The Devonshire Epicurean Society

"Well... for starters, he's obviously a 'day laborer,' from his modest work-attire, the dust clinging to them, and the dirt still under his fingernails, he hadn't had time to brush them off, or scrub under them deep enough. Probably a brick-layer or hod carrier of some sort - there appeared to be some sort of brick-like clay still clotted to the soles of his work-boots."

"Yes... go on..."

"His bowler hat seemed not to match the rest of his outfit - possibly from his only good dress suit, worn solely on Sundays, for church attendance. Also, there seemed to be a residue of hair grease mixed with clippings inside the headband, indicating that he'd recently had time for a decent haircut, but not enough to have the hat itself both cleaned and blocked, demonstrating the truth of his meager income at present, at least!"

"Yes, yes - very good, so far! Please go on... "

"Also, by the diffident manner in which he held the fine china teacup, seemed to say to me that he wasn't used to being in the constant presence of gentlemen, as he'd referred to you and I. But - that's about it, all I can glean from first meeting him, I'm afraid, Holmes!

"Oh, Watson - have I not taught you enough? You've missed out on two very important, very key items! Tell me... didn't you notice a rather familiar aroma, as you'd entered up the stairs? One that should indicate something that he'd omitted in telling us about his family?"

I dwelt on this point a moment - then, it slowly began to dawn on me! "Yes, now that you mention it... there was a rather peculiar smell, almost like that of..."

"Livestock, Watson," Holmes interrupted, "more precisely - cow dung! And, if I'm not mistaken, our Mr. Arthur Ermine spoke with a distinctly Yorkshire accent! Yorkshire, Watson - farm country! Our client has indeed fallen on hard times, descending from being a cattle farmer, to a common laborer! And - what's more - from these observations I believe we can extrapolate at least two very important facts about our Audrey."

"And - what would those be, Holmes?"

He smiled at his own cleverness. "One, that she was raised on a fairly healthy farm diet, of good beef, pork, vegetables, and grains. And, second..." he paused for emphasis, "...she most likely was a virgin, at least when she left her home, the farm, for her new position!"

"Really, Holmes?" I marveled, "You never cease to amaze me with these brilliant leaps to conclusions! You always make it seem so, very..."

"Elementary, Watson? I keep telling you, over and over - all the evidence is right there, right in front of your eyes, your ears - and even, your very nose! In the science of criminal deduction, you must learn to use all of your senses combined. And - I do believe our olfactory sense may come in quite indispensable in pursuit of this case! Tell me, dear chap - can you possibly find it to take some time off from your practice for a few days, to join me in this investigation?"

I but gave it a moment's thought. "Well, yes, Holmes, I suppose I could put upon my nearest medical colleague to handle any of my cases for the next couple of days, my nurse could go assist him as well... if only to see you up and about, again!"

"Splendid! Why not go back home, then, and explain to that dear wife of yours that you're needed out of town for the next several days, perhaps an important medical conference or some such? I'll have Mrs. Hudson make up your old bedroom. And, Watson - one more important thing..."

"Yes?"

"Make sure to bring both your traveling medical kit back with you - and, your trusty service revolver, just in case! Let us hope they're not both needed!"

* * *

I arrived back at Baker Street that evening, with both of the requested items, changes of clothes, and toilet articles.

The next morning, after breakfast, Holmes and I were paid a visit by some very old, yet young, acquaintances: "The Baker Street Irregulars." This was a group of four or five young lads, who - from our earliest cases on (see:"A Study In Scarlet") served as both our eyes and ears on the street, so to say, picking up stray bits of information here and there that the ordinary policeman on the beat would doubtlessly overlook. But, during the passing decade or so, they had all grown up into handsome, strapping young men, most of them clerks or tradesmen or sorts, and still always eager to help Holmes in his investigations. They were another welcome sight!

After exchanging pleasantries all around, the nominal leader of the group, an energetic youth named Jock, who had apprenticed himself to a professional draughtsman, produced some papers from a folder, laying them out on the study table, for all to see.

"It's quite a coincidence, Mr. Holmes, you asking about any unusual developments out towards Devonshire lately! There's a rather large manor house in the vicinity of Princetown, that was purchased by an unknown group of buyers - a 'consortium', I believe they're called - who then contacted my employer about drawing up plans for some renovations, or improvements, as they'd described them, most specifically in the kitchen and pantry areas. Here, have a look..."

He smoothed out some builder's blueprints on the tabletop.

"My boss'd have my guts for garters, if he knew I was showin' you this, but - it's alright, these aren't the originals, I made these tracings of them in my spare time! Take a look, here, at this..."

We followed where his fingers traced over some rather unusual items.

"Just look at the size of those ovens! Immense, and the very newest gas-fired brick-hearths, with glass windows built right into the doors - to see what you're cookin' I'd suppose! And three of them! They had to be imported from France, at a pretty penny, I can tell you! And, here - across from them, on the other side of the pantry - a huge, walk-in meat locker, cooled by the very latest electric-powered air compressors, no blocks of ice necessary there! Very large kitchen-prep tables too, several of them! Naturally, we'd advised these gents - and they were swells, you should've seen how's they was dressed - to add an addition on to the original area, to accommodate all this expensive equipment. They didn't blink an eye at our estimates, just peeled off the banknotes from a wad big enough to choke a horse, so's I'm told!"

He looked quizzically at us, as the other lads watched and listened.

"Now, what do ya' think they needed all that special, fancy equipment for, then? What were they plannin' on cookin' in there - a side o' beef, a whole roast ox, or stag, even? Don't you always roast one o' them over a bed of hot coals, on a spit, outdoors? And - wait, that reminds me - they even had several o' those planned for, an' built - just outside the summer-kitchen area! Kinda' queer, ain't it, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes merely smiled. "Queer, indeed, Jock - quite so, my boy!"

Jock gathered up his blueprints, and Holmes generously paid each of the young men several gold sovereigns before they trooped back out through our door.

After lunch, Holmes and I made our way down to the Newmarket section of London, where many of the city's greengrocers, butchers, and other foodstuff vendors had their stalls, and stores. Eventually, we wound up at the establishment of one "Moskowitcz & Sons," a fine butcher of some local repute. After inquiring of the owner, one Theodor Moskowitcz, a large, red-faced, beefy Pole, wiping bloodied hands on his meat-cutter's apron, came out from behind the counter to answer our questions.

"Shure, shure - I remember dem - I called on dem, soon's I heard dey move into dat beeg house out dere, from cousins in area. I figger - dey have beeg house, dey trow beeg parties, dey need much food - much meat to feed 'em! But - dey no wants! Dey say, 'we have meat taken care of, t'ank you very much!' I try to tell dem, we have good, reech, Yorkshire beef, and nice tasty pork, spring lamb - but dey no interested! Dey say, 'we only want, eat, finest of meat - we haf our own suppliers, t'ank you!' I try again sometime later, get dem to buy some nice squab and rock Cornish hen, but - 'only for appetizers, dey say - 'not main course'! I t'ink dere is something strange, dere - where else dey gonna get good beef or pork - is no farms around dere for many miles!"

Holmes was intrigued. "Tell me, Mr. Moskowitcz - did you happen to notice anything unusual about the house, and grounds, while you were there - anything 'out of the ordinary'?"

The man thought a minute, then - suddenly his face brightened with recognition.

"Yah, yah - now I remember! Dere was large, wooden building, down a piece - behind da main house! Was long and narrow - remind me of cattle, or maybe, horse barn, even! But, he looked directly at us. I no t'ink it an animal barn at all, didn't have smell, like horse or cow!"

"Did it look fairly new - at least, newer than the original house?"

"Yah, meybe it did, at dat! But - couldn't get closer look, beeg fellows, reel tough looking, kept me from getting too close! I t'ink meybe dey had guns, too!"

Holmes seemed satisfied. "Thank you very much, Mr. Moskowitcz - your keen observations have been extremely helpful! Good day!"

As we were leaving his shop for the street, the burly fellow came running out the door towards us.

"Ey, 'ey - Meester Holmes! I t'ink meybe you be wantin' to have dis!"

We stopped, and waited, while he approached, holding out what appeared to be a small paper card in his roughened hand.

"I remember - I ask dem for beezness card, in case dey change mind later! But - I no t'ink I want dere beezness dat bad! 'Ere - you take!"

Holmes accepted it graciously, as the man returned to his shop. We both studied it intently. It appeared to be made of fine, heavyweight card stock, raised and embossed. In very tasteful, elegant sans-serif script, it read:

"The Devonshire Epicurean Society"

"Catering to the Discriminating Gourmand,

With the 'jaded palate'"

* * *

Holmes had dinner that evening with his elder brother Mycroft, who was still in residence in his old rooms in the Diogenes Men's Club in the Pall Mall, while I myself made do with Mrs. Hudson's more humble fare, and studied the news accounts of the missing girls, at Holmes' request. It seems that more than a few of the missing young women had also applied for positions as domestic help through the very same employment agency as the unfortunate Audrey Ermine. There were other occurrences as well, as when a young Chinese lass was kidnapped in broad daylight in Limehouse, and a pretty young Hindu girl suddenly went missing from her family's restaurant in Soho. And, of course, there was the case of the visiting young American, Catherine Celeste, who had apparently vanished without a trace from her locked hotel room! In any event, the pictures that were available of these girls showed an almost uniform beauty and desirability - but, to what sinister ends?

The next several days were spent in making discrete inquiries on my part of the various police jurisdictions where the missing young women were last seen, with little fruition, while Holmes was out more often than in, "following his own leads," as he liked to say. Eventually, Saturday had arrived, and on his somewhat cryptic note of the night before, when I was already asleep, I was given instructions to go out and rent the very best eveningwear that I could afford, and return no later than 5:00 PM sharp. I acquired a fairly decent white tie-and-tails outfit from a Saville Row haberdashery, and arrived back at our flat just fifteen minutes earlier. As I could hear from the bustling in the direction of Holmes' bedroom, he was already there and preparing for the evening. He called out to me as I waited patiently in the sitting room.

"I was able, Watson, by way of Mycroft's invaluable society connections through the Diogenes Club, to procure some very rare, difficult-to-obtain invitations for avery special 'dinner party' that's apparently held about every fortnight or so out at that rather mysterious Devonshire mansion. The original guests were both 'first-timers' to these soirees, so I'm told, but were both indisposed due to the nasty flu virus still going around, and - as luck would have it - it's to be held again tonight at 8:00 PM sharp, so, therefore - we will be attending in their place!"

He emerged from his room into the anterior one, wearing a very-expensive-looking evening formalwear, similar to my own, along with a matching cloak, top hat, and walking stick. A rather conspicuous red silk pocket square completed the outfit. Holmes had also apparently made use of the stage-actor's makeup kit that he'd received in lieu of payment for services rendered some years ago now, judging by the white hairpiece and matching old-style "mutton chop" sideburns, making him appear years older than his true age. He'd also added some padding to his suit, to appear some twenty - thirty pounds heavier across his mid-section. A monocle eyeglass finished the disguise. Brandishing the two engraved invitations with a dramatic flourish, he handed the other to me.

"I shall be the Right Honourable Sir Joseph O'Halloran, retired magistrate from the old Bailey, and titled landowner in County Down, Eire. And you, Watson - you shall be the distinguished Doctor James Worthing, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, late of the Coldstream Guards, and currently - Physician Ordinary to H.R.H., the Prince of Wales!"

I was both taken aback, and rather flustered!

"Really, Holmes - did you have to make us out to be such prominent society 'elite'?"

"It's essential, dear fellow, for our entry into a very select inner circle! Only the 'crème de la crème' are granted access to an affair such as this one! We must hurry, to catch the five-fifteen from Victoria Station. And, most important - bring your bag, and sidearm! I fear they may be needed!"

Holmes smiled, and I saw again that old familiar gleam in his piercing eyes, the keen intelligence ignited once more.

"Come, Watson, come! Once again – the game is afoot!"

* * *

The countryside of Devonshire is best reached by rail, about an hour and a half southwest of London proper. Formerly rich, fertile farmland, it now consisted of lush green fields and crystal-clear streams, broken only here and there by wooded forests, and the occasional small, country cottage. As we journeyed on to our destination, Holmes sat across from me in the rail-car, customarily-silent, lost deep in thought with his hands folded and chin on the cane-top, eyes forward, only occasionally flicking a glance out the car windows at the passing bucolic scenery. After a while of this, apropos of nothing, he suddenly spoke aloud.

"Tell me, Watson... in your travels, and readings... have you ever heard of the phrase... long pig?"

I thought for a moment.

"Why, yes, Holmes, I do believe I've read that someplace... seems it originated with the native tribesman on the island of New Guinea... something to do with the eating of - of..."

I was suddenly aware of an awakening "sixth sense" of danger!

"Oh, good Lord, Holmes - you don't mean - you aren'tserious..."

"I'm always serious, Watson, when approaching a new case! I only suspect, but - always wait to weigh all the evidence at hand, before reaching a conclusion! Surely you know me better than that by now?"

"But, surely - you can't really mean it? Tell me this is only your black sense of humor, coming to the fore..."

Holmes regarded me with reproach.

"What is the lesson we've long since learned by now, Doctor? That when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, howeverimprobable..."

"Yes, yes - I know - whatever remains, must be thetruth! But,this- this is just -unbelievable!"

"Nonetheless, the night is still young, Watson - and, rife with possibilities! Let us put this matter aside for now, and enjoy the rest of our journey to our destination, at least!"

With that he sank back into his reverie, and left me to contemplate the events to come.

* * *

After reaching Princetown Station, we disembarked, and entered a waiting livery-carriage, one of several that were to pick up other passengers as well - presumably, more of the dinner party guests. We traveled a winding country road for some miles, past a small village or two, until a rather large, impressive estate came gradually into view on the horizon, on the edge of some woods, miles from any nearest town, with a sizeable Tudor mansion at its' center, at the end of a long, narrow lane. The sign on the lane's double-gate read:

"125 Forest view Lane

No Solicitors

Trespassers Will Be Detained"

There were two rather burly-looking guards by the gate, who stopped us upon approach, examined our invitations, and then waved us along. As we neared the immense, white-colonnaded main entrance, there was a dark-haired, well-manicured, mustached gentleman in tuxedo, waiting on the front steps, with an ingratiating smile and manner.

"Welcome, welcome my honored guests! Welcome to tonight's dinner of the Epicurean Society! My thanks to you both for being able to attend!" He took our invites, and glanced at them both. "Sir Joseph, and - Dr. Worthing, do I have the honor of addressing? This is your first visit with us, I believe, is it not? My name is Monsieur Andre Dolcett, and I bid welcome to you both!"

Holmes answered for both of us, in his practiced, "officious" tone of voice.

"Yes, Msr. Dolcett, you were most gracious to extend this very generous invitation to us both! I've long heard about the gala evenings that are held here, and, especially," He gave an ever-so-slight, conspiratorial wink at the man. "Theexquisitecuisine that is served!"

Dolcett gave a knowing laugh.

"Ha, ha - yes, you have heard right, Sir Joseph! We pride ourselves on serving up only the VERY finest cuts of 'tender young meat', prepared and cooked precisely at their 'prime'! Would you gentlemen please follow me this way, if you'd like to see the rest of the house, and mingle with our other guests..." He turned to lead us inside

"If you don't mind, Msr. Dolcett - I mean to say, if it really isn't any bother - both the good Doctor and I would like a tour of the kitchen, first! I'm sure we'll have time enough to meet our fellow gastronomes at the dinner table, later!" He gave the unctuous fellow another knowing leer.

"But of course, Sir! I can see that you're a true gourmand, and anxious to see our rather 'special methods of preparation,' no? Then, please, follow behind me!"

Again, we moved to follow him through the ornate doorway.

Once inside, we entered by way of a spacious foyer into a very large social room, which was filled almost to capacity with a milling crowd of elegantly and fashionably dressed men and women, perhaps twenty-five or thirty, from their early thirties, I gathered, on up through perhaps seventy or so, all holding forth in conversations, in twos, threes, and larger groups. These were attended to by a uniformed wait-staff with trays of both champagne and various mixed drinks in impeccable crystal glasses, replacing the empties with filled ones as quickly as possible.

But, what caught my eye was the social make-up of the group! There were a number of both titled nobility and peers of the realm, with some other familiar faces fromThe Times society page as well!

"My God, Holmes, look - there's the Duke of Marlborough, and Lady Jane Atwater, over there's Baron Helmsley, and Lord Walcott! I believe I spy a few earls, viscounts, and both the Duke and Duchess of Kent! Fully half of Debrett's Peerage is here tonight!