While we awaited the arrival of the police, Wilde fell to the contents of his satchel with considerable enthusiasm at my having brought them along, and quickly became so focused that he seemed to blot out all else. Indeed, he gave absolutely no reaction when the distinctive sharp crack of gunfire came from the warehouse, so devoted was he to his perusal of the Annals of the New Yak Academy of Sciences. It was only when the sound of gunfire was followed by the tinkling of broken glass that he seemed to pay any sort of attention to the desperate attempts of the thieves to exit the warehouse, but even then he did not look up, merely murmuring, "Five and done," while he continued his review.

Despite his outwards lack of any indicator that he was paying attention, he must have been counting the shots, for he was quite correct that, counting the one I had made myself, five shots had been fired and that was all my revolver had held. Although his reaction was more disinterested than anything else, I could not help but be concerned by the sound of breaking glass, and looking to the roof of the warehouse saw that it was one of the skylights that had been broken. "Might they not get out that way?" I asked, choosing to interrupt his focus and pointing at the roof.

"Hmm?" Wilde said vaguely, not looking up from his reading material, "No, the iron bars meant to keep thieves out shall serve just as well to keep them in."

I had not recalled seeing that the skylights had been reinforced with bars, but since Wilde had an incredible knack for detail and appeared entirely unconcerned, I attempted to force my own misgivings down. The difference between failure and success had held a margin so thin as a razor's edge, and yet I found myself feeling more alive than I ever had since leaving the service. Even when Trunkaby showed up with a number of other officers some time later, my heart still seemed to be singing in my breast, my every sense seeming sharper than they ever had.

"I had thought you'd be dead," Trunkaby admitted when she caught sight of Wilde, and I chose not to take that as a slight against my own abilities.

The elephant was looking somewhat worse for the wear, for her clothes had a number of small tears and dirty patches that were doubtlessly mementos of the riot at the bank. She herself seemed uninjured, which I supposed was unsurprising; the massive elephant's thick hide was likely protection enough against the rioters. "No need to sound disappointed," Wilde said, offering her a winning smile, "Though you may have been correct, else for the interference of Dr. Hopps."

Trunkaby looked down at me with a frown. "I shall be very interested to hear how that transpired."

"That can wait," Wilde said, "I believe your first priority should be to arrest the mammals in that warehouse."

I expected Trunkaby to take umbrage at Wilde more or less issuing her an order, but instead she listened to his description of the mammals in the warehouse and their armaments, which he believed amounted only to my revolver with no remaining bullets. She efficiently directed the constables who had come with her to prepare for entry, and I did not think the thieves had any chance of escape. She had brought a group of what must have been the largest mammals on the force; in addition to a bull elephant she had a rhinoceros, a hippopotamus, and a gaur.

Once the door had been opened and the thieves saw how badly they had been outmaneuvered, they submitted to arrest quietly enough, though the camel caught sight of Wilde and I and let forth with a stream of invectives against both bunnies and foxes of a nature entirely inappropriate to replicate here. For his part, Wilde's only response was a lazy salute.

"Do make sure you take the lock box," Wilde called out to the constables once the thieves had been secured in a Black Maria, "It is a key piece of evidence."

The bull elephant and the gaur looked to Trunkaby for direction, and she nodded. "Load it into my carriage," she said, and the two constables moved the lock box with some difficulty into the very same carriage that Wilde had been abducted from.

Wilde assisted me up into the carriage after the lock box, and we waited briefly for Trunkaby to join us. "Our next stop should be the bank, I think," said Wilde, "Perhaps Dr. Hopps would be so kind as to explain how she found me on the way."

Trunkaby seemed willing enough to go along with Wilde's proposal, and in short order the team of horses drawing Trunkaby's carriage had set us off towards the bank. I told the story as efficiently as possible, and Wilde's only interruption came when I got to the point of entering the warehouse unaware of exactly how many mammals were in it. "I did try to provide a warning," he interjected.

I frowned. As far as I could recall, he had only babbled nonsense while pretending to be incapacitated by anesthetic. At my look of consternation, the fox gave a chuckle. "You can brush up on the classics later," he remarked, "Do go on."

There was not much more to tell, but I went through the rest. Trunkaby had sat listening without interruption, and once I had concluded my story she pulled the true key to the lock box from a pocket inside her jacket and turned her attention to Wilde. "Why do you suppose they wanted this key, and yet did not want it destroyed? Surely, if they wanted to conceal how the lock was defeated, they would have allowed its destruction."

"That is simple enough," remarked Wilde, "Would you mind giving it over?"

Trunkaby gave Wilde the key, and he tucked it away into a pocket of his own. "I'll explain it all at the bank," he remarked, and glanced out the window before continuing, "We are almost there, I think."

In a matter of a few more minutes, we had arrived at the bank, which showed the full effects of the riot that had occurred. The street had a number of gaps, like missing teeth, where cobbles had been pulled up and thrown through the windows of the bank. The street itself was littered with detritus, and I could see a few stains of what could only be blood. The mighty marble walls of the bank's exterior were cracked here and there where a cobble had missed a window, and the face of the great clock on the pediment over the main entrance was shattered.

Inside, the bank did not look much better. The finery looked all the worse for how roughly it had been treated, with some chairs and tables in broken ruins on the floor. Near one of the counters, Chief Inspector Bogo had interposed himself between a rather extraordinary display. Mr. Lemming, perched on Garou's palm as usual, was engaged in a shrill shouting match with another lemming standing atop a teller's desk. "It shall be my word against that of yourself and your pet," the second lemming was saying, his words colored by a slight foreign accent, "We'll see how the board feels."

"Gentlemammals, please—" Chief Inspector Bogo interjected tiredly, but it seemed they were both content to ignore him, and Garou was standing still as a statue, despite the slight against him.

"Your lies, you mean," Mr. Lemming shouted apoplectically, "I gave no such order! I would never give such an order! Making predators wait to make withdrawals after prey only worsened the run on the deposits; they shall never believe me to be so foolish. "

"Considering that the theft occurred on your watch, I would not be so sure of that," the second lemming replied rather smugly.

"When is the board deciding this, then?" Wilde asked brightly, and the second lemming turned to face the newcomer with a look of absolute shock upon his face.

"What is that fox doing here?" the second lemming stammered, "He has no right to come here."

"Come now, Mr. Lemmineaux," Wilde said, addressing him, "The jig is up, and it is time that the piper be paid."

"What's the meaning of this?" Mr. Lemming blustered, appearing entirely lost, "What do you mean?"

"Is it not obvious? Your executive vice president here, Mr. Jean-Paul Lemmineaux, late of the Furis branch, is the one responsible for the theft of the gold."

Wilde seemed to take great pleasure at the stunned expressions that had come across the faces of everyone else in the bank. Mr. Lemming recovered first, and turned on the other lemming. "Is this true, Jean?"

Before Lemmineaux could reply, Wilde cut in. "You may as well confess; I have already recovered the gold and I suspect your accomplices will be quite ready to give you up."

Lemmineaux's little face took on an expression of pure loathing as he turned to Mr. Lemming. "I may as well, then. I've ruined you, at least, and that is worth far more than any amount of gold."

"Why ever would you do such a thing?" Mr. Lemming demanded.

"You have to ask?" snarled Lemmineaux, his face darkening, "I watched your nephew drive the Furis branch into the ground. He had no business running a newsstand, let alone a bank, and yet he got the top job. I may be a lemming, but I'll never be a Lemming, and that is what is important, eh? And when at last his failures could no longer be overlooked, when the only profitable ventures the branch was engaged in were those I had arranged, what was my reward? To be transferred from Furis to this wretched city, to watch another Lemming be given the top spot at my branch."

The look of betrayal that Lemming wore was near absolute, and he did not seem to be capable of speech as Chief Inspector Bogo personally put Lemmineaux into a small cage of the same sort that Trunkaby had transported Mr. Waldheim in and took him out of the bank. Even once the buffalo and his prisoner were gone, the lemming was simply staring into the middle distance, his servant as stoic as ever.

"Have you really recovered the gold?" Trunkaby asked, turning her attention to Wilde.

"Of course. I shall endeavor to explain the theft in its most minute detail," Wilde said, "Come, let us go back to your carriage and leave Mr. Lemming and his servant to their thoughts."

Once we had taken our seats within the spacious carriage, Wilde launched into his explanation. "Let us proceed from the start. A simple examination was enough to determine that the so-called crime scene was anything but; the gold never made it to the bank."

"Never made it to the bank?" Trunkaby cried, "What nonsense is this?"

"Think now," Wilde replied, "The lock box was in a crate that had never been opened until it was in the vault; there were none of the tell-tale marks that would show the lid had ever been removed and replaced previously. Leaving aside your theory as to rodents entering the crate through a knothole in the wood, which I have already explained why it cannot be correct, the only logical conclusion is that the crate never held the gold."

Trunkaby did not seem to accept his explanation. "The crate passed every inspection, from when it left Furis and until it reached the vault. How do you suppose that was managed?"

"Well," Wilde said, "That was a bit of cleverness on the part of the thieves; I must give them their due. None of the inspections involved opening the crate, merely weighing it and checking the labels. Continuing the chain of my logic, if the gold never arrived in the vault, the theft could only have been done at one of three times: either before it was loaded on the ship, while it was on the ship, or before the crate was delivered."

I recalled that Wilde had previously claimed to have narrowed the means by which the crime had been committed to three possibilities, and I followed the thread of his logic well enough. I thought of what it implied. "You mean, then, that the crate was switched out for another?" I asked.

Wilde seemed delighted at my interjection. "Precisely so, Dr. Hopps. I went through the manifest of the Darling Dorotka, the ship that transported the crate, and found only a few others that were the same size and near to the same weight."

That explained, I supposed, the items that Wilde had circled on the shipping manifest in his journal. "The crate had all of its shipping labels intact," protested Trunkaby, and I wondered how much of her skepticism was simply the elephant refusing to believe that the fox could be correct.

"I was getting to that point," Wilde said, giving her a side-long glance, "The labels were removed from the crate that did contain the gold and placed on another. The damage done to the labels by the solvent used to remove them is subtle, but obvious if you look for it."

"But you said that the other crate was near to the same weight," Trunkaby protested, "How could it both weigh the same as the one with the gold and contain naught but an empty lock box?"

"It didn't, obviously," Wilde said in response, and I thought that I saw a gleam of pleasure in his eye at confounding the elephant.

Indeed, I wondered the same myself, for it did not make sense that one crate that weighed the same as another full of gold could be near enough to empty. "The crate the labels were swapped onto was heavier, as a matter of fact," Wilde said.

"That makes even less sense," Trunkaby said, and from the silent mirth that I read on the fox's face I realized that there was doubt that he was in fact enjoying her confusion.

"If I could be allowed to continue without interruption," Wilde said drolly, "I think you'll find it all quite sensible. The same lock box is used to transport gold from the Furis branch of Lemming Brothers to the Zootopia branch each time a transfer is made, but the only key is the one that Mr. Lemming's servant Garou kept around her neck."

I started at Wilde's use of the feminine pronoun for the wolf, and thought back on the interactions between the lemming and the wolf in light of that knowledge and their long association. I blurted, "You mean to say that Garou is—"

"A she-wolf, yes," Wilde said blandly as he cut me off, though there was a wicked sparkle in his eye, "To speculate further would enter the realm of gossip. Really, though, I thought you would have known, considering your own predilection towards trousers."

I had, of course, not realized at all that the wolf and I shared a gender, though I supposed we had little else in common. "Besides, I had asked for no further interruptions," Wilde said with mock severity.

"Yes, do be quiet, Dr. Hopps," Trunkaby said breathlessly, and I scarcely managed to bite my tongue to protest that she was far guiltier than I of interrupting Wilde.

"As I was saying, there was but one key to the lock box, which means that it therefore follows that each time the lock box was sent back to Furis, it had to be sent unlocked, else the branch would not be able to put gold into it. As such, we should expect the lock box to show some scars and scrapes from the many trips that it has made over the previous years, but the lock box that was in the vault was very near to pristine, and by that I knew that it could not be the same lock box that had been filled with gold, a suspicion that was corroborated when I did not note so much as a speck of gold dust within it. No matter how carefully the gold had been packaged or how carefully thieves removed it, there should have been some trace.

"The molten lead that was poured into the keyhole, therefore, was done only to hide the fact that the thieves had purchased a near to identical lock box from Goredian, for if the lock was still functional it would have been obvious to all that an exchange had been made. Similarly, the rock thrown through the window of the bank was done only to fool the police into thinking that the theft of the gold occurred in a clever break in, a ruse that worked quite admirably."

At this last, he gave a look at Trunkaby, as though he was daring her to speak, but although I thought I heard her grinding her teeth she did not speak in her defense.

"The knothole you noted was of some importance, but not in the manner which you thought. Let us go back to the two crates. There was one, containing a lock box full of gold, and a second, containing an empty lock box. However, at the time the second crate was loaded on the Darling Dorotka and until after it was unloaded, it also contained something else."

Wilde paused a moment, and seemed to preen as Trunkaby and I leaned eagerly in. "Mercury," he said at last.

"Mercury?" Trunkaby asked.

"Yes, mercury. It's quite clever, actually. Mercury is almost as dense as gold, and as the metal remains liquid at room temperature could easily fill the space in the crate around the lock box; it did not take very much space at all. My examination of the remains of the crate showed that a rather extraordinary amount of care had been put into making it impermeable; it would be pointless to seal a lock box up so tightly, but quite necessary in this case to ensure that the mercury did not leak out. A chemical examination of the minute traces left on the inside of the crate confirmed my suspicion, and from there it was simply a matter of establishing who had access to two tonnes of mercury and when the exchange of crates was made."

I recalled the piece of paper with its little stains that had been shoved between the pages of Wilde's journal, and supposed that it was the record of his testing. "The knothole, of course, was how the mercury was drained from the lock box after the crate was weighed. The thieves erred on the side of caution and put in a bit more than two tonnes worth, just to ensure that it would pass, but the variance was within the scale's margin of error and no one thought to question it."

"Though my memory is, naturally, superlative, I wished to confirm my suspicion as to the origin of the mercury, and this was the means by which I did so."

He pulled out the copy of the Annals of the New Yak Academy of Sciences and opened the article on the processing of silver ores. "I was correct, though, that the extraction of silver from ores through the patio process relies upon significant quantities of mercury, and one of the most costly failures of the Furis branch of Lemming Brothers, as chronicled in the stockholder's report, was investing in a failing mine."

I had read the same material that Wilde had, but I would have never come to the same conclusions; I found myself amazed yet again by his talents at deduction. "Mr. Lemmineaux therefore struck me as a likely suspect, as I considered he might harbor some resentment for being passed over for the job of managing the Furis branch when his incompetent boss was forced out. The two years from 1879, when that occurred, to the present gave him enough time to learn the details of the gold shipments while avoiding suspicion himself. He was never entrusted with the combination to the vault, and so by making the theft appear to occur after the crate was secured there attempted to give himself an alibi. Further, he was able to make surreptitious engagements, likely through a number of intermediaries, to arrange for the purchase of an identical lock box and fill its keyhole with lead, arrange for the construction of a suitable crate, and transfer a quantity of the remaining worthless mining supplies that the Lemming Brothers bank owned to get the mercury.

"Of course, the plan hinged entirely upon knowing when the crate would arrive in Zootopia and having his own crate on the same ship so that the exchange could be made. As a security precaution, Lemming Brothers would pick at random one of five bonded secure transportation services and notify them in advance, lest the precious cargo lay in wait with no one available to transport it.

"Having secured the cooperation of one of the five companies, Lemmineaux simply had to wait for them to be selected. I interviewed the guards who oversaw the transfer of the crate from the ship onto the Alces carriage myself, and they struck me as particularly careless. They did not even go into the cargo hold of the Darling Dorotka themselves, and my visit to the fish and chip shop of the captain's wife confirmed that the crew of the Darling Dorotka could not have unloaded a crate weighing more than two tonnes themselves."

"How did you manage that?" I asked, "I was there with you in the shop and saw nothing of the sort."

Wilde smiled indulgently. "You saw, Dr. Hopps, but you did not observe. Mrs. Lutrinaski had a number of photographs of the good captain and his crew on the walls, including one from but a month back. None of the mammals on his crew was any larger than I am, and even with all paws engaged they would not have the strength to lift the crate."

"Therefore, the hardy mammals of the Alces company were the only ones who could exchange the labels on the crates, and then drain out the mercury from the crate that contained an empty lock box before delivering it to the bank. Lemmineaux anticipated that the lock box would be sent to Goredian to determine how it was defeated, and planned to then obtain the key and open the lock box containing the gold, which was being held at the Alces warehouse. It would then have been quite simple for the thieves to pour lead into the lock of the lock box that had contained the gold and exchange it with the second lock box again before making the delivery.

"Goredian would conclude that the lock box was opened with the key, and even if Lemming's alibi was perfect, he would surely fall under suspicion and likely be forced out. It was, I admit, a rather cunning plan that I was able to entirely defeat when I took with me the key that the thieves so desperately needed. The rest of Lemmineaux's plan worked quite well, however; it was doubtlessly him who informed the papers of the theft, and he ensured that the run on the bank became a riot by forcing predators to give up their positions in line to prey. His grudge against Lemming has, I think, been taken to very nearly the heights of revenge."

Trunkaby sat back, seeming to puzzle through Wilde's explanation, and after a moment her eyes widened. "Which means—"

"The gold is in the lock box at our feet, yes," Wilde interrupted, and pulled forth the key Trunkaby had given him before we entered the bank with a flourish.

He slid the key into the keyhole and turned it; the key turned smoothly and I could hear a series of sharp clicks as the mechanisms that held the lid closed disengaged. Wilde grabbed one of the handles set into the lid and gave it a mighty pull that did not budge the lid so much as an inch. The fox frowned. "This would have been rather more dramatic, were I strong enough to lift this lid," he admitted.

Trunkaby laughed. "Even the great Nicholas Wilde has his limits," she said, with a smile rather unlike her usual dour expression, "I'll round up some constables and we'll get this into the vault."

Wilde looked at the lock box that had been recovered from the warehouse and transferred back into the bank's vault. It had been opened, and through the loose cotton fabric wrapping the bars I could see the unmistakable luster of an absolute fortune in gold. Mr. Lemming, who had watched the constables open the lock box from Garou's palm, did not seem to have his mood improved at all by the sight.

"A small comfort this is," Lemming said bitterly as he looked down at the gold, sounding entirely defeated, "We may have the gold, but the board will still have my head for this."

When first I had met the lemming, I had considered him to be cruel and heartless, and had even remarked to Wilde that I would not mind much if the gold was never recovered. Having heard that Lemming had not been responsible for ordering prey to be served before predator, I reconsidered my opinion of the mammal. He was doubtlessly bigoted against foxes, that much I was sure of, but I found myself having some sympathy for him. I suspected that Wilde, despite being the target of Lemming's attitude when first they met, felt the same, for the fox replied, "Consider it the cost of doing business," but did not seem to take any satisfaction at the lemming's loss.

If anything, he seemed almost disappointed, but the moment passed and he looked up into Garou's face. "Besides, I would daresay you have not lost everything of value to you."

The she-wolf's fingers curled protectively around Mr. Lemming, and the look she gave Wilde had a mild warning in it. She turned her attention down to her employer. "My... loyalty is to you, sir, not the bank," she said, her husky voice low.

Mr. Lemming looked up at her with what appeared to be genuine affection, and then squared his minuscule shoulders. "If this bank won't have me, we'll start over elsewhere. Why, what can't we do together?"

Garou nodded as she carried her boss away, and I gave the departing pair a lingering glance. The wolf had always seemed so taciturn to me, but she was now engaged in what appeared to be an earnest conversation with her employer. "Well," Wilde said, interrupting my thoughts with a clap of his paws, "I do believe that settles events here. Trunakby, if you could be so good as to stop by my flat to-morrow with my payment, the good doctor and I shall take our leave."

The elephant nodded. "I'll have my carriage take you," she said, and she was as good as her word.

Wilde and I passed the ride in silence; I could not speak for my flat-mate, but I was feeling incredibly tired and was too consumed with my own reflections to give much thought to conversation.

Once our carriage arrived at Barker Street, I looked at the staircase leading up to our flat somewhat dubiously. Even with the support of the umbrella, the pain in my leg, which had started throbbing, would make it the devil's work to go up the stairs, but Wilde noticed my trepidation and wordlessly offered me a paw. I gratefully took it, but Wilde surprised me by sweeping me off my feet and carrying me across his arms up the flight of stairs. By the time he had reached the top step, he was puffing somewhat and he gave me a wry grin, his muzzle only inches from mine. "This was rather easier when our lives were on the line," he admitted, and then paused before crossing the threshold to the flat.

"Don't take any ideas into your head, now," he warned before carrying me in, and I felt my ears redden in embarrassment at his insinuation.

There were times when I absolutely could not believe his cheek, but I knew it was simply in the fox's character and he meant nothing by it. "I would remind you that Trunkaby returned my revolver," I said with mock severity.

Wilde arched an eyebrow. "It had not escaped my notice," he said, and gently set me down upon my bed.

He shut the door to my bed-room after himself, and I let out a long breath I had not realized I had been holding. It seemed as though my eyelids had become impossibly heavy, and any thoughts of changing vanished. It must have been only moments after my head hit my pillow that I fell asleep.

I was awoken by a heavy tread upon the staircase that lead to the door to our flat, which I supposed could only be Trunkaby. Consciousness brought with it the pain in my bad leg, which was not quite so terrible as I had feared, though still worse than usual. When I gingerly stood and supported myself with my cane, it was not unbearable, and I decided against a dose of salicin, which had never entirely agreed with me. The orange dress that I still wore was somewhat torn and stained from the tumble I had taken, but I judged the blemishes to not be too noticeable. Besides, I was too curious as to hear what Trunkaby had to say to bother changing, instead making my way out of my bed-room.

I could not tell how long Wilde had been awake, but he certainly seemed fresher than I doubtlessly looked, sitting in an armchair with his shirt completely unwrinkled and his collar impeccably starched. I had arrived in the sitting room only moments after Trunkaby, who was standing somewhat awkwardly as none of the furniture was nearly so large as she needed, to say nothing of the ceiling. "Dr. Hopps," she said with an efficient nod of her head before turning her attention back to Wilde.

"Your payment, Mr. Wilde" Trunkaby said, delicately plucking an envelope from the inside of her jacket with her trunk and giving it over to Wilde.

The fox opened the envelope and briefly rifled through the contents, and I saw the elephant's eyes bulge in offense that he would dare count it. "This seems to be in order," he said cheerfully, dropping the envelope onto the little side table by his chair, "I'll leave the little business of seeing justice served to you."

"For five of them, at least," Trunkaby said sourly, "Lemmineaux took his own life in his cell last night."

I could have sworn a saw a spark of something in Wilde's eyes, but I may have been mistaken, for he simply lit his pipe casually and took a long draw. I could not hold my tongue, however, and asked, "By what method?"

The elephant turned her attention to me. "Strychnine," she said, "He must have brought it in with him."

I repressed a shudder at the thought, for I could imagine few more painful ways to die. "You are sure it was suicide, though?" I asked, recalling the threat of death that Weaselton had told me about for any mammal who dared to kill Wilde.

The elephant gave me a hard look. "Quite sure. There was no poison in his food or drink, and no murderer alive could force him to eat poison without leaving a trace of having done so, to say nothing of avoiding disturbing the guards. Wouldn't you say so, Mr. Wilde?"

Wilde stood up somewhat stiffly, and I supposed that the injury to his back, in addition to the blows he had suffered in the warehouse, still pained him. "I would say that your guards ought to be more careful inspecting those who are admitted to your cells," he said, looking up at Trunkaby with a mild expression on his face.

Her lip coiled briefly. "I suppose so," she agreed grudgingly at last, and I thought that if Wilde considered the matter closed I would lay my own lingering doubts to rest.

"Good day, Mr. Wilde, Dr. Hopps," Trunkaby said, and turned to leave even before either of us could respond in kind.

"Give my regards to Chief Inspector Bogo," Wilde called after her retreating back, and she gave only a brusque nod of acknowledgement.

Once the elephant was down the stairs, Wilde moved to one of the windows in our sitting room and watched Trunkaby's massive frame vanish into the crowded street. I joined him, watching the incredible variety of mammals going about their days as I reflected on the events of the previous days. After a moment, he leaned over and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, "She's actually quite fond of me, you know."

"I would not have guessed it, from her words," I said.

Wilde made his way back to his chair and sat down before replying. "It does not do to read too much into a mammal's words—it is their actions that show them for what they are," Wilde said, his eyes closed as he inhaled deeply from his pipe.

I nodded, willing enough to accept his words, though in the particular case he had chosen as an example I did not believe her actions showed any real affection for the fox. Still, a thought occurred to me and I had to question Wilde. "And what of your actions?" I asked, "When do you plan on moving out?"

Wilde opened his eyes and looked around our suite ruefully. Although the worst of the mess had been tidied up, the front door was still off its hinges and it looked as though there had been no salvaging his little laboratory; most of the delicate glass had shattered when it struck the floor. "I'm afraid I may not have the spare funds for quite some time, present payment notwithstanding," he said, giving a glance first at the envelope Trunkaby had given him and then at the meager remains of his chemical apparatuses, "Besides, I have come to rather enjoy the location. And the company, somehow."

I smiled. "They are both agreeable enough," I said, and we lapsed into a companionable silence that lasted until my stomach gave a rumble, and I realized that in the course of the events that had transpired, I had not eaten anything since breakfast the previous day.

I considered summoning Mrs. Armadillo, but then a better idea struck me. "Would you care to join me for breakfast at the Hartebeast?" I asked, "It would be my great pleasure to treat you, in light of your financial difficulties."

Wilde laughed. "I suppose someone must help you spend your pension," he said, as he eased himself out of his chair and picked up his jacket.

I shook my head; he really was a fox like none other. I grabbed my shemagh and wrapped it round my neck while Wilde did up the buttons of his jacket by the doorway. Once we were both appropriately attired for the cool air of October, Wilde gestured for me to leave our flat first. I headed out into the bright light of the late morning, and my friend followed after.

Author's notes: Wilde's cryptic claim to have provided clues as to what was going on in the warehouse is true, though quite subtle. His lines in chapter 17 are all from Shakespeare and are attempts at giving hints; he quotes Hamlet from when Hamlet is feigning insanity (analogous to him pretending to be incapacitated from the ACE mixture) and also quotes Henry V, an indicator that there are five mammals in the warehouse. The original Sherlock stories are chock full of unexplained literary allusions and untranslated quotes, but I've always tried to explain the references that I make.

A "Black Maria" is a slang term for a prisoner transport wagon that was in use in the 19th century, and to a limited extent is still used in the UK today.

In case anyone is curious about the math: gold has a density of 19,300 kg/m^3, while mercury has a density of 13,593 kg/m^3. Two tonnes is 2000 kg, which means that two tonnes of gold has a volume of about 0.10 m^3, while two tonnes of mercury has a volume of about 0.15 m^3. If the gold were arranged as one solid block rather than as bars, it would be a cube 0.46 meters a side (about 18 inches), while the mercury (if it were solid) could form a cube 0.53 meters on a side (about 21 inches).

The patio process, which was developed in 1554, takes advantage of mercury's ability to form an amalgam with silver at room temperature. Ore containing silver compounds is crushed and mixed with salt, water, copper sulfate, and mercury and allowed to sit in the sun in a shallow enclosure (a patio, hence the name) while being mixed. The salt water and copper sulfate react with the silver ore to bring out the silver, which then forms an amalgam with the mercury. The amalgam can then be evaporated to recover the silver. As you might expect, this process was terrible for the environment and for the workers who performed it; the inhalation of mercury vapor causes damage to the nervous system. Indeed, one of the possible origins of the phrase "mad as a hatter" is that it came from observing the peculiar behavior of hat makers caused by mercury poisoning. Elemental mercury was used in the production of felt, commonly used to make hats, so hat makers had significant exposure to it.

The joke that detective Wilde makes before carrying Dr. Hopps into their flat is in reference to the tradition in the western world for newlywed husbands to carry their brides across the threshold of their homes.

1881 is too early for aspirin, which was invented in 1899. However, willow bark has been used since antiquity for the treatment of inflammation and pain, with the active ingredient being salicylic acid. Aspirin's active ingredient is acetylsalicylic acid, closely related to salicylic acid, but has less severe side effects. Thus, the best equivalent at the time, salicin or another preparation of salicylic acid, would have unpleasant side effects, such as an upset stomach, diarrhea, and/or dizziness. Dr. Hopps's decision not to take a dose of salicin is therefore pretty understandable.

Wilde's shirt and collar being referred to as separate items is a reflection of Victorian fashion, when men's shirts had a detachable collar that would be starched to the point that it could be a health hazard—there were instances when men would pass out sitting up and the stiff collar would suffocate them as their head tilted forward. Women definitely drew the shorter end of the stick in terms of impractical and dangerous clothes, but men didn't get off scot-free either.

Strychnine was first isolated in 1818 from Saint Ignatius' beans, and was in common use in the 19th century as a rat poison. It'll kill most animals, excluding a few that have evolved an immunity to strong alkaloids like fruit bats or an ability to digest it like some insects. In the world of Zootopia, I cannot imagine rat poison ever being a thing that there would be a market for. They would have insects and birds as their main pests, but small rodents would be considered thieves if they stole, not pests, and I can't imagine it being legal in that world any more than it would be in ours to deliberately leave out poison in an attempt to kill thieves. Although since it seems all mammals have normal human intelligence, they would presumably be too smart to eat it anyway. Still, even without it being used for rodent control, strychnine is fairly effective against birds and insects, and I think that it would plausibly be readily available in Victorian Zootopia.

As an aside, in yet another example of the lack of care the Victorian era showed towards dangerous chemicals, strychnine also enjoyed some popularity in the late 19th and early 20th century as a performance enhancer in small doses, out of the belief that it would increase strength. Please do not attempt this, as there's no evidence that it works and, unless you happen to be a fruit bat (which I very much doubt) you could very easily kill yourself. Strychnine poisoning is an unpleasant way to go, as it causes painful convulsions and immobility with death occurring due to paralysis of the nerves that control breathing.

Dr. Hopps's shemagh, first mentioned in chapter 3, is accurate to what real British soldiers brought back from Afghanistan when they returned from the Second Anglo-Afghan War. As described, a shemagh is a square of cloth used as a headscarf that can be worn several different ways, with Dr. Hopps favoring folding it in half and wearing it like a standard scarf.

That's about it for my comments about this chapter, so now I'd like to comment on the story as a whole. I tried writing this to be true to the spirit of the original Sherlock Holmes stories, which are typically impossible for the reader to solve; I hope, though, that you find the solution clever, and I did leave a lot of clues throughout the story as to how the theft was done, even if determining the responsible party really wasn't possible.

There are a fair number of plot threads that were planted in this story that didn't come to fruition; Dr. Hopps never gets directly called out on her prejudice, there's no explanation of the significance of Wilde's earlier cases or who the vixen is that he keeps a portrait of in his watch, and a few others. There is a reason of this. When the idea for this story came to me, it came as part of an overarching story that really explores the relationship between the two main characters. Dr. Hopps does something incredibly brave and selfless for Wilde by going to rescue him without any expectation or desire for reward. But, unlike Judy by the end of the movie, it's clear that she's still quite prejudiced, even though she considers Wilde a friend in the very last line. For his part, Wilde chooses not to move out, and indirectly acknowledges that her actions show her to be a good mammal even if her words occasionally don't. There's still a lot of room for their relationship to deepen, be challenged, and change, which subsequent stories will explore while also delving into more Sherlock-style mysteries.

The immediate sequel to this story, which I am working on finishing up now, picks up a few months later right around Christmas of 1881 and only a few days before Dr. Hopps starts her teaching job. That is, however, not the next story that I'm going to post. Next week I'll be back with something new and completely unrelated to either this story or the first story I ever wrote. If you were hoping for a sequel to either, I'm sorry to disappoint, but those will come when I think they are ready to be shared.

Once again, I want to thank you, the reader, for your support. It was a pleasure to write this story, and I can only hope that it was a pleasure to read. I'd be very grateful to know, now that this story has come to an end, what you thought of it.