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It was 6:30am at Utopia Limited, and in the hallway Evadne put on her coat, picked up her handbag, stared at her reflection and sighed.
She walked into the living room and gave voice to her feelings. “Hilda, I really, really don’t want to go to Blackheath’s anniversary celebration.”
Hilda looked up from the settee and put her cup of coffee back on its saucer. She wrinkled her brow. “It’s a bit late to be worrying about it now, dear.” She set the cup and saucer down on the coffee table in front of her. “You’ve got to go! It’s such an honour, Stackton Rugby Club being chosen to play a game against Blackheath for their 125th anniversary!”
Evadne sat down on the settee next to Hilda and set her handbag on the table. “But it’s hours to get there. Hours to get back. And I don’t even know anything about rugby!”
Hilda patted Evadne’s knee. “We’ve been through this. You know that doesn’t matter, dear. You just need to sit through the game and give a brief speech of thanks on behalf of Stackton at the meal afterwards. It has to be someone cultured, sophisticated and with immaculate manners.” She pursed her lips. “And heaven knows none of our players fit that bill!”
Evadne gave her a tiny and hopeful smile. “Are you sure though you wouldn’t like to go instead? It’s not too late to swap! And it seems more your kind of thing. A party, lots of chaps making a fuss of you…”
Hilda shook her head firmly. “As county commissioner, you know I am committed to attending the guides’ jamboree.” She set her jaw. “I do think it’s important to show my face and be there as a champion of all different kinds of girls.”
Evadne slumped backwards. “But why me? Why do I have to go?! Isn’t there anyone else who can represent Stackton?”
Hilda slapped her hand down on her own knee. “Evadne Hinge! Will you pull yourself together!” Her tone became softer. “The council chose you because we all know we can rely on you in any circumstances. And all you have to do is sit and watch the game, make your speech, and then if things become rowdy—”
“When things become rowdy,” said Evadne darkly.
Hilda inclined her head in acknowledgement. “When things become rowdy, you quietly leave and come home, where plenty of restorative tea and a full packet of petit beurre biscuits will be waiting for you.”
Evadne sat up a little straighter. “Oh, I suppose it is going to be alright.”
“Of course it is, dear,” smiled Hilda.
Evadne didn’t return the smile. “It’s just… You know, going to the London area again.”
Hilda’s smile faltered somewhat. “Yes, I suppose things did get a little strange the last couple of times we went up there. I mean, a complete stranger turning up out of the blue to play Irene Adler…”
“And that tiny matter of my getting kidnapped!” snapped Evadne.
Hilda gave her an apologetic smile. “Yes, that was awful, dear. I will be forever grateful Dr. Wilson and myself got you out of there unscathed.” She looked ruminative. “I do still wonder what happened about that though. Nobody ever came and took our statement, did they? And when we went to the nearest police station before coming home, they hadn’t a clue what we were talking about.”
“This is what I mean, dear!” said Evadne. “There was never even anything in the papers about a trial.” Her eyes widened. “What if that nice ‘Dr. Wilson’ wasn’t who he said he was? Perhaps he was one of the kidnappers and it was all some kind of bizarre game!” She shuddered. “Perhaps they’re all out there still. Waiting.”
A worried look did pass over Hilda’s face but she attempted a smile. “If it all was some kind of weird game for them, then we just happened to be there and I doubt very much they’re interested in us as individuals.” She shrugged. “Dr. Wilson knows our names and we’re very easy to find.” She preened a little. “I am rather well-known in the business.”
Evadne rolled her eyes but Hilda carried on.
“No, if they’ve left us alone thus far, I rather think we’re safe from their attentions. And Blackheath is some miles out from central London! If they’re villains, they’ll have their… ‘turf’.”
Evadne sighed. “I think maybe we’re letting our imaginations get away from us. But you’re right, Hilda. It was a strange experience, but it’s over and done with and it’s not likely to happen again.”
There was a crunching on the gravel outside and Evadne reached for her handbag and stood up.
“And there’s my taxi to take me to the station.”
She smiled at Hilda.
“You have a lovely day at the jamboree, and we’ll reconvene this evening to talk about how our respective days went!”
Hilda smiled up at her. “I’m sure we’ll both have a wonderful time, dear.”
She rose as well and looked Evadne up and down.
“Now have you got everything, dear? Where’s that present you were taking for Blackheath?”
“Oh, great heavens!” Evadne hurried into the kitchen and returned with a pottery rugby ball, the same size as an actual ball and painted with every detail, including “Blackheath 1858 - 1983” in gold lettering on the front.
Hilda looked at it in admiration. “You put so much work into this, dear. I’m sure they’re going to be thrilled with it.”
“Oh, it was nothing, Hilda!” But Evadne was blushing a little with the praise.
Hilda shook her head firmly. “No, I know you put everything you had into this little piece. You have every right to be proud of it.” She looked around. “Now where is its travelling box?”
“Still in the hallway,” said Evadne.
“Well, come on then!” said Hilda. She turned to exit the living room, and Evadne followed her out.
Hilda picked up a sturdy cardboard box from the hall table, rearranged the crumpled newspaper packaging a little, and held the box out so Evadne could carefully lay the pottery ball inside. Evadne closed the flaps of the lid over, and holding the handles of her handbag in the crook of her arm, she reached for the strong canvas bag that had been lying next to the box. She held the bag open and Hilda gently placed the box inside.
“There! All done!” said Hilda. “Now off you go! Don’t keep your driver waiting!”
She opened the front door and indicated the taxi on the driveway.
Evadne looked out at the taxi, and she sighed heavily. Then she put her shoulders back, and marched bravely out of the house, her handbag in one hand and the canvas bag in the other.
Hilda watched her go with a smile and a small shake of her head.
“I’ll see you later, dear!” she called. “It’ll all be fine! Really it will!”
The taxi driver dropped Evadne off at the railway station and her main journey began. Rather to her surprise, Evadne had a pleasant time on the train. Or rather trains. But the three changes presented no difficulties at all, and Evadne was able to relax, alternating between reading her book and looking out at the passing landscapes.
Before she knew it, she was at her final destination. She disembarked and then it was just a short walk to get to Blackheath’s ground, the Rectory Field.
Where she was greeted by an enthusiastic mob of overexcited young men in rugby kit, some of whom she recognised as Stackton Rugby Club’s “finest” and the others she assumed belonged to Blackheath. She moaned internally. It was going to be a very long day.
“Dr. Hinge?” A pleasant-faced woman of about fifty and in a formal trouser suit was addressing her.
Evadne smiled in relief. This was hopefully the Club President she had been in contact with over the past few weeks. “Ms. Hutchings?”
Ms. Hutchings grinned. “Yes, indeed. But please call me Jane!”
“And I’m Evadne.” Evadne hoped she didn’t look quite as relieved as she felt to see a mature and friendly face.
Jane cheerfully gestured towards the club house. “Let’s get you a seat in the bar away from these hooligans and then we can discuss things properly.”
“Please!” Evadne laughed. And she happily followed Jane towards the club house and into the bar.
Inside the bar, tables had been set for the post-game celebratory meal. Jane indicated the large table running across the back of the room. “You’ll be seated there of course with all the officials, but for the moment come and have a seat at the bar!”
“Oh, could I just leave my present for the team on the table first?” asked Evadne.
“Of course!” said Jane, and she led the way over to the head table.
Evadne set her handbag onto the table and then carefully placed the canvas bag on the table too so she could lift out the box. She opened it, took out the pottery ball and placed it right in the centre of the table. The slightly flattened base ensured it stayed in place without any chance of it rolling away.
Jane regarded it with some admiration. “That’s a beautiful piece of work. It must have taken you ages!”
Evadne smiled and looked down a little girlishly. “I am rather proud of it, I must admit.”
“Well, it’s certainly going to be the centre of attention today!” declared Jane.
Evadne indicated the cardboard box.
“Should I leave that with you, do you think, in case it’s helpful for transporting the ball later on?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jane. “That would be helpful!” She smiled. “I promise you, we will all be as careful with it as possible.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
Evadne picked up the canvas bag, gave her creation one last affectionate glance and then followed Jane over to the bar.
Evadne placed her handbag into the canvas bag and then placed both bags together on the bar counter, and the two of them took their places on the bar stools, Evadne perhaps a little more gingerly than the athletic Jane.
“Can I offer you a drink?” asked Jane.
Evadne felt a little shocked. It was still way before noon.
Jane flashed a grin. “I was thinking perhaps a cup of tea?”
“Oh, yes!” Evadne smiled in awkward embarrassment. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
Jane elegantly dismounted from the stool and disappeared through a door into presumably the area where the food was prepared.
Evadne looked around as she waited. A lot of effort had clearly been put into the decorations. One would think a modest wedding was taking place. Beautiful floral centrepieces and tablecloths. And a handpainted but skillfully done banner high on the wall behind the main table declaring “Blackheath 125 Years”.
Jane came back carefully holding two mugs of tea. However, just as she placed them on the bar a raucous cheer went up outside.
Jane frowned.
“I’d better just go and see what’s going on out there. Do excuse me a moment.”
And she strode out with a determined expression on her face.
Evadne picked up one of the mugs and sipped her tea slowly, but after a few minutes, Jane had still not reappeared. So Evadne left her bags and the remains of her tea on the counter and got up to have a wander around and admire the room’s decorations.
She heard someone re-enter and she looked round expectantly. However, it wasn’t Jane. It was impolite of her, she realised, but she found herself staring somewhat. The new arrival was a man. Youngish, but thankfully more mature than the players outside. But the oddest thing about him was the way he was dressed. He wore an old-fashioned suit. Almost Victorian she would have said. And there was something vaguely familiar about him… She couldn’t put her finger on it though.
He noticed Evadne and smiled and nodded. Then his expression became more pensive, reflecting Evadne’s expression.
“Good morning, madam,” he said. “Excuse me but… have we met before?”
Evadne laughed a little girlishly. “I’m not sure. I must admit I was just wondering the same thing.”
The gentleman bowed politely. “I suppose it must have been through the Club.”
Evadne gave a little shrug. “Well, this is my first visit to Blackheath. To be honest, I’m not really interested in rugby. Or sport in general.”
A brief look of utter horror flashed across the gentleman’s face but he recovered quickly.
“But you are here for the celebration?”
He pointed to the sign above the main table and paused.
“That’s strange. ‘Blackheath, a hundred and twenty-five years’?”
He furrowed his brow.
“Why has someone added in a one?”
Evadne was puzzled as well but for the opposite reason. “Why would they want to leave the one off, Mr…. Um?”
The gentleman smiled. “It’s Doctor, actually. Dr. Watson.”
Evadne beamed in delight. “Oh! How charming! Like Sherlock Holmes’ companion.”
Dr. Watson nodded proudly. “Yes, that is me. The one and the same.”
Evadne was thrown. Surely he wasn’t suggesting he was actually the Dr. Watson…? She stared at the man in his old-fashioned suit. A man who thought the club was celebrating only 25 years instead of 125…
The penny dropped.
Of course! In the original stories it was mentioned Dr. Watson had played for Blackheath. Jane must have hired this chap to play the role as part of the celebrations! Evadne considered the man’s physical form: his neat moustache, his good looks, his slightly muscular figure. Naturally he was of the theatrical persuasion. How could she ever have missed that?!
So he wasn’t actually Dr. Watson. He was an actor. That wasn’t his real name—
Another penny dropped into the slot.
His real name.
Evadne suddenly realised where she knew him from.
“Dr. Wilson?”
“Dr. Watson” looked bemused, and then eyes became very wide indeed. “My goodness! Dame Hilda’s friend! The kidnapping victim!” He wrinkled his nose in thought. “‘Evelyn’ was it…?”
“Evadne,” corrected Evadne. “Dr. Evadne Hinge, to be precise.”
Dr. Wilson looked at her curiously. “So you share my title…?”
“I’m a doctor of music,” Evadne clarified.
“Still, rather a coincidence,” said Dr. Wilson, looking and sounding as though he wasn’t quite sure if he believed her or not.
Evadne felt rather affronted and then abruptly remembered that perhaps she should be the one worrying about her companion’s truthfulness.
“So, why did you and the police not come to Queens of the Theatre to interview Hilda and myself after my rescue?”
Dr. Wilson narrowed his eyes. “Because, madam, when we went to the establishment, they had never heard of you and your companion, Dame Hilda.”
“Never heard of us—?” Evadne frowned. “Surely the receptionist would have us listed in her ledger. And didn’t you speak to the owner, Mabel Rivington?”
Dr. Wilson regarded her with even more suspicion. “The owner is a Mrs. Douthwaite. I would have thought you would know that. If you had been staying there.”
Mrs. Douthwaite? Evadne looked at him with some confusion, and then with some irritation. “Are you suggesting I am lying to you, Dr. Wilson?”
“That’s Dr. Watson,” said the doctor. “And I am simply trying to weigh up the evidence, as my colleague Mr. Sherlock Holmes has taught me to do.”
Evadne snorted. “I think if anyone’s lying, it might be you.” She held up her chin. “Were you behind my kidnapping?”
The doctor laughed abruptly in surprise. “Are you suggesting I am a criminal mastermind, in parallel to fighting crime with Mr. Holmes?”
He held up a finger and stared at her consideringly.
“Or… do you think I was trying to capture you because you are the criminal mastermind?!”
He came closer.
“It seems such a strange coincidence that we should just happen to bump into each other again. Perhaps you have been tracking me for your own nefarious reasons! Holmes has been hinting about a ‘Napoleon of Crime’ for some time without giving me the name.”
“Moriarty?” Evadne automatically supplied the name before she could stop herself.
The doctor stared at her. “And so I learn your true identity, madam.” He shook his head. “Dr. Evadne Hinge and Dame Hilda Bracket. Hinge and Bracket, the ironmongers of crime! Of course they are fake names!”
He looked Evadne up and down.
“I must admit I had been expecting a man to be the Napoleon of Crime, but I have to concede that some women too have the necessary intellect and heartlessness.”
Evadne’s eyebrows were raised high. “Well, thank you very much!”
She realised that things were getting a little off-track. Doctor Whoever-he-was was diving a little too deep into his part.
“But obviously I am not Moriarty. And I don’t know who you are: actor, criminal, or a mixture of both, but I do know you are not Dr. Watson!”
The doctor’s face was beginning to redden with indignation. “How dare you, madam! Casting aspersions on my good name! Literally!”
It was at this point, Jane returned.
“Right! I managed to get certain hooligans to all put their shirts back on again.”
She grinned at Evadne.
“So Doctor, are you ready for all the plans to be set in motion?”
The other doctor swung round to look at Jane.
“A-ha! Moriarty’s associate!”
Jane appeared startled by this newcomer’s apparently abrupt deviation into trivia questions, but she quickly and politely rallied.
“Um… Moran?”
The doctor narrowed his eyes at her. “So ‘Dame Hilda’ has taken on a new disguise and a new identity. ‘Pleased’ to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Moran.”
Now, Jane had never had a romantic interest in men. But three brothers, a lifelong male best friend, and many years of being involved in the rugby world had given her a fondness for the gender and a sturdy training in dealing with their eccentricities.
She smiled at the doctor cautiously, and glanced at Evadne for clarification.
Evadne smiled awkwardly back at her. “This gentleman says that… he’s Dr. Watson. I assume you invited him?”
“No…” said Jane carefully. “No, I don’t think that I did.”
The doctor snorted in derision. “Naturally, Mrs. Moran and Dr. Moriarty—” He gestured at Evadne. “—would not want me here.”
Jane once again looked to Evadne for clarification. Evadne shrugged a little helplessly.
The doctor though was not paying attention and was talking things through with himself.
“I did wonder if I was doing the right thing, leaving Holmes alone while he was trying to recover the Addiscombe jewels. But he did reassure me that it was fine for me to attend Blackheath’s celebrations, as long as I was prepared to return at any time following his summons. He even joked that I could relax and enjoy myself but should always keep my eye on the ball…”
The doctor trailed off and he stared at Evadne’s pottery ball, proudly placed on the table in centre stage.
“Of course! Dr. Moriarty took the jewels, and has hidden them in plain sight!”
He strode over to the table and snatched up the ball.
“Now hang on—!” said Evadne hotly.
She hurried over to try and take the ceramic from him.
“I think not, madam!”
The doctor pulled the ball away from Evadne, and he vigorously shook it. He seemed disappointed by the results.
“No rattling…”
A look of triumph came over his face.
“The jewels must have been baked into the clay itself!”
“What on earth are you talking about, man?!” cried Evadne, desperately trying to retrieve the ball. “There’s nothing inside it! Now please give it back!”
The doctor laughed at her. “You seem awfully keen to retain this amateurish piece of bric-a-brac, Dr. Moriarty. I assume there has to be much more to it than its severely limited aesthetic value!”
Evadne became very, very still.
She stared unblinkingly at the doctor and her face darkened.
The doctor looked back at her, regarding her cautiously.
“How. Dare. YOU!”
Evadne lunged at the ball but the doctor abruptly took off at a sprint, heading for the exit and back outside.
Evadne turned to Jane, with a horror-stricken expression. “I spent a fortnight making that dratted ball!”
“Right.”
Jane might have been wearing 3 inch heels but she took off like a rocket after the errant doctor. After a brief pause Evadne followed on, at the highest speed she could muster. Hilda often laughed at her footwear, but today she was deeply grateful she was wearing her normal sensible shoes.
Once she was outside, she saw the doctor heading onto the rugby field with Jane close behind. The doctor was in impressive physical form though and wearing flat shoes, and so was already pulling ahead.
Evadne came to a halt and looked over at the milling rugby players on the edge of the field. Some of the young men were watching the dramatic pursuit with mild curiosity, but nobody seemed particularly keen to get involved.
Evadne waved her arms at them.
“He’s a thief! He’s got my present for Blackheath!”
Some concern did pass over the young men’s faces but still nobody sprang into action.
Evadne thought desperately.
“Whoever catches him— gets a jeroboam of champagne!”
As one, both rugby teams surged after the doctor and Jane.
Evadne looked up briefly at the heavens in exasperation, and then trotted on after everyone else to see how the situation played out.
The young rugby players were of course all at the peak of fitness and wearing the correct gear and footwear to be on the field, so they rapidly caught up to the fleeing doctor, Jane falling back to let them through.
A member of the Blackheath club neatly yanked the pottery ball out of the doctor’s hands. The doctor put his hands on the ball to try and pull it back, but the Blackheath player turned and threw the ball to a Stackton club player behind him.
With grim determination, the doctor turned his attention to the new possessor of the ball but the Stackton player swiftly threw the ball across to a fresh Blackheath player. Again, the doctor turned his attention to the new holder of the ball and ran towards him. The Blackheath player threw the ball back to another Stackton player and once again the doctor changed his target.
At this point, Evadne had caught up to Jane, who was standing and observing the scene. Jane gave Evadne a reassuring smile, and turned back to the heaving mass of humanity on the field.
“For heaven’s sake!” she yelled. “Somebody just tackle the chap and bring him down!”
The Stackton player currently holding the ball passed it back to a fellow teammate, who immediately started heading back to Evadne.
The rest of the players thundered towards the doctor and he rapidly disappeared in a scrum of players.
“I take it… that doesn’t exactly follow rugby union rules,” said Evadne.
“Mm,” agreed Jane with a broad grin.
The Stackton player with the ball jogged up to Evadne and cheerfully handed it over to her.
“There you go, Dr. Hinge!”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I’d better get back to all the fun!”
He sprinted back to his fellow players.
“Perhaps,” said Evadne, “we’d better go and break things up…?”
“I think perhaps we should,” said Jane. She indicated the ball that Evadne was tightly holding in her arms. “Actually, maybe you should go back in and put that somewhere safe, and then call the police. There’s a phone behind the bar.”
She looked with determination at the young men in front of her.
“I’ll sort out these hooligans and get a couple of them to bring ‘Dr. Watson’ back into the club house.”
Evadne walked slowly and carefully back to the club house, glancing between the ball in her arms and the ground in front of her as she went. So as she entered the building, she didn’t see the man waiting there until she almost bumped into him.
“Oh! I’m so sorry—”
She looked up at the man.
“Oh my God.”
It was yet another man in Victorian garb. This man was somewhat taller and leaner than the doctor, around six foot, and was wearing black with a splendid top hat.
Evadne clutched the ball to her chest. “You will not take it from me!” she yelled.
“Er, yes? Indeed…?” said the newcomer, cautiously.
Evadne stared at him. “I take it you are an associate of ‘Dr. Watson’?”
The man paused and seemed to consider those verbal inverted commas, then chose to continue on. “Yes, I am his associate Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”
Evadne gave a hollow laugh. “Of course you are.”
At this moment, Jane arrived with a Blackheath and a Stackton player—the two men dragging a muddy and disheveled but otherwise unharmed doctor along with them.
The six foot man’s eyes widened. “Watson! What on earth is going on?!”
The doctor attempted to pull his arms away from his captors’ grasp but failed. Instead he used his head to gesture to Evadne and Jane.
“Moriarty and Moran have got the Addiscombe jewels! I was trying to retrieve them to return them to their rightful owners, but I was assaulted by their gang of thugs. God knows what they’re going to do to us now. Save yourself while you can, Holmes!”
Jane looked utterly bemused. “Holmes…?”
She turned to Evadne, and Evadne nodded and sighed deeply.
“Yes, it’s another one.”
“Holmes” moved over to “Watson”.
“My dear chap, these ladies are very definitely not Moriarty and Moran. I don’t know where you got that idea from. And neither these ladies nor Moriarty and Moran have the jewels. Hopkins and I have received information as to where they are, and I have come to collect you so we can all retrieve them together.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.”
The doctor looked rather crestfallen.
“Holmes, I think I’ve made rather a fool of myself.”
“More than a fool!” said Evadne hotly. “You have behaved in a criminal manner and we are going to phone the police!”
The doctor’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but his friend gave a small smile and approached Evadne.
“I’m not so sure we need to bother the local constabulary.”
He glanced at the ball in Evadne’s arms.
“I take it that my companion attempted to take something from you?”
“Steal something from me,” said Evadne, with a matching “steely” expression.
The six foot man inclined his head. “Yes, even though it was with the best of intentions, he tried to steal your property. But…”
He gazed calmly at his restrained and crumpled friend and then looked back at Evadne.
“Your associates did attack him and are keeping him prisoner, despite not being police officers themselves.”
“It’s a citizen’s arrest!” declared Evadne, but she felt a little unsure.
The six foot man gave her another small smile. “Would it not be best if I gave you some monetary compensation for all your trouble and you let my colleague go? That would neatly sort everything out, would it not?”
To her great annoyance, Evadne could feel herself starting to weaken. The wretched man did have a strong, masterful personality.
“Yes, I suppose so…”
The six foot man clapped his hands together. “So it is settled!” He reached into an internal pocket and pulled out a wallet. He dramatically pulled out a banknote, thrust it at Evadne, and strode over to his friend.
“Come, Watson! The game is afoot!”
He pulled his colleague from the grasp of the two bemused rugby players, and quickly bustled him back towards the exit and out of the building.
“Watson” gave one last, apologetic wave, and the two of them were gone.
Evadne shifted the ceramic ball carefully to one side and stared down at the banknote in her hand. “£5…?” She rolled her eyes. “He only gave me £5! No wonder he left in a hurry.” Her eyes widened. “And it’s an old white £5 note! It’s not even legal tender any more!”
Her face froze.
“And I have to buy a jeroboam of champagne as a reward for all the players! That’s going to be £80 to £90 at least.”
She dropped the banknote onto the floor in disgust.
“It’s just adding insult to injury! What an awful day!”
The Stackton player looked at Evadne sympathically. “Dr. Hinge, you really don’t have to buy us anything.”
His Blackheath counterpart gave him a look. “Now hang on, chum! Let’s not be hasty about this.”
Amidst all this discussion, Jane had stooped and retrieved the banknote.
“But Evadne…”
She showed the note to Evadne.
“Look, this is from 1883.”
She shrugged.
“I’m no expert, but I’m fairly confident it will be of interest to collectors. You might even get more than £90 for it.”
She proffered it to Evadne, who took the note back into her free hand.
“Good heavens,” said Evadne. “Look at that. A Victorian banknote.”
She gazed at the exit, looking after the long-departed Holmes and Watson.
“Those two really committed themselves to the part.”
After all the stress and excitement, the rest of the day passed with rather a jovial, carnival atmosphere. Evadne even enjoyed the game a little, cheering along for both sides. As was appropriate for their special celebration, Blackheath won the match but Stackton made a good showing and represented their village well.
At the meal, Evadne’s speech was listened to with the perfect mixture of enthusiasm and attention, and even got a few laughs as she recalled the earlier events. And her offering of the ceramic rugby ball was finally and officially received by Jane with many appreciative words from her.
And to finish, Evadne wrote out a cheque for a jeroboam of champagne with only a small wince, and tucked the old £5 note firmly away in her handbag to look into selling it later.
Then leaving the youngsters to carry on with their celebrations, Evadne set off to walk back to the railway station, Jane cheerfully volunteering to accompany her.
The two of them reached the entrance to the station and they paused there.
“You must come and see us again, Evadne!” said Jane. “It’s been a delight to have you!” She smiled a little awkwardly but with genuine amusement. “And we don’t generally have strange men trying to steal club property.”
Evadne returned the smile. “I’m afraid that might be more my fault. Strange things tend to follow on after me when I come up to London.”
Jane grinned. “Well, naturally. You are a fascinating person!”
Evadne laughed. “That’s very kind.” She gestured towards the platform. “I’d better get going, I think. My train will be here in a few minutes. And I’m sure you want to get back to the festivities!”
“I should go and keep an eye on all of them, yes.”
Jane smiled.
“Have a safe journey, Evadne, and we’ll hopefully see you again!”
“Thank you, dear!” Evadne offered her hand and Jane heartily shook it. Then with a last wave, Evadne headed for her train and the beginning of her long journey home.
Evadne got out of the taxi, paid her fare with a generous tip, and turned and smiled up at Utopia Limited. She was very happy to be home again. She was pleasantly tired and the events of the day were starting to fade a little. On the whole she was feeling back to her normal self.
It was just coming up to 9 o’clock as Evadne entered the hallway. Hilda called out to her from the living room.
“Is that you, dear?”
“Yes, dear. I’m safely back!” Evadne closed the door and set her handbag and canvas bag on the hall table. She took off her coat and gently patted her hair to make sure it was perfect again after her journey. Then she entered the living room and looked fondly at Hilda, who was still in her county commissioner uniform but was settled comfortably into her armchair, looking over a piece of paper with a smile.
“I certainly had an eventful day!” declared Evadne. “Did your day go alright, dear?”
Hilda looked up and took off her readers. “Yes, it was lovely, dear! Lots of fun for everyone involved. And as a bonus, when I got back home I found a letter from Mabel Rivington! She found something when going through old papers and she thought it might amuse us.”
Evadne seated herself on the settee. “Oh? What is it, Hilda?”
“It’s a note written by the original owner of Queens of the Theatre. Back in the Victorian era! Probably addressed to one of her employees.”
Hilda popped her readers back on and cleared her throat a little.
“Bessie,
please ensure before locking up tonight that Miss Cadogan has not smuggled in a young man—”
Evadne smiled a little.
“—that Miss Eckleshall-Gilgallon has not smuggled in the entire Keenlyside Ladies’ Chamber Quartet again—”
Evadne’s eyes widened a little.
“—and that Mrs. Pamphlyn has not smuggled in any chickens.”
Evadne’s eyes became very wide indeed.
Hilda turned over the note.
“Cook has stated on several occasions that she is able and willing to provide all eggs that Mrs. Pamphlyn might desire.”
Evadne relaxed a little.
“Also, Inspector Hopkins and Mr. Holmes came by again. I thought it might have been to further enquire about ‘Dame Hilda’ and her friend—”
Hilda looked up at Evadne with an excited smile. Evadne, on the other hand, was no longer quite so relaxed. She sat upright and stared at Hilda.
But Hilda had already returned to her reading.
“—but they fully accept we do not know them, and their visit was about another matter. The missing Addiscombe jewels in fact.”
Evadne’s posture became even more rigid. “Addiscombe… jewels…?”
Hilda briefly glanced up at her. “That’s right, dear.”
She continued on with the note.
“Inspector Hopkins says he is aware that Miss Radmore has some useful connections and he and Mr. Holmes will be calling first thing in the morning in order to ask her some questions.
Please do be discreet about all this, dear. I do not want you getting involved in anything dangerous.
Keep safe and I will see you tomorrow.
Beryl—” Hilda squinted rather at the handwriting. “Oo, the signature is a little difficult to decipher… Ah, yes!—Douthwaite.”
Hilda set the note down on her lap and looked up at Evadne, beaming. “Exciting stuff, eh, dear?”
Evadne just stared at her. “And this… is a note from the Victorian era?”
“Oh, yes.” Hilda checked the note again. “Dated… 1883.”
“Gracious,” said Evadne quietly.
Hilda regarded the note again, smiling happily. “And I know the jewel robbery business is intriguing, but the main thing is that bizarre coincidence! Another Dame Hilda, and a real Mr. Holmes and a real Inspector Hopkins, all existing together back in Victorian London!”
She looked up again at Evadne.
“And I have to say those Victorian policemen seem to be a damn sight more efficient than our current lot. Nothing like the ones that completely abandoned us after your kidnap!”
She shook her head and looked back down at the note.
“Mr. Holmes and Inspector Hopkins… Well, I never.”
Hilda giggled a little.
“You do have to wonder though,” she said archly, “where on earth was Dr. Watson?”
“Yes,” said Evadne faintly. “I wonder.”