Work Text:
It was a cold morning in early spring, and the cheery fire had been lit inside 221B. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. The gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal on the table. Herlock Sholmes had been silent all morning, dipping continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently given up his search, began to flip through his partner's records of past cases.
"You have an odd habit of adding some... embellishments to your accounts, Mikotoba," Herlock noted as he flicked through another account. "In your writing, you put colour and life into otherwise trivial matters. The main notable feature is, of course, my deductions, and yet you often focus on other matters."
"I thought that I had done you justice in my accounts," Yujin remarked with some coldness, "You do sometimes leave me to fill in the gaps with your deductions. Often at times I have to deduce myself how you managed to reach them, since you sometimes skip over the explanation part of it all."
"You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales," Herlock complained, "You focus too much on the crime. Crime is common; logic is rare. Therefore, it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell."
Yujin shot him a glare. "If you're going to continue to complain about my writing, then I'll start to write them up in Japanese," he snapped.
"I suppose I should take into account that not all of our adventures focus on crime, in the legal sense," Herlock said after taking a breath from his pipe. "The small matter of the creeping man, or when we endeavoured to assist the King of Bohemia, for example. They were all matters outside the pale of the law. My little practice assists people outside of problems with the law, however... I fear I may have hit rock bottom today."
With the complaints now over, Yujin looked away from the fire and back to his partner. He was looking at a letter - it must've arrived earlier, when he was out. "Is it a new client?" He asked him.
Herlock tossed the letter his way with an annoyed grunt. It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening:
'Dear Mr Sholmes,
I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten tomorrow, if it should not inconvenience you.
Yours faithfully,
Violet Hunter'
"It's half-past now," Yujin noted, glancing at the clock. "Do you know her?"
"Not in the slightest."
If Herlock kept this attitude up, he would be short on rent for this month - Yujin knew for a fact that he was short. "Perhaps it will turn out to be of more interest than you think. Do you remember the case of the blue carbuncle? It appeared to be a mere whim at first, but it soon developed into a serious investigation. The same could happen in this case," he said.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Yujin rose and, with one last glare towards his partner, opened the door to see their new client.
Violet Hunter was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, freckled face. She had long chestnut hair, worn in a bun. "You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," she said, as Herlock rose to greet her, "I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do."
"Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter." Herlock gestured to an empty chair before sitting back down himself, his fingertips pressed together. "I shall be happy to do anything that I can to serve you."
"I have been a governess for five years," she began, "I worked for Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to America with him. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my wit's end as to what I should do."
"Did you try to find employment through an agency?" Herlock asked her.
"Yes - Westaway's," Miss Hunter confirmed, "I used to call about once a week in order to see if anything had turned up which might suit me. It is managed by Miss Stoper. Last week, however, when I was called into her office, I found that she was not alone..."
----
Miss Hunter had been waiting in the anteroom when she was called in by Miss Stoper. When she entered her office, she found that there was another person in there along with her. They were a stout man with a face fixed into a constant smile. As soon as Miss Hunter entered the room, he peered at her through his glasses and rubbed his hands together with glee.
"That will do!" He exclaimed, "I could not ask for anything better. Capital, capital! Tell me, miss, what salary do you ask?"
Whilst she was initially nervous about his reaction, Miss Hunter quickly composed herself and formed a reply. "I had £4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro," she informed him.
"How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and accomplishments?" The man cried, throwing his hands out into the air.
"My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine," she replied, "A little French, a little German, music, drawing-"
"This is all quite beside the question," the man interrupted her, "The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted to take care of a child who may some day play a considerable part in the history of the country. How could any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at £100 a year."
Miss Hunter stood there in disbelief. Sensing her incredulity, the man opened a pocket-book and took out a note.
"It is also my custom," said he, smiling brightly, "to advance to my young ladies half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe."
"May I ask where you live, sir?" Miss Hunter asked him, sensing how unnatural the transaction was.
"Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, a few miles on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house."
"And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be."
"One child - one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Three gone before you could wink!" He leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily at the image.
With the laughter, Miss Hunter assumed that he was joking. "My sole duties, then, are to take care of a single child?"
"No, no, not the sole, my dear young lady," he said, "Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they were such commands as a lady might propriety obey. You see no difficulty, hm?"
"I should be happy to make myself useful."
"Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you know - faddy, but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim, hm?"
"No," she replied, astonished at his words.
"Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?"
"Oh, no."
"Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?"
Miss Hunter had been growing her hair out for as long as she could remember. She was quite proud of it - it could be considered artistic. "I am afraid that is quite impossible," she replied, noticing a shadow pass over the man's face as she spoke.
"I am afraid that it is quite essential," he insisted, "It is a little fancy of my wife's, and ladies' fancies, you know, madam, ladies' fancies must be consulted. And so you won't cut your hair?"
"No, sir, I really won't," she answered firmly.
The man sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Very well; that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young ladies," he said.
Miss Stoper had observed the exchange, and she glanced at Miss Hunter with a hint of annoyance upon her face. Miss Hunter suspected it was due to the large commission which she just lost.
"It seems rather useless to keep your name upon my books, since you refuse the most excellent offers in this fashion," she said sharply, "You can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another opening for you. Good day, Miss Hunter." She struck a gong upon the table, and Miss Hunter was shown out of the room.
----
After listening to the story, Herlock closed his eyes and nodded thoughtfully. "It's a shame you didn't catch his name at the time. A simple name can reveal a variety of things to me," he proudly declared.
"Well, Mr Sholmes, when I returned to my lodgings, I began to think what a fool I was," Miss Hunter mumbled, "Very few governesses in England are getting £100 a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. The next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake. The day after I was sure of it. That was when I received this letter."
She handed Herlock the letter in question. He opened it and angled it so Yujin could see, too. It read:
'The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.
Dear Miss Hunter,
Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should come, for she has been much attracted by my description of you. We are wiling to give £30 a quarter, or £120 a year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which our fads may cause you.
My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause you no inconvenience. As regards to your hair, it is no doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for your loss.
Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train.
Yours faithfully,
Jephro Rucastle'
"A name!" Herlock cried triumphantly. "His own writing, too... there is a bit of data of which I can obtain from this. However, I recall that you wanted my advice as to if you should accept the position or not."
"My mind is made up that I should accept it," Miss Hunter informed him, "I thought, however, that before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your consideration."
"£120 a year is an awful lot of money," Yujin noted, "I doubt you would be paid that amount anywhere else."
"If your mind is made up, Miss Hunter, that settles the question," said Herlock, smiling brightly.
"But you would not advise me to refuse?" Miss Hunter asked him.
Herlock placed a hand against his temple. "I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of mine apply for, if I had one. But I cannot tell the meaning of it all - I have no data. Have you formed an opinion yourself?"
"Mr Rucastle seems to be a very kind, good-natured man," Miss Hunter remarked, "Is it not possible that his wife is ill of some incurable disease, and this is his way of keeping her happy in the time she has left?"
Yujin shook his head with a sigh. "In any case, I have a bad feeling about it all. Why should they give you £120 a year, when they could have their pick for £40? There must be some strong reason behind it," he said.
"I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards if I wanted your help," she explained, "I should feel so much stronger if I felt that I had you to rely on."
"You may carry that feeling away with you," Herlock told her, "I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you should find yourself in any doubt or danger-"
"Danger! What danger do you foresee?" Miss Hunter demanded, her eyes going wide.
Herlock shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be danger if we could define it. But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me down to your help."
"That is enough." Miss Hunter rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair tonight, and start to Winchester tomorrow."
As Miss Hunter left the room, Yujin turned to Herlock with a soft smile. "Whatever it is, I'm sure she can take care of herself. She has a good head on her shoulders," he remarked.
"And she would need to be," replied Herlock, the grave look having not left his face. "I wish I am mistaken, but I suspect we will hear from her soon..."
----
It wasn't very long before his predictions were fulfilled. A fortnight went by, during which Yujin frequently thought about the case. The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties - it all pointed to something abnormal. If it was a fad or a plot, or whether Mr Rucastle was a philanthropist or a villain, was beyond him.
Herlock often sat frequently for half an hour on end with knitted brows, but swept the matter away with a wave of his hand. "Data, data, data!" He would cry, "I can't make bricks without clay!" Yet, he would always wind up muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation.
A telegram arrived late one night when Yujin was thinking about turning in for the night. Herlock was perfectly happy, settling down to an all-night chemical experiment involving acetones. No doubt Yujin would find him in the same position in the morning. Before Yujin could tell him about the telegram, Herlock decided to lecture him.
"Have you heard of the Plank of Carneades thought experiment, Mikotoba?" He asked him in a tone that told Yujin that he already knew the answer.
"I can't say I have, no," Yujin replied, doing his best not to sigh.
"Excellent!" Herlock's eyes lit up with glee. "In that case, I will explain it to you. The premise is this: there are two shipwrecked sailors, A and B. They both see a plank that can only support one of them, and both of them swim towards it. A gets to the plank first. B, realising that they're going to drown, pushes A off and away from the plank. Proximately, it causes A to drown. B gets on the plank and is later saved. Are you with me so far?"
By this time, Yujin had sat down opposite him. The telegram was still in his hands. "I was paying attention, yes. You may continue," he said.
"Good, good. The question of it all is this: should B be tried for murder? Aha, but it's not that simple you see!" Herlock jumped out of his seat and began to pace the room. "It can be argued that because B had to kill A in order to live, it would be self-defence. However, one of them had to die anyway... What are you holding?"
Yujin held up the yellow envelope. "A telegram arrived. That was what I came in for, actually. Are you done with your lecture? Telegrams tend to be important, you know. More so than your lectures."
Herlock snatched the envelope from Yujin's hands and scanned the telegram. "Why didn't you mention this earlier? It's from Miss Hunter," he explained, "She wishes for us to go to the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday tomorrow so she can consult with us. She says she is at her wit's end..."
"There is a train at half-past nine," Yujin noted as he glanced over the timetable. "We will be able to arrive at Winchester at 11:30. Perhaps you should try and sleep tonight, instead of studying acetone?"
"Very true; I will need to be at my best in the morning," Herlock muttered to himself. "I suppose my chemical experiment will have to wait... a pity."
----
By eleven o'clock the next day they were on their way to Winchester. Herlock was buried in morning papers, but after they passed the Hampshire border, he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day with a light blue sky, flecked with white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining brightly, yet a breeze blew through the air. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills of Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.
"The scenery looks rather beautiful," Yujin commented, gazing out of the window in amazement.
Herlock shook his head gravely. "My mind is cursed to think of other things when I gaze out upon this scenery. I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."
"Only you would associate crime with these homesteads, Sholmes," Yujin remarked, "I do wish you were able to appreciate the beauty of it all."
"I'm afraid it is nigh impossible. They fill me with a certain horror," Herlock glanced back at the scenery before continuing. "It is my belief, Mikotoba, founded upon my experience, that the lowliest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish," Herlock told him, "There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours. The whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is a step between the crime and the dock."
Herlock pointed to the scenery outside. "But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Take Miss Hunter, for example. If she lived in Winchester, I should never had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger. In such a place, no one can hear one cry for help," he said.
"I'll think twice before taking a holiday in the countryside, then," Yujin replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Ah, well... I suppose every time we try to take a break, we always end up involved in some sort of mystery. Take the case of the Devil's Foot, for example."
"Perhaps you can see why I consider the countryside to be dangerous," Herlock chuckled, his grave look fading away for a moment. "There is the tower of the cathedral; we will soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell."
The Black Swan was located in the High Street, a short walk from the station. By the time they arrived, Miss Hunter was already waiting for them. She had engaged a sitting-room, and was helping herself to the food set out upon the table.
"I am delighted that you have come," she said earnestly, "It is so very kind of you both, for I have no idea what I should do. Your advice will be invaluable to me."
"Tell us everything, and spare no detail," Yujin insisted.
"I must be quick, as I promised Mr Rucastle to be back before three," Miss Hunter composed herself before beginning her story. "In the first place, I must say that I have received no actual ill-treatment from Mr and Mrs Rucastle. It is only fair to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them."
"What can you not understand?" Herlock asked her, stretching his legs out in front of the fire.
"Their reasons for their conduct," she explained, "When I came down, Mr Rucastle met me here and drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, but not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This garden belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to the place."
"Yes, it seems to be a rather lonely place," Herlock commented, "I couldn't live there, for one."
"Well, you'll be glad to hear, Mr Sholmes, that my employer was amicable as ever. Mrs Rucastle is perfectly normal, albeit a little silent at times. They have been married for seven years, and Mr Rucastle has a previous child - a daughter - from his previous marriage. However, she has gone to Philadelphia. Apparently, she left as she had some aversion to her stepmother." She paused. "Or, so he has told me."
Herlock leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that's a rather common fact of life - children not getting along with their stepparents. Still, tell me more about Mrs Rucastle, if you would," he said.
"She... I know she cares deeply for her husband and son. Yet, she is not one to talk. I sense some hidden sorrow in her eyes. I hope that makes sense - I can just feel it." Miss Hunter chuckled at her own comment before continuing. "Her son, though... I have never met such a spoiled and ill-natured thing. He is small for his age, and his entire life seems to consist of savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. His idea of amusement is to torture little animals and show them to his parents, who just laugh along."
"I confess, I have heard of this before," Yujin interrupted, "I'm afraid it's not a good sign. It shows how the parents - or, rather, the previous governess - took care of him. The boy sounds like he hasn't been taught right from wrong... I'm really not the person to speculate, though. I have no right to."
Herlock glanced towards Yujin with a sad smile.
"Oh, but enough about him. He is hardly important," Miss Hunter replied, "I haven't even mentioned the appearance and conduct of the two servants, Mr Toller, and his wife, Mrs Toller. Mr Toller constantly smells of drink, and Mrs Rucastle never says a word to him if he shows up drunk. Mrs Toller is the most unfriendly woman, too. Anyways, the first peculiar incident happened on the third day of my arrival. Out of the blue, Mr Rucastle asked me to wear an electric-blue dress. It was of excellent material, but it bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if I had been measured for it."
"Sholmes often boasts that he can guess anyone's size." Yujin turned towards his partner with a smirk. "Perhaps that was the case here?"
"I highly doubt that Mr and Mrs Rucastle have my knack for deduction," Herlock shot back, "You're interrupting poor Miss Hunter. Do continue."
Miss Hunter had a confused frown on her face at the two's antics. She cleared her throat. "They... They showed me into the drawing-room, after expressing delight at how I looked. A chair had been placed close to the central window, and it was here that I was asked to sit. Mr Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened to! He was comical, and I laughed until I was quite weary."
"How did Mrs Rucastle act during this?" Yujin asked her.
"She never smiled at his jokes, and had an anxious look on her face," she recalled, "After an hour or so, Mr Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time for me to commence my duties for the day, and to go to little Edward in the nursery. Two days later, the same performance went through under exactly similar circumstances. Afterwards, he handed me a novel and begged me to read to him. I read for about ten minutes, but in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to stop and change my dress."
"It seems as if they wanted to keep your face away from the window," Herlock remarked.
"That was exactly my thought, Mr Sholmes. Luckily, I devised a plan to assist me in seeing what was behind me." Miss Hunter seemed rather proud of herself, her face alight with a wide smile. "My hand-mirror had been broken, so I concealed a piece of glass from it in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and I was able to see behind me. At first glance, there was nothing. However, upon the second, I noticed a bearded man standing in the road, who seemed to be looking in my direction."
"A nosey neighbour, perhaps," Yujin suggested.
Miss Hunter shook her head. "I confess that there are usually passersby, but this man was leaning against the railings and was looking at me. I glanced towards Mrs Rucastle, and her searching glance told me that she knew what I had done. She told Mr Rucastle about the man, and he told me to motion him to go away. That was a week ago, and I haven't repeated this odd performance since, nor seen the man in the road."
"Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one," Herlock said, "Is there anything else of note?"
"I.... I'm afraid you will find it to be quite disjointed. There may be little relation to the other incidents," Miss Hunter warned them, "On the very first day, Mr Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached, I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound of an animal moving about. Mr Rucastle explained that it was his mastiff, Carlo, and that Mr Toller feeds him once a day so that they can let him loose every night on anyone that dares to enter the grounds. The image of that hound patrolling the area at night is burned into my memory..."
Yujin nodded along to her story. "So, a dog patrols the grounds at night. On its own, it doesn't seem to be suspicious. I'm fairly certain Lord van Zieks does the same with letting his dog out at night. Although, I can't say that he starves it..."
"There was another strange experience, too," Miss Hunter remarked, "Do you recall that I cut my hair off in London? I kept a coil of it in the bottom of my trunk. I was packing away my linen one evening when I noticed that a drawer was locked. Naturally, I still had quite a bit to pack away, so I tried to unlock it with the keys that I had. When I did, I found what appeared to be a coil of my own hair. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same thickness."
"Yet, such a thing would be impossible," Yujin pointed out.
"I thought the same thing myself, Dr Mikotoba. With trembling hands, I undid my trunk and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses side by side, and they were identical. It was incredibly strange, yet I made no mention of it to the Rucastles, as I had unlocked a drawer that they had locked themselves." Miss Hunter took a deep breath. "There is also... the wing."
"The wing?" Herlock repeated.
"Yes; perhaps it is better if I explain it to you in further detail..."
----
There was one wing of the Copper Beeches that didn't appear to be inhabited at all. The door leading to the wing was always locked. One day, Miss Hunter witnessed Mr Rucastle coming out of the door, his keys in his hand, and an angry look on his face. His cheeks were red, his brow was crinkled in anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past Miss Hunter without a word or a look.
Curious, Miss Hunter went out for a walk in the grounds, heading towards the side of the house where the uninhabited wing was. The wing had four windows, three of which were dirty, and the fourth was shuttered up. As Miss Hunter examined the odd wing, Mr Rucastle approached her, as merry and jovial as ever.
"You must not think of me as rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady," he said, "I was preoccupied with business matters."
"It really is no trouble," Miss Hunter replied, "By the way, you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up."
Mr Rucastle seemed startled by her remark. "Photography is one of my hobbies," he claimed, "I have made my dark room up there. Oh, but how observant you are! Who could ever believe it, hm?" He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at her.
After this peculiar incident, Miss Hunter was desperate to see what Mr Rucastle was hiding. It was more than curiosity; she felt that some good might come if she had a look. It was yesterday when her chance came. She would often see Mr Toller take things too and from the room, and on yesterday evening, he had been drinking heavily. He had left the key in the door after he left. Now alone, Miss Hunter gently turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through.
There was a passage in front of her, unpapered and uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round the corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. They both led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was locked and fastened, yet the room was not locked in darkness; the light source must've been coming from a skylight in the room.
As Miss Hunter stood there, gazing at the door, she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps within the room. She saw a shadow pass through the dim light. Terror overwhelmed Miss Hunter, and she turned and ran. She ran as though a dreadful hand was behind her, clutching at the skirt of her dress. In her fear, she continued to run, rushing down the passage and through the door, straight into the arms of Mr Rucastle.
"So," said he, smiling, "It was you, then. I thought that it must be when I saw the door open."
"I'm so frightened!" Miss Hunter cried in between her panting.
"My dear young lady, what has frightened you so?" His voice was just a little too coaxing.
"I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing," she answered, nervously on her guard, "But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!"
"Only that?" Mr Rucastle asked, looking at her earnestly.
"Why, what did you think?"
"Why do you think that I lock this door?"
Miss Hunter was quickly becoming uncomfortable with his tone of voice. He was leaning ever closer towards her, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. "I am sure that I do not know," she insisted.
"It is to keep people out who have no business here. Do you see?" Mr Rucastle was still smiling in the most amicable manner.
"I am sure if I had known-"
"Well then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again..." In an instant, the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at Miss Hunter with the face of a demon. "I'll throw you to the mastiff."
Miss Hunter pushed past him and ran to her room, utterly terrified.
----
"It was then when I thought of you, Mr Sholmes," Miss Hunter said, "I could not live there longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, the man, the woman, the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. I might have fled, but my curiosity is as strong as my fears. However, I must be back before three, as Mr and Mrs Rucastle will be away all evening, so I must look after the child. Do you have any idea what I should do?"
Herlock rose and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face. "Is Mr Toller drunk at the moment?" He asked her.
"Yes," she confirmed, "I heard his wife tell Mrs Rucastle that she could do nothing with him."
"Is there a cellar with a strong lock?"
"Yes, the wine-cellar."
Yujin shot Herlock a concerned look. "Sholmes, what are you planning? Nothing dangerous, I hope?"
"You know as well as I do that the scent of danger follows me constantly, Mikotoba!" Herlock declared a little too proudly, "You have been very brave, Miss Hunter, and for that, I commend you. Do you think you could perform one more feat for me? I should not ask for it if I did not think that you were an exceptional woman."
Miss Hunter nodded firmly. "I will try. What is it?"
"We will be at the Copper Beeches by seven, my partner and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs Toller, who might give the alarm." Herlock glanced towards Miss Hunter with a cat-like grin on his face. "Miss Hunter, if you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely. Now, Mikotoba... any ideas as to an explanation?"
"M-Me?" Yujin stuttered, taken back by the request. "Well, I... You could deduce that she is there to impersonate someone. There is also the fact that they have someone imprisoned in the locked wing. You were hired to impersonate the prisoner, which is why they asked you to cut your hair - as the person you were impersonating also has short hair."
"Indubitably. I have no doubt that she is impersonating Miss Alice Rucastle," Herlock deduced, "Her hair might've been cut off due to an illness - long hair is the fashion these days, but during times of illness, it can be hard to maintain. The man in the road was some friend of hers - possibly her fiancé - and you were there to convince him that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, being away from him. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from entering the grounds. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child, which you yourself picked up on, Mikotoba."
"About how cruel he is, you mean?" Yujin tilted his head curiously.
"Being a medical man, I can see why you picked up on it. I have frequently gained insight into the character of the parents by studying their children. This child's disposition is cruel, merely for cruelty's sake," Herlock explained, "If he derives this from his smiling father, or his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power."
"I am sure that you are right, Mr Sholmes," Miss Hunter agreed, "A thousand things came back to me which make me certain that you have hit it. Let us not lose an instant in bringing help to this poor lady!"
"We must be wary, for we are dealing with a very cunning man," Herlock warned them, "We will be with you at seven, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery."
----
It was seven when Herlock and Yujin reached the Copper Beeches. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark it as the correct house. They rushed to meet Miss Hunter, who was waiting for them at the door.
"Have you managed it?" Herlock asked her.
A loud thud came from somewhere downstairs. "That's Mrs Toller in the cellar," she told them, "Mr Toller lies snoring on the kitchen rug. I have his keys, which are duplicates of Mr Rucastle's."
"You have done well indeed!" Herlock exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Now, lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this evil business."
They passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found themselves in front of the centre room Miss Hunter had described. Herlock grabbed his tools and began to work on unlocking the door. He tried the various keys Miss Hunter had handed him, but without success. Herlock's face clouded over.
"I trust that we are not too late," he said, "Miss Hunter, I must warn you to be careful. Now, Mikotoba, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in."
With their united effort, the old rickety door gave way. They rushed into the room, only to witness a young woman climbing down the side of the house, mid-flight. There was no furniture in the room save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above was open.
Yujin rushed towards the window and witnessed a bearded man meet the young woman they saw climbing down earlier. "That must be Miss Rucastle and her fiancé!" He realised, "They escaped through the skylight, and used a ladder to scale the house."
Herlock's ears pricked up, sensing a sound neither of the two could hear. "We need to buy them time. It is the least we can do; Miss Hunter, sit upon the bed with your back facing the door. Stay silent until our ruse is discovered. Mikotoba, I placed your revolver in your pocket. We may need it."
Miss Hunter asked no questions and did so. Immediately after, a man appeared at the door of the room with a stick in his hand. Yujin deduced that this must've been Mr Rucastle, and found himself stepping back.
In a frenzy, Herlock sprang forward and confronted him. "You villain!" He cried, "How dare you lock up your daughter?!"
Mr Rucastle glanced at Miss Hunter, and slowly approached her. As he reached his hand out to see her face, Miss Hunter turned round, revealing the ruse. His face quickly turned to one of anger. "It is for me to ask you that!" He shrieked, "You thieves! Thinking you could trick me! I'll deliver your punishment!" He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.
"He's gone for the dog!" Miss Hunter exclaimed.
"We will have to stop it if we wish for Miss Rucastle to escape in time," said Yujin, "Quickly! Before it attacks her!"
They rushed down the stairs together. They had hardly reached the hall when they heard the bark of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound of crunching bones which was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out a side door.
"Someone has set loose the dog!" He realised, "It hasn't been fed in two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"
Herlock and Yujin rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Mr Toller hurrying behind them. They saw a huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Mr Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Yujin held out his revolver, but hesitated.
He turned towards his partner and pointed towards his coat. "Sholmes, the food in your pockets - throw it towards the cage, and we can trap the dog!" Yujin demanded, worry in his eyes.
"Of course!" Herlock dipped his hands in his pockets and threw a variety of food - dog treats, liquorice, and a few types of different biscuits. The mastiff quickly bolted after them, ignoring Mr Rucastle. Mr Toller stumbled up and locked the mastiff away before they could do any more harm.
Yujin rushed towards Mr Rucastle's side to assess his injuries; whilst not fatal, they were grave indeed. "Help me get him into the house. I can stop the bleeding, but I need your assistance," he said.
Once Yujin had done his best to relieve his pain, the door to the sitting-room opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.
"Mrs Toller!" Miss Hunter cried.
"Yes, miss, Mr Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you," Mrs Toller explained, "It is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."
"It is clear that Mrs Toller knows more about the matter than anyone else," said Herlock, looking keenly at her.
"Just remember that I was always Miss Alice's friend, and I was your friend, too," Mrs Toller began, glancing towards the unconscious Mr Rucastle. "Miss Alice was never happy at home, from the time her father married again. One day, she met Mr Fowler at a friend's house, which is when everything took a turn for the worse. You see, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, that she left it in Mr Rucastle's hands."
"Yet, the possibility of a husband came forward," Yujin remarked.
"He would ask for all that the law would give him, which is when Mr Rucastle decided to put a stop to it," she explained, "He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could still use her money. When she wouldn't do it, she kept hounding her until she fell ill. For six weeks, she was at death's door, and we had to cut her beautiful hair off. But she wouldn't change her mind."
"Which is why Mr Rucastle imprisoned her, so that she would sign it," Herlock deduced, "He even brought Miss Hunter down from London to get rid of Mr Fowler. He never gave up on her, and even convinced you to assist in the escape plan by providing a ladder. Do I have that correct?"
"Yes, Mr Sholmes," Mrs Toller confirmed, "Mr Fowler was a very kind-spoken gentleman."
"I fear we must apologise for locking you up, Mrs Toller," Yujin bowed politely towards her. "Ah, I believe that the country surgeon and Mrs Rucastle are approaching. Should we take Miss Hunter back to Winchester?"
Miss Hunter smiled happily to herself. "I am overjoyed that Miss Rucastle has escaped captivity, and she is free to marry the one that she loves. However, I will be glad to escape this dreadful house... If you would be so kind, Dr Mikotoba, we should start our journey to Winchester without delay."
----
A few days later, normalcy had returned to Baker Street - or, at least, the amount of normalcy that surrounded Herlock Sholmes. Which, really, wasn't a lot. Yujin was enjoying some biscuits that Mrs Hudson had baked up, whilst his partner was absorbed in some letter or another.
"Enjoying yourself there?" Herlock commented, sneaking a glance towards his partner. "You have a sweet tooth, don't you, Mikotoba? Slow down and leave me some, before you gobble them all up."
Yujin let out an annoyed grunt and finished off the biscuit in his hand. "It's better than not eating for long periods at a time, unlike someone I know. Will you please tell me what that letter is about? You've been absorbed in it for a while now."
Herlock threw the letter in Yujin's direction. "It's from Miss Rucastle. It seems like she recognised us from a distance, or someone told her that we were involved in solving the matter. She says that they have married... I suppose it's Mrs Fowler now, hm? She is also asking about her father..."
A shadow clouded over Yujin. "I did all that I could, but the man will require care for the rest of his life. The attack severely wounded him, and I am not a miracle worker. It's a miracle that he survived."
"In other good news," Herlock said rather happily, "I expect great things from Miss Hunter. She is rather the remarkable woman. I have given her a personal recommendation, and my word will get her into any employment."
"I... highly doubt that," Yujin replied, "Anyways, I was thinking of collecting my stipend. If you would excuse me-"
As Yujin rose to leave, Herlock grabbed his wrist and forced him back down into his seat. "Your stipend can wait, my partner," he joyfully remarked, a mischievous smile on his lips. "I need someone to bounce a thought experiment off of. Do you expect me to talk to a brick wall?"
"Well... you could try," Yujin muttered, once again trying to get out of his seat. Once again, Herlock forced him back down.
"You will stay there, Mikotoba," Herlock warned him, "I will say when you can go. Now, the thought experiment: if a tree falls, and no one is around to hear it, will it make a sound? Now, you would at first think 'yes', however, according to a magazine titled The Chautauquan, with no ears nearby, sound cannot exist. This further raises the possibility of the unperceived world..."
With a heavy sigh, Yujin sank into his chair, left with no other choice than to listen to his partner lecture him. Eventually, he would tire himself out, but knowing Herlock, that would either be in the span of five minutes, or five hours. He was stuck, listening to his partner drone on and on.
Yet, there was something about it that made his heart flutter, as he saw the way his partner would wave his hands about and address his points rather beautifully. Something inside of him smiled at the scene. Perhaps he could collect his stipend tomorrow.