somewhere in the Eastern Provinces of Canada.’
Our visitor’s eyes opened wide and her mouth tightened for an instant. ‘You seem to know a great deal about me, Mr Holmes!’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I was merely considering the elements that became apparent when you spoke.
Beyond that I can tell you only that you are a teacher, most probably of art, although I do not rule out other subjects.’
She laughed. ‘That is really remarkable!’ she exclaimed. ‘You are entirely accurate. How do you do it?
It cannot all be by my accent.’
Holmes smiled. ‘It is only a matter of observation, madam. You carry yourself with dignity and have an air of one who is used to command. Among men that is commonplace and might indicate a military or naval officer, an important functionary in trade or industry or someone in the public service. These areas are still, alas, largely closed to your sex, and most of the employments available to women are of a subservient nature, except teaching. As to your artistic leanings, you dress in modest grey but wear finely crafted and unusual earrings and a brooch the unconventional placing of which lights your entire costume. You must surely be a person of artistic perception.’
She laughed again. ‘Wonderful!’ she said. ‘I am of Welsh parentage; I have lived in India and the Far East, and I was, for some years, governess to the children of the late King of Mongkuria.’
The penny dropped. ‘Of course!’ I exclaimed. ‘You wrote a book - two books. You wrote about your time in Mongkuria and you wrote a novel. I apologize. I should have recognized the name.’
She smiled and inclined her head gracefully. ‘Why, thank you, Doctor. After the death of my husband it became necessary for me to support myself and my two children. That was what took me to Mongkuria and, when my time there ended, I had to fall back upon my only other talent and take to writing. Apart from the two books, I have written various articles for American magazines.’
‘And what,’ asked Holmes, ‘brings you to London now?’
‘A combination of purposes, Mr Holmes. I am on my way to Europe with my granddaughter, but it seemed an excellent opportunity to witness Her Majesty’s Diamond Jubilee and to renew my
acquaintance with King Chula of Mongkuria, who will be here for the ceremony. I had the honour of teaching His Highness when he was a boy.’
‘How long have you been here?’ asked my friend.
‘We arrived five days ago. Since then we have occupied our time in making contact with old friends and relations and seeing the sights.’
‘And you have been bothered - perhaps harassed?’ enquired Holmes.
Mrs Fordeland frowned slightly and paused before replying. ‘I think that “harassment” is probably too strong a word, but we have certainly been bothered.’
‘In what way?’ said Holmes.
‘Initially,’ she said, ‘it was merely the observation that, wherever my granddaughter and I might be in London, we noted a small number of strange persons, apparently foreign. Now, I am aware,’ she went on hastily, ‘that the city at present is crowded with foreign visitors for the Jubilee and that there are many contingents of troops from all over the Empire camped in the parks, but these persons seemed to fit into no category of visitor or soldier that we recognized. Wherever we have been, at the Tower of London, in the zoological gardens, at Kew, one or more of these persons has been present in our immediate vicinity. At first we thought it merely a coincidence, but yesterday’s events made it clear to me that there is some purpose in their presence. That was when I decided to take advice, and the manager of our hotel was kind enough to recommend you.’
There was a tap at the door, and our conversation paused while Mrs Hudson served tea. When we all had a cup Holmes leaned forward in his chair.
‘You have referred to these people in the plural. How many of them are there?’
‘There seem to be four, or perhaps five. Certainly no more than six. It is a little difficult to be sure, because we may not have been aware of all of them and because they seem to be in two separate groups.’
‘Can you describe any of them?’ asked Holmes.
‘I hope that I may do better than that, Mr Holmes,’ said the lady, and slipped a hand into her bag. ‘I have not taught drawing and painting for years without, I hope, learning something of visual
observation. In the hope that these would assist you, I prepared them last night.’
She passed to my friend a small roll of papers which she had taken from her bag. Holmes unrolled them and examined them silently for a while. At last he looked up and said, ‘They are very expertly drawn, Mrs Fordeland. Do you believe that they are good likenesses?’
‘I hope so,’ she said, apparently unruffled by his question. ‘I flatter myself that I have an artist’s eye and memory and my granddaughter agrees that the sketches resemble the principal four.’
Holmes passed the drawings to me and I could see at once that they fell into two pairs. Two of the four portraits showed lean men in their thirties, both with military moustaches. The third man possessed coarser features and a thick beard and moustache, giving him a distinctly foreign appearance. The fourth portrait was of a woman of some thirty years, but prematurely aged and with a face drawn by worry.
‘You mentioned events yesterday which convinced you that you were the target of these persons’
attention,’ said Holmes. ‘May I ask what happened?’
‘We were travelling to visit an old friend who lives in Sussex. When we arrived at Waterloo Station in the morning, I noticed the two men with the military appearance loitering about the ticket office.
Subsequently they caught the same train as us to Petersfield. That might have been coincidence, they may perhaps have been visitors to Britain like ourselves, but at Petersfield we changed trains. We boarded a local train, a stopping train to Midhurst in Sussex, as my friend lives in a village along that line. It was at Petersfield Station, on our return journey, that I was able to confirm that we are being followed, Mr Holmes.’
‘In what way?’ he asked.
‘The Midhurst train pulled into a small siding at Petersfield. As I left the little platform, my granddaughter was behind me and I turned to speak to her. As I did so, I saw the two military men alight from the train, followed at a distance by the other couple. Now, I am just about prepared to accept that the presence of one pair on the train from London to Petersfield was a coincidence, but the appearance of both alighting from that little local train at the same time that my granddaughter and I arrived in Petersfield is, I believe, reasonable confirmation that these four people are following us.’
Holmes nodded slowly, then steepled his long fingers and bent over them. ‘Coincidence,’ he said, ‘is far too often put forward as an explanation, and frequently extended beyond the bounds of credibility. I entirely accept that you are being followed. Now we must discover why.’
He looked up suddenly. ‘Can you think,’ he said, ‘of any reason why these people are so interested in your movements?’
The lady appeared to think for a moment then shook her head firmly. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I cannot. Do you believe that they mean my granddaughter or me some harm, Mr Holmes?’
He shook his head. ‘I think not,’ he replied. ‘The most obvious forms of harm would be robbery, kidnapping or murder, and it would seem that they have had ample opportunity to commit these, which they have not taken. You are convinced that the two pairs are separate?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘Apart from the fact that I have never seen all four together, the bearded man and his companion seem positively to avoid the other two. In addition, there is a distinct difference in their dress.’
‘In their dress?’ queried Holmes.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The two men seem to be men of business in some degree, they dress well but
discreetly. The bearded man and his consort are very different. Their dress can sometimes be almost bizarre, and always appears to have been assembled from second-hand items. For example, on the platform at Petersfield the bearded man was wearing a rather faded cricket blazer, which had once shown loud stripes, with a bowler hat.’
‘Good heavens!’ I exclaimed. ‘A striped blazer and a bowler hat?’
‘Indeed,’ said Mrs Fordeland. ‘Sometimes I believe that the bearded man is trying to make himself obvious to me.’
‘It is certainly not a discreet disguise,’ agreed Holmes. He uncoiled himself from his chair and stood up.
