Oh, wow, this is the easiest quest of all time! Although a bit pricey happened. Anyway, the word "make", I somehow imagined something quite different.
- Well, then, tell me, um ... my grandmother, you know all the time, and what I was looking for you at all? - so what? I, in fact, still in doubt, let it prove its, so to say, the qualification.
- And I was looking for you, my dear ... your hurt was looking for, oh ... Just to beduuu for evil, if so, we continue to joke with you there will be. You see, because I can answer this question, and on the other then suddenly I can not, huh?
- Okay, you're right. Let's say I believe you. Then tell me, if a person can die of old age in a day? A young girl who in the morning was a young beauty, the next morning found deep old woman. How can this be? Who could have done it?
- Someone could. Someone very strong and someone very knowledgeable ... - the old woman suddenly rolled her eyes and spoke melodiously as if telling a terrible story. - they sleep like the dead, thousands of years, is now a shadow of its former ... is deeply, and we are only fleeting shadows of their long nightmare ... teetering on the precarious border between living and dead, can draw and drink from two worlds ... Victim! Victim links thread helps steal a piece of power! No strength to wake up and punish the thief, too long dream ... Strong! She is strong, she can! What disappears in one can always find another ...
The old woman suddenly grunted and fell to the side, on the snow-covered porch, dropping from pipe arms. I barely had time to catch her, and so was about to call for help, thinking that the woman intends to die right in my arms as she said suddenly crisp and clear voice:
- The dangerous thing you climb, boy. Lost his head, is not new otrastot.
Freeing up of my hands, the old woman raised his pipe, lit it, and again stared impassively into space, releasing the smelly smoke clubs.
- Hey, hey, you did not answer! Who could have done it, and how?
- I've answered all your questions, my dear. Even those that you did not ask. And if you are not smart enough to understand my answers, then who will help you, no matter how you did? Get out!
Clapping of wings over his head and loud croak made me turn for a moment. Turning back, I was almost not surprised to see an empty porch, covered with a thick layer of untouched, pristine white snow.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself standing in front of the police station. How did I get here - I was not able to remember all the way completely vanished from memory. That's damned old woman, I had little doubt that it was her tricks!
I found the detective in disheveled feelings. When I was led to his office, he is only a moment, almost imperceptibly raised his eyebrows when he saw my outfit. However, immediately recognized me, than to admit, even a little disappointed. Apparently he, by virtue of profession, was a very well-developed powers of observation.
- What a masquerade? - he asked, as soon as I accompanied the police came.
I told him about the events of that morning, how went to Grennismit for information about his encounter with an elderly prophetess. If, during the story about Miss Volfish detective only nodded mechanically, then at the moment when I began to describe the time of the meeting and the conversation with the old woman, he perked up noticeably:
- Just found out, you say? Intereeesno ... So, it helps the victim to steal a piece of the power? It was stolen, she said so? What disappears in one, can be found in other ...
- Detective, you know something? What is it about? What did she mean?
- Not yet, Sherlock, not yet ... But from her words, I realized one thing - anyone could do it, and all the sacrifices, all the dead girls - it was precisely the sacrifice that helped steal a piece of the power that was We need for what they did to Molly. But the question remains - why?
- What says Appleton, he confessed?
- Yes Appleton nothing to do with - detective frowned. - That is, he is certainly guilty, but I am afraid that he is not more than a tool, which simply popolzovavshis some time and emissions. No, the death of Molly needed someone else ... And not just death, but it was such a death from old age. I feel that the key is in this. Understand why this is necessary, then it will be easier to understand - to whom.
- So, what about Appleton, then suddenly he confessed?
- And here, my young Sherlock, the same wonders as you. By Mr. Appleton came, allegedly, his daughter. The policeman, who missed it, can not explain the reason why he had violated orders to let no one in the room for detainees. Moreover, to describe it, he, too, can not. And, it seems, does not remember what she looked like. She calmly walked by a few constables, and no one, not for a moment the idea that the young woman to be there does not have to. She opened the camera, she went back and talked to a few minutes alone with Appleton. Ten minutes after she left, he said he was willing to confess to murder!
- And she's really his daughter?
- Yes, of course not! Appleton At no daughter, he had never been married. But most interesting is that it simply is eager to testify, I scribbled here a whole ream of paper. Painted everything to the smallest detail - as a friend, which drove like choking ...
- And what he did and said?
- Yes. Say, brought him as a collector of antiquities, old paper, which described the rituals of obtaining power of the Dark Gods. He studied them, and now ... I decided to try.
- And Molly?
- Molly was, he said ...- broke open the doors to the detective part of the sentence.
- Detective! Appleton! - I suddenly felt that same state, which is sometimes called the "memory of the present", or - deja vu. I blinked, but standing in the doorway of the constable did not disappear. - Appleton! He hanged himself!
Chapter 17.
What the hell ?! And although it is a logical outcome ... I took all the blame on himself, and then took his own life, so that when further investigation did not bring to an accomplice. Deftly. That's just no this is not a suicide, but a real murder can bet on just about anything!
- Constable, he left a note? - the first thing that occurred to me. The policeman said nothing and just looked at the detective. After an affirmative nod, I got the answer:
- Yes. He asked for paper and pencil, said he wants to add to your testimony, and after half an hour to finish. And when I returned, he was hung on the window ...
- And let me know how he managed to hang himself? Are you left the detainee strap or laces? - Detective, is clearly unable to cope with the emotions, raising his voice almost to a shout.
- Not at all, sir! How can I ... He hanged himself in his trousers.
- What?
- Yes, sir. He took off his pants leg tied to window bars and so hanged himself.
- merciful Lord! It just boggles the mind ...- detective turned to me. - Well, then, you now go back to the shelter, then you have nothing to do yet. Mind your own business. If all of a sudden going to need, I'll call Emily. Good?
- Yes, sir, - I remembered about a lawyer. - Detective March, I have one request, I'm afraid I can not cope without your help ...
- Come on, just faster.
- I need to find my uncle's lawyer, Mr. Jobson. You can help?
- I think it's quite easy to do. Come on, I'll take you to the archive, we are just down the road.
Archive in the area served as a tiny room with no windows, lined with filing cabinets that stretched from floor to ceiling. In charge of the archive wizened old man in the pince-nez, with a surprisingly bright blue eyes and a jerky, youth movements. He jumped up to greet us with such joy and enthusiasm, as if the best friends met after a long separation.
- Detective! Did you finally looked to us! And then all the fields, the forests jump. Do you have finally completed the report on statistics of pickpocketing on your site in the past year?
- Mr Leksidi, is not up to it, - a detective frowned. - I report completed yet, I promise. I ask you to help this ... this girl to find a friend of her uncle, she's all talk.
Waving goodbye, dete
ctive jumped out of the rooms.
- It's always. Young, green, jumped, jumped ... And I'm sitting here all day long, pylyus - old man sighed. - And it was once a shustryak as this rogue detective. Well, what you need to know, darling?
- I need to find Mr. Jobson, he is a friend and lawyer, my uncle.
- But the details have? And Jobson may not be one, the city is a huge, we, know yourself ...
- I do not know the details, but it is possible to work and he lives in Kensington ...
- Kensington? Well, it's easier. Now let's see.
Mr. Leksidi pulled from a drawer a huge Talmud and immersed himself in reading. And after a couple of minutes, he handed me a piece of paper on which was written in calligraphy, "Sir Arthur Jobson, Esq., A member of the Royal College of lawyers Londinium residing at - Abbey Street, 22, of Kensington.".
- Oh, thank you very much, sir! You helped me a lot!
- But not for that, my dear. The work I have such help. Run too.
Coming out of the area, I am again reminded of the ill-fated hours. But what is, in any way I can not get them back! Now certainly the next time, I think, we should not disturb the detective for such a trifle.
Time trying to come back again in Kensington, I did not, so there was nothing left to do but how to get back to the shelter. Special plans for the evening was, and I decided to dedicate it to his further growth, spending free time the rest of the library, along with Donnie and "mechanics and mechanisms".
However, my plans went awry. I could only go up to your room and change, there was a knock at the door. Having opened, I saw one of the students with whom I had previously never talked. When he saw me in the doorway, he blurted out with a grin:
- Hey, Sherlock! Calling you your crazy friend, old Shaw.
I rezanuli hearing these words of the old man, the more so because no sign of madness, I did not notice him. A person called crazy for some eccentric and unsociable, I considered rude and wrong. Would a child, is now easily reached would be a fight, but now I only said:
- Why do you call him crazy?
- Do not you know? He was in prison and even in the madhouse, everybody knows it! He's just a crazy old killer and Miss Emily keeps him here out of pity.
- No, I have not heard anything, and it seems to me that all this is fiction. Mr. Shaw is absolutely normal elderly gentleman. - I did not want to be honest, to aggravate relations, so I answered politely as possible, but it did not work.
- Yes, you seem to have the same crazy, as he, - muttered, as I had read, Georgie (child), 4 level. Spitting on the floor, almost hitting my shoes, he turned and whistling moved away.
Hmm ... That talk. Slamming the door behind him, I hurried to Mr. Shaw. I must say, I was very interested, for what such materials, he traveled for 2 days, and indeed, there were some issues.
- A Sherlock, come quick! - The old man immediately responded to my knock, seem to be waiting. He looked very lively, the mood was clearly upbeat. - Sit down! I have wonderful news for you!
I sat on a sagging sofa, and prepared to listen.
- To begin with, I hasten to inform you that you passed the exam!
- Exam, sir?
- Exactly! I do not just give you a boring job and left without any control. You are still a child, and children are forced to work hard themselves. And I was ready, that you do not perform any given lesson, or do it somehow. But, to my surprise, not only will you have done everything as it should be, so also finished work early. Therefore, I believe that the exam for the title of the student you passed, and now I can begin to more complex, but interesting stage of learning!
Well, it is necessary, it turns out, it was a test. It is good that Mr. Shaw did not realize that I quickly finished with his gears only because it was in a hurry to begin to address more pressing problems.
- So, - continued the old man, - not so long ago, I promised to give you a figure, if you can read it. Do you remember?
- Of course, sir.
- So, the time is long overdue, and you do not even remind me about it. Sherlock, I admire your modesty - to be honest, I had forgotten about that conversation, but of course, admit it is clearly not worth it. - So I decided to make a gift to you, worthy of your patience. I modified the drawing mechanism is now more difficult to make, but it's worth it. Look!
Mr. Shaw proudly handed me a sheet of paper. This was the view that I held in my hands when asked to teach me how to make something concrete, not just incomprehensible to me then the details. Now, when my intelligence has already overcome the minimum requirements for reading, and the level of knowledge of mechanics has reached 12, I have no difficulty reading and drawing himself, and his name - "mechanical bird of paradise." Senseless thing. Apparently, my feelings were reflected on my face, as Mr. Shaw, who obviously expected me grateful joy, frustration asked:
- Something is wrong? You do not like it?
- No, sir, that you are! This is certainly a very wonderful thing, I just do not see its practical application ...
- Practical use? What is the use? This is just a toy, these things are very expensive and elaborate mechanical bird can cost several tens of gold, even a few hundred! You silly boy, thought only the moment, absolutely not thinking about the future!
The old man is not a joke huffed, apparently, I still strongly touched his apparent lack of enthusiasm. But I could do nothing. Her a few days ago, I would be extremely happy. But now, a series of events that happened to me recently, overshadowed everything else.
- Excuse me, sir. I just was not thinking. I am very grateful to you, you have done so much for me ...
- Okay, I'm not mad at you, even though you are stupid, like a cork.
- Where have you been, sir?
- Where ... I went to an old friend, who for many years kept the remains of my workshop. I did not think before that I do not at all will ever need, but once I got a real student, here, had to pick up all the tools and instruments. I must say, I was lucky that they were stored in a dry woodshed and almost not been damaged time in 17 years, I replaced only belts. So here, take this! - Mr. Shaw gave me a key.
- What does he, sir?
- This is the key of your workshop.
- From my ... What?
- Boys, stop asking stupid questions until I thought you were too stupid for you to have own workshop. You're going to become a master, or not?
- Yes, sir!
- How long it would be so. And then I almost wished he screamed back, carrying the damn machines. It's, you know, not so easy for a man of my age! Come with me.
We went out into the street. Mr. Shaw pointed out the same door that led to his room, but located on the other end of the building. On the door hung a huge castle. Receiving the keys I was visibly opened it and we entered. I do not know what I expected to see, but overgrown dirt on the ceiling and cobwebby little room did not meet my ideas of the workshop of Master - mechanics. Neshtukaturenye red brick wall, blackened wooden racks, ground floor - it was an old cellar, not otherwise. In the center of the room stood a pile of stacked one on another small wooden boxes.
- Well, - the old man proudly around the room hand - now you will have a place where to do, to learn, to experiment without fear of anyone interfere. I am at your age could not even dream about it.
- Thank you sir. I appreciate it very much, though.
- you appreciate? It is right. Well, if you appreciate, therefore, will not be any difficulty to bring everything in order for you.
- to offer you the quest: "Augean stables."
- Quest conditions - fully prepare room studio for classes, the time to perform - 4 hours.
The award - the experience (600), access to the machine shop of the initial level.
Penalty failure - reducing the reputation of Mr. Shaw.
Accept the quest?
Of course, we accept. Workshop - a good thing, especially since I already had a great idea of how to use the drawing of mechanical birds. That's just had doubts - whether enough sk
ill on the implementation of the planned ...
- Of course, sir! I'll do everything.
- So that's great. You know, Sherlock, I must admit, I envy you a little bit ... You are standing at the beginning of such a long and interesting journey. In you have the makings of a true master, I immediately noticed. Perseverance, patience, but at the same time - the curiosity and desire to create. I myself was the same, and always looking for, I first thought - and how it works, and whether it can be improved? For many years I have kept in mind the memory of that feeling that you experience when you create something new!
Looking at the way the old man was inspired, enthusiasm lit up his eyes, I asked a question that has long been of interest to me, but it was not the right occasion to ask:
- Sir, tell me, you really are one of the best mechanics of your time?
- One of? - Mr. Shaw frowned. - Yes, I was the best! And remained would be better if he did not destroy everything.
- What happened to you, sir?
- All right, man, I'll tell you what brought me to where I am now. Perhaps my story will warn about you from making the same mistake and will make it clear how great its price.
Mr. Shaw became suddenly look quite so decrepit old man, bent and even as a wrinkled as if he was released from the air. He's tough, shuffling, approached the pile of boxes and sat down on one of them. For about a minute, he was silent, staring at one point, apparently to gather his thoughts, then sighed and began:
- I've always been a very hot-tempered, even in childhood. I remember how awful could be angry because not bought a toy or any other of his caprice. I was an only child and my parents I was very spoiled. Having been refused, I fell into a fit of rage, he could throw something in the offender, in spite of break or damage belonging to him a thing, in general, it was a real little monster. My parents indulged my whims, constantly hire new governesses and nannies, as none of them could not stand more than a couple months next to me, and only one gave me pleasure - my passion mechanisms.
- When parents notice that I'm going crazy from the mechanical toys, constantly trying not to break down, and parse and understand how it works, they found me the best masters, which could only hire for the money at the time. And I've changed. My passion for change and myself. After a while, my flash of rage almost gone, I learned to hold them back and, in general, become more enjoyable and contact the child. Mom and Dad can not get enough of my success and have spared no effort and money on my hobby. I had the best machine shop in the city, for which the equipment is ordered worldwide. And soon, while still a teenager, I developed my skills so that made a dog that could do twenty different actions. She walked, ran, wagging its tail, barking, could sit down and file a paw.
Named Sherlock Page 25