The Sherlock Holmes Megapack: 25 Modern Tales by Masters: 25 Modern Tales by Masters Read Free

lamps glowed warmly as I limped after Holmes into Carrington’s, the silversmiths on Regent Street.
    “Holmes, this is the twelfth shop we’ve visited,” I whispered. “My feet are tired, my leg aches. We’ve been following the duchess all afternoon.”
    “I was eager to observe Her Grace amongst temptation.” Holmes hovered by a display case.
    “Temptation?” I grumbled. “As far as I can see, she hasn’t been tempted to do anything except purchase a variety of items in far too many shops.”
    “Well, I must admit that I have not observed any untoward behaviour thus far,” Holmes replied.
    Across the shop, the duchess studied a display of small silver goods laid out upon the counter. The manager, a tall, lugubrious Scot with an unfortunate squint, hovered over her like a stork over a new-born chick as she examined piece after piece.
    The door bell rang, and a fashionably dressed young man with curling, chestnut hair stepped inside the shop.
    “Hullo, Grandmama!” he called, waving his stick. “Saw the carriage outside and thought you might be here.”
    Her Grace turned and regarded the young man with a fond smile.
    “Ah, Hilary. I wondered when you would find me.” Turning to face us, she continued. “Mr Holmes, Doctor. Do stop trying to disappear into the woodwork and come meet my grandson.”
    Holmes and I exchanged a glance. Warmth spread across my cheeks, but Holmes appeared amused.
    Introductions were quickly made. Her Grace returned to her examination of silver toothpick holders and other small trinkets, while the viscount eyed the items on the counter and criticised each one. He then stepped to my side and nudged me with an elbow.
    “Keeping an eye on Grandmama, eh? Capital idea. My uncle informed me that he intended to consult you regarding her condition,” he whispered. “Can’t be too careful when she’s out and about.”
    “I beg your pardon,” I replied, drawing away. What effrontery!
    “Not at all.” He winked, returning to Her Grace when she called to him.
    The duchess completed her purchase. A smile touched her lips as she turned to Holmes.
    “I am returning home now, Mr Holmes. You are released from duty.”
    Holmes barked a laugh and then bowed.
    “Your Grace is too kind.”
    She then gestured to me. “Doctor, accompany me to my carriage, if you please.”
    I was delighted to offer this small service and gave her my arm. We were followed by a shop assistant carrying her parcel.
    As I handed her into her carriage, the viscount hurried from the shop. “I say, Grandmama! I may as well return home with you.”
    He brushed past me and climbed into the carriage.
    I waited until the brougham had clattered down the street and turned the corner before re-entering the shop. Holmes was deep in conversation with the manager.
    “Ah, Watson,” he said as I approached. “Mr Ferguson has a question for you.”
    Mr Ferguson leaned across the counter. “Doctor, did you see Her Grace pick up a wee enamelled card case? The green one?” he asked, his voice a murmur.
    I thought for a moment before replying in the same soft tones.
    “I believe Her Grace examined one, but I’m certain she returned it to the counter. Why?”
    “A card case has gone missing,” said Holmes, looking unruffled. “Although before searching any further, Mr Ferguson, I would ask Watson to show us the contents of his left outer pocket.”
    “The contents of my…” I stared at Holmes as I slipped my hand into the pocket. “Why, there is nothing—Good Lord!”
    I drew out my hand. A small green card case rested in my palm.
    Ferguson uttered a strangled sound and reached for the case.
    “But I never touched it,” I cried, allowing Ferguson to snatch it away. “How could it—?”
    “Calm yourself, my dear fellow,” said Holmes, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “No one believes you were responsible for taking it.”
    “I should hope not!”
    “No, it appears she took it from the counter and then slipped it