His departure left me with only Dr Watson, Mr Spencer, Miss Peters and Mrs Hudson for company. For a moment we all looked around at each other, and then Dr Watson began to smile; and with that, the room ceased to be a place of awe and silence and became once again Mrs Garth’s homely and welcoming front parlour.
‘So,’ he began, ‘here we are again. And if I may say so, I think we’ve all done jolly well. We’ve cracked the code and found the Viscount and seized what remains of the Lazarus Testament. What happens now, Mrs Hudson?’
The housekeeper straightened. ‘Well, sir, Mr Holmes says he’s dashing back to London, which means the house will need airing and the beds preparing and some supplies buying in. And whatever matter he involves himself in next, I’m sure he will want you by his side, sir. So I daresay we ought to be packing our bags and vacating Broomheath Hall. I suppose Mr Verity will need to find a new tenant now that the Summersbys have gone.’
Dr Watson looked thoughtful.
‘I confess Mrs Summersby fooled me completely,’ he admitted. ‘Such a charming woman! When she took the trouble of bringing us out that flask of brandy, I don’t mind telling you I flushed like a schoolboy.’
‘Well, I never liked her,’ Miss Peters declared. ‘I always suspected there was something devious about her.’
‘Nonsense, Hetty!’ Mr Spencer spluttered. ‘You insisted that she had no hidden depths at all! Besides, you were so busy making up preposterous tales of Neapolitan life that you could hardly have formed a proper opinion.’
‘Yes,’ Miss Peters sighed. ‘I suppose I did rather lose myself in the role at times. Do you know, I keep thinking about dear old Professor Corelli. He sounds such a jolly man, if rather naughty. Then, of course, I remember that I invented him, and I’m terribly disappointed.’ She shook her head very prettily. ‘But now I should go and wire your uncle, Rupert. I told him I was nipping out to the shops, and that was nearly a week ago, although I don’t suppose he’s noticed yet. But think how cross he would be if he did! You know that mood when he goes purple and shakes with rage and talks about sending me to a nunnery? I do so hate it when he does that. So I thought if I sent him a telegram saying I was actually visiting a nunnery…’
‘Great heavens!’ Mr Spencer groaned. ‘If you will excuse me, I had better go with her to see if I can prevent further carnage.’ He nodded to Mrs Hudson and favoured me with one of his warmest smiles. ‘As always, Mrs Hudson, Flotsam, it has been a pleasure.’
Dr Watson watched them go then cast an eye towards the window. The rain seemed to be getting heavier.
‘They say it is breathtaking here in summer,’ he mused, ‘but, do you know, Mrs Hudson, right now I rather fancy being back in Baker Street again. Excitement is all very well, but there comes a time when a fellow likes to be by his own fire, with one of your hot whisky toddies in his hand. I daresay we could all do with a night or two under our own roof, eh, Flotsam?’
And as Mrs Hudson smiled and quietly began to wrap the long-lost urn in her shawl, I could only agree. But it was not the comfort of the fireside I found myself looking forward to, but to all the bustle and excitement that awaited me: to my lessons in Bloomsbury Square and my expeditions with Scraggs; to the shouts of the flower girls and the rumble of the carriages; to the busy markets and the thronging streets; to all the surging life and drama of the city; and perhaps best of all, to the thud of the knocker heralding a new visitor with a new story, and possibilities for danger and daring and love and adventure that seemed to me, that day in Alston, infinite and unending and impossibly wonderful.
First published in United Kingdom in 2015 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
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Copyright © 2015 by Martin Davies
The moral right of Martin Davies to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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ISBN 9781910859865
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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