The Baker Street Boys - The Case of the Ranjipur Ruby (11 page)

The person entering the study was carrying an oil lamp and a book. The lamp’s gentle glow lit up the small room – and with it the three Boys, who were desperately trying to hide behind the door. It also lit up the face of the person carrying it.

“Annie!” Wiggins blurted out, greatly relieved. The young maid let out a small scream, but stopped as he darted forward and put his hand lightly over her mouth.

“Ssh!” he hushed her. “It’s all right. It’s us, the Baker Street Boys.”

He reached out and closed the door quietly behind her.

“Ooh!” she cried, putting the lamp and the book down on the desk. “You could have frightened me to death. How did you get in? The
house is all locked up for the night.”

Wiggins pointed to the door in the bookshelves. “Secret passage,” he said.

“Gracious me!” Annie exclaimed. “I never knew about that. But why? What are you doing here?”

“We’ve come to save Ravi,” Wiggins told her. “He’s in terrible danger.”

“You’ll be in danger too if Captain Nicholson or Prince Sanjay catch you. They’ll ’ave you locked up.”

“I dare say they’d do worse than that,” said Beaver. “It’s them as is plottin’ to kill Ravi.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t the thugs what murdered the dewan,” said Wiggins. “It was Captain Nicholson. And Prince Sanjay’s in it with him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I ain’t got time to tell you now, but it’s true. We gotta get Ravi out the house afore they does him in.”

“But … the
captain
?”

“Listen – when you found him with the body, did you see anybody else?”

“No. Only the captain. He said he’d disturbed the murderers.”

“So why wasn’t he chasing after ’em?”

“I don’t know.”

“’Cos they wasn’t there, that’s why. It was him!”

Annie’s mouth dropped open. “But why?” she asked.

“’Cos he wants the ruby,” Wiggins explained. “The dewan had the key to the safe. He killed him for the key. Only you got there too quick, afore he could take it off him.”

“And now Ravi’s got the key,” Beaver added.

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” Annie gasped, instantly realizing the danger this meant for Ravi. “Come on – I’ll show you where his room is.”

She picked up the lamp again and turned back to the door. “Ssh,” she whispered as she opened it and peered out into the corridor. “Right. The coast’s clear. But you’ll have to be quiet. They’re still in the drawing room.”

In single file, the three Boys followed Annie through the door and tiptoed along the corridor to the landing. A light showed under the
door to the drawing room, and they could hear voices in conversation as they crept past it and up the staircase. Annie led them to one of the doors on the next floor up, and knocked quietly on it. There was no response from inside, and she was about to knock again, louder, when Wiggins stopped her.

“No,” he said. “Somebody else might hear.”

He opened the door and slipped inside. Beaver and Rosie followed, but Annie stayed outside as a lookout in case anyone should come. Following the sound of steady breathing, Wiggins found the bed in the darkened room and gently shook Ravi’s shoulder. The young prince stirred, then woke and sat up, alarmed.

“What? Who is it?” he asked nervously. “What do you want?”

“It’s all right, Rav. It’s me. Wiggins.”

Ravi reached out to the bedside table, found a box of matches and lit a candle.

“Wiggins?” he asked sleepily. “What are you doing here? And Beaver. And Rosie.”

“We’ve come to get you out. Afore the captain does you in.”

“The captain?”

“Yeah. And if he don’t, your uncle will. So hurry up and get dressed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The captain wants the ruby. He killed the dewan for it, and he’ll kill you if he has to.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Now wide awake, Ravi leapt from the bed and scrambled into his clothes.

“You got the key?” Wiggins asked as he pulled on his jacket.

Ravi paused to show him the key, hanging round his neck on its cord.

“Here it is,” he said. “That badmash shall not have it. Whatever happens, he shall not have the ruby.”

“Good lad. You ready? Let’s go.”

They slipped out of the room and along the landing. Annie led the way, still carrying the lamp, watching out for anyone coming. On the stairs they kept to one side, out of sight of the drawing-room door. But, as Annie was passing it, the door suddenly opened. Wiggins and the Boys flattened themselves against the wall and
held their breath. They heard Captain Nicholson’s voice.

“Annie,” he said sharply. “Where have you been? I’ve been ringing for you.”

“Beg pardon, sir. I was putting that book away in the study, like you told me to,” she replied.

“Oh, yes. Very good. Now you can bring some coffee for Prince Sanjay and me.”

“Yes, sir. At once, sir.”

To the Boys’ relief, the captain went back into the room and closed the door. Annie waited for a second, then beckoned to them. One by one, they hurried down the stairs and along the corridor to the study. Wiggins was the last, after holding back to see that all the others got there safely. Once he was inside the room, he closed the door and leant back against it, breathing a great sigh of relief. Beaver and Rosie were both trembling with nerves, but Ravi had a huge grin on his face.

“Jolly well done, you chaps,” he said happily. “Isn’t this exciting?”

“Never mind that,” Wiggins told him. “Let’s get out of here. That way.”

He pointed to the door in the bookcase, but Ravi held up his hand.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m not leaving the ruby for those dacoits.”

He produced the key from round his neck, marched over to the picture on the wall and swung it out on its hinges to reveal the safe hidden behind it. Rosie and Annie, who had not seen it before, were amazed.

“Well, I’m blowed,” exclaimed Annie. “I never knew about that, neither. And to think, I dust that picture every day!”

“That’s real clever,” said Rosie. “Any more secrets in here?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Wiggins said. “But we ain’t got time to look. Come on, Ravi, get a move on. We gotta get out of here sharpish.”

Ravi unlocked the safe, turned the handle and swung open the heavy door. Carefully, he lifted out the golden casket and placed it on the desk. When he raised the lid to reveal the ruby, glowing on its bed of velvet, everyone fell silent for a moment, gazing at it in wonder.

“Cor,” Rosie sighed. “You was right, Wiggins.
That’s the most beautiful thing I ever did see.”

“Quite right, my dear!” The voice came from behind them. It was Captain Nicholson. Spinning round, they saw him standing in the open doorway, smiling in triumph. Behind him, in the corridor, stood Prince Sanjay. They had opened the door silently while the Boys and Annie were looking at the ruby.

“Thank you for saving me the trouble,” the captain purred. “I’ll take that.”

“Oh no you won’t!” yelled Annie. She hurled herself across the room and slammed the door in the captain’s face. Putting her shoulder to the door and leaning on it with all her weight, she turned her head and shouted to the Boys and Ravi, “Quick! Run for it! I’ll hold ’em off long as I can!”

“Good girl!” Wiggins cried. “Come on!”

He grabbed the ruby from the casket, picked up his lantern and headed for the secret tunnel, shepherding the others before him. Once they were through the door, he pulled it shut behind them.

“They must have seen this door,” he said, “but
it’ll take ’em a while to find how to open it. So we got a few minutes’ start.”

Emerging from the tunnel into the storeroom back at the Bazaar, the Boys slammed the trapdoor shut and hurried into the gallery, heading for the front entrance. But as they approached it they saw two shapes outside, silhouetted against the glass. Two men, wearing turbans and loose, Indian clothes, were trying the door.

“It’s the thugs!” Wiggins whispered. “Quick. Hide.”

“Where?” asked Beaver.

“Back in the storeroom,” said Rosie.

“Right. There’s plenty of boxes and things in there.”

They moved towards the hidden door, but they had only got as far as the tableau featuring Queen Victoria when they heard a noise from inside the storeroom. It was the sound of the trapdoor being opened. The captain and Uncle Sanjay had found their way through the tunnel!

“Now what?” Beaver asked.

Wiggins thought fast. He bent down and lifted
the hooped skirt of Queen Victoria’s dress.

“There’s room under there for you, Rosie,” he said. “’Scuse me, Your Majesty.”

Rosie dived under the skirt, and Wiggins dropped it over her. Then he turned to Ravi.

“You stand there and keep still,” he said, pointing to a spot beside the waxwork prince in the tableau. “Beav, you and me over here!”

He and Beaver only just managed to plant themselves among the opal diggers in the Australian scene before Captain Nicholson and Uncle Sanjay rushed out of the storeroom and the thugs entered the gallery through the front door.

“Who’s there?” the captain demanded.

“It is my men,” Uncle Sanjay told him. He called out in Hindi, and the men answered in the same language. “He says they have seen no one leaving this building. They’re in here somewhere.”

“Then so is the ruby,” the captain said. “We’ll search the place from top to bottom until we find them.”

Uncle Sanjay gave the thugs an order, and they all began hunting through the gallery. The
Boys stood still as statues – or as waxworks – hardly breathing and not daring to blink an eye as the four men searched around them. Beaver developed a terrible itch on the end of his nose, but somehow he managed to resist the urge to scratch or even twitch it. Wiggins began to get cramp in one leg, but gritted his teeth and endured the growing pain. At last, after what seemed like hours of agony, they were relieved to hear the captain say that they must have escaped after all.

But then there was a muffled sneeze. The captain and Uncle Sanjay stared at each other and then looked in the direction of the sneeze.

“It was Queen Victoria,” Uncle Sanjay said incredulously. “Queen Victoria sneezed!”

“Don’t be silly,” the captain retorted. “It’s a wax dummy.”

“All the same…”

And then there was a second sneeze. This time there could be no doubt as to where it came from. The two men circled the wax figure, regarding it curiously. Then the captain gave a snort, bent down and lifted the hem of the skirt.
Rosie lay curled round the model’s legs on the floor, amid the dust that had got up her nose.

“Well, well,” he said, grabbing her arm and hauling her out. “What have we here?”

Rosie glowered at him but said nothing. He shook her, hard, then raised one fist.

“Where are the others?” he snarled. “Tell me – or I’ll beat it out of you!”

Seeing Rosie threatened in this way was too much for Beaver.

“Leave her alone,” he shouted. “Take your hands off her!”

Abandoning his pose as a waxwork, Beaver leapt out of the Australian scene and charged across at the captain. Wiggins followed suit. And Ravi, standing right under the captain’s nose, came to life and threw himself at him. Uncle Sanjay grabbed Ravi and barked a command to his two men, who dashed forward and seized Wiggins and Beaver, holding them in a tight grip.

“You’ve been very clever,” the captain smirked at Wiggins. “But not quite clever enough. Now, hand over the ruby, if you please.”

“Can’t,” Wiggins replied coolly. “I ain’t got it.”

“What do you mean, you ‘ain’t’ got it?”

“I mean I ain’t got it. I’ve hid it. Somewhere safe.”

“Why, you cheeky young pup! I’ll teach you…”

“Oh no, you won’t. Anything happens to me, and you’ll never find it.”

“Brave talk, young man. But are you ready to watch your little friend suffer?”

He drew back his hand again, ready to hit Rosie. “Now tell me, or else…”

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” a loud parade-ground voice roared. It was Sarge, who had just entered the gallery. “Stop that at once! Take your hands off that girl!”

“Hah!” the captain sneered. “More brave talk. And from a man who has only one arm!”

“I might have only one arm,” Sarge replied, advancing steadily down the gallery, “but you’ll find it’s a good ’un.” He paused to snatch a spear from the hand of a Zulu warrior, and pointed it at the men. “Let ’em go, or I’ll run you through.”

Then he turned his head briefly to call back towards the entrance, “In here, Captain Watson! This way!” And through the entrance door came
Dr Watson, with Queenie, Shiner and Gertie.

“The game’s lost, Captain,” the doctor said. “Give yourself up like a gentleman.”

“Never!” the captain cried. He turned to Uncle Sanjay. “Quick. The tunnel. We can escape that way.”

“I think not,” said a steely new voice behind him. It was Sherlock Holmes, coming out of the storeroom wearing his famous deerstalker hat, followed by a stocky man in a tweed suit and cap.

“Lord Holdhurst!” Captain Nicholson gulped.

“You, sir, are a blackguard. A murdering blackguard,” His Lordship replied. He turned to Uncle Sanjay. “And so are you. Mr Holmes and I have just returned from Scotland, where you murdered your poor brother in cold blood.”

“No!” said Uncle Sanjay.

“Do not attempt to deny it,” Mr Holmes said. “I have proved your guilt quite conclusively. And I have no doubt that you would have disposed of your nephew in the same way, had it not been for my splendid Irregulars. Well done, Wiggins. Well done, my Boys.”

Wiggins grinned happily. Outside, the clatter of
hooves in the Bazaar announced the arrival of a carriage bringing Inspector Lestrade to arrest the criminals, and a police van to carry them away to jail.

“You’re quite safe now, Your Highness,” Mr Holmes told Ravi as they watched the villains being marched away. “Your uncle wanted to become the Raja and so gain the riches of Ranjipur, but the only way he could achieve his dastardly aim was to remove your father and yourself.”

“We know,” Ravi replied. “Wiggins worked that out.”

“Did he, indeed? And what about the ruby?”

“The captain wanted that,” said Wiggins. “’Cos he needed the money.”