The Schoolgirl Affair (A Sherlock Holmes and Serena Norton Story #3)

Chapter Eleven

Two days passed and I heard nothing from my father or Mr. Holmes. I didn't let this keep me inactive, though. Abby and I made thorough examinations of all the paintings. Again. With a closer inspection, we discovered four with irregular signatures.

I also slipped into the room used for our art classes. There, I found multiple paintings at the back of the room. To my eye, they were identical but they must have been painted by my classmates. The crate next to the canvases hinted that they were to be sent somewhere.

If I wanted to see justice done, I didn't have much time to do it. I felt as though I had the clues I needed; I just wasn't sure how they all fit together.

Monday morning, I was summoned out of English class to Miss Hunter's office. Again.

What I expected to find—my father, annoyed with my antics—was not what greeted me there. Two men rose from their seats: Dr. Watson and Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "I think you know our visitors, Serena," Miss Hunter said, rising from her desk. It was impossible to tell whether she was displeased or not.

"Good morning, Miss Norton," Mr. Holmes said.

"Mr. Holmes! Dr. Watson!" I made my curtsy, restraining myself from clapping my hands. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"After I received your message, my files revealed that your little mystery directly connects to mine," Mr. Holmes said. "Perhaps you might tell me in detail what you have observed, Miss Serena?"

Nodding, I took the only available seat. I outlined what I had discovered: Alice Woods' apparent suicide, the evidence to the contrary, the statue I had found, the forgeries on the wall, how my art teacher had asked after Alice Woods, and Mr.Barrignton meeting a stranger in the village.

Miss Hunter was very interested to hear about the forgeries in her own school. "You say Helen Davies hinted at this?" she asked, making a note. "Did she happen to say anything else on the matter?"

I shook my head. Mr. Holmes steepled his fingers. "A client, a gentleman of high rank, recently purchased what he was told was an original work. He discovered, after the painting was delivered, that the signature was not quite right. An expert declared the work a forgery. The nobleman then brought the case to me."

"Do you frequently take on such cases, Mr. Holmes?" Miss Hunter asked curiously.

"When I find it intriguing," Mr. Holmes responded. "I would have refused to take on this one, for there are many forgers at work. However, the description given was familiar. I consulted my notes and discovered a forger by the name of Nathaniel Bellows who carried a distinctive identifying mark on his wrist."

He handed a slip of paper over to me. The sketch of Nathaniel Bellows matched my art teacher exactly. "Mr. Barrington," I said, not really surprised.

"Oh, good heavens," Miss Hunter exclaimed. "I hired a forger to teach my students art? Of all the infuriating... I felt fortunate to hire him. His references were admirable!"

"Of course, they were," Mr. Holmes said kindly. "He could create such references to get the job he desired. Namely, one where he could take advantage of a young lady's paintbrush without anyone thinking it strange that he would encourage his students to imitate a painting exactly."

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. Unless he had an independent thinker like me for a student who questioned why I had to make an exact copy. Mr. Holmes, though, noticed my amusement.

"I take it you disagreed with him, Miss Serena?"

"She did," Miss Hunter answered for me. "He had many complaints for her unwillingness to apply herself in following his instruction."