"One stone, two birds? What do you mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
Charlotte slowly removed one of her gloves and casually swung it through the air.
"This criminal not only quietly sent a powerful figure your way so you could shine at year-end, but also planned to use Scotland Yard to eliminate that arrogant, self-centered rat who's been squatting in the South Bank warehouses."
She turned to look at Philip, who was still sprawled on the ground. Her tone carried a mixture of pity and mockery.
"Mr. Morstan, you really do have rotten luck. Out of the entire vast South Bank warehouse district, you just had to choose Warehouse No. 4 to store such troublesome potatoes."
"On the bright side, it also proves you have complete control over this field. After all, is there any better place to hide something in secret than a smuggling warehouse sealed off by a criminal organization, where not even a fly can get in?"
"You...!"
Philip trembled with rage, but not a single word of protest came out.
His life is still in their hands.
"So who brought this batch of weapons here? Where were they originally hidden?"
Lestrade had reached his limit. These unnumbered Lee-Enfield rifles felt like a ticking time bomb. He wouldn't be able to sleep with even one eye closed until their origin was traced.
"Dogwood Pier."
Mary, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke up.
"The abandoned pier is less than four miles downstream from here. If I remember correctly, there should be ruined air-raid shelters packed with shipping containers underground in that area. The humidity, the type of moss, and the smell of dead fish drifting around there match the stains on the bottoms of these wooden crates perfectly. Furthermore, judging from the deep and shallow indentations left on the bottoms of the crates during transport, this cargo was originally stored there by a large-scale underground smuggling organization, and the quantity was definitely greater than what we see here. I recommend sending personnel immediately to seal off the area. You might even catch a few fugitives who didn't have time to escape and dismantle the international smuggling network."
"So who exactly moved them out of the air-raid shelter here…?"
The girl shrugged lightly, wearing an innocent expression.
"That depends on Lestrade's ability. After all, I'm merely a consulting detective. Catching thieves is Scotland Yard's job."
The moment Lestrade heard the words "Dogwood Pier" and "international smuggling network," his eyes lit up.
"Are you serious?"
"Don't ask me."
"Immediately contact headquarters! Mobilize all personnel fully armed and head to Dogwood Pier!"
Lestrade turned to the senior inspector beside him and loudly ordered,
"Also, arrest Mr. Morstan on suspicion of large-scale smuggling, employing violent criminals, and concealing risks to public safety! Place him under strict surveillance and forbid anyone from contacting him! Leave a few men behind to guard these weapons. Once Philip Morstan is imprisoned, immediately dispatch carriages to retrieve the weapons!"
"Yes, sir!"
Two officers immediately stepped forward, dragged the pale-faced Philip off the ground as if he were a dead dog, hauled him out of the warehouse, and shoved him into a black police carriage. As the Scotland Yard contingent rapidly withdrew, Warehouse No. 4 — once bustling with activity — became an empty space in the blink of an eye.
All that remained were several crates of gleaming weapons, the officers guarding them, Mary and Charlotte standing in the cold wind, and William the butler silently standing behind Mary.
The tears and grief that had been on Mary's originally pale and frail face vanished without a trace the instant the sirens faded away.
"So Philip really was…" William sighed.
"Come, William. Let's go."
Mary spoke quietly, then looked at Charlotte.
"Would you like to come along, Miss Charlotte?"
"To Kensington?"
The young woman nodded lightly. "I wanted to visit Mrs. Hudson on Baker Street, but it seems I don't have time right now."
Charlotte remained silent for a while before nodding.
"Very well."
And so the three left the warehouse. Charlotte and Mary boarded the carriage. After the carriage slowly began moving and pulled away from the South Bank warehouses, Mary finally spoke.
"Why did you do this?"
The girl's voice was still soft, but her tone carried clear dissatisfaction and doubt about the original agreement being forcibly broken.
"This is different from the script we originally planned, Miss Holmes."
Mary slightly raised her chin and stared directly into Charlotte's cold, sharp gray-blue eyes without flinching.
"Or perhaps that detective's incurable sense of justice awakened again, and you couldn't bear to silently watch people in this holy British Empire being treated unjustly, so you came all the way here to play the savior?"
"Did you think I wanted to crawl out of my warm bed at the crack of dawn and bravely come to this dilapidated warehouse that reeks of dead fish and cheap tobacco in the freezing London snow?"
Charlotte widened her eyes and retorted without the slightest courtesy.
If Russell hadn't rushed back to Baker Street just before dawn, dragged her out of bed by force, and begged her to clean up this mess, she absolutely wouldn't have lifted a single finger.
"This was that irresponsible phantom thief's proposal. Or rather, he came begging me to help cover up your case."
Charlotte casually shifted the blame onto Russell.
"Russell?"
Mary frowned. "Why?"
"He listened to you and stuffed those dangerous goods into your unfortunate cousin's warehouse, but he's not a complete fool. At the very least, he realized at the last moment that your plan had a fatal flaw."
"A flaw?"
Mary slightly furrowed her brows.
"Don't look at me with such suspicious eyes, Professor."
Charlotte smiled coldly.
"Did you really think that simply pinning the crime of treason on Philip would ensure his downfall while also neatly resolving the South Bank storage problem?"
She extended a slender index finger and wagged it lightly.
"If you were an outsider with no connection to the Morstan family, this tactic of making others do your dirty work would be truly clever. But you've forgotten your current identity. You are the sole legitimate heir to Morstan Corporation and the new helmsman of this massive business empire."
Charlotte leaned back deeply in her chair and looked at Mary with a contemptuous gaze.
"Do you know what treason means in Britain? In that case, it will be reported to the Home Office, MI6, and even Buckingham Palace. Even if it ultimately turns out to be Philip's individual act, his surname is still Morstan. If this surname becomes associated with terrorism or subversion of the state, Scotland Yard will seize not only these warehouses but much more. Whether this was Philip Morstan's independent decision or whether other members of the Morstan family supported him — no one knows. And once that happens, anyone who has done business with Morstan Enterprises will flee as if they had witnessed a plague in order to protect their own honor."
"By then, no matter how many weaknesses of your relatives you hold, you won't be able to save the Morstan family from disgrace or government asset freezes and liquidation. This is a catastrophic public relations crisis. Did you really think that shedding a few tears in front of Scotland Yard and paying the Guardian to run a story would solve everything?"
Mary's face instantly turned extremely ugly.
This was indeed an oversight on her part. Under the excessive pressure from her greedy relatives and her eagerness to demonstrate her own abilities, the young head of the family who had only just seized power had carelessly made the kind of fatal mistake common to gamblers. She had only thought about delivering the most devastating blow to her enemies and had overlooked the fact that the aftershocks of the explosion could capsize her own ship.
After all, until now the girl's position had always been that of a professor who planned but did not participate in the schemes, so she had unconsciously ignored her current standing.
"So that Mr. Thief came back to me early this morning and begged me to help classify this as an extremely serious case of commercial smuggling and false accusation."
Charlotte felt strangely satisfied upon seeing Mary's confused expression.
"Smuggling, tax evasion, employing black gloves for violent debt collection — all of these are serious crimes, but they all fall within the scope of commercial crimes. If we can completely remove that terrifying arsenal from the hands of the Morstan family, then with your abilities as a professor, the remaining problems should be manageable. It should be easy to solve, right? Impeach Philip, seize his warehouses, and while the warehouses are closed, use the evidence of Benson Morstan's guilt to keep forcing him to bear the cost of supplying raw materials at high prices until he can no longer endure it and voluntarily withdraws. Just as I said — one stone, two birds."
"..."
Mary remained silent for a while before taking a deep breath.
"To be honest, I acted without thinking it through properly."
The girl possessed extraordinary adaptability. In just a few seconds, she completely suppressed the irritation caused by her miscalculation.
"Although I'm extremely reluctant… I still want to express my gratitude."
"No need. I don't require your false gratitude."
Charlotte waved her hand.
"Just tell Russell. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear it."
"This is truly from the heart."
Mary smiled.
"So, what are your plans from now on?"
Charlotte steered the conversation back on track.
"Although the suspicion of weapons smuggling has been dropped, Philip, as the nominal person in charge of the South Shore warehouses, still faces charges of large-scale smuggling and concealing security risks."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
When the topic touched on her area of expertise, the girl's lips finally curved into a slight smile.
"Philip's cousin has been arrested on suspicion of smuggling. Warehouses No. 4 and No. 5 will undoubtedly be sealed and searched by Scotland Yard. Because the supply of raw materials has been cut off, we have no choice but to rely on kind Uncle Benson to provide funds to purchase supplies from elsewhere at high prices. By the way, this might also be a good opportunity to gather those elderly gentlemen who have long coveted my chair. With Philip's cousin in office, the huge logistics warehouses on the South Bank have naturally lost their main leader. To ensure the normal operation of the Morstan Group and prevent the scandal from expanding further, I have both the obligation and the right to immediately dispatch a new management team to take over the warehouse operations. Of course, this cannot be completed in a short period, so until then the supply of raw materials will remain cut off."
She said no more, but both Charlotte and Mary could see the despair already in Benson's eyes.
Hearing this, Charlotte nodded lightly.
"It seems you've already found a solution, so I won't intervene further."
She let out a small yawn, looking tired.
"I hope these next few days you won't cause any more trouble and will stop that man from rushing out in the middle of the night. Russel only just came back this morning and still hasn't treated me to breakfast."
"In that case, I'll cover his debt for him."
Mary smiled.
"I have absolute faith in the chef's cooking skills."
"Haa…"
With the coachman's light call, the carriage quietly stopped in front of the main entrance of the Morstan mansion.
"We have arrived. Please alight, guests."
Mary was the first to push open the door. Supported by a maid, she entered the hall, then turned back and gestured invitingly to Charlotte, who was following behind.
"I hope the Morstan family chef's skills can at least somewhat soothe that famous detective's tired body."
Inside the breakfast room stood a long oak dining table covered with a pristine white lace tablecloth.
Afterward, a luxurious traditional English Edwardian-style breakfast was served: sautéed seafood, thick-cut ham with poached eggs and hollandaise sauce, freshly baked butter scones, and a set of premium Earl Grey tea rich with the aroma of bergamot.
Charlotte sat down and slowly cut into her poached egg. The transparent golden yolk flowed over the ham.
She took a bite and nodded ambiguously.
"The cooking time was perfectly controlled and the ingredients were top quality. However, unfortunately…"
She picked up her tea, lightly blew on it to cool it, and looked across the table at Mary.
"Compared to the breakfast he makes, these always lack a certain human warmth."
Mary neither confirmed nor denied this.
…
After lunch, Charlotte did not hurry to leave and followed Mary to the study.
At that moment, Mary was writing a letter to Benson. She placed the finished letter, along with the handwritten copy of the ledger she had received the previous night and the photographs, into an envelope.
"Twenty thousand pounds? That's far too ambitious."
Charlotte, who had been watching from the side, couldn't help but speak up.
"I think spending twenty thousand pounds to save a life is worth it,"
Mary said.
"As long as he sincerely offers to provide the funds at this afternoon's board meeting and supports my decision to take over management of the South Shore warehouse."
"As the generous head of the Morstan family, I still want to give him a chance. After all, just as Father once told me: forgive the first mistake, punish the second."
"Inciting the strike and making Philip stop payments — shouldn't these be treated as two separate incidents?"
"The first time he participated, the money came out of his own pocket, so he was definitely greatly affected. But the second time…" Mary turned to look at Charlotte. "The second time, he gave me a wonderful opportunity, didn't he? So how can that be called a mistake?"
Even if the starting point was bad, the result is always good. That's enough.
"Are you truly confident he will agree?"
Charlotte raised one eyebrow.
"Uncle Benson fears death far more than you think."
Mary lightly tapped the envelope in her hand.
"His wife is notoriously sharp-tongued and comes from an influential family. Their marriage is essentially just a business arrangement. There is absolutely no real affection between them. If it were discovered that he had been using money-laundering accounts to support his illegitimate child, he would be skinned alive before Scotland Yard or I even lifted a finger."
The girl turned her gaze toward the window. There, the warm winter sun shone on the snow, reflecting a dazzling light.
"The essence of business is equivalent exchange, Miss Holmes."
Mary spoke in a calm tone.
"My family taught me how to ruthlessly confront rivals. And the tuition I paid him was to teach him how to face reality."
It is time to end the first round of this family feud.
"Don't get too greedy or you'll get indigestion."
Charlotte stood up and straightened her coat, which had grown a little large from moving around.
"Breakfast was delicious, but I should head back and catch up on my sleep."
"Take care, Miss Detective."
Mary waved with a smile that never left her face.
"Ah, by the way, if you go outside and turn left, you'll find the carriage stand. If you get tired of walking, feel free to use it."
As expected, after receiving a sharp glare from Charlotte, Mary turned away with a satisfied expression.
After watching Charlotte's carriage gradually disappear into the depths of the snow-covered street, Mary averted her gaze and returned to the warm mansion.
Inside the study, the letter addressed to Benson Morstan already lay quietly on the desk.
Mary picked up the heavy brass family crest seal, melted red sealing wax over the candle flame, and lightly pressed her wrist down. With a crisp snap, the Morstan family crest was perfectly imprinted on the envelope's seal.
The vivid color on the parchment looked like a drop of dried blood.
"William."
The girl called quietly.
"Yes, Miss. I'm here."
The old butler, who had been waiting outside the door, immediately pushed it open and entered.
Mary pushed the letter to the edge of the desk.
"Send a young, unfamiliar, and quick-witted messenger. Deliver this letter immediately to Uncle Benson's house in Mayfair. Don't forget to hand it directly to him in person and tell him it's reference material sent in advance by the head of the Morstan family for this afternoon's board meeting."
"Yes, Miss."
William received the envelope with both hands and respectfully left the room.
Mary leaned back deeply into the wide leather chair, her smile deepening further.
At this moment, the curtain rises and the lights come on. All that remains is for the actors to take the stage.
…
1:30 p.m., Benson Morstan's luxurious villa in the Mayfair district.
A precious bone teacup was slammed violently onto the Persian carpet and shattered into pieces.
Benson Morstan's fat face was as pale as paper, and cold sweat thinly beaded on his forehead.
Just moments earlier, his trusted subordinate had brought back shocking news from London's South Bank: Lestrade had led a team and sealed Warehouses No. 4 and No. 5. Philip had been arrested on the spot, handcuffed, and shoved into a police vehicle on suspicion of large-scale smuggling and concealing major security risks!
"It's over… Everything is over!"
Benson paced back and forth anxiously inside the study, his massive body making the floorboards creak.
"That idiot Philip! I told him to cut off the raw material supply to the East District, but what kind of suspicious things was he hiding in the warehouse?! Did they really lure Scotland Yard there?!"
"Boss, the South Bank is completely sealed. Our plan…"
His trusted subordinate stood to the side, reporting with a tense expression.
"Damn the plan!"
Benson roared, cutting him off.
"The raw material supply has indeed been cut off, but the reason is because Philip's warehouse was seized! With such a shocking scandal, what grounds do we have to impeach Mary at this afternoon's board meeting? Forget about her. It's lucky enough that Philip doesn't betray us!"
Just as he was beginning to feel as uneasy as a cat on a hot tin roof, the butler gently knocked on the study's double oak doors.
"Master, there is a messenger outside. He says he is from the Morstan estate and has an urgent letter from the head of the family that must be confirmed by you personally."
"A letter from her?"
Benson's heart skipped a beat. He pushed the butler aside and snatched the envelope with the red sealing wax.
After dismissing everyone, Benson slumped onto the leather sofa and tore open the envelope with trembling hands.
The first thing that fell out was a black-and-white photograph.
It showed a young, beautiful woman holding a three- or four-year-old boy in front of a quiet house in Surrey County, smiling brightly in the sunlight.
The instant Benson saw the photograph, his pupils contracted to their maximum, and he let out an unbelievable, strange sound as if an invisible hand had tightly gripped his throat.
Next came a thick stack of copy paper.
The densely written numbers and remittance records from overseas accounts perfectly matched the two accounts he had just tallied last night!
"This can't be… How is this possible?!"
He hurriedly rushed over to the painting beside the fireplace, pushed the frame aside, and frantically turned the safe's dial lock.
With a click, the safe opened.
The gold bars, jewelry, and cash were all in their original places, but the kraft paper envelope and black ledger at the very bottom were gone!
And in the place where the ledger had originally been, a card with a white background lay quietly.
Even without looking at the card, Benson already understood what had happened.
Moriarty — London's phantom thief!
Benson's legs gave out and he fell to his knees on the cold floor.
That little girl… She actually hired that phantom thief! How is that even possible?!
With trembling hands, he picked up the final letter paper, which carried a faint fragrance of white camellia.
The above is written in elegant and polite English.
To my dearest Uncle Benson:
I have also heard about the unfortunate seizure of the South Shore warehouses and the emergency situation at the East District factory. You must know as well. I firmly believe that as the pillar of the family, you would never stand by and watch Morstan Enterprises fall into a quagmire of default simply because the supply of raw materials has been cut off.
Before the cold winter arrives, I have contacted several raw material suppliers in France and Manchester. They are willing to deliver within three days if we pay a 20% premium. However, your niece has only just begun her studies, and just a few days ago she ran short of money to appease the workers in the East District.
Therefore, in order to alleviate the imminent financial crisis, I respectfully request an interest-free investment of twenty thousand pounds. At this afternoon's board meeting at 3 p.m., I expect all of you to overcome every objection, take the lead in assuming responsibility for this fund that concerns the survival of the family, and support my decision to dispatch a new audit team to fully manage the South Shore logistics channels.
Furthermore, Surrey County is blessed with beautiful scenery and is a very suitable place for children to grow up. However, does Aunt know about this matter?
I hope you make the wisest decision at this afternoon's meeting.
Your niece, Mary Morstan.
Pay twenty thousand pounds and hand over management rights to the South Bank. This is clearly robbery, but refusal is impossible.
Benson's fat face twisted violently with intense anger and terror.
"Devil… What kind of devil did that old fool Arthur raise?!"