into your pocket.”
“But Holmes, the viscount could have—”
Holmes squeezed my shoulder and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He turned to Ferguson. “I believe you have heard rumours about Her Grace, Mr Ferguson.”
I could hardly believe my ears. Holmes was as good as stating that the duchess was responsible for the theft. Surely the viscount had the same opportunity to take the card case and slip it into my pocket as his grandmother.
“Aye, I have.” Ferguson sighed. “Though I thought to pay them no heed.”
“It is a sad case,” Holmes said softly. “And one that, were it made public, could bring shame upon the family.”
“But what am I to do if it happens again, Mr Holmes?” Ferguson asked, frowning. “She frequently patronises our business. I cannae call the police, but the losses—”
“I believe I have a solution to your problem.” Holmes smiled. “Observe her whenever she visits. Anything that is not paid for should be added to her account. I believe this will prove most satisfactory for both parties in handling any such incidents in the future.”
Ferguson’s dour expression cleared. “That would suit us quite well, Mr Holmes.”
“Excellent,” said Holmes. “In that way your shop will sustain no loss, and the family will be spared public scandal. Yes, a very satisfactory arrangement, I think.” He turned to me. “Come along, Watson.”
I could barely wait until we were out of the shop and walking along the pavement before turning to Holmes.
“But, Holmes! Her Grace might not be guilty; the viscount could have as easily taken the card case.”
“I know that, dear fellow,” he said, raising his stick toward an unoccupied hansom. The driver reined in the horse. “Did you notice that she appeared very fond of the boy?”
“I did indeed. Yet that does not explain why you have cast suspicion solely upon her.”
After giving our address, Holmes and I climbed inside the cab.
“Watson, I am in the process of setting a trap.” Holmes signalled with his stick, and the driver set off. “I have deep reservations regarding Sheppington. He may be using his grandmother’s regard for him and playing upon her affections, either alone or in collusion with his uncle. If Denbeigh and Sheppington are guilty of conspiring in order to gain control of Her Grace’s fortune, I will draw them out and expose their machinations.”
“So you believe her to be the victim of a plot?”
“Possibly, Watson, possibly. If, on the other hand, she does suffer from kleptomania, we must see to it that she does not have the opportunity to disgrace herself and her family by being publicly exposed.”
“But how are we to do that?”
“We took the first step this afternoon. Our next task is to send a message and ask Denbeigh and Sheppington to call upon us on the morrow.”
* * * *
The next day dawned bright and chill. Holmes and I were immersed in the morning newspapers and Mrs Hudson was clearing our breakfast dishes when the bell announced visitors. She bustled out with a tray of crockery, only to appear again moments later, breathing heavily.
“Her Grace,” she panted.
The dowager duchess entered, heavily veiled. With a brisk nod, Her Grace dismissed Mrs Hudson, then lifted the veils before turning to Holmes.
“Mr Holmes, Doctor. I apologise for calling unannounced.”
She appeared slightly flustered, but when I suggested she be seated, she gave an impatient wave.
“No time, gentlemen. I overheard Maurice speaking of his visit; he will be here soon.”
“How may we be of assistance?” asked Holmes.
“Count von Kratzov is giving a ball tomorrow. He currently occupies one of my properties in Town; therefore I must make an appearance.” She paced from the hearth to the breakfast table and back. “He will be displaying the von Kratzov emeralds, the first time they have been publicly shown outside of Poland. I suspect that Maurice may attempt some mischief in order to