Upstairs in her room, I suddenly remembered that I still hang out not distributed one unit characteristics, which I will not hesitate to put in luck.
Pulled on his jacket, grabbed the money off the table - five gold coins. Hanging on the shoulder of his sack with crossbow and darts, I suddenly remembered that he was going to order his belt for him. Well, right now there is an opportunity and money.
Mr. Robinson, as usual, sat in his little room near the stairs, and this time nailed sole to the shoe, keeping some nails in his mouth and taking them one by one.
- Good day, sir! - polite, always in the first place, courtesy. It's great facilitates communication, particularly with adults.
- Well, hello, guy - because a mouthful of nails, it sounded like: "Well zhdashtuy PAEN".
- Sir, could you do here is a belt for me ... - I spoke in detail and, as he could, showed himself to Mr. Robinson, what I want from him. Demonstrated a crossbow and darts, I explained how I want to be located. Pohmykal man, shook his crossbow, measuring tape me and writing results on a piece of paper issued, in my opinion, the exorbitant cost of the work in 2 gold. And he demanded one of them in advance, "materials". What materials are not clear. Chunks and strips of various types of skin he was inundated with all the cubby.
He sighs over the money I gave to Mr. Robinson, the required amount. Burknuv that after two days is ready, he turned away from me, again began to hammer on the bale boot.
The street was cool, though no wind. Reaching walk to the Victoria bridge, I caught a cab. There was a little apprehension that the crew did not stop the calls of the child, but, fortunately, there were no problems. Instantly domchali me to the police station, the driver stared at the proffered payment in gold. For a moment, I even thought was that he now hlestnet horse and umchit away, took with him my change, but the mustachioed policeman standing nearby and meaningful glances in our direction, apparently brought the driver to feel. I got a delivery in full, minus one serebrushki "tea." Wow, he drinks tea, then the people with the money two days may live ...
But in the area of upset me. Detective March, as it turned out, early in the morning went to some kind of "operation", and when he returns - is unknown ... most likely in the evening, not before.
Hang around in the area until the evening, considering that there are dinner - was pointless. So I decided to do one more important thing. Confidently waving a passing carriage, I decided to see finally what the street Grennismit, which, according to her uncle's letter, I once lived. This street is located, according to the map, in Kensington.
Yes, to travel around the city in a cab is not blown on the padded seat, covered with a blanket, was not like the more comfortable than walking. And I must say that from this angle Londinium no longer seemed so grim, as he appeared in the first hours of my life here. Unclear whether the window is cut off and the smoothing unsightly details, I just used to have, I can not say exactly, but the city suddenly seemed a little strict, sad and very beautiful, in spite of the poverty and misery, which breathed its streets.
As soon as we moved to the center, and farther to the west, the picture gradually changed and finally changed so that show me who is next scenery Hackney and Spitalfields and Borough of Kensington, I would say that this is, without doubt, the different cities . Why, different countries!
Sparkling clean pavement, columns with gas lamps, studded with fanciful wrought-iron curlicues and flowers, houses, similar to the multi-colored cake decorated with stucco, like cream. All this is so different from the world from which I came, it seemed somehow unreal.
And ordered the driver to drive slowly along the street, I began to carefully look into the environment, in the hope that I would see some hint. Of the crew, I decided not to go, as rightly feared to attract unnecessary attention. Besides the fact that my clothes were completely out of place here, it was not worth to forget about the risk of being recognized.
Unfortunately, the trip I gave absolutely nothing, except that I was convinced that my uncle was certainly quite a wealthy man, if I could afford a house in the local branch of paradise. More I did not get no information, no signs, who, where, of course it was not.
However, already on the way back, when I told the driver to go back to the police station, hoping to still catch the detective Marcha on the ground, my head came a great idea that could help me find my uncle's house and get to know, finally, with the housekeeper, Miss Volfish . To do this, however, I have to buy something, but I hope I have enough money.
The road almost to the other end of the city and back, took about two hours. The weather gradually deteriorated, the sky was covered seryu, zadozhdilo. Mustached cop for wooden reception recognized me and nodded and pointed to one of the chairs lining the wall. I sat down. A minute later came a detective March. He looked, I must say, it does not matter. Yesterday's wrinkled gray suit, somewhere dirty, pale, tired face with red eyes - all this shows that the detective will likely never left the service since yesterday.
- Hello, Sherlock. Let's go to.
Yeah, the detective not only looked bad, he obviously did not feel better. Sluggish, some confusion, he does not like to order a smart and energetic man like yesterday. Was he tired of the sleepless nights?
- To begin with, my young friend, that woman we found yesterday - not Molly - word detective sounded like thunder. But the next sentence put everything in its place. - This is the official version.
- Official?
- Exactly. Although I can confidently say that it still is. One boy, Billy, the son of her neighbor, was surprisingly good artist. He painted a portrait of her about a year ago. Comparing the proportions of the face and shape of the ear, I'm almost 100% sure that it really is Molly. Dora knew her dress from the description, and confirmed that the lace cloth, which was in his pocket, is very similar to the one that was lying on the bedside table, in Molly's room.
- But why?
- Because. People are willing to accept as fact the most incredible coincidence, but would not give his shaken established views materialist. body inspection confirmed that the woman died of natural causes, specifically speaking - from old age. No resemblance to the previous murders there, but time. And this, again, it may just be a coincidence.
- That is, Mr. Appleton can not be tied to the murders?
- Fortunately, there are clues. When Constable Kirk took you back to a shelter - at this point I felt ears and cheeks began to burn with shame, but tried not to show kind - we are all thoroughly inspected. In the room there was almost no trace, but then when we went on one of the tunnels that are out there, we found some great shoe prints, with which it was possible to make prints. Fingerprints are different, that is, people have been at least two. One of the prints, as we have seen later, belonged to Appleton, but the second ... He is quite strange. It is - or a man with a tiny foot size, or a teenager or a woman. Footwear for men, but the size is very unusual.
- That's it! In my vision, the man in the raincoat was not exactly Mr. Appleton, he was tall and thin!
- Wait, Sherlock, listen further. Surveying the tunnel, we found the door, which opened recently, judging by the fresh scratches. And Luke this, by the way, is just two blocks to Appleton House on Strand Street. This, of course, not evidence, but suggestive. But most importantly - this is what we found on the ladder by which the criminals got out of the well. On it, we found a few threads, hook it over the protruding nail, and obviously to tear out of the coat of one of them.
- Believing that it is enough to have a conversation with Mr. Appleton, we went to his house. Since its was not at home, but his housekeeper, dear woman, knowing that we are the police allowed to inspect his shoes and clothing, where, in fact, I found the shoes stained with mud and an old coat with a hole in the sleeve. Casts fully coincided with a picture of the sole of a shoe, and caught on a nail thread, were, well, exactly such as those from which the woven cloth coat.
I am dumbfounded staring at the detective, who admired his courage, if not to sa
y arrogance. He went to the Appleton house almost at random, with no evidence, and based only on assumptions. He just picked up and put everything on the line, trust your instincts. After all, Mr. Appleton Things to destroy the evidence, the whole thing would fly ashes, priperetsya him to the wall would be nothing. A detective took a chance - and broke the bank! I must admit I admired him even more.
- Considering that the evidence found is sufficient to obtain a search warrant of the whole house, I sent a constable in Neuss Central management of paper, and we are with Kirk, meanwhile, decided to see the house from the outside and talk to the other servants. And when we got to the lodge in the backyard of a sudden he jumped two big fellow, with a growth of almost Constable Kirk, and simply jumped on us! - Detective shivered. - Frankly, it was unexpected. One of them had a knife stab constable and I had to shoot him, but the second we tied ...
- Constable killed ?! - I interrupted the detective, I suddenly remembered the face of clear Constable Kirk's such a huge, clumsy, but apparently quite good and good-natured man.
- No, do not worry, he even resigned from the service is not that day. Kirk of our simple knife did not kill him, but I'll tell him you're worried for him, he will be happy. So, we searched the lodge, and there found the rope, which the Trickster Osh strangled. I mean, there were not exactly what she is, but it was too similar. And then it has gone on the thumb. I sent at the same time for an arrest warrant Appleton. And his assistant, we were brought to the department, thought to question. And there it was, the language he has not!
- What, no?
- And just like that, cut off his tongue, apparently in order not to loose. Read and write, he apparently does not know how, so he did not witness, rather, self - evidence. But in any case, it is now clear that, one way or another, Appleton murders linked, and clearly it's not just me. However, while he is silent, waiting for his lawyer, he went somewhere outside the city. So while it will reach up to the news, and he comes back a couple of days we still have. My guys are digging day and night, and have found interesting documents, look!
Detective handed me a wad of crumpled papers. The first thing that struck me, because it is drawn directly on the top sheet of a schematic representation of the crystal, and then, in a row, six characters depicted on its faces. I looked at the detective.
- Yes, these are the characters - he nodded his head. - Even if we do not manage to find the crystals themselves, and I'm almost sure that these images will serve as proof of his involvement.
I put the first sheet. On the second page was a rather unpleasant image - a creature that resembles both a person and a terrible sea monster - a bald head with a wide mouth and a plurality of teeth protruding from her tiny eyes, gill slits on the neck, some hideous appendages or tentacles throughout the body. But it is quite human in form hands, though, and webbed feet short deployed knees apart. I froze ...
These were precisely those creatures I imagined escaping the dark night trail in a dream, only ten days ago. "Dagon!" - lips uttered the word themselves.
- What you said? - a detective from the chair safely. - Do you know anything about these creatures?
- Me not. I do not remember, maybe something to read. This word appeared in my head, I do not know where! - I had to lie to you, well, could not I tell the detective about what exactly my wild imagination pictured Deep, a race that inhabited the novels and stories of HP Lovecraft. And most of all, the image of Proteus took it out of my mind.
- Dagon - is the name of the ancient legends. They frighten naughty children's mother, but now it's just an old, scary story. It is already difficult to find at least something about the times when people thought he was real, and worshiped the bloody sacrifices. But it seems that someone has decided to revive the cult.
- Detective, you believe that Dagon really exist?
- Do not know yet. But Mr. Appleton seems to believe, judging by these securities. Unfortunately, to read what is written here, we can not. In this language, spoken thousands of years ago, the media of his left. However, Ancient History Museum staff promised to help with details, if we present them the documents for a few days. Fortunately, in order to delay Appleton, we still enough pictures from the first page. The problem so far with his accomplice, we have no data about it, apart from the fact that we know that he has a small foot size, and it is possible! Possible, but not confirmed, that it is quite high. This, as you know, is not enough.
Scrolling through the whole stack of papers, I am convinced that the text actually written in some unknown language. Pictures were also obscure - some schemes, strange patterns, drawings, reminiscent of simplified images of the constellations. Only on the last page, I again saw the familiar characters. This time they were painted within each of the six rays of radiation of the star. In the center of the star was the symbol of a new, much more difficult previous, and images larger. I showed the detective page.
- Yes, it was painted on the altar, where we found Molly. But as long as the text is not decrypted, we can only guess what it is, and what is intended.
I remembered my questions that I wanted to ask the detective. Two of them have already lost their relevance, but the third I was still worried:
- Detective, tell how realistic so quickly grow old, Molly?
- Unreal.
- But ...
- I understand what you mean. We already have this fact and have to admit its existence. With this I agree. But anyone who will answer you this question this way - it is unreal. And I would have said so, did not face it alone. Honestly I tell you, I've never heard of, and even could not assume that such is in principle possible. Maybe we should look for people who know about anything? I have heard that there is an old woman, she is either a fortune teller, or prophetess ... He lives somewhere in the neighborhood of Victoria Park, or rather not say. Try to find her and talk.
- to offer you the quest, "The Witch of Hackney."
- Quest Conditions - find old woman prophetess, who lives near Victoria Park.
The award - the continuation of the quest chain experience (400).
Penalty is not a failure.
Accept the quest?
Agree. That's just deal with this, I'll be tomorrow, today I have other plans for the evening.
Well, in general, I found everything I wanted, it was possible to assemble the shelter. The time that remained before dinner, I was going to spend on something to tell, finally, about the adventures of Donald curiosity languish.
- Good detective, I'll try to find this prophetess. If you learn something new, be sure to tell you. And now I will go, and then Miss Emily will swear ... - Miss Emily, I mentioned specifically, to see the reaction of the detective in her name. And I must say that his exposure betrayed him at this moment, he is a bit has changed in the face, cheeks flushed, breathing rate has changed. But she obviously he likes ... At the same time she does not hurt Miss Emily is willing to have the detective business. Strangely, the man he seems good, smart appearance of those that should attract women. Well, it seems to me. Well, none of my business.
Shrugging stretched me as an equal, the hand, I turned to the door, took a step. If the time to do another one, you probably would have been knocked out, because the door suddenly opened sharply, and ran into the office the police shouting:
- Detective! Appleton! Appleton confessed to everything! He confirmed that he had killed all the young women and two men. And require you to make a statement! Urgently!
- Strange, it was also a real chance to get out, what could happen? - dumbfounded detective said, and turned to me:
- Sit here while, okay?
Mechanically I nodded and stared thoughtfully at the sign appeared in front of me:
- Congratulations! Quest: "The Case of the Seven strangled" is executed.
- Rewards: Experience 1000 (2000/3000), the reputation of a city police increased Londinium (friendliness).
In fact, there was nothing to rejoice, as it is only meant that found a scapegoat, which will
be presented to the outraged public. Since the next available quest I read:
- to offer you the quest: "Puppeteer".
- Quest Conditions - find the real killer, one who, standing invisibly behind the scenes events, deftly pulls the desired thread.
The award - the continuation of the quest chain, the experience (5000), the subject matter.
Penalty failure - variability.
Accept the quest?
That's the case ....
Chapter 16.
Leaving me alone to wonder about the incident, the detective constable rushed out of the office. Before I could really get bored, as the detective came back and immediately shoved me out of the area, with the words:
- So, all ran to the shelter! We've got things going, not to you now. Come as you talk to the old woman.
Startled, I completely forgot about the clock that remained in the office of the detective Marcha. Well, they will have to wait a little longer. Absently waving kebmenu, I was completely bewildered sat in the carriage and drove home.
Donnie was guarding me at the entrance. Not allowing me to say a word, he took me to the library, in the form of an ultimatum demanded to tell him everything, otherwise, threatened to lock her up in the morning. Trying especially not to embellish, I told him about the events of the last 3 days. Surprised eyes another was a reward for my eloquence:
- Come on, you're lying, I suppose. Well, maybe not so much with a man three days to happen!
- Yeah, but would be better if I lied - I reached out to a friend bandaged hand - think I myself bitten?
Speaking of his hand. It no longer hurts, maybe it's time to remove the bandage? Postponed until returning to the room ...
At a dinner now and then I catch yourself admiring, envious glances of other. I feel he has already written me in my personal pantheon of heroes, somewhere between Hercules and Superman. I would love Donnie took with him to the city, but just one problem - all the rules, NPCs in mortal game. That is, getting us into some scrape with death, then I simply ochnus end up in my room (at least I hope so) but Donnie ...
Named Sherlock Page 23