"It's freezing."
Russell stood by the window, a cup of hot cocoa cradled in his hands.
"Looks like I'll have to dress warmer tomorrow."
"If you know it's cold, then close the window. Standing there letting the cold wind blow on you while complaining about the cold—do you have some kind of masochistic streak?"
Charlotte's voice came from the side. The girl watched the figure standing by the window with a hint of displeasure, then pulled her robe more tightly around herself.
"Got it." Russell reached out and shut the window, then turned and walked over to sit down beside Charlotte.
Charlotte glanced at him and casually picked up the file at her side, saying with feigned nonchalance:
"You're going to the Phedon Tea Room with Mary tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Mm," Russell nodded. "What about it?"
"When will you be back?" Charlotte asked.
"Not sure," Russell shook his head. "Might be back before dinner. Want me to bring you back some dessert?"
"You're paying?" Charlotte shot him a look.
"Moriarty's paying." Russell shrugged.
"Not interested." Charlotte withdrew her gaze. "You've got the free time—you'd be better off thinking about where Pilsen might be."
"If imagination alone could get me the answers, I'd already be the richest man in London from buying lottery tickets."
Russell said.
"Maybe he's already fled?"
"What channels does he have to flee?" Charlotte rolled her eyes at Russell.
"The way things are for him now, he's dead to both sides—the underworld and the law alike. Who would give him a chance to escape? Who would dare give him a chance to escape?
The official railways and ports go without saying, but even those smuggling routes in the black market—they wouldn't dare let Pilsen slip away either.
For old times' sake as fellow travelers, if they don't just report him to Scotland Yard for the reward money, that's already him being well-liked. And he still wants to run?
There are only two roads left for him now—either prison, or hell."
"Sounds pretty hopeless." Russell offered his assessment. "Blocked at both ends, no way to go."
"He chose it himself, who's there to blame?" Charlotte said without a care.
"If he'd just been honest and turned himself in, or been obedient and cooperated with The Professor, he'd never have sunk to where he is now.
That's exactly why I say: compared to idiots, I hate the ones who think they're clever even more.
Sometimes, what a villain racks his brains to devise is nothing compared to some fool's stroke of dumb luck."
Russell shrugged noncommittally, picked up the steaming cup of cocoa, and blew on it.
"Maybe his way of thinking is just different from ours," he said.
"The way an idiot thinks and the way a normal person thinks certainly are different," Charlotte said.
"What I mean is, maybe from Pilsen's point of view, his situation isn't nearly as bad as we imagine it to be?" Russell explained.
"You see, right now we all think Pilsen's reached a dead end.
But what if he doesn't think so himself?"
Russell looked at Charlotte and explained, unhurried.
"Perhaps Pilsen believes he still has a trump card in hand, still has a chance to turn the tables."
"A trump card?" Charlotte's brow furrowed slightly. "What kind of trump card could he have?
Money? How long would the money he stole from Hannigan last him?
Or is it that he knows Hannigan has some other secret vault?"
"It isn't necessarily money," Russell shook his head. "It could also be something else."
"Such as?"
"Such as connections." Russell set down his cup and leaned forward slightly.
"We've been looking at this whole thing from a preconceived angle the entire time, and that's actually a blind spot.
Because we assume Pilsen is bound to The Professor, the moment we mention Pilsen we think of The Professor, and so we overlook everything else.
Say what you will, Pilsen has knocked around London's underworld for quite a while. I don't believe he doesn't have even a single trusted confidant.
Even if he had a falling-out with The Professor—how long has The Professor even been active?
For most people, The Professor is just a shadow passed down in the underworld's legendary tales, much like Moriarty.
The only difference is that Moriarty actually appeared, while The Professor did not.
And as for who knows that the Lloyds Bank affair had anything to do with The Professor—how many people would that be?
He couldn't be foolish enough to trumpet The Professor's appearance far and wide, kicking up a citywide storm."
Russell reminded her.
"So, in most people's eyes, this affair is just Pilsen going mad on his own, setting his sights on Lloyds Bank, and even nearly pulling it off.
And although it ended in failure, he still managed to escape safely by using the false identity he'd prepared for himself in advance.
Under those circumstances, other people might not help Pilsen get out of London, but hiding a man away for him—I don't think that's too much to ask.
The reason Hannigan refused him might not have been because he knew about The Professor at all. It could simply be that the friendship between the two of them hadn't reached that point.
Think about it—although Hannigan runs a smuggler's trade behind the scenes, what's the identity he uses on the surface to package himself?"
"A philanthropist merchant," Charlotte answered without hesitation.
The instant the words left her mouth, she seemed to think of something. Then she suddenly rose to her feet and once again picked up that ledger, beginning to flip through it.
"What you just said made me think of something."
As she spoke, Charlotte leafed through the ledger, her eyes sweeping over the names one by one.
"Although Hannigan runs a smuggling business, the clients he smuggles for are basically centered on the upper-class nobility with special needs."
As she said this, she pointed to several of the entries.
"Look—red wine, cigars, perfume, birds of paradise, rhinoceros horn..."
"Why is there even placental serum and radium tonic..." Russell knitted his brow.
"Some nobles just have peculiar tastes, or a fondness for putting their faith in strange folk remedies." Charlotte gave a noncommittal reply.
"In any case, these dealings are basically centered on all kinds of food, or beauty products and playthings, with a small portion being animals."
"Pilsen would have no use for any of this," Russell said.
"The relationship between them was perhaps nothing more than that of client and service provider—nothing more.
So, when Pilsen came knocking and made that request that amounted to staking his entire fortune and life on it, it's hardly surprising that Hannigan refused."
"If we start from that angle, then it all makes sense," Charlotte nodded.
"I'm glad to finally see the gears in your head turning, Watson."
She gave Russell an approving glance.
"If that's the case, then Pilsen might right now be hiding out at one of his confidants'," Charlotte said.
"Looks like it's time to start combing through Pilsen's personal connections."
As she spoke, she stood up and walked toward the telephone stand.
Russell followed Charlotte's figure with his eyes, then quietly picked up that cup of hot cocoa and took a sip.
Someone's going to be pulling overtime again.
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