‘Mr H-Holmes,’ he stammered.

Holmes held up the bottle of distinctly coloured ink.

‘Deacon Buttons,’ he said, ‘why would you use such a unique colour of ink? A more common colour would have made it much more difficult to trace.’ Holmes glanced at Lamb and explained, ‘A note was written on the doll in this ink.’

The young man looked between his accuser and his mentor, in the manner of a rabbit that has been cornered by two foxes. ‘I found it – discarded in a bin,’ he mumbled.

‘Explain yourself,’ said Holmes.

‘I can … I …’

‘Do so,’ said Holmes. ‘I am eager to hear it.’

The young man looked up at his superior and dropped his eyes in shame. He seemed more afraid of the kindly father than my clearly antagonized friend.

‘Dillie … er … I think she may be in danger. I felt it was important to have Mr Holmes come out,’ he addressed the father. ‘I did not think he would come unless … unless …’

Father Lamb sighed. ‘My son, you should have come to me with this.’

‘What kind of danger?’ asked Holmes.

‘She has received letters. Or at least one threatening letter. I don’t think she has shown it to her family.’

Lamb sighed. ‘Young man. Many a time an intrigue such as this can be cleared up with the help of a friendly clergyman. Miss Wyndham is known to be highly strung. Is it not possible that she is playing on your sympathies for attention?’

‘But a threatening letter you say, Mr Buttons?’ demanded Holmes. ‘That would have sufficed. You did not mention this.’

The young man coloured. ‘I—’

‘Has there been more than one?’ persisted my friend.

‘I am not sure. I think so.’

‘What was the nature of the threat?’

‘I do not know exactly. She … read a part of one aloud.’

‘What did it say?’ Holmes impatiently waved him to continue.

‘I don’t remember the exact words. But it warned her to stop playing games and to choose among her suitors or to suffer dire consequences. She made light of it.’

‘The letter did not specify this consequence?’

‘No.’

Holmes set down the bottle of ink on the desk. He took a deep breath, willing control. I could sense his mounting anger.

‘Why did you not mention this to us earlier?’

‘It was told to me in confession.’

Holmes glanced at me then turned back to the young man. ‘She mentioned nothing of this to us! Did she suspect anyone in particular to have written this letter?’

‘Mention, sir? Then you have seen her?’ asked Buttons, flushing with excitement.

‘We have just come from her, Mr Buttons. You may rest assured she is safe.’

‘Thank the heavens!’ the young man exclaimed. ‘But where is she?’

‘To the point, did Miss Wyndham venture a theory about the writer of this letter?’

‘No. But it must be one of her young men!’