The Web Weaver

She hesitated, and then smiled. “Certainly.”

She poured another cup of tea and dropped in three cubes of sugar. Holmes and I slid our chairs to the side, leaving more room for her. She took two digestive biscuits from a tin, then sat down and handed me one.

“Here’s your biscuit, Mr. Blackdrop. I nearly forgot.”

She sipped politely at her tea, ignoring the dreadful slurping Holmes made as he drank. He set down his cup. “I’ll bet a lady like yerself could run yer own shop, all full of lace and doilies and fine things.”

She stared incredulously at him. “You’re a wonder, Mr. Brownstone. I have always wanted to have my own shop. My father is a shopkeeper.”

“A fine trade fer a lady. Perhaps yer gentleman will marry you and set you up in such a shop.”

She shook her head. “I think not. He does not approve of ladies in trade.”

Holmes frowned. “The kind who wants to put you on a pedestal and ’ave you sit about being beautiful and queenly all the day long.”

Again she stared at him. “Exactly so. He cannot understand all my handiwork. He thinks—he thinks I should be content to do nothing, grateful for the opportunity.”

“A peculiar notion, ma’am. I’m shore he wouldn’t wish to sit about all day. Of course, I could use a bit of idleness now and then, but not fer day after day.”

She stared off into space. “All the same, I do believe he is fond of me.”

“I’m sure he must be.” Holmes said this so sincerely that she smiled.

“You are a philosopher, I can tell, Mr. Brownstone.”

“Not me, ma’am. I’m only an ’umble plumber who sees wot he sees. I visits the rich all the time, and while I could do fer a bit of their quid, I’d not trade places with them. Why just last week I ’ad to clean out a drain at young Mr. Wheelwright’s mansion—not the old man, the one on the meat tins, but ’is son. Now ’is wife didn’t seem nowhere near as satisfied with ’er lot as you.”

Miss Ladell snapped a piece of biscuit off with her teeth. “What... what was the lady like? I have heard of her—because of her charitable works.”

“Oh, nice enough fer a lady, but ’ardly so friendly as you. She’d never ’ave tea with a couple of plumbers!” He laughed.

Miss Ladell’s smile was forced. “Is she—is she not rather cold?”

Holmes frowned, his brow furrowing below the jagged edge of the red wig. “Maybe a bit. Of course, we ’ardly saw ’er. Our dealins was with the ’ousekeeper.”

“And was she very beautiful?”

“No, she ’ad a face like a dried prune.” Both Miss Ladell and I stared incredulously at him. He grinned, the corners of his mouth lost beneath the mustache. “Oh, you mean the missus—not the ’ousekeeper. She was a fairly fine specimen of a woman, but not enough flesh on ’er fer my taste. Too bony. As I say, I like a bit of flesh on a woman.”

Miss Ladell’s smile was genuine now. “I’d not trade places with her.” Up until then, I had been favorably impressed with her, but I did not care for the smugness in her voice.

Holmes set down his cup. “Well, we’ve loitered about long enough. There’s other drains to conquer. Drink up, Blackdrop, and let’s be off.”

We all rose, and she followed us to the door. Holmes had his hat in one hand, a congenial smile on his face. Abruptly he frowned and pointed at the wall beside Miss Ladell. “There’s an ugly brute of a spider, ma’am. If you...”

Her eyes widened. She strode quickly around behind us, then seized Holmes’ grimy arm. “Oh, please kill it— please do!” She would not look at the wall.

“I think it’s gone behind that picture of the little girl.”

“Oh, please kill it—Mr. Brownstone—please. I cannot bear a spider! Please.”

“Very well, ma’am. My missus ’ates ’em too.” He withdrew a dirty handkerchief from his pocket, then raised the picture frame and proceeded to catch the nonexistent spider. “Got ’im!”

She raised her eyes, sighed, and put her small white hand over her bosom. “That’s the second service you’ve done me today, Mr. Brownstone. Thank you, oh so very much.”

“My pleasure, ma’am. Guh’day.”

“Guh’day,” I echoed. “The tea and biscuit was good.”

“One moment, please.” She seized a small purse and gave us each a shilling. We thanked her. She smiled again, opening the door to let us out. Holmes and I walked around the house. I put the shilling in my pocket. The fog and damp cold were cutting after the warm kitchen.

“That is a side of you I think I have never seen before,” I said.

Holmes laughed. “I must confess that I sometimes find my disguises positively liberating. Well, Henry, do you think we have found our mastermind, the brain behind the spider-filled cake?”

I grimaced, shaking my head. “You need not remind me of my eagerness to jump to conclusions. I can think of no more unlikely suspect than Miss Ladell. She did seem somehow... well... positively wholesome.”

Holmes laughed in earnest. “I warned you that might be the case.”

“She was very candid with us. She does treasure her little house and her knickknacks.”

Holmes nodded. “I agree. She has little capacity for subterfuge. Her emotions are transparent. She was genuinely curious about Violet Wheelwright. And her terror of spiders was not feigned.”

“It’s curious. I... she is nowhere near so beautiful as Violet, but she is appealing. I must admit I found her more likable than Donald Wheelwright.”

Holmes gave a sharp laugh. “That is no great compliment, but yes, again I agree.”

“Her taste is another matter. Those dreadful plates! Michelle has a horror of such things.”

“Her doilies were well made, but her taste, although predictable, is not the best. She and Wheelwright are well suited for each other. A pity he did not marry someone like her. Of course, his father would have never allowed such a match.”

I shook my head. “It is all so senseless. And we have wasted an entire afternoon.”

“Wasted? Hardly! You have had your introduction to the snake.”

“God save me from the snake!”

“And we have ruled out a major suspect. We are making progress. The goal must be to discover the perpetrator—not to have the perpetrator be the person we wish.” The corners of his mouth vanished briefly under the red mustache. “That would be setting ourselves an impossible task. We are closer to the truth than we were this morning.” We walked along in silence for a minute or two. “I must confess... I wish Miss Ladell could have her little shop and that Wheelwright could marry her. Well, we must try to hail a cab. I hope we have better luck this time. Would a bath interest you, Henry?”

“I have longed for one since I first put on these clothes.”

“Let us return to Baker Street, fetch clean clothes, and then I know an excellent Turkish bath. We can spend the remainder of the afternoon soaking off the grime and cold.”

“A heavenly idea!” I exclaimed. I shifted the toolbox from my right hand to my left. “Your snake is certainly heavy.”

Holmes shook his head. “I fear we’ve a long ways to go before we make a real plumber of you, Blackdrop.”

Ten

While we were sitting in the Turkish bath, the steam permeating our cold weary frames, Holmes appeared to doze. I was sleepy myself and closed my eyes.

“It might be worth the risk.”

I gave a start, and then realized he had spoken. “What did you say?”

“I said it might be worth the risk. There is an unsavory fellow I have dealt with in the past, one Mortimer ‘Ratty’ Grace. He has been involved in every type of vice—cracksmen, pickpockets, fake revivalist preachers, and various swindlers—but his specialty now is prostitution. He owns several brothels. He might know something about