Sherlock Holmes and The Adventure of The Winged Ghost by Evan Muller

Author:Evan Muller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sherlock Holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes novels, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes short stories
ISBN: 9781780925905
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2014-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

After we met with Mycroft, we went to Scotland Yard to assemble a small group of officers to apprehend the suspected traitors. Holmes presented Lestrade with a warrant that we had received from Mycroft. “If you have any problems with letting me borrow a few of your officers, please contact the Prime Minister,” Holmes said.

“No problems at all Mr. Holmes,” Lestrade said excitedly.

Holmes and I travelled with the armed police officers to the Tower of London. “Obviously, one of the perpetrators is one of the two Yeoman Warders from the Tower of London. He is either Scott Collins or the Chief Yeoman Warder, James Perkins,” said Holmes as he handed out pictures of the two men to the truncheon-wielding policemen.

As our cart full of police sped through the Tower’s gates, I saw James Perkins exiting the tower. “Stop that man!” I yelled at the blue-clad officers. The police wagon halted, and a few officers threw open the doors of the wagon and jumped out and tacked Perkins.

“Slap on the darbies!” yelled a senior officer. The officers restrained Perkins’ hands with the manacles and brought him to his feet.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked as the officers forcefully placed him in the back of the wagon.

“Where is Scott Collins?” an officer asked as a group of three other policemen surrounded the prisoner. Perkins was thoroughly cowed by the group of intimidating policemen around him. “He’s at his post near in the White Tower,” said Perkins, his hands shaking.

Our group methodically searched room by artefact-filled room until we saw a scarlet-clad Yeoman Warder standing in the middle of the armoury area. It was Scott Collins. I levelled my revolver at him and I commanded him not to move. He struggled against the policemen as he was led through the stone halls of the tower, and he dragged his feet to stall the officers as they attempted to throw him into the awaiting cab.

“It appears we have captured one of the perpetrators, although which one of them is the criminal I do not know,” I said to Holmes.

Holmes paid my remark no heed and just gazed out the window at the nearby Thames. Our carriage went at a slow pace through the crowded streets of London. When we finally arrived at the castle-like Scotland Yard building, we pushed the prisoners out of the carriage and escorted them to the dark, damp holding cell. “I would like to participate in the interrogation of the suspects,” Holmes said to the grey-bearded desk sergeant as he produced the letter from Mycroft.

“The interrogation room is the second door on the left,” said the sergeant reluctantly.

The first suspect that was brought into the white-walled room was Scott Collins. As I observed through the barred door, I saw a burly officer with a large black moustache enter the room. Almost as soon as the officer entered the room, he swiftly kicked out the chair from under Collins and shoved him against the wall. “Where’s the rest of your gang?” the interrogator yelled.

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