In the end, Arna indulged in a small moment of greed, catching one more fish before heading home with her box of gold nuggets and a few pearls.
She dashed into her room and collapsed onto her bed just as the timer hit its final mark.
The next day, Arna went out and exchanged half of the gold and all the pearls for British pounds. The place was recommended by Sherlock Holmes; the all-knowing consulting detective had assured her the owner was a reliable man.
Then, with a pocket full of cash, she headed straight for Lawyer Green’s firm.
As soon as she entered the office and confirmed they were alone, Arna pulled a thick stack of pounds from her bag.
“Three hundred pounds, all accounted for,” she said breezily. Realizing she hadn’t given Lawyer Green a gift this week, she tossed a gold nugget onto his desk with a flourish. “This one’s for you.”
Mr. Green’s mustache twitched violently as he stared at the glittering gold nugget Arna had just thrown.
It landed with a heavy thud that echoed through the room like the strike of a gavel.
A second later, his gaze darted from the gold to the stack of banknotes—three hundred pounds—and then back to Arna.
“Little Mr. Isaacs,” he said with extreme caution, as if Arna were a sleepwalker holding a lit match while standing near a pile of gunpowder. “While I am gratified by your punctuality in raising these funds, I must ask… how exactly did you gather this capital?”
He knew this child was capable, but he also knew they shouldn’t have much money. He had even paid for their carriage fare before.
Arna replied without a second thought, “I fished it up.”
Lawyer Green’s expression became complicated. “…Fishing.”
Did he look like a fool? Or was he truly getting old, and people these days were so blunt and undisguised in their lies?
“Yes, a lucky day,” Arna shrugged. “It’s a pity I was busy with other things for the rest of the night, or the haul might have been even bigger.”
Thinking of this, she patted her pocket with satisfaction. Inside were the remaining gold nuggets and cash—some in banknotes and some in coins she had earned previously.
The crisp, pleasant clinking of coins against gold nuggets sounded like a harsh grating to Lawyer Green. His fingers instinctively gripped the edge of his desk.
“Let me be clear,” he said gruffly, looking like an irritable walrus. “If Scotland Yard comes here asking about stolen gold bars, I will pretend to have a stroke and let them haul you away immediately.”
Arna, who had actually spent the previous night fishing and doing nothing wrong, was speechless. *Is it really this hard to be a good person nowadays?*
She had even helped solve a major blackmail case involving three thousand pounds’ worth of jewelry yesterday! She was, by all accounts, a model citizen!
With that in mind, she grinned and lowered her voice mischievously. “Since you know I did the deed… aren’t you afraid to speak to me like that? Do you value your life?”
Lawyer Green’s face turned white instantly.
“I’m joking,” Arna burst out laughing, feeling immensely satisfied as she watched him look ready to bolt for the door. “I really did fish it up. I even helped solve a case yesterday.”
She pushed the gold nugget on the desk toward him, her smile bright and sunny. “Anyway, just take it. It was a… discovery. Like finding treasure.”
Having been thoroughly spooked, Green let out a sigh of relief and feigned a scolding. “You child!”
Before he could finish, he laughed as well, shaking his head as he swept the gold nugget into his drawer. “I’ll submit your patent documents today.”
He tsked. “For heaven’s sake, don’t smile like that again. You look like a highwayman.”
Arna’s eyes widened.
“Impossible,” she retorted. “How could I look like a robber?”
While she did enjoy “robbing” those who tried to mug her, that was all legal income! Self-defense!
…Perhaps during that defense, the other person’s coin purse just happened to find its way to her, but that wasn’t her fault. Clearly, those coin purses were discerning and had simply chosen the right master, right?
***
When she returned to Baker Street, Arna was still feeling indignant.
“Do I really look like I robbed a jewelry store?” she complained, sitting down at the dining table just in time for lunch. “Even though the fishing haul was great, I was out solving a case with Sherlock Holmes yesterday!”
She emphasized, “I am a model citizen!”
Watson was mid-sip of his tea and nearly choked when Arna slammed her hand onto the table.
Meanwhile, Holmes didn’t even look up. He was focused on meticulously dissecting a strange-colored pie with a butter knife.
“A model citizen,” he echoed perfunctorily, prying a piece of offensive dried fruit from the pie. “Quite right.”
Watson used a napkin to wipe the tea he had accidentally sprayed onto his waistcoat.
“For heaven’s sake—did you really haul up gold bars?” he marveled. “In the River Thames?”
“And pearls—nine of them,” Arna added helpfully, plopping into a chair and snagging a slice of bread. “Lovely things. The largest one was worth ninety pounds.”
She boasted, “I sold mine to a middleman, but I gave one to Holmes last night—Watson, you really should join us!”
Watson looked a bit dazed.
“That’s—that’s nearly two years’ salary for a policeman!”
Holmes finally gave up on the autopsy of his pie and leaned back in his chair.
“Indeed,” he added, embellishing the story. “And you see, Watson, we used nothing more than a sturdy wooden stick and a rusty hook. Of course, when combined, we refer to them collectively as a fishing rod.”
Watson exclaimed, “I always thought the Thames only held fish and industrial waste!”
He felt his worldview shaking. “I need a whiskey.”
Arna changed the subject. “Actually, you can pull anything out of that river.”
Including trash cans.
“For some people, that is certainly true,” Holmes added. “Except for fish.”
He continued with interest, “It reminds me of a case I once handled where a fisherman was the one to discover the corpse. So, it’s only natural for Lawyer Green to be suspicious. No one accidentally finds legitimate wealth in the Thames without a few skeletons being involved.”
Arna had finished the food in her hand and began reaching a wicked hand toward the nearby biscuits.
“I’ll dig up a skeleton just to make you shut up,” she grumbled. Hearing Holmes talk about corpses and skeletons during mealtime ruined her appetite. She threw a biscuit with force, hoping it would hit Holmes on the nose.
Faced with this farce, Watson gloomily grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf.
“This is why I drink after lunch,” he said.
Arna’s eyes rolled.
“Maybe not,” she said slowly. “Maybe it’s because you’re disappointed you didn’t see the Viscountess yesterday?”
Watson’s eyes widened.
His face flushed red as he looked from the innocent-faced Arna to Holmes, who had caught the biscuit mid-air and was triumphantly taking a bite. “Leaving the two of you alone for a night was absolutely the worst decision I’ve made recently.”
He remembered when Isaacs first arrived—what a diligent, honest, and quiet young lad he was.
Damn that Holmes!
***
Since she had a bit of money now—enough to cover the factory’s daily operations for a few months—Arna decided to stop selling finished parts to the System for a while. Instead, she bought several crates, intending to stockpile the components.
Once the patent was approved and she found a carriage company willing to take them, the profit would be far higher than the System’s “recycling price.”
Every dog has its day; don’t look down on a poor factory owner!
With that thought, she sprawled lazily in her chair and checked her Panel with satisfaction.
Good, everything was fine. Her eleven employees were in great condition, though the pet slot remained empty.
Last night, that black-haired, grey-eyed cat had seen her come back with a fish. While Mrs. Hudson was opening the door for them, the cat had snatched the fish and bolted. It was so fast she couldn’t catch it at all.
…Back to being a catless wild human!
Arna sighed sorrowfully, but looking at her remaining money, she decided to be generous.
Since money wasn’t an issue, it wouldn’t hurt to give the kids some better food.
Oliver was treated to stew twice in three days. Such lavish hospitality made the boy, who had never eaten well in his life, feel quite anxious.
Not just him—the other children were whispering as well, finding the factory owner’s behavior highly unusual.
Aside from the overly abundant meals, other changes in the factory didn’t escape the children’s eyes.
Mr. Isaacs, who usually loved going out, hadn’t taken his beloved carriage for a stroll lately. Even his fishing trips had become infrequent. Instead, he spent all day cooped up in the office.
On the rare occasions he appeared, he wore a wooden expression, looking as if he were in a very foul mood.
Furthermore, everyone noticed the factory was filling up with boxes.
The finished parts no longer disappeared when the children weren’t looking. Instead, they were piled into crates, stacking higher and higher until they became a precarious tower.
The children felt that the Isaacs Factory, much like that tower of boxes, was on the verge of collapse.
Who didn’t know that in the past, after Mr. Isaacs took the carriage out for a few rounds, several boxes would mysteriously vanish?
He must have been selling those mysterious parts.
Now, they must be unsellable, or perhaps he couldn’t find any suckers to buy them, so the parts were left to rot in the factory.
If that were the case, Mr. Isaacs was likely nearing bankruptcy. And if so, those glittering treasures they had once glimpsed in the safe…
Upon hearing this news, Fagin and Sykes immediately grew tense.
They couldn’t stop cursing Isaacs as a fool and a muddlehead. They had long since viewed those assets as their own, and now someone was recklessly ruining their property—how could they not be anxious?
“Listen closely, my dear,” Fagin said.
He was standing in an alley near the factory, rubbing his hands together. Beside him were Dodger and a few other children. “Mr. Isaacs’ ship is sinking. Yes, and if we don’t do our best to save what we can, the other rats will beat us to it.”
The summoned Oliver leaned dazed against the wall, silent.
The Artful Dodger scoffed at Fagin’s words and adjusted his hat.
“There’s nothing in there but scrap metal, Fagin,” he lied easily, as if he hadn’t been the one who caught Mr. Isaacs fiddling with the safe last week. “We’ve been looking for weeks!”
Oliver gave him a surprised look.
Fagin let out a sigh.
“No, you just haven’t looked hard enough, child,” he said, pointing a skeletal finger toward the factory. “Think about it—if there’s only useless junk in there, why does the gentleman keep it locked up? There must be something valuable inside. This Saturday, we shall see what’s hidden in the rabbit hole.”
He continued whispering his plan to the others, mentioning that he had reached an agreement with Sykes and that Nancy would be assisting them.
As Fagin remained immersed in his plotting, he didn’t notice a figure carefully hidden around the corner, eavesdropping on their conversation.
The next day, this eavesdropper found an excuse to go upstairs openly and walked to the door of Arna’s office.
“Mr. Isaacs!” Lucy called out. “Mrs. Laura made extra breakfast today and told me to bring you a portion!”
Very quickly, Mr. Isaacs, who never turned down food, opened the door.
“Come in,” Arna said expectantly. “What are you having this morning?”
Lucy set the plate on the table. “It’s bread, sir.”
As she spoke, she casually closed the door.
Under Arna’s puzzled gaze, Lucy said calmly, “I have something to tell you, Mr. Isaacs.”
Without waiting for Arna to ask, she lowered her voice and quickly poured out the truth. “Yesterday, I ran into Oliver, Dodger, and the others with a strange old Jewish man… in the alley behind the factory. They were talking about doing something big this Saturday involving the factory. It seems to be targeted at whatever is in the safe…”
She paused. “I suspect Miss Nancy knows them too. They mentioned Miss Nancy.”