November 24th, 2009

A Chat With Aggie

From where I stood on Milverton's south veranda I had a clear view of the two doors that led into his bedroom and private study. I marked the latter for my ultimate purpose, but breaking directly into those rooms would be too noisy. The greenhouse that opened to the drawing room round the side would be a much more practical entrance. Now to learn of the man’s nighttime habits.

“Miss Agatha!” I called when I heard the childlike singing of my best informant. Her face lit up when she saw me emerge from the garden.

“Oh, Mr. Escott,” she sang when she saw me. “I was lookin’ for you!”

I smiled and doffed my hat. “I am trying to determine where the second drain pipe is routed on Mr. Milverton’s side of the house. You see, I may have to work into the night and I do not wish to wake him.”

“Oh, he’s a sound sleeper, sir. We’ve a joke about it in the servants’ hall, how it’s impossible to wake him.”

“Ah, splendid,” I replied, much encouraged, “and I presume he keeps a guard dog on the property? Such a fortress as this must be well-protected.”

“Yeah, he keeps a dog all right. But I’ll tell you what. I can lock him up for you tonight so he don’t bother you while you’re working. Just don’t tell anyone.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “You still haven’t given me that kiss yet.”

“My dear girl, would you be so forward with someone you met only two days ago?” I said, trying not to sound too absent while I continued to outline a route from the south wall to this side of the house.

“Oh, I’m a real catch. In fact, they say I'm the very best at what I do” she said, brimming with confidence. "Never brought a man off who wasn't beggin' for my mercy at the end of it.”

This could be information worth having.

“Indeed?” I pressed.

“Yep. Been at it for years.”

“And what is your great secret?”

“Now, Mr. Escott, that's not the sort of thing a girl shares with just anyone. I suppose if you kissed me we'd be lovers and it would be more fittin' to tell you about it.”

“How about we get engaged? You can tell me about it now and kiss me when we're married.”

“Oh goody!” she shrieked, clapping her hands and falling to the grass. “Married married married!”

“Then I should know what I'll be looking forward to on our wedding night.”

She bolted to her feet and started talking.

“Do you know Jarvis, the downstairs butler? I took him out here just a few weeks back, and he nearly went out of his mind. ‘Aggie,’' he said, ‘I want you to put your finger up me arse.’ So I did and boy to see him pop off.”

“Is that not painful?" I asked her, a bit startled.

“Well, at first it was a little tight, but it stretched well enough the longer I went at him, till he told me to put up another one. Had to spit on it first, but up it went.”

“And he liked this, did he?”

“Did he ever. And once I hit his bean, oh, he was shoutin' loud enough to rattle the walls.”

“His bean?”

"That's what I call it on account it feels like a kidney bean, but it's where he gets his best jollies."

Ah, the prostate gland. I thought as much.

“So you please him thus and he's off in no time, I presume.”

"Not the way I do it,” she insisted. “I learned a long time ago if you leave off the tip you can tease him a bit longer.”

“Even with all the other activity?"

“Oh, it's even better for him then! I like to do it real slow, just kind of wiggle around in both ends till he starts doin' all the work. Then I just hang on.”

“So why did he not make you his wife?” I asked.

“Oh, he said he might suppose to, but later that week I found him buggering the stable boy in one of the empty corrals,” she sighed, and shook her head. “Never gonna be able to please him that much.”

“Well, that is a shame. Such a talented girl as yourself,” I patted her on the head. She giggled in response.

“Well, now I didn’t tell you yet how I like to have my cun—“

“Oh, let’s not spoil things, my darling!” I cut her off just in time. “Then whatever shall we talk about the next time I see you? I’m off then!”

She clapped her hands and nodded while I sprinted away. As soon as I got back to Baker Street I would send a telegram to Watson and tell him to come home.