The Scroll of the Dead by David Stuart Davies

Author:David Stuart Davies [Davies, David Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781845869126
Publisher: Titan

‘What exactly is this all about, Mr Holmes?’ enquired Hardcastle in a peevish manner, once we were out in the street. ‘I had hoped to get home to the wife for a quiet supper together tonight.’

‘I am sorry if I am responsible for rocking the boat of domestic bliss, Inspector, but I thought you would like to be present when two of the culprits involved in the Museum theft were apprehended,’ replied my friend, with more than a hint of smugness in his voice.

Hardcastle tried to contain his surprise by coughing into his handkerchief. ‘That’s quick, even by your standards,’ he said gruffly.

‘You have your darbies with you?’

‘I have. And a warrant as requested. But who is it we’ll be nabbing?’

‘All will be revealed in due course. Now, gentleman, we are about to enter the Conway Hotel. We shall spilt up and seat ourselves discreetly in the lobby. Read a newspaper or examine a menu, anything to blend into the background. Keep your eye on the reception desk and watch for my signal to move.’

The Conway was a modest hotel situated within half a mile of Charing Cross Station. Because of its close proximity to the railway, it was popular with visiting businessmen and theatricals. I had considered taking a room here myself when I first returned from India, but the rates had proved too expensive for a fellow with an income of but eleven shillings and sixpence a day.

We entered separately. The lobby was quite busy and there were very few seats available. I positioned myself by a pillar and picked up a copy of The Westminster Gazette, while Hardcastle seated himself behind a potted palm. Holmes sat at the writing desk apparently composing a letter. He was enjoying the moment, the subterfuge, and using us, the Scotland Yarder and myself, as puppets in his grand plan. Of course, I had some inkling of what was afoot, but certainly not the full details or ramifications of Holmes’ plot. I comforted myself with this thought, for I knew that Hardcastle was completely in the dark. Holmes delighted in keeping the official police ignorant of events until the moment when he could surprise them with his brilliance.

Little did I know at the time that, while we waited and watched, we were also being watched. Somewhere in the shady recesses of the foyer, a tall blond-haired man with a plump white face and fiercely cruel eyes kept his own vigil while he smoked a series of Russian cigarettes. Like a Grand Master, he knew that, despite his protagonists’ ruses, he was still in charge of the board.

* * *

We had not long to wait. Some twenty minutes after our arrival, as the crush in the lobby began to thin out, a young woman in a state of some agitation entered the hotel and hurried to the reception desk. From my vantage point, it was easy for me to observe that her face was flushed, while her brown eyes were wide with concern, and a thin sheen of perspiration covered her brow.

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