“Come, Watson, I think the time is ripe for a visit to Lestrade. He has had time enough now to do as I asked”

At the Yard, the usual stolid constable escorted us not to Lestrade’s office, as I expected, but down to the cells. The inspector was grim-faced.

“I hope you know what you are doing, Mr Holmes”, he said. “I have done as you asked, and heaven knows we are all keen to see this man caught, but it is most irregular, nevertheless”.

“I take the responsibility, Lestrade, and I have told the Foreign Secretary so”.

“A word in Whitehall is not the same as a pension in my pocket. Anyhow, the deed is done”.

Lestrade motioned to the constable standing guard beside a cell door to unlock it. As the metal clanged back, I was surprised to see, lying on a neatly made up bed, the small form of Benjamin and, beside him, a thin woman whose close resemblance revealed her to be his mother, Rachel.

Holmes stepped inside the cell and beckoned for me to follow him. Lestrade squeezed in behind me, and to my surprise the door was clanged to and the bolt shot on the reverse.

“You must pardon me this melodrama, Watson,” said Holmes quickly. “We can take no chances now we are so close”. He turned to face Rachel and spoke in a low urgent tone.

“Now, Rachel, you are safe and beyond the reach of Harry Oldman, as he calls himself, and Benjamin too. You have seen the arrangements that have been made for you to be moved in secret to Gloucester, where you will live rent-free in a cottage on the country estate of a friend of mine, and the finest surgeon in London has been to see Benjamin at my expense. It is time for you to keep your side of the arrangement”.

Rachel was no more than, I judged, nineteen, and she cut a pathetic figure in her cheap black dress. But her features were clear and fine and the eyes that came up to meet Holmes’ were clearest blue and unflinching.

“I will say my piece, Sir, as I said. Have no fear on that”.

Holmes leant over her. “Then tell me, Rachel. This Oldman, the coachman, he is the real master in your household, is he not?”

Rachel nodded. “He has a hold over the master and mistress, and the young lady too, a hold like iron. He has the use of the drawing room of an evening, although not many of us know that, and he calls the master in like he was of no more account than fat Greenway – and he who should be our chief below stairs trembles when he sees Oldman pass by. And at night, Oldman sleeps in the old Blue Room, that was old Lady Haversmith’s room, and I hear that even the young lady is not safe from him when the drink is going”.

Holmes nodded impatiently. “But the hold he has, Rachel, from what root does it grow? Why does your master fear him?”

Rachel cast down her eyes and her hand stole over to that of her son. “ I cannot say, Mr Holmes, for I do not know. I know that Oldman went with the master over the Channel, on the boat train it was, to visit his company’s office in Holland, that was three months back in April, and since then he has been cock in this walk”.

Holmes loomed over her like a predatory bird. “Think, girl, think!” he expostulated. Rachel drew back and I laid a warning hand upon Holmes’ arm.

“Holmes, the girl is frightened out of her wits. She will have a brain fever if you persist in this”.

Rachel turned her remarkable eyes on me as Holmes stepped back. “That is what Oldman said, sir, when he went in to see the master for the first time after the trip abroad. He said that when he told the old man what he had learnt about Lombok, I think that was the word, that he would not be surprised if the master fell down in a brain fever”.

Holmes nodded slowly. “Thank you, Rachel. You have given me the key at last” He turned to the inspector.

“Lestrade, you will see to the arrangements, of course?”

Lestrade nodded. “She will go today, in a closed carriage with my men with her, just as we agreed, Mr Holmes, and one will stay with her until further notice. How you squared that with the Commissioner I do not know”.

“It is enough that you know that it is ‘squared’, Lestrade. Believe me, you do not want to be risking your pension knowing too much”.

Outside, in the warm air of the Embankment and the traffic, Holmes turned to me soberly.

“Watson, you have grasped the essentials, of course. Lord Haversmith is a haunted man and he and his entire household are under the thumb of this odious man, the coachman, Oldham. This business with the tiara was a means only for Haversmith to get to me without raising suspicion – he slipped it to the beggar, as you surmised: the beggar was an accomplice, a vigorous young man of his firm called Peterson. Oldman beat him so savagely that he will never walk again, got the essentials of the story, took the tiara and sent a diamond to me to taunt me. But he slipped up, as men of his class so often do. He forced the young lady of the house - a woman of rare resource, mark you – to wrap the package, and she sent me a clue that he could not read and which I did not understand, until now”.

“But Benjamin, Holmes. How does he fit into this?”

Holmes face clouded. “That is kings over twos, Watson. Oldman is a clever brute, but his master is a magician. It was at his instruction that Oldman sent the package to me by Benjamin, and at his instruction that Oldham so cruelly maimed the lad in the street before my door. Just as Oldham taunted me with the diamond about his knowledge of Haversmith’s plot, so Oldman’s master taunts me with his insight into my associates and methods, Watson. Young Benjamin is a gage thrown down in the battlefield before a battle is yet to be fought”.

“But Holmes”, I cried, “Mrs Hudson, Katie, all the staff there – they too are now at risk”

Holmes waved his arm for a cab. “My dear fellow, I have not overlooked that detail. There is a brace of prizefighters in the parlour, a dog in the yard and a small army of constables under Gregson in Baker Street. No, that covey will not be flushed – it is our turn to do the flushing now, and make our reckoning with Oldman and his master, the Giant Rat himself”.

We climbed into a hansom.

“Soho Square” called Holmes to the driver. As we moved away, he passed a heavy object wrapped in oiled silk to me. “Your Webley, Watson. I fear we may need it”.

Proceed to Part Nine