The Ripper Legacy by David Stuart Davies

Author:David Stuart Davies
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

Twenty

Gaunt and Henshaw sat in the large empty kitchen of the house in Prince’s Square and drank whisky while the inspector gave him details of his meeting with Sherlock Holmes. The room was illuminated by candlelight only, and a meagre fire glowed feebly in the grate.

Henshaw grinned and ran his fingers through the thick unruly thatch of blonde hair, but Gaunt was not smiling.

‘Don’t think for one minute that Holmes was fooled by the watch and my story. He is far too clever for that. I could see the suspicion in his eyes. We made the mistake of underestimating him last night; we must not do the same again.’

Henshaw’s grin faltered. ‘What is your plan then? Do I need to round up the boys again?’

Gaunt shook his head. ‘And have a repeat performance of the Christopher Docks shambles? No. Tonight there will be no mass ambush. Tonight I will kill Mr Sherlock Holmes myself.’

Henshaw’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘And how do you intend to do that?’ he asked nervously.

Gaunt was pleased at the effect his statement had made on his companion and he smiled. ‘I shall shoot him. No matter how many of his young cronies he assembles as a backup, the man himself will be a sitting duck on Waterloo Bridge. And I am a crack shot with a rifle.’ Gaunt raised an imaginary weapon to his shoulder and aimed at the far distance. ‘Bang! One bullet and it’s goodbye, old Sherlock.’

Henshaw chuckled. ‘Very nice.’

Gaunt drained his glass. ‘But first, I think it’s time we delivered the other member of this interfering partnership into the hands of his maker. Doctor Watson is of no use to us now. It will give me great pleasure to put him out of his misery. If you would be so kind as to lend me your pistol.’

‘Of course.’ Henshaw retrieved a small gun from the inside pocket of his greatcoat and handed it to Gaunt.

Gaunt fondled it for a moment and then stood up quickly, pushing the wooden chair back on the flagstones, creating a strange high-pitched squeaking sound that echoed around the chamber. ‘Come on, Henshaw, let’s get the job over with. It’s time we had a little fun.’

Without further words the two men made their way up to the top storey of the house and the locked room where they had imprisoned Watson.

Henshaw retrieved the large key that was attached to his belt, opened the door and stepped into the room. He turned up the gas, filling the room with a rich yellow glow. Watson raised his head and gazed groggily at the intruders.

‘Time to meet your maker now, old boy,’ said Gaunt, holding the pistol aloft.

‘I think not,’ said a voice behind him, and Gaunt felt the cold sensation of a gun barrel pressed hard into the nape of his neck.

‘Drop your weapon,’ said the voice. Gaunt recognised it in an instant. It belonged to Sherlock Holmes. He lowered his arm, but still retained his hold on the gun.

‘Do as I say,’ came the voice again and Gaunt heard the sharp click as Holmes cocked the pistol.

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