Holmes’s magnifying glass was out, and he began his typically minute examination of the room. He started with the windows, opening each in turn and examining the sills. As I waited for him to do this, I perused the bookshelves. In addition to Greek and Roman history volumes, which I assumed had been influenced by her famous father, there were the usual Jane Austen, George Eliot and Dickens. But there were also two colourful rows of novels and poetry I did not recognize, presumably aimed at young ladies. They had titles such as Penelope’s Terrible Surprise, The Tragedy of Annie LaMonte and Faded Blossoms.

I looked idly at Dillie’s dressing table. It was impeccably neat. In fact, the entire room was.

Holmes asked the maid for a glass of water, then as soon as she was gone he went through the bookshelves like an automaton, stopping to study the colourful collection of girls’ novels. He examined one or two, opened one, lingered upon it briefly, then pocketed it. From another pocket he retrieved a small notebook and silver pencil and made some notes.

He then looked under the bed, examined the carpet, and inside the closet. He was looking through the lady’s shoes when the maid returned.

‘Holmes,’ I signalled.

He looked up and smiled at the nervous girl. ‘Ah, my water. Please come in and tell us your name,’ said he.

‘Polly,’ said the maid with a slight curtsy. She served him a glass from a silver tray. She was a fresh-faced girl of perhaps sixteen, with red hair tucked away in a neat knot under her maid’s cap, freckled hands clenching the tray.

‘I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is Dr Watson. You are a ladies’ maid, then?’

‘Yes, sir. For Miss Odelia and Miss Atalanta.’

I noticed the girl’s distinct discomfort. ‘You may be wondering why we are here,’ I said. ‘Miss Odelia’s doll was found in the Jesus Lock, Polly. We are concerned for her safety, and we hope to discover something that will help us find her.’

The girl nodded.

Holmes, in his usual manner, leapt in. ‘I understand that your Dillie, er, Miss Odelia, disappears on a regular basis?’ said he.

‘I wouldn’t say “regular”, sir, but yes, she has done so before.’

Holmes moved to Miss Wyndham’s dressing table. ‘Where is her hairbrush? Something to clean her teeth? Pomade? Powder? A number of personal items one expects to see are missing from this table, are they not?’

The maid remained silent.

Holmes scanned the room. ‘There is no sign of violence here. She was not abducted; she packed to go somewhere,’ said Holmes. ‘That is a good sign. Might she have taken the doll with her?’

‘No, sir. She never liked that doll, sir.’

Holmes looked up sharply at her. ‘Then the doll was still here on Monday?’

The girl nodded.

‘When did you notice it gone?’

‘Er … Tuesday, sir.’

‘When exactly?’