The Sensible Necktie and Other Stories of Sherlock Holmes by Peter K Andersson Page A

seemed for our benefit, had been emptied of people. Winstanton invited us to sit in a couple of comfortable leather armchairs by a roaring fire before taking a seat himself, inspecting us with a pleased, almost jeering, smile. “So, gentlemen, you were wondering why I asked you here.”
    â€œIs it anything to do with the thieving barman?” asked Holmes.
    â€œNo.” His smile vanished in less than a second. “Certainly not. What barman would that be?”
    â€œThe one downstairs, big fellow, short black hair and handlebar moustache. He has been stealing from your register for at least a few weeks now.”
    â€œBurleigh? What nonsense! What makes you think that?”
    â€œHe hides the money in a secret pocket inside his waistcoat which bulges conspicuously. The fabric on the front of the waistcoat has become stretched as a result of it.”
    Winstanton impatiently sidestepped the matter. “No, it is not about that.”
    â€œI see,” said Holmes. “Then is it perhaps the matter of your deceitful wife?”
    â€œWhat?” Winstanton’s eyes looked as if they were going to fall out of their sockets.
    â€œVery well. Proceed.”
    Winstanton now looked utterly confused. “Why do you think my wife is deceiving me?”
    â€œIt is of no consequence. Please state your case.”
    The man took a few deep breaths to compose himself. “It is simply because I have the highest respect for your powers of observation that I have asked you to come here, Mr Holmes, and I hope that you may assist me.”
    â€œI shall certainly do my best.”
    â€œAll right, then. Mr Holmes, I believe the Princess Louise is haunted. On four consecutive nights now, customers have complained of being robbed of their possessions, but despite exhaustive efforts to obtain the missing items and to apprehend the pickpockets, there has been no solution to the mystery. After the first two incidents, an Inspector Gregson came to investigate, and he suspected that a gang of pickpockets is operating in the premises. He had four of his men in civilian clothes infiltrating the visitors an entire evening, but nothing came out of it. Not even when a gentleman complained of having lost his pocketbook and Gregson ordered all the customers not to leave. Mr Holmes, each and every one of the customers that night were thoroughly searched, but nothing was found! Despite this, Gregson arrested three men on suspicions grounded upon the fact that the infiltrating policemen had not been able to survey them sufficiently. But all three men had to be released, since all of them proved to be entirely respectable City clerks with not a flaw in their character. And yet it goes on. Last night, three customers had their pockets picked, one of his purse and two of their watches.”
    â€œAnd what of the staff?” inquired Holmes.
    â€œI trust them all, including Burleigh. He has a seedy past, and maybe he takes a few notes from the till now and then, but he nor any of the others could have picked the customers’ pockets since they are all behind the counter, and the counter, as you know, is circular and never opens up into the rooms. I employ a young girl who goes around and picks up the empty tankards from the tables, but naturally I have searched her belongings as well as the kitchen and the kitchen staff without success. I can but think that whoever snatches things from our visitors has the ability to become invisible. A ghost!”
    Winstanton broke off and produced a handkerchief to wipe his brow. Holmes was silent and did not move a muscle in his face.
    â€œBut surely,” I said, “it must be very difficult to keep track of everybody who comes and goes. I’m sure the explanation must be that the culprit is extremely skilled at sneaking away inconspicuously and was even able to do so when the police was present.”
    â€œImpossible!” cried Winstanton. “The moment that