"Wh-what do you mean, plotting?! I-it's just…!"
Funsby turned pale, then blue, glaring at me. He was breathing heavily, clearly flustered.
I approached him silently. He erupted, shouting.
"I-I could've made a mistake! It was just one mistake…!"
"It wasn't just once."
"W-what?!"
It wasn't only the fake ruby I broke.
Most of the jewels Funsby outbid Shellman for appeared dull or had a questionable luster even from a distance.
"A single mistake is excusable. From the second, it's a decline."
But that's still only a part of the whole.
A true expert's skill doesn't deteriorate that easily.
Jewels are meant to represent eternal, unchanging value since ancient times.
"But if they're all like that?"
It can only be intentional.
The question is, what's the intention? Given the current situation, it seems highly suspicious, doesn't it?
At that moment.
"As expected, well done, Hanslow."
The auction room door burst open. Entering was none other than—
"Sir!"
"I've grasped the entire situation."
Arthur Conan Doyle. He entered with Hopkins of Scotland Yard, bringing someone along.
It was none other than the butler of Baron Carlyle's household.
"To put it briefly, Baron Carlyle didn't disappear. He was murdered by this butler, Harold, and that merchant, Funsby."
"No, it's not true!!"
Funsby screamed.
I grabbed his shoulder as he tried to bolt, and two constables quickly subdued him.
"Mr. Funsby, you're a jeweller, yet for the past few years, you've been regularly trading with a butcher. Not buying meat, but selling it. And the commodity was… sheep."
"Sheep?"
I looked at Arthur Conan Doyle incredulously.
He nodded, lighting his pipe, and asked me.
"Indeed. Do you understand what this means?"
"… Could it be?"
No, wait. Surely not?
I turned my gaze to the butler. He averted his eyes and tightly shut them.
"Did you smuggle the jewels? By feeding them to sheep?"
"Bingo."
With a sigh and a puff of smoke, Arthur Conan Doyle continued to explain slowly.
"Obviously, the culprit would be someone who could access the baron's jewels. This butler knew their value and location and was familiar with the secret passages in the castle, allowing him to avoid the baron's notice. He could also negotiate with shepherds."
"T-that's a frame-up! Many people in this castle could do that!"
"But among them, the only one whose spending suddenly increased or received unexplained sums of money was you."
This seemed less like deduction and more like circumstantial evidence. But circumstantial evidence can eventually lead to concrete proof.
This case was no different. Hopkins held a notebook that confirmed everything.
"Just as Mr. Conan Doyle said, Mr. Funsby checked off fake jewels in the auction catalogue without even looking at them."
"T-that's…!"
So, he bought fake jewels knowingly to cover up their crime.
If the jewels sold elsewhere were discovered to be fakes, and not just a few, the trail would lead back to them.
And.
"We also found a secret ledger detailing transactions with the butler."
Decisive evidence.
"Will you keep denying it?"
"… We didn't intend to kill him."
The trembling butler spoke slowly.
"I-I just wanted to receive my rightful inheritance! But that damned uncle of mine kept talking about donating his fortune to charity after his death!"
"… Uncle?"
What is he talking about now?
At that moment, some officers burst in from outside.
"Inspector Hopkins!! Sorry, but we need backup!!"
"What's going on? Where's the shepherd we told you to catch?"
"It's… a dog! No, a wolf? Some kind of beast…!"
A dog? What dog?
As if in response to my question, a loud barking erupted from outside.
─Woof!! Woof!! Woof woof woof!!
And then.
─Growl!!
"Ahhh!!"
A black shape darted in, biting and twisting the arm of the policeman at the door. Yes, the very one who had been holding the butler.
"A monster!?"
No, not a monster. It was a massive black dog.
A rather large one at that.
It looked like a mastiff, but perhaps a cross-breed with another fierce breed, giving it an exceptionally menacing appearance.
Its intimidating aura was significant.
The murderous glare in its blood-red eyes. Drool dripping from its mouth. Fangs exposed, threateningly split up to its ears.
─Grrr…
Two people lay on the ground near the open door, clutching their bleeding limbs.
And the man who entered behind them.
"Father!"
Father? I frowned and looked at the man who had followed the officers.
He was too shabby to recognize at first, but his features bore a strong resemblance to the butler Harold. Could the shepherd be the butler's son?
"J-Jack!"
The bound butler was hoisted up by his son.
At that moment, the shepherd threw something foul-smelling from his bag and shouted.
"Alex! Block them!"
─Woof, woof!!
The dog barred their escape, snarling at us. The shepherd and the butler began to flee.
Damn, what's happening now?
"They're getting away!"
"Damn, catch the culprits!"
"No choice, shoot them!"
"Wait! You might hit someone else…!"
At that moment, the dog scanned its surroundings and fixed its gaze on Monty behind me.
And near Monty… damn! The pouch the shepherd had thrown was there.
Then.
─Growl!!
The dog lunged forward.
But retreating now would mark me as prey. Dogs instinctively go for the back.
I grabbed a fruit platter from the table and hurled it at the lunging dog.
Crash!!
The plate shattered, and fruit scattered everywhere.
The dog recoiled slightly after being hit in the face, then growled even more furiously.
It turned its head, indicating that I had successfully diverted its attention.
Gritting my teeth, I removed my coat, held it in both hands, and spread it wide.
"Whew…"
"H-Hanslow? What are you doing?"
"Sir, take Monty and get back."
In this tense stand-off, I glared directly at the dog, trying to intimidate it.
Contrary to popular belief, surviving predators are cowards. They evolved to be cautious rather than extinct.
When encountering an unknown threat, they gather information before attacking.
I mustered all my courage and stood firm in front of the dog.
Stay calm.
─Woof! Woof!
This dog is the same. No matter how large it is, I'm still quite big even by 21st-century Korean standards. In 19th-century England, even more so.
─Grrr…
So, while the dog's attention was on me, it hesitated to attack but bared its teeth.
Its tail stood up and began to wag rapidly.
And then.
─Grrr!!
As expected, the dog charged. Gritting my teeth, I yanked the coat I was holding wide open.
At the same time, the dog opened its mouth. I thrust the taut coat into its open jaws.
"Grr...!!"
─Grr, Grrr...!
"Stay still!!"
In a contest of strength, I would lose. But I couldn't afford to fall. I maneuvered backward, ensuring the dog couldn't shake off the coat.
Then.
Splat─!
I picked up a fallen lemon and smashed it right in front of the dog's face.
A dog's sense of smell is over 1,000 times more sensitive than a human's, and this potent scent was overwhelming for it.
Taking advantage of the dog's momentary confusion.
"Urgh!!"
I launched myself, putting my full weight into my arms. My body weight pressed down on its neck, while the coat still gripped in my hands covered its mouth and nose.
Pinning it completely from both sides.
─Grr, Grrr, Howl!!!
"Stay still!!"
Drool splattered on my face.
The pungent smell stung my nose. I was about to be thrown off by the dog's powerful bite when I locked eyes with Monty watching from afar.
"Urghhh!!"
─Awoooo!!
How long had it been?
─Grrrk...
The dog's body slumped.
Thankfully, it worked.
"Phew, phew..."
The dog was as strong as it was big. I couldn't help but take ragged breaths.
Phew, that was tough. I could feel sweat pouring down my back.
I quickly shouted to the people behind me.
"Quickly! Chase them down!!"
"A-alright."
A few snapped out of their daze and hurried after the escaping culprits.
"Hanslow! Are you okay?"
In the meantime, Conan Doyle, who had entrusted Monty to Mr. Carstairs, approached me.
Wait a minute.
"Hold on, it's still dangerous. Let's deal with this dog first. Bring something to tie it up quickly."
"A-alright!"
Though subdued, the dog could wake up at any moment. This was my first time trying a triangle choke on a dog.
So I kept my strength, never taking my eyes off the dog.
Only after the police came with a net and fully restrained the dog did I step back.
As I finally relaxed and sat down, Conan Doyle approached and sighed.
"You were amazing! Like Hercules capturing Cerberus!"
"Me? Hah. I was just lucky."
"Luck? I didn't know you were so good with dogs."
"This isn't quite handling a dog..."
Well, it probably looked the same to him.
I never imagined the jiu-jitsu I learned a while ago would come in handy like this.
"Anyway, I'm exhausted. I think I need some rest."
"Of course. You did great. We'll handle the rest."
"Thank you, then I'll leave it to you."
Arthur Conan Doyle walked away. In his place, Monty came over, crying and fussing.
I relaxed and gently patted Monty's head.
Oof, my body aches.
All I wanted was some spicy soup, and here I am.
***
"A swamp?"
"Yes, they got lost after being shot while escaping and ended up in the wrong place. Luckily, they were rescued. We also found Baron Carlisle's body through the search."
A few days later, in the carriage returning to Ashfield.
I massaged my sore shoulders as I listened to the conclusion of the case.
According to the butler's confession, the butler and his son initially only intended to steal the jewels.
The butler used a secret passage to move the jewels outside, and the shepherd retrieved them and fed them to the sheep.
Then, when they sold the sheep to Funsby? Perfect crime.
"The problem arose when Baron Carlisle, who suspected something was off, caught them feeding the jewels to the sheep and switching the real jewels for fakes."
Of course, the baron was furious and confronted them, but the shepherd's dog attacked the baron, mistaking him for an aggressor, escalating the situation.
Apparently, the dog wasn't initially raised for shepherding. Who uses such a fierce dog for herding sheep? It was likely trained as a hunting dog.
Maybe it was to get rid of other servants who might interfere with their jewel smuggling.
"I see... So what's this about an uncle?"
"Ah, Baron Carlisle had an older illegitimate brother who died some time ago. That brother had a child, Harold, the butler."
"Well, that's something."
"The rumours of the baron being a rake were misunderstandings from covering up for his half-brother's actions. Honestly, wouldn't it look like he was hiding illegitimate children if he was secretly meeting them?"
"The baron must have had a hard time."
I felt guilty for misunderstanding him. He did seem spotless.
"Anyway, that's why the baron couldn't directly confront the butler, even though he suspected something. He didn't want to create a scandal in the family."
But they crossed the line. It's sad that such a good man had to go that way.
I leaned back in the carriage.
So, the mystery is mostly solved? This trip was a mess in many ways.
Arthur Conan Doyle patted my shoulder.
"Anyway, this case could have ended up in a deadlock... thanks to you, we resolved it easily. I'm sure Scotland Yard will send you a commendation."
"Well, I didn't do much... but I'll gladly accept it if they do."
"Knowing when to take credit is also a virtue of a good citizen."
Arthur Conan Doyle and I exchanged weary smiles like comrades in arms.
"By the way, can I borrow a room at your place for a while?"
"Pardon? Well, I don't mind, but... do you have something urgent?"
"Not exactly urgent, but I have an inspiration. I want to turn it into a manuscript as soon as possible."
"Really!?"
Finally... not suddenly?
Could it be, he's planning to write the new Holmes story at my house?