Chapter 19: The Scheme

Hearing Nancy’s words, Holmes immediately raised his eyebrows. He looked at Alna and silently mouthed the word “privately,” as if Alna should understand why Nancy had come to speak with Mrs. Hudson alone.

Alna grabbed a piece of paper from the side, quickly scribbled a few words, and held it up.

“I don’t know either.”

Watson glanced around hesitantly before edging toward the door. “Perhaps we should receive her first? At least we shouldn’t let her wait downstairs.”

Eavesdropping here was hardly a gentlemanly act.

“No,” Holmes said swiftly, grabbing Watson’s arm. “Listen first.”

Upstairs, the three held their breath in tense anticipation. Below, the two women remained silent for a moment. Then Mrs. Hudson spoke softly, “Of course, my dear, my sitting room is right here. Would you like some tea?”

Nancy’s reply was barely audible, but the faint sound of footsteps gradually receded and eventually disappeared.

***

The cozy sitting room was warmed by a crackling fire, filling the air with a comforting glow and the scent of lavender hanging on the walls.

Mrs. Hudson led Nancy inside and invited her to sit on the sofa, her demeanor that of a woman who had weathered many storms and was prepared for the worst.

Normally composed, Nancy now nervously twisted the fringe of her shawl, her knuckles whitening with tension.

She didn’t know how to explain herself to Mrs. Hudson.

As a respectable landlady, Mrs. Hudson lived on Baker Street, far from the East End and all its troubles.

And Nancy most dreaded revealing her darkest, most shameful side before her.

She steeled herself and opened her mouth—

“Now, darling, don’t worry too much,” Mrs. Hudson interrupted lightly, pressing a steaming cup of tea into her hands. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Worrying won’t help.”

She asked gently, “What is it about?”

Nancy opened her mouth again but closed it without a word.

Where should she begin? With Fagin’s adoption of her, or the end of their dirty plan?

She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson, it’s true—I was part of that scheme to rob your nephew, helping to ply Isas with drink as part of the plot?”

She couldn’t say it, especially since Mrs. Hudson’s eyes looked at her with motherly concern.

Seeing her hesitation, Mrs. Hudson grew anxious.

To be fair, Nancy was a good girl—efficient, straightforward, and cheerful. She had always thought well of her.

Though neighbors occasionally whispered nasty rumors, Mrs. Hudson had never paid them any mind.

“You should be careful, Mrs. Hudson,” a neighbor had spat this morning, the venomous gossip lingering like a ghost near her ear. “I’ve seen women like her before—she’s probably after young Mr. Isas’s promising future, trying to seduce him. Once she’s with child, she’ll marry him!”

Mrs. Hudson had chased that foul-tongued man away with a rolling pin.

But seeing Nancy come to her late at night and insist on a “private talk” unsettled her deeply, stirring unease in her heart.

—Nancy was a good girl. If her nephew and Nancy genuinely cared for each other and managed to become a couple, as the only elder in young Isas’s life, Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t mind at all.

***

That only meant her nephew had good taste.

Nancy was capable and clever. To see her pitiful background and not feel sympathy but instead mock her—what kind of normal person would do that?

But—but that scoundrel Isas wouldn’t be so reckless, would he?

With Mrs. Hudson’s nervous expression, Nancy finally managed to speak.

“It’s… about Mr. Isas,” her voice barely above a whisper.

The weight she had carried finally dropped.

Mrs. Hudson breathed a sigh of relief, her expression softening with understanding. “Ah, don’t worry, dear. I’ve known young Isas since he was a child—this young fellow—though sometimes odd, he has a good heart.”

Nancy looked at Mrs. Hudson, wide-eyed and puzzled, unsure how the conversation had taken such a turn.

Yes, Mr. Isas was a good person, a little strange but fundamentally kind… But this had nothing to do with what she had come to say.

Thinking this, she spoke up, “I don’t quite understand what you mean, Mrs. Hudson.”

Mrs. Hudson patted her arm and reached for the teapot to pour another cup. “It’s alright, my poor child. If it’s… fragile, then perhaps it need not be spoken aloud.”

She said earnestly, “You don’t need to be ashamed. I will make Isas take responsibility—otherwise, that would be terrible. Trust me, he will treat you well—”

Nancy blushed scarlet as she finally realized Mrs. Hudson had misunderstood.

“No, no, ma’am,” she almost dropped her teacup in panic. “I’m not—he’s not—damn it—”

In a desperate rush, the words burst from her lips: “Mrs. Hudson, I’m here because Fagin plans to rob Isas on Saturday night! Right at the factory!”

Mrs. Hudson’s teapot slipped from her hands with a clatter, falling onto the carpet.

Silence fell over the room.

“And I’m not the sweet parish girl you think I am,” Nancy gritted her teeth. “I’m a thief, ma’am, or was. Fagin raised me to work for him. And… well, most of what others say about me is true.”

Her voice grew faint as she avoided Mrs. Hudson’s eyes, staring instead at the stained carpet. “I don’t deserve your kindness. But I can’t let them hurt Isas—not after everything.”

She swallowed hard. “I just can’t do that.”

Hearing this terrible truth, so different from the sordid scandal she had imagined, Mrs. Hudson instinctively covered her mouth with both hands.

Then she quickly looked down and grasped Nancy’s trembling hand.

“Oh, my dear,” she murmured, “you came here to warn us. That’s not the act of a thief, but the deed of a true friend.”

Nancy exhaled shakily.

“Fagin… Fagin makes the children believe it’s a game,” she said, “but Sikes will hurt people—or worse.”

Mrs. Hudson embraced Nancy’s shoulders, holding her and patting her gently.

“Then we will stop them,” she said firmly, “starting right now.”

She released her and stood abruptly, almost knocking over a plate on the table.

“…You’re not angry?” Nancy asked, stunned.

“Angry?” Mrs. Hudson brandished the rolling pin like a general wielding a banner. “My dear, not angry—furious. But not with you, with those villains who think they can control good people.”

She waved the rolling pin like a rallying standard. “Now, let’s wake those useless geniuses upstairs!”

Behind the three pressing their ears to the floor, a chill ran down their spines.

***

“Remarkable woman,” Holmes murmured. “Makes me think I should raise her rent.”

Alna kicked him, then quickly stood up.

“Hurry,” she urged, “they’re coming up!”

The three scrambled to tidy themselves and cover their tracks.

But before Holmes could smooth his sleeve, the door opened.

Mrs. Hudson stood at the entrance, rolling pin in hand, with a nervous, hesitant Nancy behind her.

Her eyes swept the room, discerning the situation, and she squinted. “So, which one of you geniuses will solve this problem?”

Holmes opened his mouth to speak.

“No,” Mrs. Hudson cut him off with a wave of the rolling pin, breaking off his imminent deduction. “No more talk of treasure, plots, or what’s in that poor girl’s head. At least, not now.”

She turned to her nephew, her expression softening. “Isas, explain yourself.”

Alna felt her hair stand on end. “I… um… well…”

Watson bravely stood and attempted to interject, “Mrs. Hudson, perhaps we could—”

“Sit,” Mrs. Hudson commanded, pointing the rolling pin at Watson like a ruler.

He sat down.

Nancy’s gaze passed over Mrs. Hudson’s shoulder, nervously speaking, “I think I just… I tried to tell Mr. Isas—but I never found the chance—”

“Enough, child. Isas isn’t an idiot,” Mrs. Hudson said lightly. “Who in their right mind would put their treasures in an unguarded factory safe instead of their home?”

She glanced at Alna. “Unless they already knew something about this.”

Alna nervously rubbed her hands together. “Or perhaps I have strange habits.”

She began babbling, “Like putting gold in the factory to bring it good luck… or something…”

Her voice trailed off as she discreetly signaled Holmes behind her to help.

Holmes cleared his throat. “Actually, dear Mrs. Hudson, we already have…”

Mrs. Hudson’s rolling pin struck the table with a bang.

“Let’s make a plan,” she said, “right now.”

Alna and the others exchanged looks before quickly yielding.

She dared not admit to wanting to take on the thieves alone and instead silently looked to Nancy. “How many of them will there be?”

“What’s their method? Which route will they take?” Holmes asked.

“Are they armed?” Watson added. “Or carrying other weapons?”

Nancy blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in topic.

Then a smile slowly blossomed across her face.