Upon leaving the locksmith, I managed to sidetrack Holmes to a favourite Italian restaurant in Dorset Street, not far from 221B. The heat had inspired the proprietors to set several tables out on the pavement, and there we enjoyed a leisurely al fresco meal, along with a bottle of good Chianti. We returned to Baker Street around eight in the evening. I was pleased to have enabled some small transformation in my friend, but I knew that unless a new case arrived on our doorstep to occupy his feverish mind, danger would persist.

I had not long to worry, for upon our arrival we discovered a visitor, seated in a hall chair near our front door awaiting our return. It was Polly, the maid who served Odelia and Atalanta Wyndham. The poor girl was trembling, and her reddened eyes and pale face spoke volumes.

‘Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, I was hoping you’d return sooner,’ said Mrs Hudson. ‘Miss Polly here has been waiting for you for over an hour. She has some urgent business, it seems.’

We brought the girl upstairs and sat her in a comfortable chair. I noticed with relief that Mrs Hudson had once again restored order to our sitting-room.

The girl perched on the edge of the chair, stifling sobs.

‘Polly,’ said Holmes kindly, ‘please gather yourself together. You are among friends. What has happened to bring you here?’

‘My … my first time in London, sir,’ she said.

‘Well, that is enough to unsettle anyone,’ I said with a smile. ‘Are you all right? May I offer you a refreshment?’

‘Mrs Hudson gave me tea and a sandwich, thank you.’

‘Nothing untoward has happened to you?’ asked Holmes, sitting himself across from her.

‘No. No! I, er … it’s her. She … she’s fixin’ to leave.’

‘Miss Dillie, you mean?’ asked Holmes gently.

‘Yes.’

‘Leave her parents? I thought she just announced her engagement to Mr Eden-Summers?’

‘She don’t mean to go through with that, I don’t think. She ran away from home again. Went to the secret place. The place you know …’

‘This place is still a secret from her parents?’

‘I think so. But Atalanta …’

‘Polly, what has you so upset? Perhaps she just changed her mind, needs time to think.’

‘No. She … asked me to bring more things from home.’

‘I see. What things?’

‘Miss Atalanta saw me leave with a carpet-bag and I had to lie, I said my mother was sick. I can’t go back. But … Dillie, she don’t …’ A tear ran down her face and she wiped it away.

‘She doesn’t what, Polly?’

‘She don’t want me with her. She sent me away.’

‘What things did she ask you to bring her?’

‘Everything she cares about. Photographs. A bracelet. Some money she hid.’

Holmes stood up and began to pace. ‘What of her engagement ring?’ he asked.

‘She has them already.’

‘Well, of course she would take her engagement ring,’ I said. ‘Although—’