While Holmes continued to examine the string, I berated myself for not getting from my small patient the name, or at the very least, the description of the man who directed him to deliver the package and the knotted string to Holmes.

When I said as much to my friend, he waved my apology aside with a languid hand.

“You would have gotten nothing but a lie or stubborn silence. Little Benjamin was warned by the rascal in no uncertain terms what terrible things would happen if he told us his identity.” Holmes gnawed at his lower lip. “As we saw, this brute delivers upon his threats.”

His brows came together and his face darkened. In a voice that vibrated with anger, he declaimed, “If I had his neck between my hands now… Few murderers sink so low as to harm a helpless child.” His fingers clenched and twisted the knotted string.

“So you think that Benjamin knew who the man was?”

“Of course he knew!” Holmes almost shouted with asperity. “Oh, little Benjamin knew him as well as our precious clients know little Benjamin. Keeping mum, especially in front of them, may have saved him a further torment. It might have spared his sister one as well.”

Holmes rose and began to pace the floor. “His assailant must be connected with the house of Haversmith. Probably the coachman or the footman. I noticed both at the coach parked outside when I dashed out after milord and his daughter. The latter servant wasted no time in assisting his employers inside it and vaulting up sprightly atop the box. The former is a burly man, adroit at maneuvering a high spirited pair quickly through heavy traffic. He may be just as skillful in dislocating limbs.”

“What about the son? Remember what the lady exclaimed when she rushed into our rooms, and that her father stopped her from saying more.”

“Possibly. She wanted my help in her brother’s behalf; therefore she fears he is in trouble.”

“Or the cause of trouble,” I pointed out.

“Hmm. I did not see him, but that did not mean he was not lurking nearby, or even hidden behind the closed curtains of the coach.” He paused, and I could see he was thinking over all that was said by both father and daughter. “He also stopped her from imputing the crime to the servants. Insisted most vehemently that none of them were involved.”

“The tweeny?” I interjected. “Maybe Ben’s sister gave Ben the parcel.”

Holmes looked at me through shrewd eyes. “Siblings can be cruel, but usually they are not so cruel that they would twist off legs. Besides, Ben said he gave him the package.”

He took his pipe from the mantel. “‘These people have been with us forever,’” he quoted. “How old is the average house-kitchen maid, Watson?”

I shrugged. “Fourteen? Sixteen?”

“As young as twelve, if she’s just starting out in service. Two, four, even six years, is not ‘forever’.

“She’s Cockney and one of the working, if not criminal classes,” he went on. “That we know from her being Benjamin’s sister. Wiggins’ ‘Irregulars’ are our good friends, but they are street Arabs. London servants are seldom ‘old retainers’. Mrs. Hudson can confirm that they’re far too independent to stay in a place more than three or four years. Either they are dismissed for theft or pregnancy or some act of insubordination, or they move onward and upward.”

“My late wife would agree with you, bless her soul,” I said with a sigh.

Holmes resumed his pacing, as though he had not heard me. “What can we surmise about Ben’s assailant and the giver of our ‘gift’? He’s a strong, agile man, with a quick, violent temper. And he assaulted Benjamin very close to this house.”

“How can you deduce all that?” I asked, awestruck.

“Really, Doctor,” my friend replied impatiently. “How far do you think our little friend could have hobbled or hopped on a dislocated leg?”

“A few inches.” I thought over the pitiful scene in our hallway. “The cartilage was not badly torn. The tissues were not greatly inflamed. The boys could have carried him here.”

“Not from very far, you must admit. Those lads are all small and ill nourished. Two or more could not have carried him without handling his leg and making the damage worse. Even Wiggins could not have piggy-backed him more than half a block.”

“So this happened outside our front steps?” I said, aghast.

“Practically. Wiggins and his other lads might have seen it happen. I must question them after they’ve eaten. Or little Benjamin was lured away from them into the mews behind, by someone he knew and either feared or trusted.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Wiggins would not let so young and new a recruit go off unsupervised. Benjamin was enticed away by some fear or loyalty even greater than what he owed to his chief.”

Holmes flung himself into his chair with an angry ‘Tchah!’ He looked up at me. “Wiggins must be as disgusted as I am over this,” he said with a faint smile.

“He won’t take it out on Benjamin, will he?”

Holmes shook his head. “I’ll talk to him; but I’m sure he’ll agree the boy’s suffering is punishment enough. I’m also sure that he’s as eager as I am to bring justice home to the scoundrel. Wiggins takes good care of his own.”

He cleaned his pipe and filled it with his favourite coarse shag.

“Both father and daughter recognized little Ben. I wonder how strong is the resemblance between him and his sister. How strong the relationship is between them as well. Did he visit her at the Haversmiths? If so, how frequently? Did he see the family? Did they speak? Did he know the other members of the household - say, the coachman and the footman?”

“Who you believe assaulted him, and sent him to you with the box with the diamond inside.”

“And with the string outside. Don’t forget the string. The coachman was strong enough to twist Ben’s leg, or to hold him down while the footman did it. Most householders who employ a footman use him to carry and deliver packages. No one would look twice at the Haversmiths’ footman carrying a package around town. Ben met the man - or men - twice without the knowledge of his ‘keeper‘: when he received the box, and when he reported back to him or to them with the fallen string. He didn’t cry out until the damage was done to him and the man gone, which meant first, that his assailant had somehow caught him off his guard, which leads me to believe that Benjamin knew the man and was fairly comfortable around him, and two, that the man was quick to hide himself from Wiggins and the other boys.”

I had an inspired thought. “What if the brute was little Ben’s ‘keeper’?”

Holmes looked up. “Very good, Watson! It is possible that Wiggins has a spy or two in his ranks.”

He cupped the bowl of his pipe in his hand, lit it, and drew on it. “But who is behind it all? This person, or the person behind him, sent me a puzzle. He - or she - either believed I could decode this message, or believed that I would fail, and thus sent it to taunt me.”

“Part of it is missing, you say.”

“Yes.” Holmes sighed. “Part of it is missing. Perhaps the most important part.”

He brooded over the lengths of knotted string. “This part came with the box. This part came away from the box when Benjamin handed it to Mrs. Hudson. How did that happen?” He shrugged. “One, or more, parts are missing. Who has it? Where is it now? And what would all the parts disclose to us?”

“And what do they have to do about the missing tiara?”

“Or about the paste tiara. We haven’t seen either yet, and we have only the Haversmiths’ word that the one now in their possession is a fake.”

“I agree the servants are the most likely culprits, Holmes. One or more of them could substitute the paste copy for the genuine tiara. We don’t know who was carrying the box it was in. What if it was the footman?”

“Or the housemaid. Or Lady Haversmith’s personal maid. Or our little friend’s sister the tweeny, if she had access to her Ladyship’s bedroom.”

A question occurred to me. “Wouldn’t the jewels be kept inside a safe, Holmes?”

“They should be. It’s a point we must investigate. If there is a safe, where is it and who has access to its combination?”

He frowned. “Also, who knew that the Haversmiths would consult me?”

“Scotland Yard?”

“If that is so, I’m surprised that Lestrade has not battered down our door by now. I wonder if the theft has been reported to the police.”

“Holmes! Surely the Haversmiths … !”

My friend held up a hand. “A policeman on a doorstep is bad ton, my dear Watson. It implies that the respectable family within might not be so respectable. Some people would go to great lengths to ensure closed doors remained tightly closed.”

“Who would want to taunt me with a diamond in a box?” he mused, taking out the diamond and studying it minutely. “If this is a real diamond. Very few thieves would give me a genuine gem when they could fence it for a few guineas.”

“Maybe we should inform the Yard. They have diamond experts…”

“So have I,” Holmes interjected. “Curious that Lestrade isn’t here,” he repeated. “A very curious case altogether. So many of our putative clients’ actions are incomprehensible.”

“Such as?” I queried.

“Why the detour to the hospital?” Holmes countered. “A fine time for a benefactor to conduct an impromptu inspection - on the way to his daughter’s engagement ball.”

“A brief visit, surely.”

“An inspection, Watson. Does a man ‘briefly’ visit several floors of a hospital? Does he leave his wife and daughter alone in his carriage at night, wearing their jewels (or having them with them) while he conducts business that could wait until morning?”

“His son was there, as well. So were coachman and footman.”

“We don’t know the son was with them. The footman could just as easily opened that letter and made the addendum before he delivered it to us. So could the coachman, if it was he who brought the note.”

Holmes frowned, and added. “I wonder if the footman accompanied Lord Haversmith into the hospital with the jewel box in hand, or whether he left it on the box with the coachman.”

He rose and shouted down the stairwell. “Mrs. Hudson!”

Our landlady popped her head outside the door on the ground floor. “Yes, Mister Holmes?”

“Who delivered that note from the Haversmiths?”

Mrs. Hudson frowned, trying to recall it. “So much ado since then, sir. Was it one of your ragmuffins? No. It was given to the housemaid while she was ascrubbin’ the steps and she gave it to me to give to you.” She stomped over to the door to the downstairs. “Katie! Come up with you, lass! Mister Holmes has a question for you!”

Young Katie came upstairs. A pleasant girl of thirteen, trim of ankle and merry of eye. I could see what Holmes meant. Housemaids in town did come young. She bobbed a curtsey and stood respectfully at the bottom of the stairs.

Holmes beamed upon her. For a man who claimed to dislike the sex, he was quite charming toward women. Katie immediately dimpled. “Katie, I wish to know who gave you the letter you gave to Mrs. Hudson this morning.”

“The one given me whilst I was cleaning the stoop, sir?” Katie had a musical voice. Irish or Welsh, I judged her to be.

Holmes nodded, still smiling. “That’s the one. Could you describe him to me?”

“He was in livery, sir. Green, with gold braid.” She giggled. “Like a Christmas tree walking, so tall was he, and so golden and green. Oh, he was a treat to see, begging your pardon, sir.”

“Pardon granted, Katie.” Holmes’ smile encouraged her to smile wider in return. “Did you see him again today?”

Katie stifled another giggle. “Yes, sir. When I opened the door for his master and mistress. He was right there, sir, beside the door of their carriage.”

“Did he see you?”

The housemaid fluttered her eyelashes. “I don’t see as how he could have missed seeing me, sir.”

Holmes nodded. He descended the stairs, I at his heels. He took the maid’s hands in his. His mien turned grave. “Katie. I want you to promise me something. Will you?”

Her eyes went wide. “Yes, Mister Holmes. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Good girl. I want you to stay inside the house until I tell Mrs. Hudson it’s safe for you to go out. I don’t want you to answer the door. I don’t want you to talk to anyone from outside.”

“Not to the Christmas tree man?”

“Especially not to him. Will you obey me?”

“Y-y-yes, Sir.” She looked badly frightened. “But what if Mrs. Hudson sends me on an errand?”

Mrs. Hudson commanded. “If Mr. Holmes says you stay indoors, my girl, that’s what you’ll do.”

“I mean you too, Mrs. Hudson,” said Holmes gravely. “You must not stir out. I’ll have Wiggins and his boys guard the house and run your errands. Don’t let in anyone but him.”

“No, sir. I won’t.” She plucked at Holmes’ sleeve. “Mister Holmes, this has to do with the little imp - I mean the little boy who was hurt?”

Holmes patted her hand to soothe her. “It does, Mrs. Hudson; but if you will obey me and let no one you don’t know into the house, you’ll be quite safe. Just you, and Katie, and me, and Doctor Watson, and Wiggins and Inspector Lestrade.”

“The inspector, sir?”

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Hudson. Into each life, a little Lestrade must fall.”

“He’d better remember to wipe his feet on the downstairs rug this time, before he attempts to climb up to you.”

“I’ll remind him.”

“See that you do, Mister Holmes. I will not have him and his constables tromping up and down my carpets in their muddy great boots again. Cost a fair guinea to have them cleaned.”

“Your admonition is impressed upon my heart,” Holmes replied, placing his hand over the site of that organ.

He turned to me. “I’ve a job for you, Watson, if you’ll be so kind. I want you to go to the Haversmiths and ask to speak to the tweeny. Do you know her name?”

I nodded. “Rachel.”

“Go to the servant’s entrance.” Holmes examined his watch. “You should catch them at their supper. I want a full description of each of them - particularly the ladies’ maid, the coachman and the footman. Tell Rachel about Benjamin’s condition in their hearing and mark their reactions. Also, see if you can see where the valuables are kept, and who has the combination to the safe, if there is a safe.”

“Right.” I shrugged on my overcoat. Mrs. Hudson and Katie, sensing they had been dismissed, returned to their own tasks, one to her parlour, the other to kitchen below stairs.

Holmes surprised me by suddenly gripping my arm. “Keep your wits about you, old friend, and mark everything and everyone you see. You’ll be followed. Try to observe him or them without their knowledge. Be particularly careful of what may lurk in the shadows. I fear I’m sending you into danger, but I need your impressions of that house and those people.”

“Why not accompany me, then?”

“I have to study that string some more. It’s in Morse code. The dots are very likely overhand knots and the dashes figure eights. But the letters they stand for appear to be a code within the code. Remember Cartwright, the young messenger boy we employed on the Baskerville case? He has told me much about telegraphy - how the operators use a shorthand to transmit faster and to communicate their own messages. This may be something similar.

“Speaking of telegrams, have Cartwright send this to the Yard for me.” He dashed to his desk, pulled out a telegraph form and scribbled a few lines upon it. “I don’t think Lord Haversmith has told them of his loss. I want to be sure they know, and I think they ought to at least stand by.”

He scribbled another telegram. I crossed the room and peered over his shoulder.

“To him?” I exclaimed when I saw the superscription. “Isn’t he expensive?”

“If you want the best man, Watson, you must pay his fee.” Smiling, Holmes handed me the telegraph forms. “He’ll come. You’ll see. He wouldn’t miss this case for all the diamonds in the velt.”

Proceed to Part Seven