Detective Mary

Chapter 36

It was not until she was out on the road that Miss Mostyn explained the occasion to Mary.

The young Irishman, Dawson, who had challenged Mary in the slums, had been so angry at what had happened to Henry Decker that he had joined the other Irishmen in the factory in a group visit to Mr. Hamp to get an explanation.

When the two of them arrived at Mr. Hamp's factory in London, several young Irishmen were still being held back by the supervisors.

"We want to see Hamp!" Dawson, who headed the group, said angrily.

"Mr. Hamp is too busy with his guests," the overseer said, "to see you, so get out of here, or I'll call the police!"

"We won't leave until Hamp gives us a statement," Dawson shot back. Isn't the dignity of the workers a matter of dignity, and why should Henry's innocence be blamed for nothing?"

"Right!"

"That's right!"

"Give us a statement!"

Miss Morstan pulled Mary closer to the crowd, and a chorus of assent just rang out. The red-haired Irish girl pushed past the workers crowding the doorway and walked over to Dawson.

"The overseer still won't let you in?" Miss Morstan asked.

"What a watchdog," Dawson taunted, "guarding the door with real dedication."

"You--"

The supervisor was so pissed off, he looked like he almost wanted to punch someone, "Don't think I can't do something about you just because you work across the river, kid!"

Miss Morstan frowned, "You're here to make a point, what's the point of attacking a bystander?"

Apparently the Irish girl didn't approve of her companion's personal attacks. She turned to the supervisor, Mary Morstan, who, like Henry Decker, was a worker at the Hampstead factory.

She said politely, "My friend is just hot-headed, don't take it to heart, we don't have any illegal intentions."

"You Irish."

The overseer wasn't having any of it, and he pointed to a group of outraged workers behind Dawson.

"You come here in such force, and you say you have no intention of breaking the law?"

"Otherwise," conceded Miss Morstan, "we could wait outside, but this Miss Mary Bennet is a friend of Mr. Bingley's, and he gave me five pence and told me to ask Miss Bennet to come to the factory."

"Don't you make any excuses, Morstan," the overseer deadpanned, "you're the one who makes the most trouble when you're on the job on weekdays!"

"Miss Morstan speaks the truth."

Mary had to speak, "She also brought a handwritten letter from Mr. Bingley, sir, believe it or not."

With that she handed the overseer the note Mr. Bentley had written earlier.

It was only then that the overseer noticed Mary, who was swamped by the workers in the front row. Miss Morstan took the opportunity to give Dawson a hard shove, "Get out of the way, all of you, how can you stand with a single lady?"

Mary stepped forward self-consciously, and the overseer, seeing that she was well-dressed and appeared to be an unmarried young lady from a decent family, coupled with Mr. Bentley's note, immediately lapsed into silence.

He hesitantly wiped the leg of his pants, "It's not that I won't let you go, miss, but I've got to watch the gate, and you don't know your way around if I let you go into the factory alone."

"I know it."

Miss Morstan took it for granted, "It's not as if I'm here with these stinking men, and it wouldn't do for me to take Miss Mary Bennet to Hamp."

"You?" The overseer was suspicious.

Mary stole a glance at Miss Morstan and realized that the redhead had glanced at herself with her afterglow and instantly understood.

"Just let her take me in," Mary tried to speak in a careful tone, "isn't the factory dirty? I'm not too keen on getting any dirt on my dress."

Hearing this more than standard Miss Single speech, the overseer fell back on believing Ms. Morstan's words.

With a long sigh, he said to Ms. Mostan, "Fine, you go and come back quickly. If you talk too much in front of Mr. Hamp, Mostan, and get swept off your feet yourself like Henry, don't blame me for not warning you before!"

"I have a point."

Said Miss Morstan, even carrying the hem of her skirt, curtsying to Mary, "Come along, Miss Mary Bennet."

Several young Irishmen watched as the two ladies walked through the factory gates. It wasn't until after confirming that they were far enough away from the gathered workers that the overseer couldn't hear them at all that the redheaded Irish girl lost her voice in laughter.

"Afraid of getting dirt on your dress?"

It looked like Miss Morstan had been holding back her laughter for a long time, "I think that's something you should really tell the maid who does your laundry to listen to, Miss Mary, you're such a liar."

Mary winked and quirked her lips, "You're no better, did you conspire with the others to use me as a shield to get through the gate so you could meet Mr. Hamp?"

After being exposed, Miss Morstan was not chagrined, but instead, she daintily tilted her head sideways and confessed frankly.

"No," she said, "this Dawson fellow isn't bad, but he just doesn't think things through. With a dozen men blocking the factory door, it's a wonder the overseer let them in. But they wouldn't listen to me, so we girls had to use our brains."

"This overseer is not bad."

In Marie's impression, factory supervisors and workers have always been incompatible beings. In Les Misérables, Fantine was thrown out of the gate without saying a word, and Jean Valjean, who was the master, knew nothing about it, and the kind and gentle Fantine was stranded in the slums and reduced to a prostitute - a miserable episode that is really hard to forget.

But the situation at Mr. Hamp's factory seems to be slightly better than in the story.

"I won't deny that," Miss Morstan nodded, "Compared to other factories, our overseer is really not too bad. Even though he claims to be looking out for Hamp, I know he's worried that I'll be fired."

It was thought that even the overseer understood that the reason Henry Decker had been fired was not theft, but just shutting up about his livelihood.

Mary thinks that people have to eat. Supervisor chose to remain silent, although not "justice", but when survival and morality to choose a moment, choose the latter is great, but the former is not deserved to be commented on things.

"Anyway, we're in," Mary shook the note in her hand, "that is, don't you tell me that even Mr. Bentley's handwritten letter is a fake?"

"Naturally, it's real!"

Even though Miss Morstan had a flexible brain, she possessed a bottom line of her own, "I would never do anything to forge a handwritten letter. Mr. Bentley originally intended to invite Hamp to Mr. Holmes's apartment, and then to ask you to come over, so that we could discuss how to settle the trouble together. It is only that I heard about it and went and told Mr. Holmes first."

"......"

Too smart for its own good!

Tell Mr. Holmes first, and, according to the detective's character, he will call a carriage to Mr. Hamp's factory at once, so as to get the first useful clue.

For Mr. Bentley, right and left were to be discussed, and it was the same wherever he was.

Not for the Irish workers, however, it was a matter of Henry Dyke's job! Now didn't Miss Mostyn follow Mary in the door and get a chance to face the factory owner straight away?

For Morstan this small "use", Mary not only do not angry, but the heart of the meaning of a few points of appreciation: it is true that can capture Dr. Watson's lady is not trivial, she is not only righteous, but also very clever, some common workers do not have the insight. Even without the status of decent lady in the original, in Mary's opinion, is also a very rare and precious girl.

Moreover, she felt that this Miss Morstan really shared her temperament. Ms. Morstein, these tricks, usually Mary did not play a lot of it.

"Then don't waste your design," Mary laughed, "let's go in quickly."

Mr. Bentley and the others had been waiting for a long time in the office of the Hampshire factory.

Miss Mostyn showed Mary through the door and saw Mr. Sherlock Holmes pacing the chamber repeatedly until he saw Mary and his steps stopped abruptly.

To-day the detective had changed back to his usual gentleman's attire, no cane was held, his hat had been laid aside, and under his dark hair impatience was written in his cold face.

"At last!"

He complained outright, "You guys were at least ten minutes slow from the streets of Glenos Church to here."

"The overseer stopped us," Mary spoke up, "There were quite a few other Irish workers downstairs, he was just finishing his work-"

"-miscellaneous excuses."

Mr. Holmes interrupted Mary directly, "You may begin now, Mr. Hamp."

Mary: "......"

The detective's brusque behavior really embarrassed the others in the room a bit. Those who reacted more, such as Miss Morstan, saw that he had directly interrupted an unmarried girl and raised an eyebrow, looking like she was about to speak out against him even if it was her esteemed detective who had interrupted the speech.

But Mary was not offended, she tugged at Miss Morstan, who was a few moments away from opening her mouth, and smiled, "Let's get started then, I've been curious about the case for a long time too."

What was there to be angry about? You know the reason for Mr. Detective's impatience is because he is waiting for himself ah.

--In other words, Sherlock Holmes had been waiting for her to arrive.

What honorable treatment this was!

To others it looked like Holmes was disrespecting Mary, but Mary knew instead that it was precisely because Holmes recognized her and respected her claim to want answers that he reacted the way he did. Otherwise Sherlock Holmes wouldn't have even waited for her to arrive before opening.

So much for being interrupted, not to mention being scolded for having such a place in her god's heart, Mary didn't think it was too much to ask.

Seeing that Mary did not care, Miss Morstan could not say anything, but had to look at Mr. Hamp, as everyone else did.

Mr. Hamp, as one of those who knew who was behind it, was as the workers had described him, with a kind face and a shrewd eye, except that his face did not look very well, as if he had not had a good night's rest, and was full of anxiety.

He breathed an involuntary sigh of relief when he heard Holmes speak at last.

"You must help me, sir," said Mr. Hamp, who looked extraordinarily urgent, and who even showed a touch of desperation, "you must help me! Now that the 'Professor' knows everything, my factory, my property, even my life, may not be safe!"