The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part II (14 page)

Holmes turned to me, putting away his lens, and began to speak. “Watson, I fear - “

Fate deemed I would have to wait to discover what had wrought so sudden a change in my friend's demeanour, as the butler chose that moment to enter the room. He announced his presence with a deferential, “Sir?”

“Quickly man, quickly!” Holmes exclaimed, rushing towards the servant. “You have the list?”

“Yes, sir,” the butler replied, holding a folded sheet of paper in his gloved hand. “I only just completed it. I thought, perhaps, you - “

But Holmes snatched the list from the servant's hand and unfolded it quickly. As he did so, I saw Detective Cambers approaching, no doubt reacting to the urgency in Holmes's loud voice.

Behind Cambers came another figure. From the stout man's harried expression, I knew it must be Lord Garnett. The strain of his situation showed clearly on the strong features of his face. Beneath dark brows, his Lordship's brown eyes seemed wary, as if cringing in anticipation of the morning's next blow. Yet even in the midst of these troubles, a ghost of the old adventurer remained. Thick, dark hair and a moustache he had not yet attended to, a tan darkening his face and the back of his strong hands. There was doggedness to his movements, as if his every step was an act of determination, and anyone who dared hamper his way had best be prepared to pay a steep cost for their insolence. Yet, even as he approached, my reaction towards his Lordship was not one of intimidation or respect, but was, rather, one of sympathy. It was plain to my senses Lord Garnett was very close to being overwhelmed by the unexplained disappearance of his son.

Such were my impressions of Lord Garnett. Holmes seemed to take no notice of his Lordship's approach. Holmes's formidable powers of concentration were focussed on the butler's list and, in his other hand, the chief cook's list he'd pulled from his pocket.

Detective Cambers and Lord Garnett entered the room together. His Lordship, seeing his butler waiting, raised his hand and started to give instructions to his servant. “Ah, I wonder if you might see to - “

“I have not yet finished with this man.” Holmes interrupted firmly, though he did not look up from the lists he was examining.

“I beg your pardon?” Lord Garnett asked, blinking in surprise. Apparently his Lordship was not accustomed to being interrupted while addressing his servants.

“I have further need of this man,” Holmes insisted.

Turning to acknowledge his employer, the butler seemed intent on ignoring Holmes and letting the matter drop. Whatever else he had endured, it seemed Lord Garnett was not willing to suffer impertinence such as Holmes was displaying.

“And who, sir, are you?” Lord Garnett asked, his voice a threatening rumble.

“My name is Sherlock Holmes.” Pulling the butler's coat until the man was forced to turn and acknowledge him, Holmes pointed to a name on the list. “I require an address for this man.”

“I regret, sir, that I do not know the address offhand.”

“Then find someone who does!” Holmes demanded forcefully. “And hurry!”

Shocked by Holmes's insistence, the butler turned pleadingly to Lord Garnett. His Lordship seemed quite taken aback by Holmes's manner and was about to voice his displeasure when Holmes spoke first.

“Lord Garnett, your son's life may depend on the speedy resolution of your butler's errand. If you value your child's life, I suggest you give him leave to go.”

“Of course,” Lord Garnett nodded to his servant, who promptly left the room at a pace seeming, for one so dignified, a run. “Now then, Mr. Holmes, is it? I fail to - “

But Holmes had turned his attention to Detective Constable Cambers. “I will require two of your uniformed officers, those you judge to be most capable, and I require them now.”

Cambers, his face clouded with displeasure at being addressed so in front of his Lordship, frowned. “Now see here, Mr. Holmes - “

“Now!” Holmes repeated. “We must act quickly if we are to capture this villain.”

Cambers opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut when he noticed Lord Garnett's formidable attention on him. With an uncertain shrug, Cambers hurried from the room, much as the butler had before him.

“Now then, Mr. Holmes,” Lord Garnett started, but, to the surprise of both his Lordship and myself, Holmes set off down the hallway at a quick run. For a moment Lord Garnett seemed at a complete loss. I had the impression it had been quite a long time since his Lordship had met anyone as insolent as Holmes. His Lordship watched Holmes's slender figure disappear beyond the doorway, and then he turned to me in a manner reminiscent of heavy artillery.

“And you are?” Lord Garnett asked me.

“Doctor John Watson,” I said, offering my hand. Lord Garnett shook it firmly, apparently relieved to be dealing with someone familiar with the concept of courtesy.

“Are you with the police?”

“No,” I answered, somewhat embarrassed. “I'm here with Sherlock Holmes.”

“Ah,” Lord Garnett nodded. “Then perhaps you can tell me: Who is this Sherlock Holmes? Is he a policeman?”

“No,” I admitted. “He is a detective, a consulting detective. Cambers came to seek his advice last evening and sent word this morning of your misfortune. Naturally, we came to offer what assistance we could.”

“Assistance?” Lord Garnett repeated in surprise. “Is that what he was doing?”

“I assure you, Lord Garnett, my friend's methods may seem odd but he is a remarkable detective.” Yet I had barely finished uttering these words of confidence when Holmes rushed back into the room bearing a large basin of water. Ignoring both Lord Garnett and myself, Holmes hurried to the fireplace and, upturning the heavy basin, doused the burning coals. An enormous plume of smoke and steam spilled from the fireplace and when it cleared Holmes was standing surprisingly close to Lord Garnett.

“Lord Garnett,” Holmes addressed the missing child's father directly for the first time. “Can you tell me when this room was last cleaned?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Lord Garnett sputtered, waving away the last of the steam.

“It was cleaned before you locked the room, was it not?” Holmes asked, refusing to be distracted by Lord Garnett's outrage.

“Of course,” Lord Garnett answered.

“Naturally.” Holmes turned to me and explained. “It would make little sense to lock the servants out of the drawing room if it had not already been tidied. And as the staff was unaware of the nature of his Lordship's souvenirs, it follows the skulls were closed up in that trunk. Correct?”

Lord Garnett's complexion changed to an unhealthy ruddy colour as he replied to Holmes. “Who the devil do you think you are, coming into my house and - “

“Oh, I am sorry,” Holmes apologised, much to Lord Garnett's surprise. “I thought I had introduced myself. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and your son's life depends on me.”

Holmes's reply had a profound effect on Lord Garnett. The man's bluster seemed to disappear, his ruddy complexion paled in horror, and he reached for a nearby chair to steady himself.

“The skulls were closed up in that trunk, correct?” Holmes repeated his question.

“Yes,” Lord Garnett answered meekly.

“I see no evidence of the trunk having been locked,” Holmes mused. “Yet it seems likely the skulls were not simply laid inside. There must have been something more.”

“There was,” Lord Garnett agreed. “A bag, I purchased it from a sailor. It was - “

“Forgive me, your Lordship,” Holmes interrupted Lord Garnett dismissively. “I hear your man approaching.”

Just as Holmes predicted, the butler appeared in the room, a slip of paper in his hand.

“You have the address I requested?” Holmes asked.

“I do, sir.”

Detective Cambers, with two of his constables in tow, followed on the butler's heels. The expression on Cambers' open face made it clear he intended to regain control of the situation. Holmes, however, completely ignored the detective.

“Give the address to the constables here,” Holmes instructed the butler. “Gentlemen, you are to go to this address and search the premises for Lord Garnett's missing skulls. Take note of all you see there, with a special eye towards any children you might observe. Find the man and ask to see his certificate. I doubt he has one, despite the law concerning his trade. Regardless of what excuse he provides, take him to Scotland Yard for questioning. If he has the temerity to ask what he is to be charged with, inform him the charge is murder.”

“Murder?” Lord Garnett whispered, his face paling even more. His Lordship staggered against a seat and fell into it.

“Courage, Lord Garnett,” Holmes instructed the missing child's father. “There is still hope. You were about to describe the bag you purchased from the sailor, the one you used to store your net of skulls. If you would be so kind as to share your description with the constables?”

“What?” For a moment Lord Garnett looked confused, and I feared the events of the dreadful day had overtaken his reason. After a moment however, sensing the rapt attention of the constables, Lord Garnett managed to speak in a curiously disconnected, uncharacteristically soft voice.

“The bag? Oh yes, I purchased it from a sailor. It fit quite neatly into the trunk and was made of sealskin. Waterproof, you see, very handy. It opened at one end and I threaded a chain through the grommets so I could lock it with a padlock. I didn't want anyone to look inside. It could give someone quite a fright and I was planning to write a paper. I didn't want to give any of my rivals a chance to examine them. Of course, I lined the inside of the bag with wool. You cannot allow the skulls to get cold, you know, or else the souls of their owners will come back and haunt you.”

Lord Garnett's eyes had grown quite wide as he uttered the last part of this speech, weaving a macabre spell which held the constables, Cambers, the butler, and myself captivated.

Breaking the spell, Holmes proved himself immune to the fascination gripping us. “How charming. Constables, you know your duty. See to it!”

The constables started off, completely oblivious to the hand Detective Constable Cambers' raised to stop them. Or perhaps the constables merely reacted to the more forceful nature of Holmes's authority.

Cambers was, by this time, glaring at Holmes, and I feared a confrontation between the two men was imminent. Holmes must have sensed the Detective Constable's hostility as he suddenly spoke. “Watson, why don't you show the Detective Constable what you discovered at the window?”

Suddenly I found myself the focus of Cambers and Lord Garnett. “Of course, Holmes,” I replied, remembering how Holmes had dismissed the apparent clues as trivial. “I was over here when I noticed - “

“A footprint!” Cambers exclaimed.

“Yes,” I agreed. “And you see there, some dark threads tangled among the rose bushes.

“They certainly weren't there yesterday,” Cambers proclaimed. “Obviously, the footprint was made by the kidnappers.”

“Whoever made the footprint didn't gain entrance into the drawing room,” I observed. “The windows were still secure, and there's no trace of mud in here.”

“Likely they tried the windows and found some other way in,” Cambers judged. “We'll need a closer look.”

Cambers left the room, presumably to go out to the garden and examine the footprint. I turned and was surprised to discover I was once again alone in the room with Lord Garnett. Holmes and the butler had disappeared while I was distracted by Cambers.

“They've gone upstairs,” Lord Garnett informed me. “Your friend said he urgently needed to examine the roof.”

“Whatever for?” I asked.

Lord Garnett simply shrugged. He seemed utterly drained by the experiences of the day. I suspected Holmes's use of the word murder had deeply frightened the man. Wishing I had some comfort to offer, I stood and said simply, “I think I'll join them.”

“Yes,” Lord Garnett agreed. “Perhaps I'll come as well.”

“It might be best if you were to rest.” It was, I reflected, not a very helpful suggestion, but the urge to prescribe rest is deeply ingrained in all physicians.

Lord Garnett shook his head. “I know you mean well,” he said, “but I couldn't rest. What if they found something and I was asleep? No, it would be best if I went somewhere in case I was needed.”

“Then perhaps, before we go, you'll join me for a brandy?” It was all I could think to offer.

“Yes,” Lord Garnett agreed. He stood and went to fetch the drinks from one of the cabinets along the wall. Returning, he passed me a glass with a generous measure of amber liquid in it.

“And to think yesterday my most pressing concern was the missing skulls.” Lord Garnett shook his head and grimaced. “And now your friend seems to think he has found them.”

“Likely he has,” I said. “As I said, he is an extraordinary detective.”

“Do you believe he can find my son?” Lord Garnett asked, unable to look me in the eye as he voiced his deepest wish.

“He will find him,” I assured the man. “Of that I have no doubt.”

Lord Garnett nodded sadly, hearing the unspoken fear in my voice. In truth I had no doubt at all regarding Holmes's ability to locate the child but there was no way of knowing what condition in which we would find the boy.

“Henry is often a difficult child,” Lord Garnett confessed. “Headstrong and quite independent, despite his young age. We've often quarrelled, but I am extremely proud of him. Do you think I will have the chance to tell him so?”

“Honestly, I don't know,” I admitted. “But if anyone can find the boy, it's Sherlock Holmes.”

Nodding, Lord Garnett drained his brandy and set the empty glass on a nearby table. Though I had barely tasted mine, I set my glass next to his. The brandy had done Lord Garnett a world of good, returning some colour to his complexion and easing some of the strain in his determined features.