is one odd circumstance about that meeting I still have to recount. For as he was leaving Wiggins suddenly noticed my top hat on the stand and turned back to me.

"Doctor, could I ask a favor and beg for the loan of your stethoscope."

"Good Lord, what do you want that for?" I asked.

"It's for a purpose I can't explain now. But I'll see you get it back very soon."

"Very well, go ahead and take it."

Wiggins picked up my hat and removed the stethoscope from its usual carrying place inside the crown.

"Thank you, Doctor."

The door closed and I sat alone by the fireplace again, waiting to hear the sound of Wiggins' hail for a cab coming through the opened window. Oddly, though, after about five minutes I still hadn't heard his voice and I wondered if their departure had been delayed for some reason. I rose, hobbled to the door and opened it. And down below I heard some odd high pitched cries, almost human in tone.

'Not that confounded parrot?' I thought to myself. 'Wiggins is surely not wasting his time with Mrs Hudson's parrot when matters are so urgent?'

Yet there were certainly some strange noises coming from below, sounding almost like a woman in distress. I went down the staircase a few steps and leaned over to look down into the hall. And there I saw a most unexpected sight. Miss Oakes was standing by Mrs Hudson's door listening to the squawking sounds coming from the other side of the door -- not only listening, but with the stethoscope horns in her ears and the other end of the tube pressed flat against the door. Clearly she could thus overhear in great detail what was occurring in the room and she seemed totally preoccupied in her eavesdropping. In fact her face was flushed scarlet, her lips were wide open and her eyes seemed to be on the verge of bulging out of her head.

I could make nothing of this. If Maude was so interested in whatever Wiggins was doing with Mrs Hudson's parrot, surely she could have entered the room with him? And what was Wiggins thinking of to leave his client waiting in the hall while he played the part of an amateur vet with a moody macaw? That was no way to run a business.

Above all, though, I could make no sense of Maude's behavior. What on earth could Wiggins be doing inside Mrs Hudson's room that could have such an affect on the young lady? And then my astonishment became complete as I saw Miss Oakes kneel down with the stethoscope still at her ears and then place her eye against the keyhole of the door.

Well, here was a mystery that Holmes himself might have trouble in solving. It would certainly be a very difficult situation if Mrs Hudson opened the door to find Maude seemingly intent on spying into her quarters. And all because of a parrot! Which had now started calling out in a way which sounded like some fragment of human speech screeched out over and over again: two words, in fact. I couldn't quite catch the first one but the second sounded like "Me". "Duck me" or "Buck me", or some similar piece of nonsense that the bird must have picked up somewhere.

Amazing creatures, parrots, to imitate a woman's voice so well, though not worthy of the attention that Maude was giving to this specimen. Her whole posture was of total fixation on the sounds coming through the stethoscope and on whatever she was glimpsing through the keyhole. Truth to tell, I thought rather badly of Wiggins for letting Maude have the use of instrument. It was, after all, a medical device and therefore meant to be used by doctors, not women.

I could only conclude that there must be some good reason for the girl's behavior, odd as it presently appeared. After all, how many times had I seen Sherlock Holmes behave in an entirely inexplicable manner, only to discover afterwards that he'd had excellent reasons for doing so? This must be another such mystery which I would ask Wiggins to explain to me when next we met.

I therefore returned quietly to my room and pondered over the strange twist of fate which had come my way that morning. Strange, indeed, and yet all I could do to was to brood the afternoon away in my armchair whilst the game was afoot. If only Holmes was here!

Yet perhaps he was, in spirit at least, because I presently found myself feeling like Holmes himself at the prospect of a new case unfolding. Ennui replaced by energy, weariness by well being, a racing of the blood akin to an old soldier's salute to a passing regimental band. Where the prospect of action had Holmes pacing the rooms like a caged tiger I was affected to a much lesser but altogether beneficial degree, to the extent that my attack of gout faded away as quickly as it had come. I can offer no medical reason for this transformation but I was certain it was the excitement of the case and the thrill of the chase which was the stimulus for my sudden recovery. At any event, by the early afternoon I was walking around the rooms of 221B with complete ease.

The question was, what use should I make of this newly granted freedom? I had implied to Wiggins that I would remain at Baker Street for the afternoon, but circumstances alter cases. My circumstances had changed, I was able to walk again and it seemed intolerable to remain cooped up whilst the case was unfolding. Neither did there seem much point in going around to Wiggins office merely to wait there for news.

No, I would go to Euston Station, I would be on platform six at three o'clock and serve as another pair of eyes. Whoever Mr 'Ardent Admirer' was he could have no idea that Miss Oakes had come to Sherlock Holmes' consulting rooms and even if he did it was very unlikely that he or his servants would know me by sight. So I could be just another passenger on the platform. Wiggins' people would also be watching and they probably wouldn't know me either, nor I them, but it was no matter. If I saw anything that Wiggins should know about I could quickly get word to Coneysale Road. No, there was no reason why I no attend at the miscreant's planned rendezvous and watch matters unfold. No harm could come from that, provided I remained at a discreet distance.

Whether or not I should try to follow Maude and her companions if they were led away was a different matter. As eager as I was to do so I might get in the way of Wiggins' watchers and distract them from the job in hand. No matter how I turned the matter over in my mind I found that I could not change my decision on that score. The tracking must be left to the professionals, leaving me behind with my fingers crossed in hope of their success. The beginning and ending of my involvement in the hunt would be at Euston, and only there.

Well, so be it. No chance for Watson to play the role of a knight in shining armor rescuing the fair damsel in distress. Regrettable, though at least I would have something to tell Holmes about when he returned. Little enough, no doubt, compared to his exploits amongst the bandits of the Balkans, but each of us must live our lives as they are doled out to us, whether in full or sparse ration.

The clock at Euston station still lacked a few minutes to three o'clock as I made my way down platform six in an unusually warm and humid atmosphere. The strong sunlight remained undimmed by any passing clouds and the acres of glass panels overhead were acting something in the manner of a greenhouse. Those closest to this trapped heat were the pigeons sitting on the maze of sooty girders underneath the station roof, most of them preferring to doze rather than taking wing to forage for food scraps.

Far below their perches a great mass of mankind was behaving very differently, either bustling around in great energy or waiting impatiently for their scheduled conveyance. Indeed, any curious bird might have wondered what had made a normally busy concourse even busier. But it would taken a very perspicacious pigeon indeed to notice that so many family groups of Homo Sapiens had left their dwellings today, or that the reason for this might have been deduced from the small buckets and spades some of the younger members of the species were clutching.

On the other hand the railway company porters, perspicacious or not, knew very well that this was the height of the holiday season, and that every Briton and his family were making their annual pilgrimage to the seaside. Many tips were being offered and accepted for the prompt movement of bags and baggage as Londoners followed the rest of the nation on their march to the beaches. There the children would build their sand castles and the adults would paddle in the salt water, their yearly tribute to the element which provides our passage to that one quarter of the world's population fortunate enough to live under the civilizing influence of the British Empire.

And, of course, to reach the sea, a Londoner first has to catch a train. Which was why I was finding it easy to move along the platform without drawing attention to myself. Not only was it crowded, but it was crowded with Paters and Maters and their offspring clustered together in chattering groups, the parents struggling to keep their children and luggage from getting mixed up with the adjoining families. I therefore chose the tactic of slowly circling each group and thus remaining behind cover as I kept my eyes skinned for Miss Oakes. I did not wish her to see me if possible because such a change in arrangements might startle and confuse her. A tactic which I carried out with success, though not at all in the way I had anticipated.

A man walking past me briskly suddenly checked his steps like a wherry hitting a king wave, his head swinging over as sharply as a gybed stun'sl. And when I followed his gaze I was rather stunned myself. Three girls were standing in a small group on their own, no men, no porters, no baggage. All three of them were wearing pure white linen dresses embroidered with pink silk ribbons: on their heads were wide brimmed white hats, also beribboned and additionally decorated with pink flowers. In their hands the girls idly swung matching white and pink folded parasols. The whole effect would have been utterly charming even if the girls had not been what they were.

It was the one on the left I looked at first, and drew in my breath in appreciation, for she was tall and graceful with a figure that Reuben himself could have drawn inspiration from, full yet fine lined, and a joy to behold. Behind her proud head was a neat bun of blonde hair, her pleasant features carried a broad smile and even at my distance from the group I could sense her joy in the constant self awareness of her youth and beauty. Indeed, it was that unbounding essence of life in her which even an artist of genius could have only hinted at. My eyes moved across to her companion and my jaw, I'm sure, fell open in shock. For both of the girls was alike as two peas in a pod, alike in form and in face, even alike in the dab of freckles across both pert noses.

Twins! Twin sisters! And how odd that they should look so fashionable without being members of the upper classes. Which I was sure they were not, because such a matching pair of beauties would have certainly have featured in the pages of the society papers had their family any claim at all to public attention. I sought to see the features of the third white clad girl in the hope of gaining a clue as to their identity. For the moment, I freely admit, I had almost forgotten about Miss Oakes, as I tried to catch a glimpse of the face hidden behind the twins' hats.

Suddenly the tallest of the figures raised her head to look up at the platform clock, my view was unblocked and I was struck such a paralyzing blow of shock as must have befallen Lot's wife as she looked back at the destruction of Sodom. My search for Maude Oakes was over and I almost fell backwards onto a providentially empty bench seat, where I could both mop my brow and also hid my face behind the handkerchief as I tried to come to terms with the unexpected circumstances I had fallen into.

From Wiggins' descriptions of his girls I had imagined two gaunt, tangled hair drabs with shifty eyes wearing cast off clothing. Of course a moment's reflection would have led me to realize that the more attractive his agents, the better the chances of them being taken away with Maude. But even so, that the young detective could have produced twin sisters dressed in the height of fashion and looking like Duke's daughters was beyond my comprehension. And why the devil was Maude dressed in the same way as . . . hmm . . . yes, Angel and Chrissie? Why had the calico print brown dress she had worn at Baker Street been replaced with the same fashionable dresses as the sisters?

Well, one more quick glance was enough to answer that question. Because Angel and Chrissie were tall and good looking and blonde, and in those virginal white and pink dresses they could have charmed the Lord Chief Justice of England off his bench with the wink of a sparkling eye. But with Maude with them, in the same rig, it was as if all the golden Maidens of the Rhine had come to life together and to London for their spring outfits. As a trap to catch a libertine, a man who lusted after strapping young women like Maude, it was a trap with the best bait imaginable displayed inside its iron jaws. Perhaps the only thing which would appeal more to the depraved lusts of 'The Ardent Admirer' than Maude herself would be the opportunity to commit gross outrages on a pair of twin sisters held at his pleasure. If his messenger knew anything at all about his master's tastes he would know that much, and happily, thrice happily, take all the girls with him, as we hoped he would do.