Page 20 of The Art of Theft
Mrs. Watson’s heart skipped a beat.
“Please take a seat, Mrs. Watson,” said the maharani. “Shall I ring for some tea?”
“I have already ordered tea. If you will be so kind as to have your staff open the door to the hotel.”
The town house also had an entrance from inside the hotel.
The maharani’s brow furrowed, but she did as Mrs. Watson asked. Soon her maid returned with a hotel porter bearing a largetea tray—and Miss Charlotte, in a powder blue visiting gown trimmed with enough lace to edge a fishpond.
The maharani stared at her.
When all the servants had left, closing the door behind themselves, Miss Charlotte said, “You were correct, Your Highness, in detecting something suspect about the arrangement chez Sherlock Holmes. There is no Sherlock Holmes. There is only me, using my skills to help clients who come to see my ‘brother.’ And Mrs. Watson is my partner in this enterprise.”
“When Miss Charlotte Holmes learned that you had called on me, she felt duty-bound to disclose that you had also visited Sherlock Holmes,” said Mrs. Watson. “Perhaps it is delusional for me to think I can be of any aid to you, but I must offer my help. If you have gone so far as to seek Sherlock Holmes’s ear, Your Highness, your need must be very great indeed.”
The maharani said nothing.
Mrs. Watson tried to read her expression. Was she at all gladdened that Mrs. Watson had reached out? That she didn’t want the maharani to be alone at a time like this? But that once-mobile face had become as expressive as a wall.
Mrs. Watson took a deep breath and went on, “Miss Charlotte told me of your misgivings concerning the confidentiality of your visit. I’m sure you are not pleased that not one but two people are now privy to it. But please keep in mind that we, too, worry about confidentiality. The truth of Sherlock Holmes is something we have never admitted to anyone not associated with our services. I hope you will take that as a token of our sincerity.”
The maharani stirred her tea. “I will not waste anyone’s time by saying that I am not in need, but I declined to engage Sherlock Holmes’s services for a reason. I do not need murders solved; nor do I need mysterious noises in my attic explained.”
“Then why did you approach Sherlock Holmes, Your Highness?” asked Miss Charlotte.
“To see whether he had other skills. When it turned out he was bedridden, that eliminated his usefulness.”
“He doesn’t exist,” Miss Charlotte said.
“Andyourskills, Miss Charlotte, while impressive, are still of no use to me.”
“I understand that you need to retrieve something that is, I assume, tightly secured.”
“I don’t imagine you have much experience in that regard.”
Miss Charlotte was perfectly composed. “But I do. I have rifled through my father’s study many times.”
The maharani laughed humorlessly. “Oh, you have?”
“The principle of the matter isn’t very different. One learns to find and use those hours when the house is relatively empty. One learns to quickly locate the relevant and interesting items. One even learns to get around locks and seals that a man thinks sufficient to guard his secrets from members of his family.”
“Your point being?” The maharani was beginning to sound impatient.
“That Your Highness shouldn’t underestimate what sneaking around her own house can teach a woman.”
Miss Charlotte extracted an ivory-inlaid case from her reticule and set it on the tea table.
The maharani’s expression instantly changed. “Where—where did you get this?”
“From here, obviously.”
“But how?”
“It is so much more impressive if you don’t know the details, Your Highness.”
Her Highness gave Miss Charlotte a look.
Miss Charlotte took a sip of her tea. “Very well. First we booked the suite of rooms next to yours. There is a connecting door between these two with no locks but a dead bolt on either side. You yourself might not have paid attention, but this morning a hotelmaid came after the initial cleaning had been done and asked to be let in to get an item she left behind in the dining room.”
