“That would be very… understanding of you, Inspector.” The appreciation in Holmes’s voice was genuine, I thought. “There are a number of matters that I need to discuss with Watson, after which I shall return to my hotel. I wonder,” he concluded with a smile, “whether you might join me for dinner this evening? At about eight, say?”
The two men shook hands and Bullock left, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Really, Watson, you do make things unnecessarily difficult at times!”
Holmes rounded on me as soon as Bullock was gone, but there was affection in his scolding. All I could do was apologise, and ask again regarding his recent travails on his brother’s behalf.
“This is not exactly the most secure place to have such a discussion, but the doctor informs me that they are likely to insist that you remain in your current position for at least another day, and I would hate to impede your recovery by keeping you in suspense for too long.” He paused, seemed to consider for a moment, peering at the ceiling apparently rapt in thought. “Oh, very well,” he said, finally, with a wide grin, “make yourself comfortable and I will tell you the entire story, in the strict understanding that none of this is intended for publication.”
Needless to say, I hastily agreed and he, who had, I assumed, always intended to tell me everything, took a seat once more and began to speak.
“I will not bore you with the background to my recent endeavours for Mycroft, both because you would find it tedious and because I did not, in truth, pay a great deal of attention to it myself. Instead, I have lately focused tightly on the immediate task at hand – which, for the past few months, has been to ensure the safety of certain American individuals who have periodically visited England to engage in talks pertaining to the present Boer situation in Africa.
“Each of these men has his own bodyguard, of course, and naturally our own police have provided more general protection, but I was asked by Mycroft to check the location of every meeting in advance, to ascertain the whereabouts of known agitators – the usual grubby, difficult and unrewarding work with which Mycroft likes to punish me, in fact.
“Notwithstanding that, I may say that I have proven singularly successful. To date, no visitor has been molested, and several Boer agents have been apprehended. Last month, however, I received word that I would be required to arrange a safe meeting place for two personages of far greater prestige than had heretofore been the case. I had just finished making the arrangements when the letter – sent, of course, by Piennar – arrived that set this affair in motion. I should, perhaps, have remained until the meeting was concluded, but there seemed little purpose in doing so, and I cannot deny that I was sorely in need of rest.”
I confess I was aghast to hear Holmes so blithely speak of neglecting his duty in order to pursue a personal matter. Holmes must have read the ire on my face.
“In my defence, I had no reason to suspect that I was being hoodwinked, but I cannot deny that I was at a low ebb mentally and physically when the letter arrived and so, perhaps, was more malleable than would normally have been the case. A few days in New York, with an interesting intellectual puzzle to divert me, seemed both harmless and potentially even invigorating. I admit that my error of judgement could have cost England dear. That it did not was a consequence of a handful of indicators left by Rawlins and Piennar which, fortunately, I was able to read in time.”
“Thank the Lord!” I said with feeling. “But having realised that Rawlins – that the duplicate Holmes – was merely a ruse, when did you know about the rest? Please tell me that it was in time to protect the important meeting to which you referred.”
Rather than reply, Holmes reached down and opened the door to my bedside cabinet. He extracted a newspaper, which he laid in my lap with the front page uppermost.
“Halfway down the far right column,” he instructed.
The headline read “FOREIGN AGENTS APPREHENDED”, with beneath it a few lines establishing that two agents of an unspecified foreign country had been arrested the previous night, near the Carlton Hotel, London.
“And also, here,” Holmes went on, indicating another small piece further down the page. The header on this occasion was slightly larger and comprised just three words, “US–BRITISH TALKS”.
“‘A confidential meeting took place last night between Lord Robert Cecil, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, and the United States Ambassador to the Court of King James, Joseph Choate. Early reports indicate that a rapport was quickly reached between the two men, a fact which augurs well for both countries’,” I read. “By God, Holmes! The Prime Minister…”
“I was able to telegram Mycroft in plenty of time, thankfully, and the meeting was moved from the Carlton at the last minute. The capture of the two men sent to disrupt the meeting was, I must admit, an additional and very welcome bonus.”
“Does that not come perilously close to a guess, Holmes?” I chided him. “True, you were correct that the Boers intended to attack the meeting, but you could not know for certain. What if they had dragged you overseas not to keep you from your duty, but in order to murder you, far from the protection of Scotland Yard?”
Holmes instantly bridled, as I knew he would. “Scotland Yard? Scotland Yard? The day that my safety depends on their protection is the day I retire to a life of sedentary bee-keeping! Have you not noticed, Watson, that I am a hard man to kill?” He did not wait for a reply. “In any case, there was no guesswork involved. Do not tell me that you have already forgotten the scraps of burned paper we found at Rawlins’s home? ‘MES’, ‘DON’ and ‘OAT’ they read, if memory serves, and the inspector made the natural assumption that the reference was to James Donaldson, Piennar’s first victim. I, however, saw something else. Holmes, London and Choate, I surmised, and contacted my brother without delay.”
A nurse bustled into the room at that point, and Holmes fell silent while she fussed around me, straightening my pillows. I was due a further dose of morphine too, which she administered with a reassuring degree of skill, before warning Holmes that he had but five more minutes remaining of his visit.
“If Dr Watson is not allowed to rest, his recovery will never be complete,” she said as she closed the door behind her, and as she did so her words reminded me of something Holmes had said earlier.
I felt the morphine smothering me in its warm embrace as I called Holmes’s name. My mouth felt as though it belonged to someone else as I beckoned him over.
“You said that Henry Craggs’s revenge was complete when he killed Piennar. But you told Bullock that Piennar killed Rawlins…”
My voice trailed off and I felt my eyelids closing as the drug took effect. Faintly, as if he were far across the room, I heard Holmes’s voice, though it took all of my concentration to make sense of his words.
“There I may have gone too far,” he was saying. “Did you not wonder that Rawlins and Piennar held onto a weapon which could only incriminate them in the future, and that solely on the off-chance that they might be able to use it to frame a man who they believed already dead by their hand?”
“So Craggs…”
“…is guilty of double murder, yes. His arrival at Rawlins’s home was just a little too convenient, his explanation too pat. I would suggest that he was given the address by the servant Eales, who was, of course, in his employ. He went there at once and, having surprised Rawlins somehow, shot and killed him. Piennar must have arrived soon afterwards and, with no idea who might have killed Rawlins, decided discretion was the better part of valour. I suspect he left the money deliberately, for the reason I gave the inspector, but the money clip and watch? Forgotten in his panicked flight.
“But none of this matters. I can prove nothing because I choose to seek out no proof. The man has suffered enough, lost enough, without losing his freedom too. Perhaps I have gone too far in doing so, but I do not blame myself, Watson. Sometimes, it is better not to speak.”
He may have said more, but if he did I was unaware,
for the seductive power of the morphine finally overcame my resistance, and I found my eyes would remain open no longer. As I slipped into sleep, I could hear the soft voice of my old friend, murmuring explanations in the gathering darkness.
About the Author
STUART DOUGLAS is the author of numerous short stories and novellas, including the Titan Books Sherlock Holmes novel, The Albino’s Treasure. He is one of the founders of Obverse Books, and the Features Editor of the British Fantasy Society journal. He lives in Edinburgh.
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE SCROLL OF THE DEAD
David Stuart Davies
In this fast-paced adventure, Sherlock Holmes attends a seance to unmask an impostor posing as a medium. His foe, Sebastian Melmoth is a man hell-bent on discovering a mysterious Egyptian papyrus that may hold the key to immortality. It is up to Holmes and Watson to use their deductive skills to stop him or face disaster.
ISBN: 9781848564930
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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE VEILED DETECTIVE
David Stuart Davies
It is 1880, and a young Sherlock Holmes arrives in London to pursue a career as a private detective. He soon attracts the attention of criminal mastermind Professor James Moriarty, who is driven by his desire to control this fledgling genius. Enter Dr John H. Watson, soon to make history as Holmes’ famous companion.
ISBN: 9781848564909
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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE TITANIC TRAGEDY
William Seil
Holmes and Watson board the Titanic in 1912, where Holmes is to carry out a secret government mission. Soon after departure, highly important submarine plans for the U.S. navy are stolen. Holmes and Watson work through a list of suspects which includes Colonel James Moriarty, brother to the late Professor Moriarty—will they find the culprit before tragedy strikes?
ISBN: 9780857687104
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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE STAR OF INDIA
Carole Buggé
Holmes and Watson find themselves caught up in a complex chessboard of a problem, involving a clandestine love affair and the disappearance of a priceless sapphire. Professor James Moriarty is back to tease and torment, leading the duo on a chase through the dark and dangerous back streets of London and beyond.
ISBN: 9780857681218
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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE ANGEL OF THE OPERA
Sam Siciliano
Paris 1890. Sherlock Holmes is summoned across the English Channel to the famous Opera House. Once there, he is challenged to discover the true motivations and secrets of the notorious phantom, who rules its depths with passion and defiance.
ISBN: 9781848568617
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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE GIANT RAT OF SUMATRA
Richard L. Boyer
For many years, Dr. Watson kept the tale of The Giant Rat of Sumatra a secret. However, before he died, he arranged that the strange story of the giant rat should be held in the vaults of a London bank until all the protagonists were dead…
ISBN: 9781848568600
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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE WHITECHAPEL HORRORS
Edward B. Hanna
Grotesque murders are being committed on the streets of Whitechapel. Sherlock Holmes believes he knows the identity of the killer—Jack the Ripper. But as he delves deeper, Holmes realizes that revealing the murderer puts much more at stake than just catching a killer…
ISBN: 9781848567498
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The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes--The Counterfeit Detective Page 22