As the celebrated private detective Henry von Stray’s official historiographer, I have long held that the singular events occurring on Guy Fawkes Day 1921, led to von Stray becoming recognized as one of the world’s foremost criminologists of his day. The baffling affair not only exhibits many examples of his unique insight into the criminal mindset, but also demonstrates his ingenious ability to use his specialized skills in this area to outwit some of the most cunning members of the criminal fraternity and, I am delighted to report, beat them at their own game.

I began the early part of the holiday uncovering what I couldn’t help but conclude was an evil plot to ransack the annual awards dinner von Stray and I had planned to attend that evening at the Fraternal Order of Benevolent Walnuts. A celebration I might add in which I would be receiving the Club’s most prestigious award—Honored Walnut of the Year.

In preparation of the important festivity I removed my official Club stickpin from my dress jacket’s lapel buttonhole for a final inspection and polish. It was then I observed its stick was bent and badly fractured. It would never do if during my acceptance speech the pin toppled off at the foot of the Club’s highest-ranking member the Honorable Veritable Walnut Sir Percy Stonyhurst Berrycloth. Without haste I ran to our telephone to make arrangements with our friend and local jeweler Mrs. Amalasand Omloop to schedule an urgent repair; however, after several attempts to get through, the operator informed me the telephone call failed to reach the intended party.

Unwilling to wave the white flag of surrender I decided on a brisk walk to her shop located at the Piccadilly.

“Von Stray,” I said to my dear colleague who was seated comfortably in his sitting-room easy chair studying the art of criminal dialect from his tattered edition of The Rogue’s Lexicon, “I must dash off to Mrs. Omloop’s for an urgent repair.”

The great detective said, without lifting his eyes up from his book, “Ahh, Dilpate, I see you are finally in need of having your Benevolent Walnuts gold lapel pin repaired.”

“Good Heavens, von Stray how did you know?”

He rose from his chair and explained. “The button hole in your official Club jacket is beginning look as if it had been tied to a hansom and dragged through an unruly hedgerow. I concluded the lapel stem had been fractured in such a way it snags the delicate silk threads bordering the buttonhole. Really, my good fellow, I warned you against removing the pin too often and subjecting it to your rigorous polishing campaigns. It’s 24-karat gold and rather fragile.”

“Von Stray,” I responded, taking few measures to conceal my pique at my friend’s cavalier attitude concerning the emergency, “I take great exception. The Club’s pin signifies my full membership in one of London’s oldest and most revered institutions. How could I in all decency attend Club functions without putting it in proper order? I would no more mistreat my pin than you would a volume from your vast library on criminology.”

He placed a bookmark into his book and gently closed it shut before slipping it back into its assigned slot on the sitting-room bookshelf. “Point taken, Dilpate. I think I’ve studied enough criminal argot today. It is a beautiful autumn morning and I think I’ll join you on your stroll to the Piccadilly to discuss your dilemma with our lovely and friendly jeweler. She is available to take on your trade I trust?”

I showed my palms. “I tried ringing her, but the shop’s telephone must be out of order.”

Von Stray flipped on his ancient wool-tweed scally cap. “Then there must be no further delay if we are to have you in ship-shape order for tonight’s festivities.”

“Splendid!” I cheered. “And with absolutely nothing else on the docket today I suggest we duck into the Nook and Hearthstone Public House for a pint of Haughey Ale and their scrumptious Lancashire hot pot while Mrs. Omloop works her magic.”

As we walked down Berkeley Street I resumed my cross-examination of the great detective. “But how did you know it was my lapel pin and not another piece of jewelry in need of repair—my gold watch fob for instance?”

“A logical conclusion, Dilpate. You are wearing your watch fob and tonight we celebrate your well-deserved selection as the Club’s Honored Walnut of the Year. A shoddy lapel pin wouldn’t do. As you stated the matter is ‘urgent.’ A watch fob would hardly receive the same scrutiny your coveted lapel pin will undoubtedly receive on this truly august occasion.”