"Two weeks ago…" A faint crease appeared between Russell's brows.
"According to what Lestrade learned from Emily Collins's neighbors and colleagues," Charlotte said. She set her cup down and tapped a specific line in the file twice with her fingertip. "Her colleagues noticed a change in her attitude roughly two weeks ago."
"What kind of change?" Russell asked with interest.
"I don't know exactly." Charlotte shook her head, her expression complicated. "She just… seemed to be drinking more water, perhaps? Probably excessive hormone secretion."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"When the maids were gossiping among themselves, Emily Collins mentioned that she had gotten a boyfriend."
"Name?"
"She didn't say." Charlotte shrugged. "There are also the neighbors."
"What did they say?"
"According to the neighbors, strange noises began coming from Emily Collins's apartment about two weeks ago."
"Couldn't Emily Collins herself have been making the noise?"
"She lives at the Hannigan residence, remember?" Charlotte reminded him. "As a maid she is entitled to live in her employer's home."
"Then why is she still renting the apartment?" Russell frowned.
"She rented it before she began her relationship with Hannigan. According to the other servants, when she first started working there she wasn't permitted to stay overnight at the mansion for long periods."
To maintain his image as a philanthropist, Hannigan granted his servants two full days off every week. During those days off the maids were required to leave the mansion in order to cut unnecessary expenses. That was why Emily Collins had kept the little apartment. By then the rent was no longer a burden for her.
"Later she earned the right to stay long-term. When a room opened up she naturally gave the apartment to that man."
Russell added this detail.
Charlotte nodded.
"Neighbors also reported seeing the man inside the building. But he always wore a hood and rarely went out, so almost no one ever saw his face."
"With all that happening, why didn't the neighbors report anything to the police?"
"Why would they?" Charlotte countered. "Subletting rooms, sharing beds, 'warming the bed' for someone—these things are hardly unusual in London. Renting an entire house and then subletting individual rooms or beds is extremely common, especially in cheap districts. Particularly in places like Walworth, it's normal for three or four people to share a single room. Everyone is simply trying to survive. As long as they don't cause a major disturbance, no one interferes."
Russell fell silent for a moment.
"So the neighbors' leads dried up as well."
"Not necessarily." Charlotte shook her head, picked up the evidence bag of cigarette butts, and shook it in front of him. "Don't forget—we still have this."
"Did Lestrade's report identify the brand of these cigarette butts?" Russell asked.
"Yes." Charlotte opened the final page. "Woodbine. Very cheap cigarettes, popular mainly among the working class and soldiers. Five pence a pack."
"Half of Southwark probably smokes them."
"But a man capable of completely captivating Emily Collins—so much so that she would throw away everything she owned and even consider running away with him—cannot possibly be an ordinary dock laborer who only smokes cheap cigarettes, can he?" Russell said.
"Mm." Charlotte avoided giving a direct answer. "It only proves he is desperately short of money and suffers from severe nicotine addiction. Otherwise, if five cigarettes cost only a penny… he might as well just grab a handful of loose tobacco and chew it."
"In other words," she continued, "the man's current situation is this: first, he wears a hood and only goes out at night because he doesn't want anyone to see his face. Second, he has nowhere else to stay, so he is forced to hide in his lover's small apartment. Third, he has a severe nicotine addiction… and possesses extremely strong appeal to the opposite sex."
Russell counted the points off on his fingers, then looked up at Charlotte.
"Isn't the answer obvious?"
"Yes. It is." Charlotte nodded.
"That Billson fellow is really lucky," Russell sighed.
"Can anyone argue otherwise?" Charlotte still refused to state it outright.
"I'm beginning to suspect that what Emily Collins told you that day may have been perjury."
"Whether it was false testimony or not doesn't matter now," Charlotte said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Both of them are currently missing."
"People who become obsessed with love are truly terrifying," Russell sighed.
"What we call 'love' is nothing more than a chemical reaction the brain triggers to ensure animals can reproduce."
"Yet many people still surrender to that chemical reaction." Russell gently rolled a cigarette butt between his fingers.
"Yes." Charlotte finally looked up from the documents and met his eyes. "Even intelligent women sometimes willingly do foolish things they know they shouldn't—for the sake of a penniless man."
"That sounds… strange," Russell muttered, frowning.
"Does it?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow ambiguously and steered the conversation back on track. "In short, Billson is currently the person most likely to be romantically involved with Emily Collins. The two of them are probably still hiding somewhere in the lawless zones of Southwark, scraping by on her savings and whatever money or valuables she stole from Hannigan."
"How long can that little bit of money last?" Russell wondered aloud.
"How can you be so certain Emily Collins was truly that devoted while working at the Hannigan residence?" Charlotte shot back. "Her very employment was already illegal in nature. How clean could we expect her work to be? She might have secretly stolen a large sum of cash or jewels from Hannigan. Selling them would easily give them enough money to live comfortably for a long time."
"Listening to this almost sounds romantic," Russell remarked sarcastically. "A London love story of two fugitives on the run."
Charlotte's lips curled in contempt once more.
"They're simply ignorant… and unfortunate. That's all."