TITLE: The Case Of The Hidden Rubens
AUTHOR: Talepiece
RATING: 12 cert.
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra
CONTINUITY: This is the second story of 2016's Volume Five of the Casebook Series.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, please don't sue me.
CREDITS: This story is based on iThe Problem Of The Stolen Rubens/i by Jacquelle Futrelle.
NOTE: So much for 2016 being better! Apologies for the delay and I'm afraid this will be the last Casebook story for a while. Hopefully I'll return to it later in the year but for now I need to concentrate on health and other issues. Thanks to everyone who has followed the series so far, particular those who have left reviews and contacted me via the TP site.
POSTED: June 2016

It is considered by many a surprising thing that The Great Detective herself was also noted as an amateur artist but not so to those who knew her well. It was precisely the same attention to detail and honest gaze that made Madame Vastra so successful in both fields. It is no surprise to any that her most noted works are those many portraits of her beloved companion Miss Jenny Flint and it was the case of Mr Kale's stolen Rubens that saw both the genesis of her interest and the first such piece.

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint.
London, 1951.

Ruby Adams stepped from the Lyceum Theatre and took a breath of the cold night air. She had thoroughly enjoyed Mr Irving's performance, though perhaps not quite so much the play that he appeared in. Far more interesting had been the tale her friend Jenny Flint had relayed during the interval and Ruby looked forward to hearing more of the strange case of Frederick Calverley's untimely death when Jenny finally managed to extract herself from the conversation of an imposing man who had approached her on their way through the foyer.

Ruby was used to that sort of thing happening whenever she attended the theatre with Jenny Flint but it still rankled a little. Jenny lead such a remarkable life when she herself was finding her newly-married state somewhat dull. Not unpleasant in the least, simply a little less than enthralling, even with a husband as unconventional as Mr John Crook. Ruby smiled to herself; it was difficult to describe her own situation as unconventional when her friend and fellow theatre-lover's private arrangements were quite extraordinary.

She looked back to see Jenny Flint hand over a neatly printed card and offer the man a polite curtsey before excusing herself.

"Another one?" Ruby said.

Jenny pulled on her gloves with a huffed response that spoke volumes. She offered her arm to Ruby and they walked through the dispersing crowd towards their waiting conveyance.

Ruby was just about to ask after the unfortunate Mr Calverley when a young man appeared before them. She had seen him in the vicinity of Jenny's home many times but rarely got a chance for a careful look. In himself he was the usual sort of pale, gangly youth of the lower classes but his clothing and attitude told quite a different story. Suited and booted, with a top hat perched on his head at a precipitate angle, he cut quite the young gentleman.

"Evening," he said and tipped his hat at Ruby with a broad grin, "Mrs Crook, how are you and your fine husband?"

"Very well, I thank you Mr...?"

"Oh this is Archie, Ruby," Jenny rolled her eyes at Archie's little performance, "Mrs Ruby Crook, meet Master Archie."

Ruby nodded her greeting and whispered, "One of your Irregulars?"

Jenny grinned, "The original Irregular at that. Trouble?" she said to the subject of their conversation.

"Ain't there always?"

"What's she done now?" Jenny said and Ruby noticed that she was quite tense despite her light tone.

"Oh no, nothing like that. Well," Archie hesitated, "nothing visible from the outside of the house that is. Can't vouch for that laboratory of hers," he said the word carefully as if he was only now getting the hang of it.

Ruby smiled, "So it's true, all those stories about this 'laboratory' of Madame Vastra's?"

"True alright," Archie grinned, "Quite took my Mosa back when we had a peek in there." Archie saw the narrowing gaze of his employer and quickly added, "Only a peek, I swear to God, nothing but a quick peek and then we ran for cover."

Jenny reached out and tweaked the lad's ear causing him to grab for his top hat and glare back at her.

"You'd think I'd be ready for them these days."

"You should be," Jenny said, "So what's the problem then, Archie?"

They were at the carriage now and Archie waved the driver away to act as footman himself. He handed Ruby up with such a formal manner that she had to hide her smile beneath a cough, then helped Jenny up before springing in behind them. At a nod from Jenny, Archie barked an order to the driver and they were away.

Ruby was disappointed to miss the opportunity to question her friend more closely about her previous case. The chance to see the process from the other end, as it were to be there at the very beginning made up for it and her eyes flicked from Jenny to Archie as their conversation began.

"Thing is," the lad said, "it's Billy Blue-Eyes."

"Not well? He certainly didn't look well when you brought him to the house."

Archie waved the concern away, "Oh, don't worry about him, he always looks like that. Always has. Had a hard life has our Billy and no mistake. But it's not him, it's his Uncle."

"Uncle?" Jenny said, "I thought he was all alone."

"Uncle in a manner of speaking I mean. This chappy helped little Billy out when he ran away from that bi-" Archie pulled himself up and grinned an apology, "Beggin' pardon, Mrs Crook." He ignored Jenny's glare and went on, "When he ran away, this Jennings character helped him out, gave him a bit of food and that."

"Sounds like a good man," Ruby offered.

"You'd think so but now he's up for nicking a painting. A good'n as well, from what the law says."

"Not Mr Kale's Rubens?" Ruby said before Jenny could comment, "I wondered if you two would be asked to intervene. It's said to be quite the finest in London."

Jenny thought about the news reports of the American businessman who had lost his prized painting. Kale was somewhat secretive in his personal dealings and the reports had been sketchy at best but the gist had been intriguing. Jenny had thought that Vastra might offer their services but then news of the discovery of this Rubens in one of the servant's rooms had arrived and the case had been thought closed.

"And where is Billy now?" Jenny said though she already knew the answer.

"I told him to wait near your place, told him not to worry," Archie said but he sounded a little concerned.

Jenny knew that he took the welfare of his charges very seriously and she admired him for it. He had had a difficult life himself and those poor mites he now gathered together as the Paternoster Irregulars had often been through far worse. Archie saw himself as father and brother as well as boss and he had taken all three roles to heart. He had grown into quite the little gentleman and she was proud of him as, Jenny knew, was Vastra.

Jenny glanced out of the carriage window and said, "It's a bit late."

"He's proper worried about this," Archie said.

"Well, Madame will still be up and we might as well hear the tale now, eh? But I doubt we'll deal with the matter until the morning."

"Wouldn't ask you to. Thank you," Archie said, the relief evident in his tone.

The carriage rattled to a halt outside the Crook residence in a part of town not quite so pleasant as Paternoster Row but still far too exclusive for Mr Crook's Socialist leanings. Ruby could not hide her disappointment at having to leave at such a moment.

Jenny took her friend's hand and said, "I'll come round for tea in a day or two and tell you all about it."

"That would be lovely," Ruby beamed at her friend, "Thank you so much for this evening, it really has been quite wonderful. Do thank Madame Vastra for her generosity."

Archie dropped down from the carriage and doffed his hat formally as the driver handed Ruby down. Archie offered his arm and Ruby took it with a little giggle, allowing herself to be accompanied to the door. Mr Crook did not appear quite so pleased by it all when he opened the door to his wife at their approach.

Jenny leaned out of the carriage and waved at him in the hope of deflecting a little of his ire. Archie doffed his hat again, handed Ruby over to her husband and returned to the carriage with a grin on his face. Jenny clipped his ear as he entered and the top hat tumbled from his head to bounce on the floor as the driver whipped the horse into movement.

It was not long before they reached Paternoster Row and little more time before Jenny was pouring tea for them all. Vastra looked up at her companion from behind her veil. She had planned to take Jenny to bed immediately on her return and was somewhat put out at this interruption to their evening. Jenny had soothed her with some whispered words followed by a sharp reminder that they were now responsible for Master Archie's collection of waifs and strays. Vastra was not entirely sure how she felt about that but Jenny could be most persuasive.

"Did you enjoyed your evening, my dear?"

"Oh, it was lovely, Madame, Thank you for the tickets, it really was very sweet of you. Ruby says thank you also."

"You are both most welcome. Mrs Crook is well?"

"Well," Jenny hesitated, "I've got an idea she's finding married life a little less exciting than she'd hoped."

Vastra sighed, "Human men are rather short-sighted about the abilities of their wives, are they not?"

Jenny's gaze flicked to the two lads who sat opposite, their eyes following the conversation almost as closely as their ears. Master Archie's smirk was so plain as to be audible and his cohort's eyes were growing ever wider.

Vastra nodded a vague apology to her companion and then turned the full force of her veiled stare on the young boy. Billy Blue-Eyes was aptly named; his were the most vibrant blue irises that Vastra had ever seen. Not the pale blue of her own gaze and many others but a rich cobalt blue that seemed to fill his face. A face that was as round as his body was lank despite being short for his age, as were so many of the creatures who survived on the underbelly of British society. In all, Billy was a strange combination of uncoordinated growth and malnourished pallor who now sat curled into himself as if trying to hide.

"Master Blue-Eyes," Vastra began, "pray, do sit up straight."

The lad shot upright and looked as if he might salute. Jenny flicked a hand at Vastra's shoulder and hissed something about teasing the boy. Vastra merely grinned beneath her veil and continued to stare.

"Sorry, Madame," he said in a small, weak voice that was close to breaking but not quite close enough, "Beggin' pardon and all but will you help Mr Jennings?" he added in a tumble of words.

"This is the Mr Jennings accused of stealing a Rubens from Mr Kale?"

"It is, Madame."

"And you believe him innocent?"

"Oh yes, Madame; no doubt, Madame; wouldn't be here if not, Madame."

"Easy Billy," Jenny said and encouraged the lad to drink his tea. He did so with an audible slurp that had Archie glaring at him and Billy slouching down in his seat once more. Jenny took pity on him, "Don't you worry, eh, just get yourself settled and tell us what's what."

"Thing is," Billy began when he had carefully handed the tea cup back to Jenny, "Mr J's worked for this Kale bloke for years, since he arrived and bought the place. He's worked hard and he's been thanked for it too. Then Kale had the place done out and some funny little French chap in and suddenly the painting's gone."

"And it is found in Mr Jennings' room. Is that not the end of the tale?" Vastra said, watching the flare of anger peak and fade on Billy's pale cheeks, "Found precisely in his room at that."

"It was planted! Must have been. Mr J's a good man; he helped me when," Billy trailed off, a sharp pain evident in the expressive blue. He took a shaky breath and went on, "Anyway, he helped me and I reckon he's been set up. The servants' rooms don't even lock, anyone could have hidden the painting there."

"Indeed," Vastra considered for a long moment. She felt the three gazes settle on her but ignored them. She had read the reports of this case and had considered intervening but surely even Inspector Brown would not make so elementary a mistake as would be required to... Vastra laughed aloud, startling her companion and the young men, "Master Blue-Eyes, Miss Flint and I will take up this case on your behalf."

Billy let out a long-held breath, grinning foolishly as he said, "Thank you, Madame; thank you, Miss Flint; thank you, Archie."

"Do not thank us just yet," Vastra interrupted the lad before he could thank the carpet and the wallpaper, "This may be a tricky case and will certainly require a little tact. I doubt that Mr Kale or Inspector Brown will be pleased at our belated interest."

"I shouldn't set too much store by what that Inspector thinks," Archie said with feeling, remembering the farce of their attempt to apprehend Flambeau, "He wouldn't know an arrest from his -"

"Archie!" Jenny warned.

Billy's grin grew ever wider, "What can I do, Madame?"

"You can get a good night's rest, Master Blue-Eyes, and in the morning, visit with Mr Jennings and ask him to tell you everything he can of the whole affair. Ask him to be exact yet concise and remember everything that he tells you. You may report back to Miss Flint and I tomorrow evening."

Billy's joy faded a little, "Not sure the Copper's'll let me in."

"Don't worry about that," Archie said, "I'll come with you and we'll get to see your Mr J."

With that settled and the young men suitably assured of their commitment to the case, Vastra and Jenny saw them to the door and closed it with some finality on the rest of the world.

"You don't really need to hear what this Jennings has to say, do you, Madame?"

"Most probably not, my dear, but it will keep the young man occupied. Now then," Vastra said as she discarded her veil and gloves, "finally we are alone."

They were alone until they stepped down from their carriage the next morning outside the large abode of Mr Richard Kale. It was one of the showier sorts of mansions that London had to offer and spoke very loudly, even arrogantly of the wealth of its owner. Vastra considered the ostentation somewhat vulgar and dare not think what words her companion might choose.

She did not have to think, as it turned out, as Jenny said, "Quite the nabob, isn't he, our Mr Kale? Likes to show it off. How did he make his money anyway?"

"Axle grease, my dear." Jenny stopped, staring up at Vastra's veiled face for a moment and then bursting into laughter. "Jenny?" Vastra said, concerned for her companion's senses, "Are you quite well?"

"Axel grease! Truly? Blimey, there really is money in muck, isn't there?"

Vastra smiled, "There's a great deal of both, my dear, and much of it related. I believe in Mr Kale's native land there is a saying that the money is not in the mining but in the mining equipment. The same is true for axles it would appear."

The mansion was gated and they were met there by a tall, immaculately clothed young man who eyed Jenny's grinning face with as much concern as Vastra had moments before.

"Ladies?" Vastra handed over their card and requested an audience with Mr Kale. The young man glanced at the card and handed it back with barely a flicker of acknowledgement. "I'm afraid Mr Kale is not at home to visitors, Ladies."

"He might want to be," Jenny said, "If he wants to know what really happened to his Rubens."

The young man's eyes widened in surprise, "You are mistaken, Miss, the real Rubens has been returned to Mr Kale's collection. The case, as you might say, is closed."

"I believe the painting in question cost Mr Kale the sum of £50,000, did it not?" Vastra said and ignored the mutterings that escaped Jenny's lips at the extravagant purchase, "Surely for such an amount, Mr Kale would wish to be absolutely certain of its authenticity?"

The young man wavered visibly, weighing up the ire of his employer in either direction. Apparently he came to the conclusion that perhaps he should risk the short-term annoyance of Mr Kale in favour of the possible longer-term gratitude.

"Madame Vastra, do follow me," he said as he opened the smaller side gate and bowed them in.

They walked across the gravel drive and up to the large doors that opened just as they reached them. A stately butler bid them enter and lead them through the large hallway, past an impressive staircase and on into a small but lavishly appointed reception room.

"Blimey," Jenny said as she considered not just the opulence of the place but the immaculate state of the furniture and windows. Mr Kale did not stint on servants and they, in their turn, did not stint on hard work. Jenny was impressed despite herself.

"Quite a palace, is it not?" Vastra said.

"I'm so glad you approve, Madame Vastra," a heavily accented voice said from the entrance, "Not bad, eh?"

"Indeed," Vastra agreed and offered her hand to the man.

He was tall and upright with an athletic build that indicated hard work in his past. She had read enough to know that Kale was not of a rich Colonial family but a man who had raised himself up with hard work and good luck. In British society such a man would retain some measure of diffidence but not so in his equivalent from across the ocean.

"It's lovely, Sir," Jenny said as she too offered her hand. To her surprise he took it warmly and her respect for the man increased considerably.

"My man says that you're here about the Rubens but I have to tell you, Madame, Inspector Brown and his men did a good job on that case, found the thing within a day or two."

"In the house," Jenny pointed out.

"In Jennings' room," Kale shook his head, "I would never of expected it from him. Oh, I know he's been a little generous with food from the kitchens at times but you can't blame a man for wanting to help folks. Still, there it was, right there in his room and you can't make it plainer than that."

"Perhaps rather too plain, Mr Kale?"

Kale considered that and then said, "There really was no-one else. The case is closed. Madame Vastra, Miss Flint, I thank you for your concern but you've wasted your time and mine."

That, Vastra thought, was probably the worst crime Kale could imagine but she thought the sum of £50,000 most probably a close second place and said, "Mr Kale, surely you would like to be quite sure?"

"Madame," he began and his patience had obviously worn down. He made to continue but Jenny interrupted.

"Sir? Any chance that, well," she smiled shyly, "since we're here and all, any chance that we could see it? The Rubens. Mrs Ruby Crook was very impressed when your name was mentioned; knew all about this Rubens and I'm sure she thought it very fine indeed."

"£50,000 worth of fine, Miss Flint," Kale said and his attitude changed entirely. Mentioning the value in such a way would be a terrible faux pas in British circles but Kale seemed all too pleased to state the sum. Vastra muttered something about 'a princely sum' and Jenny gave a little gasp that seemed to please Kale even more. "£50,000 when I was in Rome last year. Buckley? Buckley there!" he shouted through the open door.

The butler appeared instantly and Kale instructed him to open up the gallery to allow him to show his visitors the Kale Collection. Vastra and Jenny followed Kale a few moments later, walking back through the hall to the large, sweeping staircase that lead to the gallery above. Even as they went, the walls were hung with portraits and landscapes along no particular theme.

It seemed that Mr Kale had purchased a London residence of a given square footage and had then preceded to purchase sufficient art to cover the length of walls that it provided. Vastra considered some of the artwork as they walked and found much of it of middling quality but there were certainly some pieces that would be the envy of any great house in the capital.

"I'm not an expert and I don't mind saying it," Kale said as if reading her mind, "but I know what I like and I know what folks in the know tell me is worth my money. I base my purchases on those two things and I'm happy with them. Well, most of them," he said with a shrug.

"I think they're very fine, Mr Kale," Jenny said and Vastra knew that she was telling the truth.

"Indeed, some quite lovely pieces," Vastra agreed somewhat more carefully.

They had made their way to the gallery now and Buckley stood by the door as Kale walked in and waved his arms around him expansively. It really was a breathtaking sight with high walls that on one side were filled with full-height double windows and on all others with Kale's prized artwork. There was little else to disturb the carefully arranged display and it made for a magnificent room.

"Well," Jenny said and did not need to say more as Kale took her expression for one of unuttered awe.

"Very fine, isn't it? Mr de Lessep helped with the arrangement and did quite a job of it too."

"Jules de Lessep the painter?" Vastra said as casually as she could manage.

"The one and the same, Madame," Kale beamed in pride, "He was here when the alterations were being done, making a copy of one of my collection."

"The Rubens, Sir?"

"Oh no, Miss Flint, he didn't think much of the Rubens at all," Kale laughed, "Much preferred the Whistler over there, though I never thought much of it. I'd even go so far as saying that his copy was better than the original."

Vastra made her way over to the painting in question and studied it for a moment. It was one of Whistler's famous Thames series.

"It is lovely," Jenny said as Vastra continued to stare, "very good likeness of the view."

"It is that, isn't it?" Kale said, "de Lessep was taken with it immediately."

"How did you meet him? Him being such a fine artist, I mean, must be quite a thing having someone like that want to copy your painting?" Jenny asked and sensed Vastra's smile from beneath the veil.

"I met him in the hotel when my family moved there during the work. I wasn't happy with the place; too much space in some parts, too cramped in others, you know how these houses are?"

"So you only met Monsieur de Lessep recently then?" Vastra said, her gaze never leaving the Whistler.

"A true gentleman and a great artist, Madame."

"He trained with Duran, I understand."

"So he said, though the name didn't mean much to me at the time. Anyway, we happened to get talking about art and he showed such interest in my collection that I invited him to see the place. He didn't seem to mind the mess, though he was very worried about the art being left in the house during the work. Kept turning paintings round and moving them off the floor and the like. Even insisted on wrapping the Rubens up properly after I'd shown it to him."

"And why didn't he like it so much, Sir?" Jenny said.

"Seen it before, he said, in Rome before I even bought it and thought it a good purchase for £50,000 but most certainly not to his tastes. Barely gave it a shrug all-in-all, while some of them he treated like babies to be coddled. This one especially," Kale again indicated the Whistler.

"Is it here, Sir? The Rubens?"

Kale nodded gravely and waved Jenny to follow him with a sweeping arm. They moved across the room and stopped before a table. There sat a rolled up canvas and a frame that showed the cut edges of the same still in place but bare board where the artwork should have been. Jenny felt Vastra by her side and sensed the keen gaze as her companion took in the thin strip of canvas and the slightly protruding section that had been left in one corner. Evidently the canvas had been cut away with a sharp penknife but perhaps not an entirely steady hand, certainly a rushed one.

Kale reached for the roll of canvas and opened it to display the Rubens. He held it at either end, the corners rolling despite his firm grip and Jenny offered her assistance to keep the painting flat.

"Thank you, Miss Flint. What do you think of it?"

"I think it's wonderful, Mr Kale. I'm not surprised you're so proud of it," Jenny added, "Whatever did your friend find to dislike about it?"

"Oh, I don't think he disliked it so much. Said it was a wonderful creation and sparkled with the colour beauty of it's pristine days, no less. Still, he thought it a bit old-hat, I suppose. He's a man of decided tastes, is de Lessep, kept looking from this to the Whistler as if comparing the two and I'm guessing the Rubens lost out badly."

"Yet it was to someone's tastes," Vastra pointed out, her own gaze flicking between the two paintings as had de Lessep's.

"Still can't believe it was Jennings," Kale sighed, "but Inspector Brown found the canvas right there in his room."

"You informed the Police of your loss immediately?"

"I did indeed, Madame, went straight round to Scotland Yard and demanded to see the highest ranking officer available. Had to say a few sharp words to get the Inspector to take it all seriously but after that he quite excelled himself. He and that Fletch were all over this house; searched the place from top to bottom and this," again he indicated the canvas that he and Jenny still held open, "was right there in Jennings' room."

"And how long had the Rubens been wrapped up before you discovered the crime?" Jenny asked.

"Well now, Mr de Lessep had been here three days and then it was a week later when the workman finished. He offered to come back and oversee things, kept saying that it was a difficult job to hang these works of art and needed an artist's eye. Couldn't have done it without him."

"So it was him who found the frame like that?" Jenny nodded towards it.

"I'd say we can let go of this now, Miss Flint," Kale said and they allowed the canvas to roll again. "It'll need stretching and reframing, so de Lessep says but he reckons it will survive the abuse. And, yes, it was him. He was so shocked by it all he had to go and lie down for a while. Was horrified that he had wrapped the thing for protection and then it had been stolen."

"Poor man," Jenny said and then looked around, "There are plenty of doors in and out of here, plenty of routes for the thief to take and I dare say plenty of rooms to hide in too."

"Too many to count, my dear wife says," Kale smiled, "but I had everything down in the dining room while the workman were on this floor."

"And that room?" Vastra said.

Kale hesitated for a moment and then said, "I'll show you both, since you've been good enough to offer your services."

Jenny and Vastra followed him once more, taking a second large staircase down to the lower floor, back through the hall and into a dining room at least as large as the gallery above. It had now returned to its intended purpose with a long, beautifully turned table running down its centre. The room bustled with servants who laid out enough places for a sizeable number of guests.

"You're having quite a do, Sir," Jenny said and watched the servants with a knowing eye.

"We are. It's my daughter's birthday," Kale said proudly.

"Felicitations," Vastra offered and Jenny added her congratulations, "I apologise for taking up your time on such an important day."

"Not at all, though I really should be getting on with things. Is there anything else, Ladies?"

"Two more questions, if you please Mr Kale," Vastra said and then asked them before he could respond, "You secured this room to your satisfaction, yes? And where would we find Monsieur de Lessep now?"

"As to de Lessep, he's still at Browns and, yes, the room was secured. All but those doors were locked," Kale pointed to the large double doors that opened on to the hall, "and there was someone there at all times. Mind you," Kale sighed again, "Jennings was on duty there more than once."

"I see," Vastra said with a decided nod, "and I thank you for your indulgence, Mr Kale."

"Oh yes, Sir," Jenny offered her hand in turn, "You've been most kind to show us your lovely house and artworks."

"It's been my pleasure, Ladies, and I thank you again for seeing fit to offer your assistance. Though, honestly, the Inspector has already done all the hard work."

"He is a most dedicated man, our Inspector Brown," Vastra allowed as Kale walked them to the door.

There they were handed over to the young man who had met them at the gate and he showed them back to the London street with a courteous bow and a farewell.

Vastra and Jenny stood at the gate, looking back up at the impressive building for a moment before Jenny spoke, "You noticed of course?"

"I did, my dear," Vastra offered her arm to Jenny, who took it and guided them back towards the carriage that awaited them.

"Though I'm not so sure how it was done. You?" Jenny looked up at Vastra's veiled face and saw a hint of a smile beneath it, "Think you might tell me, Madame?"

"When I am quite certain of the details, yes."

Jenny made an unladylike sound and then laughed, "So where to next?"

"I thought we might take tea at Browns and then on to an artists' emporium. I have a few questions to which I do not know the answer."

"Blimey," Jenny teased, "something The Great Detective doesn't know?"

"You mock me, my dear."

"You love it, Madame."

Vastra handed Jenny up into the carriage, much to the horror of two older women who were just alighting from their own conveyance, and then settled herself in for the short journey. They were sitting in the tea room in Browns offending the delicate sensibilities of yet more English ladies when a footman approached them and leaned down towards Vastra.

"Monsieur de Lessep would be most happy to see you, Madame."

"He is very kind. Perhaps you would inform the gentleman that Miss Flint and I will visit in a quarter hour."

The footman bowed once more and left without so much as a scandalised glance at Jenny. In turn, Jenny ignored them all and concentrated on the very fine tea and the excellent scones. Vastra watched her indulgently until it was time to make their way upstairs, now accompanied by another of the hotel staff in his perfectly tailored and starched morning suit.

"Not exactly a starving artist is he, our de Lessep?"

"Indeed not," Vastra considered the place for a moment and added, "I fear we could not afford more than the tea we have consumed."

"Well, it was nice but I could do at least as well."

"Better, my dear, infinitely better."

Jenny gave Vastra's arm a playful swat and then settled herself into a more serious pose when they were invited to enter the artist's rooms.

They were pleasant, Jenny decided, as she and Vastra walked though the doors, but not nearly the best in the place. Apparently de Lessep had been in residence for some time as he had decorated the space with the artistic touches of a man set fair to remain in one place. Jenny wondered what the staff thought about that and then remembered that this was not the usual sort of guest but one of the long-term residents that littered many an exclusive London hotel.

One of the paintings caught Vastra's eye and she was studying it closely when a small, excitable man entered from a door in the far wall. He was distinctly French with a nervous, agile way of moving that was matched by his quick and heavily accented speech.

"Ah, The Great Detective! What an honour, what an honour indeed," the little man pumped Vastra's hand and then turned his attentions on Jenny, "And Miss Flint, no less, the ever-faithful attendant. Welcome Ladies, welcome to my humble rooms. Ah, Madame, you have spotted by little piece of homage," he added, speaking entirely in his native language.

"A remarkable piece," Vastra responded in kind and then, aware of Jenny's growing pout, "But Monsieur de Lessep, I must ask you to speak in English, in deference to by companion."

"Of course! But of course, pardon moi, Miss Flint. Ah!" he laughed, "I do it again but a true apology can only be made in French, non?"

"No need to apologise, Sir, but English would help."

Vastra returned her attention to the painting that hung in pride of place, "This is your recent copy of the Whistler?"

"It is, it is," de Lessep beamed up at his work, his hands drawing patterns in the air as he expounded on the remarkable qualities of the original.

When he had finished Vastra said, "You do yourself an injustice; this is quite as fine as the original. You have a prodigious talent, Monsieur."

de Lessep blushed to his receding hairline and gave a theatrical bow in gratitude, "You do me a great compliment, Madame, a great compliment indeed."

"Mr Kale said that you weren't so impressed with the Rubens," Jenny said as she joined them.

"Ah," de Lessep cast himself into a nearby seat dramatically, "ah, Ladies, what a terrible shock that was when it was found missing. Terrible for my nerves."

"You had to have a lie down, I understand, Sir."

"I did! I did, Miss Flint. But the Rubens, well," he sighed, "a wonderful piece, no doubt, and quite as beautiful as the day it was painted but the Whistler," he indicated his own copy with another expansive gesture, "The Whistler is, as you English say, quite the thing, non?"

"It is a lovely picture of the place. You feel like you could walk right into it," Jenny agreed.

"Exactamente!"

Vastra was still considering the copy carefully and spoke without seeming to look away, "You will forgive us if we ask you a few questions about the theft, Monsieur?"

"Ask, Madame, Miss Flint, ask and I shall do my best to answer."

Vastra gave a little nod in Jenny's direction and she said, "Well, Sir, you met Mr Kale here, yes?"

"Oui. Yes, I mean."

"And he invited you to see his collection?"

"A most kind and generous soul, Monsieur Kale is. Invited me into his palace and gave me access to all his treasures."

"And you asked then and there if you could make your copy?"

"As soon as I saw the Whistler, I felt I must, I must!"

"And it took you how long, Sir?"

"Three days, three days I was there. Monsieur Kale offered me to bring the piece here. Here! Can you imagine, Miss Flint, the generosity of the offer?"

"But you said no?"

"How could I say yes; what if something happened, a fire or a theft? I would be distraught."

"But a theft did occur, Monsieur," Vastra put in.

"The horror! It was an outrage! What a relief when it was discovered. And that Jennings, he had seemed such a good man when I talked to him."

"Was he there often then?" Jenny said.

"Oui, he or the other tall one," de Lessep thought and then shrugged, "I cannot name him but the two were there all the time. Never left, standing guard at the door and stopping all but Monsieur Kale or myself from entering."

"So no-one else came in or out?"

"No-one."

"And nothing carried in or out, no workmen or such like?"

"Nothing, no-one. The other servants stopped them getting even nearby. Twenty other servants, no less, twenty servants simply to stand watch on his home! I assure you, Miss Flint, Madame, I was there alone but for Monsieur Kale's occasional visits and always under the watchful eye of one or other of the servants."

"And you left your copy and work things there overnight?"

"Oui."

"And when you finished?"

"I packed up my things and left. Jennings himself helped to carry the easel and my box, I had the painting," he waved at the copy, "under my arm like so," and then tucked his hand beneath is arm in illustration.

Jenny smiled at the gesture, "Mr Kale said that you were very insistent on wrapping up the Rubens and then on putting everything back in the gallery when the work was done."

"Ah but it was left on the floor! On the floor, can you imagine? And the front facing out where any boot might kick so," he gave a little kick of his foot and a heavy sigh, "No way to treat even Rubens," de Lessep laughed and repeated, "Even a Rubens, non?"

"So how do you wrap up a Rubens then?" Jenny smiled along with him.

"Carefully, Miss Flint, carefully!" and he burst into peals of laughter.

Vastra joined Jenny and they waited out the man's mirth before she said, "Monsieur de Lessep, pray, exactly what state was the piece in upon your unveiling?"

"Missing, Madame! Missing! Cut from the frame and gone!"

"But found soon after, Sir."

"The relief, Miss Flint, the relief was so strong I almost had to rest myself again."

"And you really think it was Mr Jennings?"

"Ah," another deep Gallic shrug and then, "£50,000, non? That is motivation enough, is it not?"

"Generally is, Sir, yes."

"Monsieur de Lessep," Vastra said, offering the man her hand and forcing him to rise from his chair, "you have been most kind to allow us your time and the sight of such an exquisite piece of work."

The little man blushed again and sketched another bow before thanking them and seeing them to the door.

They were back in their carriage when Jenny finally spoke, "Are the French really like that, Madame?"

"I believe so, my dear. You did not believe his," Vastra considered the word, "flannel?"

Jenny grinned, "Wouldn't call it flannel, he seemed genuine enough. Just got a bit twitchy towards the end there so I wondered like."

"Indeed. Now, if you will indulge me, I believe we might visit Cornelissen & Son."

"Thinking of taking it up then, are you? Been inspired?"

"You tease me, my dear, but yes now you mention it, I rather would like to take up painting. Would you sit for me?"

Jenny felt her colour rising, "Well, Madame, what a thing to ask a girl. I hope you're not thinking about anything too naughty, I'll not be painted in the nuddy or anything."

"Alas, my dear, you wound me," Vastra said in something of a theatrical tone herself.

"Wound because I suggested you'd want to or wound because I said I wouldn't?"

Vastra laughed but offered no response. Instead, she called up to the driver and the carriage began its journey to Great Russell Street.

As it rattled along, Jenny said, "That copy looked very like the original."

"Close to perfect," Vastra agreed, "A remarkable piece of work, Monsieur de Lessep is truly a fine artist."

Jenny wanted to ask more but Vastra dropped into one of her reveries and she knew better than to disturb her companion's train of thought. Instead she watched central London go by as they made there way down Piccadilly, then Shaftesbury Avenue and through Soho until they were closing on the British Museum and Great Russell Street.

Vastra was herself again as they stepped down. She leaned into Jenny and said, "My dear, I feel sure that one of the Irregulars must be close by."

With that Jenny gave an eye-shattering whistle that halted the flow of human traffic around them and troubled more than one horse. Vastra gave a sigh but said nothing in favour of her personal safety. Movement resumed around them with the usual level of tutting somewhat increased but otherwise they were left unaccosted until a tiny ape with a grubby little face appeared at Jenny's elbow.

Vastra could not be quite certain whether the creature was male or female until Jenny said, "Look at the state of you Molly!" and drew out her handkerchief menacingly. The child froze on the spot, only her eyes darting back and forth between the two women, caught between Vastra's veiled stare and Jenny's imminent assault.

Sure enough, Jenny spat - as discretely as could be managed, Vastra was pleased to note - into the material and set about cleansing the little girl's face with vigour. After some minutes of these not-so-tender ministrations, the creature was deemed presentable and introduced to Vastra as Molly Middle.

"Middle?"

"There's three of them, Madame," Jenny explained.

"Ah, of course. Well Miss Middle," Vastra began and the little girl finally remembered her manners and bobbed a nervous curtsey, "I thank you. Now then, pray do run along and find Master Archie and Master Blue-Eyes. Tell them to meet us here within the hour."

Molly looked to Jenny for confirmation, bobbed another curtsey to Vastra and then disappeared into the throng. The two women watched her go and then succumbed to the force of the human tide and made there way to the entrance of Cornelissen & Son, the artists' colourmen.

The entrance to the establishment was painted a deep green which made the premises stand out from those around it. They considered the artists' supplies in the window for a moment before entering by the left-hand door and stepping into the distinct aroma of the myriad pigments. Much of the wall space was taken up with shelves filled with jars of brightly coloured powders and the centre of the shop with racks that housed rolls of canvas and the like.

Vastra hesitated, overcome by the scents that filled the space. She felt Jenny's arm at her hand and smiled through the veil, "Quite an Aladdin's cave, my dear."

"What a wonderful place," Jenny agreed with a grin, "You go and ask your questions and I'll have a look around, eh? I'll find you the things you need to take up your new interest."

It was almost an hour before they found themselves together again. Vastra had been in deep conversation with one of the gentleman who served the store's clientele while Jenny had thoroughly enjoyed her look through the narrow aisles where she had found a young artist who was more than happy to assist her in purchasing the necessary accoutrement. Under his guidance, she had completed the purchase to her own and a second attendant's satisfaction.

The young artist doffed his hat to Vastra as he left the premises and the two women were alone in the maze of canvas and paint. Jenny pulled on her gloves and opened the door for Vastra who gave a nod of thanks and they rejoined the foot traffic beyond. Jenny took her arm and they made their way back to the carriage.

"It's not a cheap thing to do, this art business," Jenny said without preamble.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I believe we have sufficient funds that both of us may indulge such things. Is there nothing that would interest you in the same line?"

Jenny considered the question carefully, "I could do with some new lockpicks, Madame."

Vastra looked down at her companion, not entirely certain if Jenny had spoken in jest. She had not, Vastra concluded and said, "Then you must have the best on offer. Ah, Messrs Archie and Blue-Eyes and Miss Middle," she added as the three Irregulars appeared before them.

"You alright?" Jenny asked.

Billy looked doubtful, his expressive cobalt eyes darting between Vastra, Jenny and the press of well-heeled humanity around them. Archie knuckled the brim of his top hat and eased his cohorts in behind the women. He stepped up to Jenny's side and issued his brief report.

"Bit of bother getting in to see Jennings. He's not liking his new lodgings, not liking them at all."

"Fear not, Master Blue-Eyes," Vastra stopped and turned to the lad, "your friend will be free by the end of the day."

Billy looked startled but a glint of hope lightened the worried blue and Jenny patted his arm comfortingly.

"Reckon Madame's worked it all out," she said in a conspiratorial tone, adding, "Isn't that right, Madame?"

"I believe so and quite an ingenious plan it was too."

"So what do we do then?" Archie said.

"Master Archie, you and Miss Middle are to oversee the transport of the artists supplies that have just been purchased from Cornelissen."

"Taking up art are you, Madame?"

"I am and I am hoping that Miss Flint will be good enough to sit for me."

"Oh aye," Archie said knowingly and earned himself a sharp clip to the ear. Billy and Molly laughed aloud and Archie shot them a stern rebuke before saying, "Anyway, get the paints and like back to Paternoster, yes?"

"Indeed. There is one particular package that is vitally important to the matter at hand so pray have that delivered immediately. Miss Middle can act as courier."

"And Billy will need to run to Scotland Yard and invite Inspector Brown around for tea," Jenny said. Billy looked terrified and she added, "I'll give you a note to hand over, just you make sure it goes into his hand."

"He'll not like it," Archie said.

"Most assuredly not," Vastra agreed, "but he will come."

"If not him, then Fletch will," Jenny said. They were at the carriage now and she turned to Molly, "Archie will put you in a Hansom and pay the fare, just you make sure you keep that parcel safe. Archie, there's a fair bit of the rest so we'll send the carriage back. Be careful with it, it cost a pretty penny I can tell you."

With all agreed, the two women climbed up and the carriage returned them to their home. Jenny busied herself with making the house presentable for their guest, despite Vastra's protestations that Inspector Brown hardly warranted such treatment. Vastra herself was more concerned with readying her garden room to be used as a temporary artist's den. Perhaps not so temporary, she decided, as the corner proved quite a pleasant spot for such activity and was generally well-lit during the day.

Jenny had interrupted her only once, that when Molly had delivered the parcel, "She bought it round the back, bless her," Jenny explained, "so as not to trouble you with the doorbell."

"She is a considerate young girl this Miss Middle. Pray, what are the other Mollies known as? First and Third? Top and Bottom? Left and Right?"

"Tall and Short."

Vastra considered, "The eldest being the Tall?"

"No, Madame."

It was then that the doorbell did ring and Jenny bustled about finding Vastra's veil and gloves. After donning her own Maid's bonnet, she opened the door to discover that her prediction had been correct.

"Constable Fletch," Jenny said, deliberately not using the Detective that should precede his title, "thank you so much for coming."

She stood aside and invited the young man in with a smile.

"The Inspector sends his regrets," he said, "but asks that you forgive his absence."

I bet he does, thought Jenny but she said, "Don't you worry about that, eh, just come on in and have a cup of tea and a bit of cake."

He brightened up noticeably at the offer and Vastra wondered if the young man had a wife or mother to care for him. She greeted him formally and then lead the way into the sitting room where Jenny had already laid out the items of particular import to solving the case.

Jenny disappeared for a few minutes and Vastra allowed the silence to lengthen, watching the Detective Constable as he tried and failed to appear at ease in his surroundings.

"Well then," Jenny returned with the tea tray, "I thought you'd have started by now," she said with a sharp look at Vastra.

"I did not wish to begin without you here, my dear," Vastra said.

"If we could now though," Fletch said and glanced nervously at the clock.

"Need to get back to the Yard?" Jenny said and silently added, before the Inspector realises that you've gone. Aloud she said, "So then, Madame, I'm quite excited to hear your explanation for all this. I know who did it and I know about the two fakes but I can't think how he pulled off the rest of it."

"Did what exactly?" Fletch asked, still nervous.

"The theft of Mr Kale's Rubens," Vastra said.

"But that's been..." Fletch began and trailed off, "Go on, please."

"My dear?" Vastra offered the floor to her companion.

"Well it was certainly de Lessep. He's the only one who could have done it."

"And the two fakes?" Fletch said thoughtfully, "The Whistler that he was supposed to be painting and the Rubens that we found in Jennings' room?"

"Just so," Vastra agreed pleased with the young officer.

"But where is the Rubens?" Jenny and Fletch asked together.

Vastra smiled beneath her veil and indicated that they should both join her at the side table. There Jenny had laid out two small canvases each on a board of some eighteen inches across. One canvas had upon it a rough watercolour sketch of Cornelissen & Son's storefront, the other a mass of oils daubed in bold strokes that formed no coherent pattern but were pleasing to the eye. Around them lay various pots and bottles along with a heavily bristled brush and two clean cloths, neatly folded.

"This is a watercolour which I sketched out while under the tutelage of the younger Mr Cornelissen," Vastra lifted the first canvas and then placed it down again in favour of the second, "and this an oil, for illustration purposes only, I hasten to add."

"You’re not bad, Madame," Jenny said, impressed with the watercolour, "Perhaps I will sit for you after all."

Vastra inclined her head in thanks, "You are too kind my dear. But, you see, you already have."

With that, Vastra set the second canvas back down and quickly wetted one of the clothes with a thick, unpleasant smelling liquid from a bottle. She carefully wiped the cloth across the watercolour, eliciting a squeak of despair from her companion which quickly became a gasp of surprise. Beneath the watercolour, revealed as the upper layers of paint were wiped away, was an oil painting. As more of the watercolour was removed, the oil below formed a loose but effective portrait of Jenny herself.

"Not bad at all, if I do say so myself," Jenny beamed up into Vastra's veiled face and saw the answering smile behind the lace.

"That is remarkable," Fletch said, his eye wide at the implications, "but how did you do it?"

Vastra set the now obliterated watercolour aside and indicated the oil canvas with a flick of the soiled cloth. She set that aside also and took up the large brush after opening the second bottle. The wide rim allowed the brush to be lowered into the viscous substance within, a substance that gave off an even more unpleasant odour than the first.

"It stinks," Jenny said and wafted her hand around, "Blimey!"

"Forgive me, my dear, but it is necessary for the explanation."

"Then get on with it and get that lid back on, eh?"

Vastra brushed a thick layer over the oil leaving a trail of slime across the vibrant colours, "It will take a few moments to dry, though it is a remarkably rapid process," she said when she set aside the brush and secured the lid once more.

Jenny and Fletch watched as the slime began to dry, forming an off-white skin over the centre of the canvas. Vastra took the few minutes to return to her garden room and collect a thin watercolour brush with a small palette of newly-prepared paint.

Back at their impromptu lab, she tested the preparation with a gloved finger jabbed at the canvas. The material came away unmarked and so Vastra proceeded to paint a rough sketch of the front of their own home.

"Well I never," Jenny said as she watched the watercolour settle on the repainted canvas as if it was new, "So that's how he did it." She turned to Fletch, "You'll find the Whistler on Mr de Lessep's wall at Browns. Best let poor Mr Jennings out sharpish, eh?"

"Pray, take Master Blue-Eyes with you, Detective Constable," Vastra said, "and treat the young man kindly."

Fletch accepted the order with merely a nod and then said, "Madame, may I take these with me?"

"You may."

Jenny found the box that had carried the canvases and other items to the house and packaged everything up safely. Fletch offered his thanks and an abject apology for the mistake.

"Oh, it's not your fault, our Mr de Lessep is quite the artist. In more ways than one," Jenny added.

They saw the young officer to the door and Jenny closed it as Vastra removed her veil and gloves with a sigh.

"My dear, we really must keep a closer eye on the Inspector's cases. He appears to be over-reaching himself at the moment."

"His own nose is out of his reach at the moment, Madame, but I'll have Archie keep someone watching the Yard for anything that might need our help."

"I am amazed he does not already."

"Probably right," Jenny smiled and leaned in to Vastra as they returned to the sitting room, "You really do have a talent, you know."

"You are too kind. Does this mean you will reconsider your opinion of sitting for me?"

"Sitting? I might but don't get any funny ideas, Madame."

"My dear, I always have ideas about you."