The Mammoth Book of Sherlock Holmes Abroad by Simon Clark

Author:Simon Clark [Clark, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature, Crime, Mystery & Suspense
ISBN: 9781472118837
Google: yfRGBQAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2014-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

14

Events moved quickly. Within minutes of Sherlock Holmes explaining how Benjamin Priestly had been killed, and why, we arrived at the Scorpion Wells. The youth, Sarim, was lowered by rope into the first well. He found nothing but discarded beer bottles. The second well yielded something else entirely. The professor’s native labourers hauled Sarim up, carrying a leather suitcase coated in grime. Its initials confirmed the owner.

“B. G. P.,” murmured Eden. “Benjamin Gordon Priestly.”

“Mrs Hendrik consigned the case to the well,” Holmes said. “She executed the perfect crime.”

“Hardly,” I remarked. “You discovered how the victim was killed and the identity of his murderer.”

“Perfect in the sense that Mrs Hendrik achieved the result she desired. She saved her granddaughter from the misery of financial ruin, and a scandal that would have destroyed her life.”

“Mr Holmes,” cried the professor. “Over there in the distance! I can see the guards returning. They’ll be here within minutes. Just look at how they’re whipping their horses to a gallop!”

“The time has come to act.” Holmes strode towards the compound gates.

The Grey Guards, who had remained behind, opened the gates for us. They glanced at one another; their questions were clearly present in their glances. What had the detective been doing in the tunnel complex? Why were the native workers returning to the compound earlier than usual? The profound change to the customary routines of the day aroused an obvious suspicion in the guards.

Holmes had decided to show hand. He spoke to the guards in a forceful way. “The game is up, gentlemen. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I arrest you for the crimes of conspiracy and theft.”

One of the guards reached for a pistol in his belt whereupon I fired my gun into the air. The man quickly raised his hands in surrender. Meanwhile, the professor’s native diggers eagerly surged forwards to catch hold of the grey-clad figures before they could deploy their rifles. Soon they were deprived of their weapons.

The voice of Sherlock Holmes rang out: “You will be held under lock and key until government troops arrive. You will then be sent to Baghdad to face trial in a court of law.”

One of the men spoke up. He was red-faced and wore a monocle in his right eye. “Although I will submit to a trial, I shall not be treated like a common scoundrel. These other guards are of the lower orders; therefore, I refuse to share a cell with them. I demand an officer’s quarters.”

“Sir,” began Holmes, “you conspired with your colleagues here, you stole together, and so you shall occupy a cell together.”

The labourers bundled the shouting red-faced man away to be incarcerated in a stockroom with his colleagues. When the two horsemen arrived with orders to kill Holmes and myself (we learned of this later), they, to their surprise, received such a welcome party they will never forget. The professor’s labourers pounced, seized their rifles, and in no time at all the pair joined the other Grey Guards in the cell for a jolly reunion.

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