Sherlock Holmes 01 Adventures Beyond the Canon by David Marcum

Author:David Marcum [Marcum, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Belanger Books
Published: 2018-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

We bumped along for well over an hour. The growling in my stomach was almost as loud as the clattering of the cart as it trundled along the roadway. I looked across at Holmes, still laying back in a supine pose. He snapped awake when the cart slowed and veered to the right. The sound of the wheels rolling across gravel followed.

Holmes pulled out his revolver and held it at the ready. I hadn’t let mine go, but had to admit my hand was feeling very numb and sore. We traveled along for another five minutes before the cart finally stopped.

We heard the driver drop down from his seat and move away across the gravel. Holmes held up a finger until the noise died down and we appeared to be alone. When all was quiet, we slid across to the edge of the cart and peered out.

The world beyond the cart was an empty space devoid of any movement. I took this as a good sign and quickly escaped the cramped confines. Looking around, I now had a better view of our environs. We had found ourselves in the side courtyard of a large stone mansion, enclosed by a thick stone wall shielding the building from view.

Holmes joined me and motioned towards a small door nearby. We both hurried across the gravel expanse as quietly as possible. Luckily the door was unlocked and we scampered inside.

We found ourselves in the tradesmen’s boot room. There were a number of well-worn and dirty pairs of boots and galoshes strewn about the place. A number of slickers and coats hung upon a rack along one wall. Two doors led away, one near the entrance and one at the rear. I tried the near door and peered through.

“Kitchen,” I whispered to Holmes. He nodded and indicated the rear door. I made my way there and found it led down into the cellar.

“Let us make our way down stairs for the moment until we formulate a plan,” he murmured.

The journey downstairs was quite a desperate affair, as there was no light to guide us. Holmes pulled out a small box of matches and struck one. The feeble light allowed passage but little more, and soon we stood on the firm but damp cellar floor. Holmes looked around and found a candle on the near wall. Lighting it chased a bit of the darkness away and gave us more confidence.

“Where the devil are we, Holmes?” I asked.

“I don’t know for certain, but from my calculations, I believe us to be in a country mansion in the Bezirk Lothringen Department in Alsace-Lorraine,” he said.

“Germany?”

“Yes. Hence the driver’s speech to himself.”

“All right, I’m curious. How did you come by that judgement?”

“To begin with, the farmhouse in which we started was situated about five miles northeast of Nancy, not very far from the German border. Our driver cantered along at approximately ten to fifteen miles an hour. We travelled for just over an hour, so are now up to twenty miles from Nancy.

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