Die Again, Mr. Holmes: A Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mystery (The Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mysteries Book 8) by Anna Elliott & Charles Veley

Author:Anna Elliott & Charles Veley [Elliott, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Wilton Press
Published: 2019-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

40. A CALL FOR HELP

Lincolnshire

LUCY

“Do you think Mr. Ming really might have killed Lord Lynley?” Becky asked.

I had collected her from the Slades’ cottage, and now we were back at the hotel, climbing the stairs to our room. “I’m honestly not sure. I don’t think he could have actually committed the murder—if it was murder, that is. He’s old and crippled. A man of Lord Lynley’s size and strength could have overpowered him easily.”

I couldn’t, though, overlook the possibility that Mr. Ming could have ordered Kai-chen to carry out the killing. But then, Kai-chen’s anxiety for Alice and his assertion that Lord Lynley might know what had happened to her had rung true.

We stepped out of the stairwell and onto the second floor. The plushly-carpeted corridor was as deserted as before, without even Bill’s uniformed figure in sight.

I glanced down at Becky. Ordinarily—even though she had agreed to have me speak to Mr. Ming on my own—she would have been full of indignation at having missed the interview, and peppered me with questions.

Now, though, her little eyebrows were knitted together, and she looked as though she was barely listening to my answers.

“Are you thinking about Mrs. Slade?” As we’d left, Mrs. Slade had begged Becky to come back and visit her again.

But Becky shook her head. “No.” She twitched her shoulders, then ran the few steps ahead to the door of our room.

I sighed and followed—though I forgot to worry about Becky at the sight of the two yellow envelopes that had been pushed under the door.

“Telegrams!” Becky pounced on them, sounding much more like herself. “Maybe one of them is from Jack!” She kept hold of one and handed me the other. “Here, I’ll open one and you open one!”

I started to tear open the flap on mine, but Becky was first.

“It is from Jack!” She scanned the words quickly. “He says everything is all right, but Prince misses me, and—”

I froze, the rest of what Becky was saying washing past me without my absorbing any of the words.

I had opened my own telegraph message, and the relief I had felt at finally hearing from Jack evaporated.

This telegram was signed, John H. Watson, and the message read:

Lucy. Come at once, I beg you. Holmes kidnapped.

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