Chapter 5: Holmes Stopping a Runaway Elopement?

Billy sat down silently, watching the young lady—both unfamiliar and strangely familiar—take the chair opposite Holmes, facing the window.

He sensed the situation was growing surreal. Just last night, he had pulled from the river a pendant box painted with the eyes of this very woman, and today she had come knocking at their door.

A troubling suspicion arose within him: her fiancé had likely met with misfortune—either missing or worse. Why else would a pendant box bearing her eyes have been discarded into the river?

Of course, hoping for the best, it could have been an accidental loss. But from his conversation with Watson the previous day, Billy had learned that Holmes was no longer an obscure novice detective; he had become a renowned figure throughout England. For a client to seek him out at this hour was certainly not about simply recovering a trivial lost item.

Unless, of course, that item held great significance for both parties.

Objectively speaking, the pendant box was hardly valuable; they could have enlisted a cheaper detective elsewhere.

“Mr. Holmes, I wish to commission you to find my fiancé,” the weary-faced young woman said.

Holmes’s brow did not even twitch as he calmly inquired, “Fiancé?”

Billy clearly saw the faint embarrassment flash across the young lady’s face. “I’m sorry. Though we never formally became engaged, and my parents do not approve of our relationship, we had intended to marry. In my heart, he was already my fiancé. But he suddenly disappeared.”

“Miss, you have not yet introduced yourself,” Holmes said, tapping the armrest of his chair with his fingers.

“My name is Anne Bailey. My fiancé is Richard Gaskell, a student at London University’s medical school. We met six months ago at a horse race, but because our parents opposed our relationship, I was sent back to the countryside in Hampshire. Yet we kept in touch daily; he would send me a letter each day recounting his experiences. But five days ago, the letters stopped. No letters came for three days straight, and I immediately feared something had happened to him. I hurried to London and asked Richard’s classmates, but they said he was on hospital internship. Yet when I arrived at the hospital, they said he was on sick leave. I found his rented room, but the landlord said he hadn’t been seen for five days.”

Tears welled in Miss Bailey’s eyes as she spoke.

If it were merely a case of a breakup, why was he absent from both school and internship? This was suspicious indeed.

Her decision to seek Holmes was certainly wise.

“Billy, fetch the index manual from the bookshelf,” Holmes suddenly instructed.

Billy rose promptly, moved swiftly to the shelf, and soon found the distinctive index manual. It was clearly handmade, unlike the neatly published volumes surrounding it.

He handed the heavy tome to Holmes but did not return to his seat, curious about its contents.

Holmes made no objection and soon located the Gaskell family under the alphabetical listing.

The current Baron Gaskell, wealthy from his factories, had an estimated annual income of two thousand pounds according to Holmes’s records. He had three sons and two daughters. Billy found Richard’s name among the sons—it was the Baron’s youngest.

---

After reviewing the information, Holmes casually tossed the heavy index manual back to Billy, who almost dropped it. Holmes then fixed a piercing gaze on Miss Bailey.

“Miss Bailey, you have not told the whole truth. You and Mr. Gaskell did not communicate by letters but through the newspaper.”

Billy, just about to return the manual to the shelf, suddenly looked at Miss Bailey. Her shocked expression confirmed Holmes’s deduction.

But how could a couple communicate via newspaper? Billy was perplexed.

“My dear Anne, I can no longer bear our separation. On September 26, I will meet you in Hampshire. Together, we will escape this painful prison. I want to be with you forever,” Holmes calmly read aloud, words that should have been sweet and loving, causing goosebumps to rise on Billy’s arm.

At these words, Miss Bailey’s face turned deathly pale.

“Today is September 26. The message appeared on September 20 in the Daily Morning News. Although you and Mr. Gaskell used a secret code unique to you, I happen to be quite interested in and knowledgeable about such ciphers. After examining several previous messages, I deciphered your code,” Holmes said, pride slightly lifting his chin.

“Are you the one who published the coded message opposing our elopement the next day?” Miss Bailey covered her face. “Oh heavens, oh heavens.”

Not only was Miss Bailey shocked; Billy himself was amazed. Holmes actually involved himself in such trivial matters?

“I read the paper daily for interesting stories. I happened upon this case and posted a notice to help save two young people—it was merely a casual act.”

But Holmes’s raised eyebrows showed this was at least somewhat enjoyable for him, especially now that it connected to the case before them.

Holmes was apparently not one to approve of elopements. Billy himself was ambivalent but refrained from judgment, not knowing the full story.

Miss Bailey took a deep breath, finally lowering her hands after the maid brought tea.

“Forgive me, Mr. Holmes, for not being upfront. It’s just that... my parents are strict. Since they learned of my relationship with Richard, they have monitored my correspondence. I had no choice but to publish messages in the newspaper, telling them it was merely an outlet for my frustrations so they would allow it.”

Holmes smiled faintly. “I expected as much.”

He then produced the familiar pendant box from his pocket and placed it on the table, pushing it toward her.

“Miss Bailey, does this look familiar?”

Curious, she took the box, gently opened it, and instantly saw the slightly water-stained painting of her eyes.

Billy clearly saw a tear swiftly slide down her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away, voice trembling.

“This is the painting of my eyes I made for Richard. How did it come to be with you, Mr. Holmes? Has something really happened to him?”

She looked at Holmes anxiously.

“He remains missing. I intend to continue investigating. This was recovered from the river last night—it may have accidentally fallen in,” Holmes stood and said, “I will take this case, Miss Bailey. Leave me your address. If I find anything or you need assistance, I shall come to you.”

---

Holmes pushed a pen and paper toward her. She quickly wrote down her London address, and before leaving, looked at Holmes with earnest hope.

“Please find Richard as soon as you can, Mr. Holmes.”

After the door closed behind her and her footsteps faded, Holmes suddenly stood, bursting into joyous exclamation.

“Watson, come out quickly—stop hiding inside! After breakfast, we’re going to find Mr. Gaskell! What luck—one case just closed and another arrives, both quite intriguing.”

Holmes turned to Billy, ruffling his smooth black hair with fervor.

“My dear Billy, you truly are my lucky star!”

Billy blinked in confusion at the sudden affection.

Holmes picked up the pendant box from the table, glanced at it a few times, then stuffed it into his pocket.

“I think, Billy, your fishing skills merit further development.”

Billy’s confusion deepened.

Just then, Watson emerged from his bedroom, still in pajamas, evidently unwashed. To avoid awkwardness, he had not greeted the young lady but had overheard their conversation clearly.

“Sherlock, I recall you once said you wouldn’t concern yourself with whether they eloped or not—that it was a trivial matter,” Watson said, eyes filled with suspicion.

Holmes was speechless.

Billy barely restrained a laugh.

Holmes cleared his throat. “I did say that. It was a casual matter. Now, Watson, go freshen up. Billy’s already ready; don’t be the one left behind after breakfast.”

“Sherlock, I’m sorry. I think I should visit Miss Mostyn now...” Watson looked troubled.

He should have gone last night since the case involved her late father, and she was to inherit the jewels. Having a fondness for Miss Mostyn, Watson felt obliged to visit, especially as he helped solve the case.

But who would have guessed Billy’s miraculous fishing skills kept him there?

“Oh dear,” Holmes muttered discontentedly. “Love truly makes one lose reason. Well, I wish you well with Miss Mostyn. Now, Billy, come with me—you might yet need your unique fishing talents.”

---