Sherlock's Sisters

to me was not my uncle, the detective. I knew that our firm had not been applied to by Madame Duchesne, in spite of her assertion to the contrary, and as this was certainly no one who had ever been in our office, I knew that certain suspicions that I had formed yesterday were likely to be verified. Since this stranger was certainly no detective, I concluded that he was merely posing as one for the sake of diverting suspicion from the offenders whom I was anxious to run to earth. The assumption that he was the associate and helpmate of the thieves was also a very natural one, although a glance at the lovely hostess and her dainty surroundings almost seemed to belie such a supposition.

But I knew that I was on the right track, and within the hour my vigilance was rewarded. The sham detective, whose pretended avocation had been disclosed to none but Madame von Auerbach and myself, sauntered from group to group, as if intent upon scrutinising their actions. His real object was to attach their jewellery, and I had the satisfaction of seeing him possess himself of a costly watch which Lady A was wearing in somewhat careless fashion. Instant denunciation was not my intention. I meant to probe the matter to the root, and followed Mr Bell’s movements with apparent nonchalance. Presently he culled a couple of beautiful standard roses, and handed them to Madame Duchesne with a graceful compliment.

The thing was beautifully done, and none but a person keenly on guard would have noticed that the watch changed hands with the roses. This little comedy over, Madame sauntered towards the house, and, five minutes later, I came upon her, quite by accident, of course, just as she was relocking a dainty cabinet from which she had taken a fresh bottle of perfume, in the use of which she was very lavish.

There were two or three other people in Madame’s charming boudoir, among them being Madame von Auerbach, by whose side I seated myself with an air of sudden weakness.

She was really startled by the development of events, but she had been previously cautioned, and played her part very well indeed, when I exclaimed that I felt dreadfully ill.

‘What shall I do?’ she cried. ‘I hope it is not one of your old attacks.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I whispered, faintly. ‘Do send for my uncle. He is the only one who can help me.’

I was promptly placed on the couch, and dosed with all sorts of amateur remedies, pending the arrival of my uncle, who had been sent for in hot haste, and who, entre nous, was waiting with a police officer in private clothes for the expected urgent summons. No sooner did they appear than my indisposition vanished, and I astonished the bystanders by springing vigorously to my feet.

‘Arrest Madame Duchesne,’ I cried, ‘and her accomplice.’ Pointing to the latter, I continued, ‘That man has stolen Lady A’s watch, and it is locked in that cabinet.’

What a scene of confusion there was immediately. Not only Lady A, but several other people discovered that they had been robbed, and the cabinet was found to contain a great quantity of stolen valuables, among them being Mrs Bevan’s much-prized pendant.

My discovery was only made in the nick of time. In another twelve hours the birds would have flown, for the real Madame Duchesne, the lady from whom they had stolen the letters of introduction which had obtained them the entree to London society, had arrived in London that day. An accomplice had warned them of the fact, and as they knew that this garden party they were giving at the gorgeous house they had hired would be their last opportunity for some time, they had determined to make a large haul and decamp that same evening.

Luckily for many people, I was able to frustrate their intention. At present they are lodging in infinitely less luxurious quarters, and several members of the upper classes are much more careful than formerly as to whom they associate with by virtue of letters of introduction.

LOVEDAY BROOKE

Created by Catherine Louisa Pirkis (1839-1910)

In 1893, the same year that Conan Doyle attempted to despatch Sherlock Holmes by supposedly sending him over the Reichenbach Falls (the character was, of course, to be resurrected later), a new detective appeared in the pages of The Ludgate Monthly. Sometimes known (slightly misleadingly) as ‘the female Sherlock Holmes’, Loveday Brooke was the heroine of half a dozen stories which were subsequently gathered together in a volume entitled The Experiences of Loveday Brooke, Detective. She is one of the most interesting and appealing of late Victorian female detectives. A professional who works for a Fleet Street Detective Agency, she shows resourcefulness when she is sent under cover (as she is in several of the stories) and confidence in her own ability to discover the truth about the crimes she is investigating. The character, a woman making her way successfully in a world usually the preserve of men, was created by Catherine Louisa Pirkis, the wife of a Royal Navy officer, who had taken up writing in her late thirties. Her first novel, entitled Disappeared from her Home, was published in 1877 and was followed by more than a dozen others, offering readers a mixture of melodrama, mystery and romance. She was also a regular contributor of short stories to the periodical press. After the publication of the tales of Loveday Brooke, Pirkis largely gave up writing in favour of charitable work. She and her husband were active in the anti-vivisection movement and were among the founders of the National Canine Defence League.

THE REDHILL SISTERHOOD

‘THEY want you at Redhill, now,’ said Mr Dyer, taking a packet of papers from one of his pigeon-holes. ‘The idea seems gaining ground in manly quarters that in cases of mere suspicion, women detectives are more satisfactory than men, for they are less likely to attract attention. And this Redhill affair, so far as