yourselves. If you leave a mess, I’ll be after you.”
Holmes gave her a reproachful look. “Ma’am, we’re no sloppy pigs like some inferior plumbers. Part of the job is gettin’ everything back spick and span.” He held up his arms and his filthy sleeves. “We may get a bit on ourselves, but none gets left behind when we be done. Clean enough to eat off’uv, it’ll be, the tile all a- sparklin’.”
The maid nodded. “Make sure it is. Good afternoon.”
“Goodbye, Philomena. The water closet is this way, Mister...?”
“Brownstone, ma’am. And this is my assoshut, Mr. Blackdrop.”
I was holding my hat and bowed my head. “My pleasure, madam.”
She gave me a curious look, and as she was not watching Holmes, he frowned and shook his head at me.
“Uh, nice place you ’ave ’ere, mum,” I said.
“Thank you, Mr. Blackdrop.” She led us out of the kitchen.
As I followed, I noticed that she smelled faintly of lavender. Two small black dogs rushed us, barking loudly, Scottish terriers by the look of them. Their two-foot long bodies were supported by six-inch legs; their fur shaggy; their pointed ears standing upright.
Miss Ladell clapped her hands firmly. “No! Down, Blackie! Down, Reggy!”
One of the little beasts had his paws up on my leg, but at the command from their mistress, they both retreated.
The furniture in the sitting room was solid and well built, if not terribly expensive, and the carpet and drapes were of similar quality. However, every surface was covered with some bric-a-brac or knickknack: tiny glazed figurines of cheerful peasant lads and lasses (many I recognized as German); ornate china plates with patterns or paintings on them, all propped upright on holders, the place of honor going to Queen Victoria, whose dour visage showed alongside the number fifty. On the wall were the mass-produced productions of paintings and etchings which had become generally available: line drawings of trite London scenes; various languishing, voluptuous maidens who owed much to the pre-Raphaelites; and of course, a sweet, bare foot girl of about four, blonde and blue-eyed, with her faithful collie. Adding further to the clutter were the doilies and lacework covering all the furniture.
As Holmes and I glanced about, Miss Ladell smiled, glad to have all her treasures admired. Holmes stopped before the plate of Queen Victoria. “A good likeness of ’er majesty there.” He took another step and glanced down at the cloth covering the round oak table. “But yer lacework is very fine, ma’am, very fine. So many doilies.”
“Thank you, but how did you know it was my work?”
Holmes hesitated only a second. “Well, ma’am, I’m not Sherlock ’Omes.” He gave a hearty laugh. “But I noticed the callous on yer finger. My wife does a good bit o’ crocheting, and she ’as the very same callous. But what really gave you away was yer needles and yer work over there by the chair.”
Miss Ladell laughed, the sound good-natured and lacking the artifice of many ladies. “Of course.” She glanced down at her fingers. “There are those who think callouses are dreadful.”
“But you know better, ma’am, I can tell.”
She had a rather charming smile, which her rosy complexion and plumpness augmented. “I was not raised for idleness, Mr. Brownstone. I truly believe an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. My knitting and crocheting keep me busy, and... I even make a few shillings selling my things.”
Holmes nodded. “I can see ’ow. Fine work, ’tis. Very delicate, like. The missus’s ain’t half so fine, but never tell her so!”
Miss Ladell laughed again. “The water closet is here.”
Holmes opened the door, and then let out a long loud whistle. “Wot a beauty, ma’am!” It was an impressive fixture, all dark oak, shining brass, and gleaming white porcelain. Holmes gave the brass chain a pull, and it flushed with a vigorous swirl of water. He scowled horribly. “Don’t much care for the sound of that.”
Miss Ladell stared at him. “Is it broken?”
“Not yet, but the water don’t sound right. Well, we’ll ’ave ’er good as new in a few minutes. Best to run the snake through ’er, unclog everything down below.”
“I’ll leave you to your work,” said Miss Ladell.
I opened the toolbox. Holmes took out what appeared to be an enormous coil of metal rope, with a nasty- looking spiral of wire at the very end. “You are not really going to use this thing?” I whispered.
“We must earn our keep, Henry.” He began to work the snake around the curve of the bowl and down the hidden drain. “This skill may prove useful to you some day if you cannot find a plumber.”
I spent the next half-hour watching the snake unfurl itself into the depths, shake itself as he attempted to dislodge some obstruction, then slowly wind its way back up. The business was not too unpleasant until the snake re-emerged, soiling the water with black slime. The curled wire actually had some disgusting gook wadded upon it, the stench unbearable.
“I think we may have actually saved her from some trouble,” Holmes said. He wadded the thing up in a rag, stuffing it and the snake back in the toolbox. He used another rag to clean up.
We stepped back into the sitting room, and I allowed myself the pleasure of again breathing through my nose. Holmes smiled proudly. “Good as new, ma’am. You needn’t fear no deluge no more.”
Miss Ladell set down her crochet needles and rose. “Thank you very much, Mr. Brownstone.” She hesitated for a moment. “Would you care for a cup of tea in the kitchen before you leave?’
Holmes nodded. “Shorly, ma’am. That’s most kind of you.”
We started for the kitchen. The two terriers were seated together on a chair, but abruptly they leaped down and barked. Miss Ladell clapped her hands again. “
The big black iron stove radiated heat, and the kitchen was much warmer than the rest of the house. Humming softy, Miss Ladell opened a canister, then put tea into one half of the tea ball and screwed on the top. She poured hot water from the kettle into a blue-and-white china pot.
“We must let it steep. Would you care for a biscuit?”
Holmes shook his head, but I realized I was hungry. “Yes, please, mum,” I said.
Holmes glanced about the kitchen. The walls were painted yellow, lace curtains hung alongside the windows, the room clean and bright.
“Nice cheerful place y’ave ’ere, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brownstone. I am very proud of my little house.”
“I’d wager you’d not trade it fer the biggest mansion in all of London town.”
She gave her head an enthusiastic nod. “You would win your bet. I do not want some enormous house with servants underfoot. Philomena, Blackie, Reggy, and I get along perfectly here.”
“And what about yer mister?” Holmes asked innocently.
Miss Ladell was so fair than any hint of a flush showed immediately; her face went quite pink. “I am not married, Mr. Brownstone.”
Holmes appeared utterly surprised. “No?”
“No. This house is... My uncle was quite well-to-do and left me a bit of money when he died.”
“Ah.” Holmes nodded. “Fortunate for you, but I’m surprised some gent ’asn’t snatched you up, so to speak, a fine young lady like yerself.”
She gave a weak shrug. “There is a gentleman I see occasionally.”
“Well, what’s the matter with the bloke that ’e ain’t married you at once?”
The flush deepened, and she shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know.” She took the pot and began to pour the tea.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, ma’am. Fergive me if I’ve been rude.”
She set down a blue-and-white cup of tea on a matching saucer before Holmes. “Not at all, Mr. Brownstone. You are very kind. Do you take sugar?” He shook his head. “And you, Mr. Blackdrop?”
“One lump.”
Holmes drank his tea, slurping loudly. I frowned at him, but Miss Ladell hardly seemed to notice. “Fine tea, ma’am. Won’t you join us?”
