On the Sunday Mrs Gordon had left the shop at six, took an omnibus toward Kensington, and entered her house. Hawkins watched the door for nearly four hours, but no one came or went, nor did she reappear.
Mrs Smith walked toward Marylebone and entered the boarding house where she lodged. About a quarter of an hour later a man arrived on foot carrying a black doctor’s bag. He was admitted, remained within for some thirty minutes, and departed again. Mrs Smith herself was not seen to leave the house.
George Baker walked home to Clerkenwell, stopping only at a baker’s shop on the way.
Tom Mackenzie spent the early part of the evening at a public house in Soho, then passed to a billiard room, and finally entered his lodgings shortly before midnight.
Miss Lombardo took an omnibus to Pimlico and went directly into her ground floor home, not emerging again.
Holmes listened gravely. “A medical visit to Mrs Smith’s house,” said he. “Interesting, but scarcely sinister. Continue watching.”
The second evening showed little difference.
Mrs Gordon again went home directly.
Mrs Smith walked out briefly to a chemist and returned. Later, at about eight, the same man with the doctor’s bag came again, remained half an hour, and departed.
George Baker attended a music hall and afterwards went home.
Mackenzie drank and gamed as before. Miss Lombardo went to the British Museum, eating at a cafe before returning to Pimlico around 9pm by omnibus.
Holmes made no comment, save to ask Robins to continue.
Tuesday’s report again showed nothing beyond routine.
Mrs Gordon home.
Mrs Smith home and save going out again to the local shop was not seen again that evening.
George Baker home.
Mackenzie tavern, billiards, lodgings.
Miss Lombardo went from the shop taking an omnibus home.
When Robins had finished his recital, Holmes sat for a long time in silence, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“These people,” said he at last, “live as openly as fish in a glass bowl. Yet blackmail letters are being typed, and written by someone with knowledge of Mr Upton’s business and patrons. We must therefore cast our nets wider and see if there are any other fish to catch.”
Holmes had also continued to monitor the Standard Agony Column but nothing had appeared. The next morning Robins was called for and received further instructions.
“You will continue to watch your five,” said Holmes, “but in addition you will allocate more irregulars to follow those nearest to them. Sons, husbands, sisters, dependents. He gave Robins a list with the instruction to observe them only in public. I seek movements, not confidences.”
Thus began a second, broader observation.
Mrs Gordon’s son was followed nightly through a round of theatres, coffee houses, and billiard rooms, but met no one whose conduct suggested secrecy.
Mrs Smith’s husband, an invalid, was seen only once, when he was helped into the street by a neighbour and back again. The doctor with the black bag continued his occasional visits, always alone, always silent.
George Baker’s parents led uneventful lives, his father passing each evening between home and workshop. His Mother not being observed.
Mackenzie, with no family in London, kept to his familiar haunts and companions.
It was Hawkins, set to watch the crippled sister in Pimlico, who eventually brought a spark into the ashes.
On Thursday, there was nothing to report. The sister was not observed.
However, on Friday at nearly Midnight, with Holmes and I about to retire, Hawkins was brought to our sitting room by Robins with an air of restrained excitement.
Robins said “Sorry to disturb you so late Mr Holmes but I knew that you would want to be told straight away. Hawkins has information.”
“Well, Hawkins,” said Holmes quietly. “What news of Miss Gigliola Lombardo?”
“She came out late afternoon sir, just before four o’clock.”
“With her crutch?”
“No, sir. That’s the queer part. She had no crutch at all, and she walked straight, without any limp.”
Holmes’s eyes sharpened. “Indeed. Go on.”
“She hailed a hansom from the cab stand and went to Knightsbridge, sir. I hopped on the next cab and followed. She got down outside a fancy French restaurant, L’Aigle d’Or in Basil street. She went in by a side entrance.”
“And then?”
“I watched and waited outside, sir. About forty minutes later I went in myself, pretending to ask for some water. I saw