30
Holmes's meaning was very simple: Split up.
Mr. Bentley went to Mr. Hamp to explain the stolen contract, and he and Mary,
Took advantage of the fact that the incident had just happened to find the worker.
Let's do it,
Mary lifted the hem of her skirt and said goodbye to Mr. Bentley on the street,
Following the detective to the slums.
The Victorian bourgeoisie was on the rise. The increasing prosperity of industry and technology brought new opportunities and a new social outlook,
Which also brought about a wider gap in wealth and class.
The South of England was dominated by agriculture,
When she lived in Langbourne,
Far from the city, there were no factories, an idyllic life, and her father's identity as a country squire,
So Mary did not have a strong sense of reality for the book knowledge she had received before she traveled.
But it was different in London.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes came to look for a fired worker,
And the workers in London naturally lived in a very different environment from the gentlemen and ladies.
Even with the knowledge of the 21st century, Mary, who had never experienced this history herself, did not realize this until she stood in the middle of the barren and dilapidated street.
When she walked into the slums,
Mary felt as if she had entered another world. The streets were gray and the houses were low and close together.
There were also men and women in cotton clothes with patched sleeves on the streets.
The dark and dirty scene made her clean clothes look out of place.
Fortunately, Mary did not like particularly gaudy clothes. If it were Lydia, her hat, which was always embroidered with beautiful patterns, would definitely scare the residents here.
Mary was already eye-catching enough now.
Even if she was neither afraid nor disgusted,
The surprised gazes of passers-by still made Mary subconsciously feel uncomfortable.
As for Holmes, who was walking in front, he was much more low-key.
The detective had specially changed into an inconspicuous outfit,
His shabby coat and shoes blended into the gray street without any hindrance,
He looked no different from the residents who lived here.
"Sir,"
Mary said,
"I won't drag you down, right?"
When Mr. Holmes heard this, he slowed down his pace, probably to prevent Mary from getting lost in the slums.
"What do you think?" he asked instead of answering.
"What?"
Mary paused for a second, then realized, "Is it about the secret meeting between Captain Carter and Mr. Hamp?
In fact, I don't understand their motives. "
Holmes lowered his head and motioned for Mary to continue.
After getting the nod, Mary continued, "If the two of them knew each other beforehand and were accomplices, then one of them recommended Mr. Bentley to change the supplier, and the other instigated the other to steal the contract. Their motives are conflicting.
So in my opinion, they probably didn't know each other beforehand, or maybe they knew each other beforehand, but for different purposes. "
"You have no proof."
"Yes, this is all my speculation," Mary answered truthfully. "I haven't figured out the key, because these two hypotheses can lead to two completely different results."
If they didn't know each other beforehand, then Captain Carter failed to steal the contract, and then secretly met with the factory owner who recommended the change of supplier. In this way, it seemed that he was trying to prevent Mr. Bentley and his partners from changing the cotton supplier.
If they knew each other beforehand, but for different purposes, first recommending Mr. Bentley to change the cotton supplier, and then seeing that he didn't sign the contract, he sent someone to steal it. This behavior was quite like destroying the evidence.
Mary thought about it and really couldn't think of which was more likely.
"I think," she had to say, "finding the worker who was fired may have useful clues to confirm the possibility."
Mr. Holmes nodded. "That's right."
He didn't say much, but a nod was enough to make Mary feel relieved.
It seemed that she could still keep up with the detective's thinking!
"So, do you know where the worker is, sir?" Mary asked cheerfully.
"Follow me."
He took Mary into a long indoor alley.
People came and went around, and Mary passed by many pedestrians in old clothes.
The top of her head was covered by the dark ceiling, and most of the light and cold wind dissipated. The air was filled with the smell of kerosene and air that didn't circulate well. It took Mary a long time to adapt.
Then, she heard cheerful singing coming from one of the rooms.
It was a group of men and women. Everyone was around a table at the same time. They didn't mind each other, and they all raised their glasses and sang.
It was like enjoying a rare leisure time after a day of work.
Sherlock Holmes pushed the door and walked in.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen."
He took off his worn hat and said directly, "Is Henry Dyke here?"
When he said Henry Dyke's name, the whole room fell into silence.
After a while, a man closest to Mr. Holmes stood up. "Why are you looking for him?"
Mary opened her eyes slightly.
The accent was Irish.
There was a terrible famine in Ireland during the Victorian era. During that famine, the potatoes that the locals relied on for survival were greatly reduced, causing many Irish people to choose to flee their hometown.
Strictly speaking, the root cause of the famine was still the exploitation and plunder of the bourgeoisie.
After Cromwell incorporated Ireland into the British territory, the British nobles carried out a lot of land annexation, causing the peasants to have no land to farm. They could only rely on cheap and productive potatoes to survive.
Now, the famine was over, and most of the Irish people had crossed the sea to the United States.
Some of them also came to London. Their labor was far cheaper than the native workers in London, so they were hostile and lived in worse conditions.
Mr. Holmes didn't say that the worker who was fired by Mr. Hamp was Irish.
"We want to help him." Mary cleared her throat and said seriously.
The young man who asked the question was stunned.
In the dim room, Mary couldn't see his expression, but she knew that the young man must be full of disdain at this time.
The young man obviously regarded Mary and Mr. Holmes as a young lady who didn't know the ways of the world and a poor man she invited to lead the way.
He looked up and down at the clean and decent Mary and said rudely, "With all due respect, miss, this is not a place you can come."
"Why can't I come?"
"Why?"
The young man sneered. "Aren't you afraid that your beautiful shoes will be stained with lice, feces, and grease, miss?
Listen to my advice, you'd better go back quickly. You're dressed so beautifully. This is not a place where a guy in clean clothes like you can stay. "
If it were other young ladies, even if they had the courage to step in here, they would probably be embarrassed by the disdainful tone.
In the eyes of the workers, an unmarried young lady like her was spoiled and didn't have to worry about food and clothing. The so-called "help" was nothing but useless pity and condescending charity.
The workers may not eat and drink well, but they also had the dignity of a human being.
However, Mary wasn't helping the poor on a whim, so she just raised her eyebrows. "Friedrich Engels also walked into the workers' residence in Manchester wearing clean clothes. If he stood in front of you, would you say the same thing?"
"You —"
The young man was choked by Mary's words. He had never expected that a girl from a rich family would be able to bring out the name of Engels.
Mary said righteously, "His two lovers are both Irish!"
She was telling the truth. The other founder of Marxism, Engels, swore to defend the dignity and status of the working class. He was a great proletarian who fought for communism all his life. He was the son of a big factory owner.
But it didn't matter. His consciousness transcended his own class attribute and transcended the entire era, didn't it?
"Engels is a man," the man sitting next to the young man couldn't help but say, "You're a girl. Do you want to be Engels?
What are you doing? Get out of here, miss. Otherwise, don't blame us for being rude! "
"What do you mean a girl is doing something?"
Before Mary could speak, the girls at the other end of the table hissed. The leading red-haired girl slammed the wine glass on the table, crossed her arms, and scolded, "What's wrong with girls? Without us women, did you men jump out of the cracks of stones?"
The men: "…"
The red-haired girl glared at the man who wanted to drive her away and softened her tone, "Henry has just been fired by Hamp Works. Miss, he is in a very bad mood now and is resting. It's better not to disturb him."
Sure enough, it was useful to mention Engels.
After all, they were the working class. Even if they had not received the teachings of communism, they had not learned Marxist theoretical knowledge.
But when it came to the proletariat, Mary could feel that the atmosphere in the room was obviously eased a lot.
At least, the young matchmaker was polite.
"I know you don't trust me," Mary took the opportunity to say, "but you have to trust my companion, miss.
He's Sherlock Holmes, a detective from London. He's here because of Henry's firing. "
"Holmes?"
The man who had just spoken rudely after hearing the detective's name said incredulously, "He's that … Holmes?"
Several young Irish men couldn't help but whisper.
Well, it seemed that Mr. Holmes's name was particularly useful even in the slums.
In the end, the red-haired girl stood up as the representative. "I didn't expect it to be the detective and his friend. Then everything is easy.
Come with me. "
Mary: "…"
If she had known, she would have introduced Mr. Holmes directly!
Mary didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His name was even more useful than Engels's.
"Forgive our vigilance, miss." The red-haired girl picked up a candle from the room and motioned for Mary and Holmes to follow her. "Henry was suddenly fired, and the supervisor's reason was that he stole. Henry is more upright than steel. He would never steal.
The supervisor of Hamp Works said that no factory would be willing to hire him in the future. There must be something wrong. "
"Mr. Holmes thinks that Henry Dyke heard something he shouldn't have."
"… Then it makes sense."
The red-haired girl let out a long breath. She slowed down and looked back at Mary and Mr. Holmes. "The detective is here. That's great. You'll prove Henry's innocence, sir?"
"I'll find out the truth."
"Thank you," the red-haired girl said. "What about you, miss?
Why am I here? "
"I'm also here for the truth," Mary replied politely. "Just call me Mary."
"What a coincidence."
The red-haired girl looked surprised. "My name is Mary too."
This was nothing unusual.
In the whole of Great Britain, there were countless young girls named British. Mary just smiled. "Engels's wife is also named Mary. Maybe this is fate?"
The red-haired girl with the same name laughed. "That's my pleasure, miss."
"Thank you."
"I should be the one thanking you," the red-haired girl said sincerely. "In the whole of London, I'm afraid only Mr. Sherlock Holmes cares about our lives."
It sounded like detectives were very important to the poor.
And judging from his familiarity with the slums, Sherlock Holmes was probably running back and forth in London's various neighborhoods before moving into 221B. Maybe he even helped the workers solve cases?
That was why he had such a good reputation.
"What I care about is the truth."
The detective said coldly, "Where is Henry Dyke?"
"Right here."
The red-haired girl said and pushed open a door on the left side of the alley.
The door was as dilapidated as the whole neighborhood. When she pushed open the wooden door, an extremely unpleasant smell came out.
Before Mary could react to what it was, a pair of large hands with distinct joints covered her mouth and nose.
He was so strong that Mary stumbled and fell into the man's arms. Holmes held her.
"Hold your breath!"
The detective shouted.
He pulled Mary away and reminded the red-haired girl, "Be careful, there's —"