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By Root 620 0

’s a posh area and plenty of rich Americans with fancy homes, and no mistake.” Not that there was anything fancy about him – he had little luggage, his clothes were tatty, and then there was that nasty wound on ’is face. “I will go there tomorrow,” he said. “For there is someone who owes me something and I mean to collect it.” From the way ’e talked, I could tell ’e was up to no good and I thought to myself then and there – whoever this person is, maybe he should look out for ’imself. I was expecting trouble, but what can you do? If I turned away every suspicious-looking customer who came knocking at my door, I’d have no business at all. And now this American, Mr Harrison, is murdered! Well, it’s to be expected, I suppose. It’s the world we live in, isn’t it, where a respectable woman can’t run a hotel without having blood on the walls and corpses spread out on the floorboards. I should never have stayed in London. It’s an ’orrible place. Utterly ’orrible!’

We left her sitting in misery and Lestrade took his leave. ‘I’m sure we’ll run into each other again, Mr Holmes,’ he said. ‘And if you need me, you know where to find me.’

‘If I should ever find myself in need of Inspector Lestrade,’ Holmes muttered after he had gone, ‘then things will have come to a pretty pass. But let us step into the alleyway, Watson. My case is complete and yet there is still one small point which must be addressed.’

We went out of the front of the hotel into the main street and then entered the narrow, litter-strewn alleyway that ran past the room in which the American had met his end. The window was clearly visible about halfway down, with a wooden crate set just beneath it. It was evident that the killer had used this as a step to gain entrance. The window itself had not been locked and would have opened easily from outside. Holmes glanced at the ground in a perfunctory way, but there seemed to be nothing there to attract his attention. Together we followed the alley to the point at which it ended with a high wooden fence and an empty yard beyond. From there, we returned to the main road. By now, Holmes was deep in thought and I could see the unease in his pale, elongated face.

‘You remember the boy – Ross – last night,’ he said.

‘You thought that there was something he was holding back.’

‘And now I am certain of it. From where he was standing, he had a clear view of both the hotel and the alleyway, the end of which, as we have both seen, is blocked. The killer can only have entered, therefore, from the road, and Ross may well have had a sight of who it was.’

‘He certainly seemed ill at ease. But if he saw something, Holmes, why did he not tell us?’

‘Because he had some plan of his own, Watson. In a way, Lestrade was right. These boys live on their wits every hour of their lives. They must learn to do so if they are to survive. If Ross thought that there was money to be made, he would take on the devil himself! And yet there is something here that I don’t understand at all. What is it that this child could possibly have seen? A figure caught in the gaslight, flitting down a passageway and disappearing from sight, perhaps he hears a cry as the blow is struck. Moments later, the killer appears a second time, hurrying away into the night. Ross remains where he is and a short while later the three of us arrive.’

‘He was afraid,’ he said. ‘He mistook Carstairs for a police officer.’

‘It was more than fear. I would have said the boy was in the grip of something close to terror, but I assumed …’ He struck a hand against his brow. ‘We must find him again and speak with him. I hope I have not been guilty of a grave miscalculation.’

We stopped at a post office on the way back to Baker Street and Holmes sent another wire to Wiggins, the chief lieutenant of his little army of irregulars. But twenty-four hours later, Wiggins had still not reported back to us. And it was a short while after that that we heard the worst possible news.

Ross had disappeared.

SIX

Chorley Grange School for Boys

In 1890, the year of which I write, there were