The door opened and Holmes entered, a brooding look upon his face, which cleared to pleased surprise upon seeing our guest.
“By Stephen Dunlevy!” she nearly screamed.
“You were followed,” said Holmes.
“Christ,” she snarled, “I thought as much. You can go straight to the devil, the pair of you.” She attempted to shove past him through the door, but he took a quick step back and forced it closed while deftly pulling a scrap of paper from one of Miss Monk’s pockets.
“This is an underground ticket from the Metropolitan District Railway. You have never once used the underground in your visits to Baker Street. Cabs are highly visible conveyances, particularly in Whitechapel; therefore, you wished to appear less conspicuous and to lose yourself in a crowd. Why would you take such a step if you were not being followed?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Holmes stepped around her and strode to the window. “Were you successful?”
She closed her mouth and nodded.
“Tell me from the beginning. When did you realize you had been followed?”
Miss Monk walked numbly to a chair and collapsed into it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Holmes,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what to think.” To my great shock, her eyes filled with tears and she emitted an overwrought sigh before burying her face in her hands.
“My dear young lady,” Holmes exclaimed, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I had not the slightest idea you were so distressed.”
She looked up a moment later and dashed the water from her cheeks with a scowl. “The sooner you tell me what it all means, the better.”
“You mentioned Stephen Dunlevy as I entered. Was it he who followed you?”
Miss Monk nodded. “I saw as it was growing late and I left the cottage to buy some tea and see what had become of a few of the girls I’d used to pal around with.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve taken lodgings in Great Garden Street, Mr. Holmes, and I’d thought to look in on a girl what lives over Mount Street way. The evening was clear enough and I was in no hurry, so I thought I’d head t’other direction first off and redeem a book I’d pawned when I’d nary two ha’pence to rub together. I walks down Old Montague Street toward the pawnshop, but before I’ve passed two streets, I realize I’d clean forgot the ticket and turn around.
“There’s a chap passes me on the street dressed all in rags, hat pulled down close and a muffler over his face, and over the top of the muffler you can just see two eyes looking out from a great tract of dirt. He was walking the way I’d been before I remembered my ticket. I don’t think twice of him but leg it quick to the lodging house and find the ticket in a tobacco pouch I’d stuffed under a floorboard.
“Now I’m off again down Old Montague Street to the jerryshop, and I picks up the book, and I’m back outside quick as anything. The dirty muffled chap’s still there, but people’s always thick as fleas in the Chapel, and I turns back toward the hospital without thinking much of it.
“I’d got a few more paces along when I’d a queer feeling that the dirty fellow hadn’t just been there begging, or waiting, or standing, or sleeping, or anything he’s a perfect right to do. I might have left off stewing over it if there hadn’t been something familiar about the blighter, but I makes up my mind to duck into a doorframe when I’m a bit further ahead. For by now I’m walking back, and as I’ve passed my own street going the opposite way, if he’s still behind me, I’ll know he’s on my tail.
“I sees a likely deep entrance, there’s a pack of the Salvation Army behind me, and I cuts away into the shade of the door. Soon enough the muffled chap passes, but he’s looking around like he’s lost sight of summat, and when he turns his head just as he passes me, I see that it’s Dunlevy, sure as I’m sitting here.
“Lor’, but it gave me a turn, Mr. Holmes. If I hadn’t turned back, I might never have seen him, and who knows but that he’s been following me ever since I’ve met him? It ain’t right for a cove you’ve been following to follow you that way. I dived out of that doorway with my heart pounding in my ears and the chiv you gave me in my hand, and I cut across Great Garden Street to Whitechapel Road, and I didn’t stop running till I’d reached that great mob riot of a station across from the hospital.”
My friend pulled a telegraph form out of a drawer. “Miss Monk, does Stephen Dunlevy know where you reside?”
“He’s seen me go in often enough.”
“Has he ever caught sight of you tailing him, to your knowledge?”
“I’d have sworn he hadn’t this morning, but I’d sound a proper flat, saying such a thing now.”
“Miss Monk, I give you my word that I never expected Dunlevy to do anything so precipitate as to dog your movements, but I admit that I have long suspected him of being more than meets the eye.”
“Well, that’s clear enough!” I scowled. “What business would a common soldier have trailing Miss Monk?”
“He’s no soldier,” said Holmes and Miss Monk, very nearly at the same time.
“What?” I cried. My companions eyed each other warily.
“Well, one or the other of you is going to have to make clear to me why he is not a soldier,” I declared in exasperation.
The replies, “His stride” and “His pocket handkerchief,” once more vied for my attention.
Holmes cleared his throat. “Every serviceman who’s been in more than a fortnight’s time carries his pocket handkerchief in his sleeve, not in his coat pocket,” he explained. “You do so yourself, my dear fellow. You were saying, Miss Monk?”
“Oh, I—that is to say, I noticed where he kept his billy when you asked after it, Mr. Holmes—but in any case soldiers don’t walk that way. Least none I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not even orderlies.”
“Very well, then,” I said testily. “Leaving aside what Stephen Dunlevy is not, may I inquire what he, in fact, is?”
“You will both know as much as I do tomorrow,” Holmes stated firmly. “This telegram will settle the matter for good or ill. I am happy to say that few shadows remain to confound us, but if you would both agree to meet here at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, all will be made clear to you then. Miss Monk, have you any objection to continuing your use of the underground just for the day?”
“I may have a pound a week, but I’m not such a lady as all that.”
“And would it trouble you to sleep away from your rooms tonight? I’ve an address where you will be well looked after.” Holmes handed her a card. “It is entirely a matter of precaution, but I would prefer if you weren’t left to fend for yourself. My friend has an amiable housekeeper and an extra room.”
“‘Mr. George Lusk, One Tollet Street, Alderney Road…,’” she read. “It’s all one to me. Nearly everything I need’s in my pockets. But what happens tomorrow?”
Holmes smiled as he led her to the door. “I look forward to tomorrow with the greatest interest. In the meanwhile, Miss Monk, you’ll be in safe hands. I’m terribly sorry you were startled, but I’ve the greatest respect for your fortitude throughout this inquiry, you must know.”
Miss Monk flushed slightly pink at his words. “If I’m to suffer no more than a few trips on the underground, it’s worth my time. Until tomorrow, then, gents. I suppose this Mr. Lusk will be surprised to see me? Well, no matter. I’ll make him used to the idea soon enough.”
The following afternoon at half past two, I sat alone smoking a cigar with an issue of the
“It is quite too perfect,” said he. “I could never have imagined it falling into place so—mind you, I’d no notion he was dogging her before yesterday, but it plays into our hand beautifully. Halloa—there’s the bell! Miss Monk has arrived.”
Miss Monk appeared in far better spirits than she had the day before. She greeted us cheerfully and, catching sight of her hair in the reflection of the sideboard, feigned a scowl and attempted to wrest it into submission.
“Them small ones Mr. Lusk is left with are a sight too much for one girl to take on,” she remarked contentedly, pulling a pin out of one of her pockets. “Though the older four don’t plague you half as much as the
