SHERLOCK HOLMES IN NEW YORK (19 page)

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Outside the warehouse, the police driver had just
returned with a half-dozen reinforcing constables,
when we heard a shot, and then saw Scott Adler sud
denly appear in the doorway. Irene Adler cried out
and ran to him, dropping to her knees and enveloping
him in her arms.

"I'm going in there, Inspector," said I firmly.

I strode for the door, somewhat relieved to see that
Lafferty and his men were hard on my heels. We took
the stairs at a run, and burst into the room at their
top—to see Holmes and Professor Moriarty locked in
a precarious struggle over a gaping trapdoor.

Lafferty drew a pistol and shouted, "Professor
Moriarty—throw up your hands!"

Unhappily, this diversion startled Holmes more than
it did the Professor, who seized the opportunity to
force him over the edge of the trap. With a yell,
Holmes dropped from sight—but then I saw his
fingers, still grasping the edge of the flooring.

"Holmes! Great heavens!" I cried, and flung my
self down, managing to get a grip on my friend's wrists.
"Here! Give us a hand, some of you!" I called over
my shoulder, and Lafferty and his driver each got a
hold on one of my legs and hauled backwards, per
force drawing Holmes out of the open trap.

Many hands now reached out to help us both to
our feet, but abruptly Sherlock Holmes whirled and
pointed to an open passageway in the wall.

"Quick! He's getting away!"

We turned and saw Moriarty slinking down the pas
sage. Holmes leaped to follow, but Moriarty, with a high-pitched cackle, threw a lever protruding from the
wall, and a closely-knit mesh of steel wire crashed
down, blocking our entrance.

"Good night, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" the Professor called out.

Inspector Lafferty gave an inarticulate roar and
emptied his revolver at Moriarty—who could, after the
volley, be seen standing unhurt behind the mesh cur
tain. His taunting voice came through it clearly.

"Let the victory be yours this time, Mr. Holmes. But
there will be other battles and other battlefields, and
victory's so temporary a thing, is it not? Good night,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"

Professor James Moriarty seemed to shimmer in the
gloom of the passage, and then was gone.

"Where in the world can it lead to, Holmes?" said
I.

"To the river, Watson—where a steam launch
waits." My friend's voice was quiet, and weary.

Inspector Lafferty was fuming.
"I'll have a police vessel in his wake within the
hour!" he exclaimed.

Sherlock Holmes shook his head.
"Within half that time, he'll undoubtedly be beyond
the limits of your jurisdiction. No. The final encounter
between the Professor and myself is yet to come. In
any event, I am assured of the boy's safety." He faced me and set one hand on my shoulder. "Watson,
I am once again deeply in your debt. That tide would
soon have carried me to my certain end."

I was pleased almost to bursting at his words, but
could find nothing better to say than a mumbled, "My pleasure, Holmes. Don't mention it."

He turned back to the Inspector.
"Our quarry may have eluded us, but his evil
scheme has been thwarted. At what time is the trans
fer of the gold to take place?"

Lafferty scanned Holmes' face anxiously.

"At eleven tomorrow morning!" he answered.

Holmes smiled at him.
"Then let us all be there to witness it. I assure you
that I am not jesting, and that you shall not be disap
pointed."

The lift that connected the ground floor of the
Bouwerie National Bank with the gold vaults below
it was thronged to capacity the next morning, with Holmes and myself, Inspector Lafferty, Mortimer
McGraw, three Exchange employees, and one repre
sentative each of the German and Italian banks who
were concerned in the approaching transaction.

Although both Lafferty and McGraw were clearly
close to panic with anxiety, Holmes was chatting
amiably with the latter.

". . . Yes, Lord Brackish, Managing Director of the
Bank of England. He was to be murdered mysteri
ously, and his death was to cause panic in the world's
financial circles.
This
theft was to be the culmination
of a grand scheme. I was able to foil the murder of
Brackish, and I am now able to forestall the theft of
the gold."

"Mr. Holmes," said McGraw tensely, "I certainly
hope your confidence is not over-expressed."

The lift shuddered to a halt.

"You may test its validity at your convenience, Mr.
McGraw, for we seem to have arrived. Be so good as
to unlock the door."

McGraw closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if
in prayer, then opened them and, with less than ac
customed expertness, worked the combination lock and pushed the heavy steel door open.

The Italian and German representatives, who were
familiar with the vaults, saw nothing out of the ordinary. As expected, there were the neat rows of
cells, each door tightly shut, the dull glint of gold visi
ble through the bars on each, the whole culminating
in a very solid and unbreached rear wall.

The effect on Lafferty, McGraw, and the three Ex
change employees was considerably different. Though,
in varying ways, they all expressed stupefied surprise,
it was quickly controlled, lest it raise questions in the
minds of the foreign bankers which they would find it awkward to answer.

Holmes, clearly savoring all this, leaned down and
whispered in my ear, "Last night, round about mid
night, I slipped into the false chamber and removed
the bars that kept the lift from descending to its right
ful place. Good job no one saw me, eh? Think what
the papers would have made of that!"

He turned to the still-speechless Lafferty and
McGraw.
"Well, gentlemen," he half whispered. "All present
and accounted for? No delusion, no sleight-of-hand,
no mirage? If you're satisfied the gold has been re
turned, Dr. Watson and I have a busy day ahead of
us, as it will be our last one before returning home."

"Surely," said McGraw, confusion and wonderment
still written on his face, "you'll do me the honor of
dining with me?"

"I fear not, Mr. McGraw. This evening, we—and a young lad of our acquaintance—have tickets for
The
Second Mrs. Tanqueray
."

He made as if to re-enter the lift, and Inspector
Lafferty stepped in front of him, nearly frantic with
curiosity.
"Mr. Holmes! Aren't you going to explain how you
did this?"

The detective gave him a gentle smile.
"No. But I expect one day Dr. Watson will."

———«»——————«»——————«»———

After the curtain had fallen on that night's per
formance of
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray
, its leading
lady sat at her dressing table, removing her stage
make-up. The light-framed mirror showed her a tall
man in evening dress standing behind her.

To the image, she said, "Must you really leave
at once?"

"I'm afraid so. So many things in England demand
my attention just now."

"All of which you abandoned to race to my rescue.
Sherlock, now that I'm rescued, can't you stay a while
to enjoy your success?"

Holmes shook his head.
"I wish I could. But the
Etruria
sails at midnight,
and Watson will soon be along in a carriage to fetch
me."

"What are you running from, Sherlock?"

"Running from? Inactivity, I suppose . . . bore
dom . . ."

The last of the make-up creamed away, she turned
to face him directly.
"Are you certain it's not . . . fear?"

"Fear? Of what?"

"Perhaps the unknown."

Holmes gave a mirthless chuckle.
"My dear Irene, it's the
known
I fear! I
seek
the
unknown. An unknown mystery, an unknown peril. I
long
for the unknown!"

"And for nothing else?" She looked intently up into
his eyes. "Sherlock—is there nothing you would like to
ask me?"

The man was silent for a moment, then spoke
hesitantly.
"Yes
. . .
but I cannot."

"Why?"

"Because of the answer I might receive."

"I see." Irene Adler turned back to her mirror, her
face a little more set in its lines than a moment
before. "Well, then, if you cannot ask it, I cannot an
swer it."

Holmes regarded her concentratedly.

"And if I
were
to ask it?" he asked quietly.

Her gaze came to him through the mirror.
"And if the answer were the wrong one?" She
smiled ruefully. "You see, perhaps I too am in fear
of
. . .
the known." She inspected her face in the
mirror, and appeared to find a trace of cosmetic missed before. "Shall we meet again, do you think?"

"I should be happy to believe so. Shall I continue to
receive theater tickets?"

"So long as I continue to perform."

"And perhaps with a word or two included
about the boy?"

"I'd be most happy to."

"Likable little chap, you know," Holmes said care
lessly.

"Do you think so?" Irene Adler's brows arched
slightly in wry amusement.

"What are his interests, mainly?"

She was silent a moment, and then said evenly, "He
seems to have a fondness for music . . . and for
solving problems."

"I see. Would you, perhaps, have an extra . . .
picture of the lad?"

She turned once more to face Holmes. Then she
opened the locket that hung at her throat, extracted a
small oval of stiff paper, and handed it to him.
"Take this one."

Holmes studied the miniature photograph. "But this must be your favorite."

"It is."

"Thank you. I shall treasure it." Holmes pulled out
his watch, opened the cover, and placed the picture in
side. Then he looked at the face of the watch. Irene
Adler followed his glance, then nodded.

"I know," she said.

She rose and held out both hands to him. Sherlock
Holmes grasped them, and stood silently for a mo
ment. Their gazes met fully.

"Irene . . . ?"

"Yes?"

Holmes took a deep breath, then let it go. "Good-
bye."

"Good-bye, Sherlock."

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Rattling along in the four-wheeler that should set
us down at the
Etruria
's
pier in a few moments, I felt
both exhilarated and let down. It had certainly been
an eventful few days in New York, and I had found
much to admire in the city. But, after all, it wasn't
London! And, while new experiences are all very well,
I find that the old ones, and the old, familiar ways of
doing things, suit best in the end.

I noticed Holmes consulting his watch, and com
mented on it.

"Yes, by Jove," I said, "two hours and we're out to
sea, a few more days and we're back in Baker Street—
back where you can drink a proper cup of tea, even
travel by Underground if it suits your purpose. This
is said to be a splendid city, Holmes, and I dare say
it is in many ways. But when it comes down to it,
does it have anything worthwhile that we don't have in
London?"

Holmes looked down again at his watch, and ran
the tip of his forefinger gently over something in the
case.

"Perhaps not, Watson. Perhaps not."