The Adventure of the Crimson Lady

Written by Belle Book, story idea by Erin Mills


Part Four

It was a long night for both Holmes and myself. First, we had to wait for the curator of the Ashmolean Museum to arrive so that Lestrade could inform him of what had been stolen. While we were waiting, the night watchman, a Mr. Alan Lyons, described the missing sketch to us in almost perfectly exact detail. I also managed to reassure Mr. Lyons that he was not to blame for the theft of the Samson and Delilah sketch, since "C.S." was a very clever woman. No doubt Lestrade would have added that even Sherlock Holmes had been unable to stop the theft, if the curator had not arrived.

Once the curator arrived, and Lestrade began to explain to him what had happened, Holmes announced that he would be investigating the telegraph office nearest the Ashmolean Museum before returning to London. Of course, I had to go with him. Then, once outside, he examined the curb, where to his delight, he found marks which indicated that our thief had been there in a cab, which he believed was probably stolen as the wagon had. He noticed that the horse had had a new shoe made recently.

Once we hailed a cab, Holmes examined the horse's hooves, and whistled. "What is it?" asked the cabman.

"Was your cab stolen recently?" asked Holmes. "For example, was it stolen earlier today or tonight?"

"As a matter of fact, it was," said the cabman. "This afternoon, as a matter of fact. The owner of the cab decided to post a reward if the cab wasn't returned by tomorrow. 'Owever, we didn't need to post a reward, since 'Arvey, who drives another cab owned by the same man, found the cab near the Railway Station at a quarter to eight. Is it important?"

"It just confirms a deduction I made about a thief I have been attempting to track," said Holmes, as he got inside the cab.

Soon we were at the nearest telegraph office, where we learned that a boy had come in at five minutes to seven with money to pay for a telegram to be sent to Scotland Yard. This boy had explained that a pretty woman in red had given him the money and the telegram. It was pretty obvious to us that the "pretty woman in red" must have been the female thief we were after.

Finally, we reached the train station and bought a ticket back to London. Once the train arrived and we were on our way back to Paddington Station, I asked, "Holmes, why would this female thief take the trouble to actually have a telegram sent to Scotland Yard? Most thieves would not be likely to announce their intentions so brazenly."

"But this thief is not like most thieves," Holmes explained. "We already know she is flamboyant as well as mysterious. Besides, notice that she waited until she was in Oxford before she had the telegram sent. We can safely deduce that she already made her plans and waited until she sent the boy to the telegraph office before going to the museum. Once we get back to London, I plan to call upon your wife tomorrow, as I need her help to trap our mysterious thief."

Finally, we reached London and from there, went our separate ways back to our homes. However, just as Holmes had promised, Holmes arrived at my house the very next day just before lunch and asked my wife if he could speak with her privately. She agreed, but what he told her I did not discover until the very next day, which was Sunday.

Holmes had asked me to come over to 221B Baker Street after church on Sunday, which I managed to do. Once there, Holmes said, "Look at this, Watson! I went to a contact at the London Times yesterday morning, and had this advertised in today's paper."

I examined the page he showed me, and my eye fell upon an ad Holmes had obviously circled. It announced that the British Museum had had the good fortune to obtain a painting from Miss Mary Morstan, a rising artist. The painting was entitled "Athena at the Gates of Olympus". Before the Museum received it, however, Miss Morstan would be showing her painting to anybody who cared to view it privately. The address given was my own address.

"So that is why you thought my wife would be instrumental in helping you entrap 'C.S.'," I said. "But supposing anyone applies, there will be no painting, unless Mary was once an excellent painter."

"The boarding establishment in Edinburgh where she lived taught women to write and to play the piano, but not to paint," said Holmes. "However, one of my last cases before I met you involved an artist whose daughter mysteriously disappeared. I was asked to find her."

"What happened to the girl?" I asked.

"One of his clients, a gentleman whose father was very wealthy, had seen the girl, courted her, seduced her, and persuaded her to fly with him. I managed to find them both but had a hard time persuading her to return to her father, because she was madly in love with her lover. I finally managed to persuade her that her lover planned to abandon her, and that her father would still welcome her back if she returned to him. In gratitude for my helping to rescue his beloved daughter, the artist agreed to paint this painting for me."

Holmes then showed me a painting, which showed Athena preparing to leave Mount Olympus and descend to the earth below. "This will serve as our bait to trap the mysterious 'C.S.'," he explained. "First, Mrs. Hudson will serve lunch for us, then we will go to your house, where Inspector Lestrade will join us to help us trap our thief. However, she seems to be a little late serving lunch. Ah, Mrs. Hudson! And brother Mycroft! I did not expect you to join us for lunch!"

I turned and saw Mrs. Hudson enter with three plates of ham for lunch. Right behind her was Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes's brother, as massive as he was the day I first met him. He greeted both of us warmly but not effusively, then sat down to eat with us.

"I am glad to see you, Mycroft," said Holmes. "I suppose your appearance at my quarters means you have found something concerning the piece that I gave to you."

"I have very little to report, but what I have is most suggestive," said Mycroft. "I am certain that what you gave me is a material which we know of as a plastics material. The name comes from the Greek word plastikos, which means 'able to be molded'. Such materials can look and act like materials such as glass and wood, but would be manufactured more easily and economically than either glass or wood would be. You have heard of the commercial molding of flexible materials such as lac in the United States."

"I have," said Holmes. "Also, were there not other plastics that were developed more recently?"

"Yes," said Mycroft. "One of these materials was named Parkesine, after Alexander Parkes, an English chemist who introduced the material in 1862. However, it was less successful than Celluloid, invented by the American printer John W. Hyatt in 1869. Both are synthetic, which means they are man-made, not naturally made. However, both materials and other manufactured materials like it are not completely synthetic, for they ultimately come from plant fibers. This appears to be completely man-made, and while I know of English and American chemists that are attempting to make a completely man-made plastics material, they have not succeeded so far."

"This is very interesting," said Holmes. "So you are suggesting that this piece that I found near the British Museum came from a material that no one has ever seen before?"

"I am," said Mycroft. "In fact, if I did not know better, I would swear that it reminded me of some story that I read a couple of years ago, written by an author called H.G. Wells. Ridiculous story, of course -- some nonsense about a machine that can enable you to travel through time, and a future society of some kind."

However, it did not seem to be so ridiculous to Holmes, for I noticed that he sat up with an air of excitement, as if he'd glimpsed something that he just knew would lead him to the truth. "Where did you read this story?" he asked.

"I think it was called the Science Schools Journal," said Mycroft. "However, it was a couple of years ago, and I only read it once then threw it away, so I would not have it any more. Why do you ask, Sherlock?"

Holmes frowned, as if he was tempted to share whatever ideas he had with his brother, then he said, "It may be important, but it might be trivial. In any case, thanks for your help, Mycroft."

"You're welcome, Sherlock," said Mycroft as we continued to eat our lunch. Once we finished, he left.

"Watson, do you have copies of the Science Schools Journal? If so, how long do you generally keep them?"

"About three years, and that story is vaguely familiar," I said.

"Then let's go to your home, Watson!" cried Holmes. "If this story confirms my suspicions, we may be dealing with a woman who's more than just a thief."


Once at my house, Holmes put the painting on the mantlepiece, while I went into my study, where I keep most of the publications that I subscribe to. The Science Schools Journal was one of them, owing to the fact that my roommate at the University of London always read them and allowed me to read them, thus leading to my eventual subscription to the journal once I married and moved to my own home. Inspector Lestrade had yet to arrive, which left Holmes and myself, along with my wife and the maid.

Now, I began examining the journal issues of 1887, the earliest issues I still had. There were no stories written by H.G. Wells in the issues of that year. I then examined the journal issues of 1888. Finally, I found the issue with the story in question.

"Here it is!" I cried, handing the paper, which I had opened to the page where the story began, to Holmes. "H.G. Wells wrote a story called 'The Chronic Argonauts', about a man who goes forward into the future, where he encounters a future society! Here's a description of his time machine. Take a look at the story!"

I watched Holmes read the story carefully. Why he thought such a fantastical story would help us with dealing with this clever thief, I could hardly guess. Holmes seemed to take an especial interest at a certain key point -- which I later discovered was the section about the time machine. He also seemed to take interest in what I later learned was the description of the homes of the beings who lived above ground, and the description of the world of those beings who lived below ground.

Finally, Holmes dropped the paper down to the ground. I asked, "What do you see in such an incredible story?"

"Incredible, perhaps, but not impossible," said Holmes. "What little clues I have all fit -- the material that Mycroft said was not something that was never seen before; plus the fact that the material belonged to a device with no wheels, and that this kind of device might exist in a society like the one Wells described."

I was stunned by this. "But what does this have to do with 'The Chronic Argonauts'?" I asked.

"I suspect our mysterious 'C.S.' is in fact a time traveler from the future," said Holmes. "She must have constructed a time machine and gone back in time with the sole intent of besting me."

We then heard a knock on the door. It turned out to be Inspector Lestrade. Holmes warned me to say nothing so far of what he suspected, as he had every reason to suspect "C.S." would arrive to steal the painting. No doubt he wanted to reveal all to Lestrade after he captured her.

"Where's the painting?" Lestrade asked. Holmes showed Lestrade where it was, then Lestrade asked, "You honestly think this woman will arrive to steal the painting? What if she suspects a trap?"

"Even if she does, she will not be able to resist an opportunity to best me yet again," said Holmes.

"Maybe she will send an accomplice to investigate whether it is a trap or not," I said. I remembered Jefferson Hope had done the same thing concerning the Lauriston Gardens mystery which I wrote about in "A Study in Scarlet". I also did not think it was likely that the woman would actually try to steal the painting herself. There was already evidence that she knew quite a bit about Holmes, and it was likely that she knew a bit about me as well, including the fact that my wife's maiden name was Mary Morstan. If she read the article, she might well recognize my wife's maiden name and suspect a trap.

"Possibly, but I think it's more likely she would come alone," said Holmes. "In the meantime, we should hide ourselves in preparation for our thief's arrival. Lestrade, you and I will hide behind the drapes. I will hide behind the drapes which are closest to the door that leads to the foyer. Watson, you will hide behind the door that leads to the dining room. There we will be sure to be able to block the exit way and trap our thief."

At that point we heard a knock on the door. I went to hide behind the dining room door, while I heard Holmes and Lestrade move to hide behind the drapes. I also heard the maid go to the door and open it. My wife remained in the sitting room, seated on the sofa.

"Yes?" I heard the maid ask. "Who's there?"

"I am Miss Penny Thomas," said a female voice with a distinct American accent. "May I speak with Miss Mary Morstan?"

"Come this way, Miss Thomas," said the maid, and a moment later, I heard her tell my wife, "Madam, this is Miss Penny Thomas. She wishes to speak with you. Miss Thomas, this is Miss Mary Morstan."

"Hello, Miss Thomas," my wife said. "Why do you want to speak with me?"

"I'm an art collector from America, here in London looking at art which I would like to either buy or view," Miss Thomas explained. "I read about your painting in the London Times, and I just had to see how good it is. Would you please show it to me?"

I heard my wife get up from the sofa and walk over to the mantlepiece. "Here it is, Miss Thomas," she said. "How do you like -- Miss Thomas!" I heard her run across the room, calling for the maid.

"What is it, madam?" she asked.

"Miss Thomas has fainted!" she cried. "Help me carry her to the sofa!" I heard them carrying Miss Thomas to the sofa, then heard my wife say, "We should get her a glass of water. Come." And she and the maid left Miss Thomas alone while they went into the dining room. It had been agreed that my wife and the maid would leave any women who came for the painting alone with it, so that "C.S." would attempt to steal it.

Soon, I heard Miss Thomas get up from the sofa, saying, "Fainting spells work every time! This is perfect! Carmen will be so pleased when she sees how I stole something for her so she can frustrate Mr. Holmes!"

'Carmen?' I thought. It must be the mysterious "C.S." whom she was referring to, since Miss Penny Thomas clearly said that Carmen was planning to frustrate Mr. Holmes -- something that our thief was doing very well.

I then heard a faint sound coming from the other side of the room. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Obviously it was Lestrade, as Holmes would never laugh if someone was referring to an attempt to frustrate him. Besides, Lestrade would be unable to resist an opportunity to have the last laugh on Holmes, especially since Holmes had had the last laugh on him all too often. However, Lestrade should have just kept quiet.

I heard Miss Thomas say, "A trap! I should get out of here!" I then heard Holmes and Lestrade move, which was my signal to emerge from behind the dining room door.

I saw a tall blonde woman, about five feet nine inches perhaps, standing in the middle of the room, not too far from the mantlepiece. Holmes had managed to stand in front of the door leading to the foyer, while Lestrade was moving toward her with the handcuffs ready. The woman looked in my direction, then sighed and held out her hands for the handcuffs. Lestrade snapped the handcuffs on her and prepared to take her to Scotland Yard for questioning.


Once inside Scotland Yard, Lestrade roughly pushed Miss Thomas into a chair, and loomed threateningly over her. To her credit, Miss Thomas did not seem cowed; instead, she looked defiantly at him. Holmes walked over to join Lestrade, turning her attention from the inspector to my friend. Holmes walked to stand at one side of the chair where she sat, then asked, "Would you mind standing up, Miss Thomas or whatever your name really is, so I can satisfy my curiosity on one small point?"

Miss Thomas looked confused, then nodded and stood up. Holmes then gently took a tuft of blonde hair in his hands, then yanked it. Miss Thomas screamed. "Holmes!" I cried out, shocked.

"It's all right, Watson," he said. "Her scream and the water in her eyes have convinced me that she is in fact not the mysterious Carmen S., but in fact someone who works for her. Proceed, Lestrade."

Holmes stepped aside and Lestrade took over. "Is Miss Penny Thomas your real name? Or is that an assumed name?"

"I took the name from my initials, which are P.T.," said the blonde woman. "My name is Page Turner." I shook my head -- surely I must have heard her statement wrong. Her name sounded like the word "page-turner", which meant something that kept you reading until the very end.

But I must have heard it correctly, for Lestrade yelled, "I don't like people who play games with me. I meant your REAL NAME!"

"Page Turner is my real name!" she cried out. "It's spelled 'Paige Turner'. My mother gave me that name. It's the truth!"

"Well, Miss Turner, why don't you tell us where you come from and what you and Carmen S. are doing in London?" asked Lestrade.

"Both my boss and I come from the United States of America," said Paige Turner. "As for why we're here -- surely you overheard my statement when I was left alone with the painting."

"We did, Miss Turner, but there is still a lot of information that needs to be gained concerning your employer's activitites," said Holmes. "We do not have her, but we have you."

"And I will give you no more information on her than I absolutely have to," said Miss Turner. Indeed, the only thing she gave us concerning Carmen S. was that Carmen S. had neither asked Miss Turner to investiagte the announcement nor had she agreed to let our captive investigate it for her. Miss Turner had read it while Carmen S. was out and decided to steal the painting to impress her employer. However, Miss Turner was evasive when Lestrade and Holmes asked what her employer was up to. Nor would she give us any details concerning where the two of them were currently hiding.

Finally, Lestrade said, "Miss Turner, we are going to keep you here until either you give us all the information we require, or until we arrest your employer. Mr. Holmes, what do you plan to do now?"

"Go back to my rooms, and figure out a new strategy to capture our mysterious thief," said Holmes. "Come, Watson."


As we rode back to 221B Baker Street, I said, "It appears that I was wrong in thinking that Carmen S. had anything to do with Miss Turner's attempted theft of the painting."

"And I underestimated our thief," said Holmes. "In my enthusiasm to capture her, I failed to realize that her knowledge of details about myself would include knowledge about your wife's maiden name. However, this setback has not been without merit. We do know the first name of the thief we are after, and we know that she is from the future. In all probability, her employee is also from the future. We have to make our plans with this information in mind."

We finally arrived back at his quarters, whereupon Holmes went for his pipe, which he had placed on the mantlepiece. "I need the pipe to concentrate on a suitable trap --" he began, then broke off, saying, "Damn and blast it!"

"Holmes! What happened?" I involuntarily asked as I saw Holmes standing in front of the fireplace, exerting some effort in freeing some big piece of paper that had been pinned to the mantlepiece by his penknife.

"This is what happened!" Holmes yelled, freeing the piece of paper and showing it to me. I immediately recognized it as the sketch of "Samson and Delilah" that had been stolen from the Ashmolean Museum! I had to struggle to keep from laughing as I realized who must have been in Holmes's rooms.

"Carmen S. has been here?" I asked.

"Yes!" Holmes cried, more angry than I have ever seen him. "She has taken my best pipe and left the sketch here instead!"

"Why would she take your best pipe?" I asked. "Did she smoke?" To this day, I do not know if I was really that obtuse or if I simply decided it would be better to risk appearing obtuse than to laugh at this woman's cleverness. It was never wise to laugh at Holmes.

"Think, Watson, think!" Holmes yelled in sheer frustration. "She took this course of action simply to best me! She must have entered in through the back entrance. It would have been more risky for her to come in through the front entrance, and it would have been very difficult for her to have come in through the basement, as there are bars in the windows. I have to find a way to defeat her! It is extremely personal with me now! But how can I outsmart a woman from the future who has been one step ahead of me the entire way?"

I did not know how to answer that question. And to be honest, I almost hoped there was no way to answer that question. It had been too long since I had seen Holmes completely frustrated, and it was too good for me not to enjoy the feeling -- even if I could only enjoy it without Holmes knowing it.


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