20. THE CASE OF THE LIDO THIEF

A simple tale of theft and capture.

“They are opening a new lido today,” said Holmes unexpectedly as he twiddled on the tuning keys of his violin, a frown on his face. “This darned thing is out of tune and it’s got stuck,” he added.

“What’s a lido, Holmes?” I asked.

“Surely you know that, Watson?” he grunted, “it’s an open-air swimming pool where patrons can get the benefit of the sea or lakes without having to travel miles to get there.”

“Oh,” I muttered, disinterested.

“And I’m going there this afternoon,” he announced. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there and I have a notion that the latest wretch to plague London society might put in an appearance.”

“You mean the Invisible Jewel Thief?” I asked.

“I do indeed, Watson. The announcement has been made, and aware that there has been a spate of jewel thefts over the last few weeks it has been suggested that visitors intending to take a dip in the waters should leave anything precious at home. But you know what people are like. Being told to do one thing there are some who will do exactly the opposite because they don’t like being told what to do. It’s a human weakness and a boon to the criminal classes.”

“You may be right,” I told him.

“You can be assured that I am, Watson. It’s really quite elementary,” he replied with that assured smile that I have got so used to. “Now, Watson, prepare your swimming costume.”

“Me, Holmes?” I spluttered, “I have never possessed such a garment and I can assure you I never will! There are some in my profession who swear by the life-giving benefits of a good soaking in cold water, but I’m not one of them!”

“Then you will have to stand on the boundary and watch me,” he said. “Pray inform Mrs Hudson that we will be out this afternoon and ask her as sweetly as you can if she would mind preparing a flask of tea for our excursion.”

“A flask, Holmes?” I asked.

“Indeed. The one imported from Germany where such items are all the rage. They keep liquids at the same temperature even if they are in them for hours on end. I would have thought that a man of science like yourself would have been familiar with such things.”

“I’m a medical man,” I protested, “and not exactly a man of science!”

We set out that afternoon for the opening of a lido some miles from town, but fortunately it was easily reached by train.

It was clearly going to be some occasion as crowds of people of all classes were making the same journey and trudging the same mile of so from the railway station to where an open-air swimming facility was decorated with banners and bunting, and a quartet was playing a variety of jolly melodies. The whole atmosphere was one of pure excitement and gaiety.

There were clearly delineated areas for women to enter the water and, if they could, swim, and these were set well away from the main area which, of course, was for men. One of the advantages of our advanced society is that temptation in the form of the unnecessary exposure of flesh to the opposite gender is prevented whenever possible, though I am aware that some common dancers in music hall exhibitions stretch decency a great deal too far.

After a light lunch, “I have my costume, Watson,” said Holmes to me, indicating his bag. “There are rooms for men to change from their outdoor clothes to their costumes, and I intend to avail myself of one whilst at the same time keeping my eyes open. Meanwhile, if you would, my good fellow, I beg you to watch the goings on at the poolside with equal concentration.”

“Do you know what the jewel thief looks like, Holmes?” I asked.

He shook his head. “That is the very devil of it,” he expostulated, “it would appear that he … or she, we mustn’t be fooled into thinking it isn’t a woman … is the master of disguise. There was a robbery at the home of Lord and Lady Devere only last week and diamonds with a huge combined value were stolen, and yet the only visitor was a chimney sweep, and I was assured he went nowhere near the safe.”

“Was the chimney sweep a boy?” I asked.

“Watson! we’re not primitives! We no longer allow mere children to risk life and limb sweeping chimneys! No, this was a full grown man with brushes and a huge apron. His disguise, if I may be permitted to speculate, was simply that he was coated in a layer of unpleasant black soot.”

“It would make the clean him hard to recognise,” I agreed.

“And in another robbery the only visitor was a lady of high standing who herself was awash with gemstones and clad in voluminous skirts. But when I asked during my investigation it appeared that not one person could recall hearing the lady speak and consequently accepted the possibility of she being a he in disguise.”

“It would seem that apprehending the criminal will be no easy matter,” I muttered. “At least it helps if we know the nature of the criminal!”

“So keep your eyes open. I am going to change,” he announced. He then raised his voice so that anyone within ten feet of where we were standing would hear him quite clearly. “I am taking my antique studded cuff links and albert chain with its diamond fob with me, so they will be safe from any jewel thief who takes a fancy to them.”

Then he vanished in the direction of the changing room.

As he went I saw a figure detach itself from the crowd and follow behind him. Was this the jewel thief who has been troubling so many Londoners of late? If it was we were all in for a surprise, for this figure had the build of a child, maybe ten years old, maybe even younger, but it moved with the assurance of a shadow and it was clearly going after Holmes.

I was about to follow on and warn him when a second figure also sloped off in the same direction and with a purposeful determination that was highly suspicious. This time, though, it was apparently a woman. I say apparently because the figure was dressed as a lady of some standing with a fine expansive dress and extravagant hat. But, and this is what made my brow furrow, she was moving in such a way that her only destination would be the gentleman’s changing rooms, and no lady would surely never dare to enter such a place and hope to conceal her mistake from a single soul, such would be the outcry.

But she didn’t actually enter that room, but stood as close to its entrance as she could. Gentlemen entering with the intention of getting changed into their costumes had to push past her, and she didn’t move one inch to aid their entrance despite a huge number of frowns and scowls.

“How rude,” I thought.

I must admit I took my eyes off everyone else and concentrated on the woman. She was easy to see, being aided by her hat to appear taller than most.

After about ten minutes she took a step away from the door, a laboured somewhat awkward step, and I sighed my relief that she obviously had no part to play in any jewel theft. But I was premature in my thinking, for like a demon from the depths Holmes appeared clad only in his shiny black swimming costume, and he grabbed hold of the woman and swung her round to face him.

“So what have we got here?” he asked.

“Get yer ‘ands orf me!” screeched the woman in a man’s voice.

Then Holmes did the unthinkable. With a single pull he dragged her expensive-looking dress off her and dashed it to the ground, revealing the child I had seen following Holmes into the changing room clutching on to what looked like a bespoke piece of corsetry round her waist and hanging out of sight inside where her outer dress would have been had not Holmes whipped it off her.

“Here we have out jewel thief,” cried Holmes, “or should I say thieves!”

Then the truth dawned on me. The woman (or man dressed as a woman) was like the famous Trojan Horse, and acted as both a vessel for the child-thief to come and go undetected as well as a diversion, for many a man might be distracted by charms he perceives as feminine and not notice a snotty child with his hands where they shouldn’t be.

“Come, Watson,” said Holmes once the two criminals had been carted off by a police officer, “after so much excitement I feel like a cup of tea.

He produced the flask Mrs Hudson had prepared, and miracle of all miracles, the tea was still hot and exactly as we like it.

© Peter Rogerson 07.08.17