Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess

Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess by Suzette Hollingsworth Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess by Suzette Hollingsworth Read Free Book Online
Authors: Suzette Hollingsworth
those new glass lenses to replace the arful black glasses.”
    She stared at him.   “Why did you change your mind Mr. Holmes?   About me , that is?”
    “I didn’t, Miss Belle.   I’ve only been known to change me mind once. ”   He straightened his posture and took out his pipe and lit it.   He was suddenly out of character, extremely rare for him once he was in disguise.  
    “I see.”
    “I doubt that, Miss Belle,” he replied, taking a long puff on his pipe.   “Now run along before we embark upon the second instance.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
7

    “You know, of course, that we can only accept girls who are members of the peerage.” Miss de Beauvais eyed Sherlock’s stylish attire.   “No matter how successful her connections.”   The proprietress was a brunette with her hair arranged in an ornate fashion, so stiff that it conceivably was meant to serve as a military helmet in the event of war.
    A wise precaution in Sherlock’s estimation.   He approved of a sensible woman.   He also approved of any person without a high degree of emotion or sentiment, a criteria which the lady before him likewise met.
    “Naturally.”   Sherlock glanced about the elaborate office, the style much in keeping with the large parlor he had observed upon entering Miss de Beauvais’ Finishing School for Distinguished Young Ladies .   The wallpaper was of a green and gold triangular pattern with a border more orange than red.   The ceiling was maroon and ivory while the carpet was maroon and green.   Oil paintings of flowers of every variety decorated the walls, the colors so vivid that one expected to see bees flying from one picture to the next.  
    Glancing at the décor, one certainly felt their sting.   In contrast, the Queen Anne chairs were starkly lacking in color, cushioned in cream and brown, as if there were no point in making the attempt.  
    “And what are the young lady’s connections?” she pressed.   “ Precisely ?”
    Though Miss de Beauvais’ was situated in the stylish part of town at 76 Regent Street, somehow it seemed appropriate that the exclusive finishing school was likewise nearby to Piccadilly Circus.   That Miss de Beauvais’ was also within walking distance of Café Royal , a favorite haunt of his and Watson’s, was mere coincidence—and most convenient as a location to compare notes.
    “My niece is the granddaughter of a distant land baron on her poor deceased mother’s side.”   Sherlock mentally resolved to have Mycroft produce some piece of paper authenticated by someone of importance justified by national security issues.   Mycroft had considerable clout, regardless of the Foreign Office’s interest.  
    “I see.   Perfectly suitable.”   She nodded agreeably, but her expressed commitment lacked conviction.   Miss de Beauvais’ lips were generally pursed, as if her primary motivation were containing her thoughts.   Her face was elongated; there was nothing particularly unappealing—or appealing—about her features to which a make-up meant to look like the absence of make-up was applied.   No doubt the fear of looking like a stage actress caused her to err on the colorless side, which she more than made up for in her choice of clothing and home décor.   Glancing at her hands, Sherlock saw that her nails were short and buffed but unpainted.   Miss de Beauvais had attended to every detail, even if her intent was neutrality, and perhaps not with the best results.
    It struck Sherlock that this woman might be his female equivalent in temperament, outlook, and emotional detachment.   It was amusing to contemplate making love to such a woman, one’s twin as it were.   Much like kissing a Venus flytrap.
    “An impoverished land baron, but a baron nonetheless.   I am too busy making money to concern myself with such things.”   Sherlock placed a heavy wad of bills on the desk between them.   “All the cash holdings come from my branch of the family.”
    “Oh,

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