The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes Read online

  Evidently Holmes was loath to reveal the involvement of Moriarty to his brother, for fear of angering him still further. He certainly made no mention of it when he extended his argument for Mycroft’s continued security.

  ‘Nevertheless, I fear my caution is well-founded. Consider this. To risk so perilous an intrusion, our assassin would have made himself most assured of your presence at your desk at such an hour. You yourself have stated that you have been working most extended hours these past few weeks, and evidently you have been under a most rigorous surveillance throughout that time. Unfortunately your daily route is so unchanging: from your home to Whitehall, from Whitehall to your club in Pall Mall and thence to home again, that such a surveillance would have been no hard task even for an amateur. However we are dealing with well-trained and well-led professionals who leave nothing to chance and I am convinced that this building will continue to be watched for several days yet. Therefore, Watson, would you go to Baker Street to collect my make-up box and disguises, from my room, while Mycroft and I attempt to persuade Inspector Lestrade to co-operate with our little subterfuge upon his imminent arrival.’

  Then, in answer to the questioning glares from both myself and Mycroft, Holmes added: ‘Obviously we have to convince the press and, subsequently, the public at large that Mycroft Holmes has indeed been murdered. This fact being known will bestow two beneficial effects. Firstly, it will undoubtedly ensure the security of your life, Mycroft, and secondly, you will be able swiftly to resume your vital international negotiations, for you will cease to be under your enemy’s surveillance. Now you do see that I am right?’ Although Holmes made this last as more of a statement than a question.

  ‘Lot of tomfoolery if you ask me!’ Mycroft growled, though with an air of resignation in his voice. My own reaction was to close my bag immediately and start upon my mission to Baker Street. Consequently, I almost collided, full on, with Lestrade as he came bustling into the room.

  ‘Leaving so soon, Dr Watson?’ he asked of me, evidently surprised at my hasty departure. ‘However, with two Holmes brothers in attendance, I am certain of obtaining all the clarification I should require.’ The redoubtable representative of Scotland Yard spat out these words with heavy irony and a malicious grin played on his weaselly features.

  ‘No doubt, Inspector. So, if you will excuse me …’ With a brief touch on the brim of my hat I continued my hurried departure. My journey to and from our rooms at Baker Street was as expeditious as it was uneventful, save for a chance encounter with Mrs Hudson, the brevity of which clearly left her somewhat put out. I arrived back at Mycroft’s office within the hour, duly laden with Holmes’s accoutrements of disguise.

  ‘Hah, Watson!’ Before I had even closed the door behind me Holmes had bounded across the room to ensure that nothing had been left behind. ‘Excellent. You know, Watson, you have been as reliable as always. Now, whilst I ready my brother for his incognito journey to Baker Street – I decided it would be safest if he returns with us for the time being – I should be grateful if you would try to occupy the ever industrious Lestrade for the next fifteen minutes or so. Oh, Watson, it has indeed been a most splendid treat. Once he received the merest hint of a significant case coming his way he has been darting frenetically around like a blindfolded whirling dervish!’

  ‘Surely, Holmes, you might spare a moment or two to relate to me the outcome of his interview with you both?’ I half-heartedly requested.

  ‘There will be time enough for that later.’ Holmes replied brusquely. ‘For now, however, our priority must be to spirit Mycroft away from the building with all due haste.’

  Reluctantly I retired from the room once more, and went off to find the Inspector. He spared me the effort, however, by calling out to me upon his leaving the security office.

  ‘Well, Doctor,’ he began, ‘I am glad to have run into you. This really is a most puzzling affair, would you not say? I mean, garrotting, well that is a most strange way of committing a murder for a start! As for your friend and his brother, they must be two of the most inscrutable gentlemen I have ever encountered. I am certain that they are withholding important information, although what that might be I really would not care to say. Perhaps you could enlighten me, Doctor?’

  ‘I doubt that I could add very much to what they have already told you. I am as much in the dark as they surely are. However, perhaps we could take a turn outside,’ I suggested, gesturing towards the main entrance whilst offering Lestrade a cigarette. This he duly accepted and while we strolled slowly around the building’s extensive perimeter, he clumsily attempted to extricate any clue that I might have been able to furnish him with. In this he was wholly unsuccessful. I was certain that Holmes and Mycroft would have been equally reticent in revealing the nature of Naismith’s recent work, and I could not be certain as to how much of Moriarty’s involvement in it Holmes would have divulged at this time. Therefore, I decided to lament upon my being treated by both Mr Holmes and his brother as a hapless bystander and expressed my concern at the continued threat to Mycroft’s life. This much, I was certain, had already been divulged to Lestrade, for without his cooperation the ruse of feigning Mycroft’s death would have been all but impossible.

  By the time we had returned to Mycroft’s office his transformation had been completed. Standing there before us was a somewhat enlarged, duplication of George Naismith himself, with Mycroft Holmes nowhere to be seen. Holmes had eased Mycroft’s facial ageing with some greasepaint, covered his thinning hair with a subtle grey wig, and affixed a small, neatly clipped beard to his chin. Last of all, and to Mycroft’s obvious chagrin, Holmes had thinned down somewhat his brother’s esteemed and well cultivated ‘mutton-chops’.

  ‘Good gracious, Holmes! I would almost swear to Naismith’s having been raised from the dead!’ I exclaimed, barely able to contain my excitement.

  ‘The thing is quite remarkable, Mr Holmes,’ said Lestrade, more soberly. ‘Once again you have displayed a further reason for us at the Yard, to be grateful that you are working on the side of justice. By the way, I have followed your instructions to the letter and to avoid attracting attention to the building, all my officers have now stood down. It is not quite our way of doing things, but past experience has shown to me the benefit in trusting to your instincts. Apprehending Parker would certainly be a feather in my cap,’ Lestrade concluded wistfully.

  ‘First things first, Lestrade. Is the carriage awaiting us immediately outside?’ Holmes asked anxiously. ‘Despite our theatrics I wish to expose my brother to public gaze only for as brief a time as is necessary.’

  ‘Indeed it is, Mr Holmes, but I assure you the success of your masquerade has eliminated any risk to your brother. Any lingering observer, even Parker himself, would assume that we were apprehending Naismith, under suspicion of having murdered his superior.’

  Holmes clapped his hands in a self-congratulatory manner. ‘Excellent! Lestrade, I expect you can make your own way to Scotland Yard from Baker Street, for I do not wish to interrupt our journey.’ Thereupon Mycroft draped Naismith’s coat about his shoulders and the four of us made our way to the awaiting brougham outside.

  The journey to Baker Street was, mercifully, uneventful and within a short while Mrs Hudson was furnishing us all with a large pot of hot strong tea and kindling a cheery fire.

  Once we were all seated Holmes took up his old clay pipe and filled it from the Persian slipper, full of strong tobacco, that he kept on the mantelpiece. I knew at once, from his choice of pipe, that he was troubled by the recent course of events and that some serious analysis was called for. To my surprise he decided to outline for both Mycroft and Lestrade the thought processes and deductions that had led to his conclusion that Moriarty was, indeed, still alive. [See the Dying Gaul from Book 1; the statue alluded to at the beginning of this story]. Despite the instinctively cynical nature of both of his listeners, his analysis was too sharp and precise for either of them to question a single word or explanation.
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br />   ‘My goodness, Sherlock, that is a most amazing conclusion you have reached, yet I can find no flaw in your reasoning. From what you have explained, Professor Moriarty is undoubtedly the instigator of this fellow Parker’s attempt on my life,’ Mycroft commented.

  ‘No doubt bent on revenge for your having slain his brother, the colonel, at the Reichenbach Falls,’ Lestrade chipped in.

  ‘No doubt, no doubt … however …’ Holmes took his pipe to his chair, where he sat, legs crossed, drawing long and hard, and deep in thought. We three stared at him in silent expectation, for a moment or two, until I decided to air a thought of my own.

  ‘Holmes, can we now assume that having contented himself with the supposed death of Mycroft, Moriarty will now consider the matter as concluded? Or will he seek for his final vengeance upon you?’

  ‘When you consider the lengthy and meticulous planning that usually precedes the execution of Moriarty’s schemes I should presume that the murder of Mycroft was merely another step along the pathway to my ultimate destruction. I should say that my life is in graver danger now than it has ever been,’ Holmes replied. ‘However, there is still the question of the “master swindler”, Baron Maupertuis,’ he concluded thoughtfully.

  ‘Honourable though this sentiment surely is, does not defrauding Lady Beasant of her not inconsiderable fortune pale into insignificance when compared to your own life-threatening, predicament?’ I ventured.

  ‘As you already know, Watson, my scientific mind has never accepted the recognized phenomenon of coincidence. In my experience every action has a cause and an effect and only the workings of a chaotic mind would ever view occurrences in any other light. When you consider that the malevolent Professor has the least chaotic mind that I have ever encountered, save for my own, I dismiss the notion that our meeting with Lady Beasant came about by mere chance. Baron Maupertuis’s entanglement with the Beasants was surely another ploy in Moriarty’s overall plan of luring me into his web of destruction.’

  ‘Surely you will not just sit here waiting for Moriarty to set his next trap?’ Mycroft asked, some concern sounding in his gruff voice.

  ‘On the contrary, I fully intend to take the initiative, however I need to discover a direct connection between Maupertuis and Moriarty before I can take the necessary steps.’ Holmes replied.

  ‘So, you are convinced that Maupertuis is a part of Moriarty’s new confederacy of crime?’ Lestrade asked with some uncertainty.

  ‘I should be very much surprised if he were not. He seems to have all the credentials to be a more than able substitute for Colonel Moran as Moriarty’s right-hand man. My first task, therefore, must be to find out where the Baron is and manipulate him into thwarting his employer. Moriarty’s traces will be too well-covered for me to take a more direct route.’ Holmes now relit his pipe and we all sank into a thoughtful silence, convinced of the flawless logic of Holmes’s last statement.

  Then, of a sudden and displaying an enthusiasm and energy we had not thought him capable of, Mycroft leapt up from his chair, brandishing his left fist triumphantly above his head.

  ‘I must go at once to the Diogenes Club!’ he announced excitedly. ‘Allowing your premise that coincidence does not exist, the fact that Beasant, Maupertuis, Naismith and myself are all long-standing members must, surely, have significance! Perhaps if the good Inspector would accompany me, so as to lend credence to my masquerade as a suspected murderer, I should be able to undertake the journey and my enquiries with a certain degree of safety. My position, as one of the founding members, of the club, should certainly ease the process of obtaining confidential information,’ Mycroft concluded emphatically.

  To judge by his brother’s response, Mycroft’s enthusiasm was most infectious. ‘That appears to be an excellent plan, brother Mycroft, certainly one that needs to be put in motion with all speed. Assuming Inspector Lestrade’s co-operation, of course.’

  The expectant gaze of the two imposing brothers was more than enough to dissuade Lestrade from refusal. Equally, I am sure, the thought of adding Moriarty to his glorious bag would have gone some way towards persuading him also!

  ‘By all means, gentlemen, we must start at once,’ was his immediate response as he jumped up to grab his coat. While I procured a cab for their journey to Pall Mall, Holmes ensured that the elements of Mycroft’s Naismith disguise were suitably in place and within a few minutes they were gone.

  The next two hours passed surprisingly quietly. For once I found myself with little need of further enlightenment, all aspects of the case now being clear to me, and Holmes was unusually calm under the circumstances. Normally a prolonged period of inactivity while awaiting important news provoked great anxiety within him, and continuous pacing up and down the room. However, on this occasion, no doubt because he could sense he was so close to running down his Nemesis, he remained in good spirits and even struck up a few cords on his violin.

  When Mycroft and Lestrade eventually returned Holmes remained calmly seated and relit his pipe while they removed their coats.

  ‘Sherlock,’ Mycroft boomed, ‘we have our man! Not only have I discovered that Naismith was also a regular billiards partner of Maupertuis, but I also have his address for when he is in residence within these shores. He spends the remainder of his time ensconced within a small castle near Salzburg.’

  ‘Ah, so there is the final link in our chain. Our noble Baron has been building a connection between Moriarty and myself, using your esteemed club as the centre of his web. Now show me where we can at last meet this “master swindler”!’ Holmes got to his feet while Mycroft withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, bearing the crest of the Diogenes Club from his coat pocket, which he then flattened out on our table top.

  Holmes asked me to read to him from it, only for Mycroft to interrupt.

  ‘No need, dear boy. Despite my advancing years I still have some capacity for memory. Maupertuis’ last known address is a walled villa, known as The Willows, barely half a mile away from the village of Bushey Heath, in Hertfordshire. A strangely quaint name for the home of a deadly criminal, I would say.’

  ‘Although we cannot be certain that he is still in residence,’ Lestrade rejoined. ‘I have already been in touch with the local constable, who has informed me that he is aware of activity within the villa. As to whether the activity is on the part of the staff, Parker, or Maupertuis himself, we have no way of knowing.’

  ‘You have both done extremely well; however the task of ascertaining the nature of this activity at The Willows will surely be mine and Watson’s,’ said Holmes. Then, bowing towards me he added: ‘With your kind acquiescence, of course.’

  ‘I should be honoured. Shall I require an overnight bag?’

  ‘It may be necessary to spend a day or two in getting the lie of the land, so yes, a bag by all means and, I think, your faithful army revolver will be necessary.’ Then, turning once more to his brother and Lestrade, Holmes asked: ‘I do not suppose that your research extended to train times to and accommodation in the village?’

  ‘Bradshaw indicates that there will not be another train to Bushey Heath until 11.03 tomorrow morning from King’s Cross,’ Mycroft replied. ‘As for accommodation, well, I think I can leave at least one thing for my younger brother to arrange for himself!’

  ‘Well, there is certainly nothing left for us to accomplish at this hour. I am more than comfortable in my chair, so Mycroft may use my room for the next couple of nights,’ Holmes observed. ‘Lestrade, please be prepared for an unscheduled journey to Hertfordshire, if called upon during the next forty-eight hours.’

  ‘I shall certainly clear my desk and await word from you. Goodnight, gentlemen.’ Lestrade doffed his hat as he took his leave. The sleeping arrangements were as prescribed by Holmes and we awoke early the following morning, allowing us enough time for a light breakfast before taking a cab to King’s Cross. Mycroft pledged to remain safely within the confines of our rooms up to our return from Bushey Heath, although it w
as hard for a man of such fixed routine to undergo so dramatic a change to his schedule.

  Our train departed at exactly the time predicted by both Mycroft and Bradshaw and by lunchtime we were enjoying a most charming stroll from the station through a leafy lane towards the tiny village that was our destination. The only tavern in the village, the Queen’s Arms, afforded us a couple of comfortable rooms and, as we were to discover later that day, some fine, wholesome, rural cuisine.

  ‘As I have explained to you in the past, I can glean more information from ordinary folk in the familiar surroundings of their favourite inn, than any amount of more formal investigations might ever produce. However, the saloon will be almost empty at this time of day, so I suggest that a brief reconnoitre of The Willows might be in order while we still have some decent light,’ Holmes recommended shortly after we had unpacked and changed.

  ‘By all means,’ I agreed, though secretly hankering for some lunch before our departure. Perhaps sensing this, Holmes persuaded our landlord to supply us with a large slab of cheese and some bread before we left and he was certainly amused by the avidity with which I consumed it. We stopped off at the tiny post office to make arrangements for any messages or wires that they might receive addressed to us, to be delivered immediately for our attention at the Queen’s Arms. From there we took directions to The Willows.

  Lestrade’s information proved to be accurate, for our walk along the narrow, muddy dirt track was certainly less than half a mile, although the fact that it was, evidently, seldom used made us glad of our heavy walking boots. Within a short while a high, ivy-clad wall came into view; indeed, its height precluded any view of the low-built villa beyond it from the track outside. The track was brought to an abrupt end by a pair of formidable iron gates, which were topped by a set of spikes.