Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

I looked at Holmes and was thrilled to see on his face that tense expression of exhilaration that indicated that he was hot on the scent. He rose and bowed to our gentlemanly host.

"Baron Nopchka," he said with barely suppressed excitement, "your observations were invaluable."

The Baron's honest face looked both bewildered and encouraged by Holmes' comments. He said: "Have you arrived at some conclusion about the case Mr Holmes? Good news or bad?"

"I have not yet quite concluded my investigations and, in any case, I am bound to report first to Orman Pasha, who commissioned me to look into the matter," said Holmes, "However, I will say to you, Baron, that there is cause for optimism."

We took our leave from the embassy, leaving a considerably puzzled, but to a great extent relieved, Austro-Hungarian nobleman behind us.

We arrived late at Baker Street, with Holmes in an excellent mood. A telegram awaited Holmes; he tore it open and read it aloud: "Prince on way to Constantinople. Ó.P" "Excellent!" cried Holmes, "Our Turkish friend is playing the game."

We consumed a magnificent dinner prepared by Mrs Hudson, during which Holmes refused to speak about the case. When we finished and were sitting by the fire, Holmes smoking his most malodorous pipe, he looked at me with shining eyes and said: "Watson, I intend to commit a felony tonight. Do you still have your service revolver and your jemmy?" I was thrilled; it was

some considerable time since Holmes and I had one of those adventures that temporarily placed us on the wrong side of the law. "Holmes," I said, earnestly, "I'm your man; just give me half an hour to collect them from my rooms."

It was approaching midnight when Holmes and I arrived at Harrington Mews. We made our way stealthily to Number 6 and, as we approached, Holmes whispered in my ear: "Do you have your jemmy to hand Watson." I nodded, and we stole up to the door like burglars. I was about to put my jemmy into action, when I gasped: "Holmes, the door is already open!" Holmes stood still.

"Interesting, Watson, interesting," said Holmes in a whisper, "the night may yet yield many surprises." We entered the house noiselessly. Holmes made his way swiftly but quietly to the study. As we reached the door, we could see light coming through the crack at the bottom. There was a sound as of someone shuffling papers in the room. We stood stock still and listened, when suddenly the shuffling stopped and the gas light was turned off.

"Now, Watson!" said Holmes and we rushed into the room, only to see a dark shadow leap out of the open window and into the yard at the back. "After him, Watson!", shouted Holmes. I rushed to the window and jumped out; I could see my quarry making for the railings, hopping on one leg as though he had injured a foot in his fall. I sped towards him, but tripped over some wood and fell heavily over. When I got to my feet the intruder had gone. I hobbled painfully to the railings, but there was no sign of him to be seen. I returned crestfallen to Holmes.

"It matters little, Watson," he said, when I told him of my failure, "we will make the gentleman's acquaintance in the morning." During my absence Holmes had not been idle, but had gone through the papers on the desk and in the drawers. He was now holding a small scrap of paper up to the light. "There is devilry here,Watson!" he said, his face set and hard, "but it is now time to return to our beds, for there is much to do on the morrow." With that, we made our back to Baker Street and, in my case at least, a night of fitful and troubled sleep.

I awoke the next morning to find Holmes shaking me by the shoulder.

"Wake up Watson! The game is afoot!"

"What o'clock is it, Holmes?" I asked, drowsily.

"Seven, Watson, and breakfast is ready."

I rose, washed and went in to breakfast. Holmes had already had his and was eager to go, so I gobbled my toast and swallowed my tea as quickly as I could and, before many minutes had passed, we were on our way to an address Holmes had given to the driver of our cab.

By contrast with the previous night, Holmes appeared preoccupied rather than excited. I asked: "Have you arrived at a conclusion, Holmes?"

"You know the way I work, Watson, my conclusions will be given when I am ready."

We travelled in silence to our destination, which turned out to be the small building that housed the Greek Consulate. We entered the building and asked to see the Consul, Mr Leonticles, and were immediately admitted to the Consul's office.

Mr George Leonticles, the Greek Consul, was a short man with jet-black hair, a pale face and a fastidious pointed goatee beard and waxed moustache. He was suave and courteous in his manner, but seemed ill at ease. He rose stiffly and invited us to sit down.

"How may I help you, gentlemen?", he asked.

"Mr Leonticles, my name is Sherlock Holmes and I have been commissioned to look into the murder of the late Mr Simeonov," replied Holmes, "It would materially aid me in my investigation if you would answer a few questions relating to that mystery."

Mr Leonticles smoothed his beard and moustache before replying. "I would be happy to offer any assistance, Mr Holmes, but I regret to say that I know little that would be of interest to you. "

"Nevertheless, you may well be able to help clarify a few points," said Holmes, "for example, could you tell me where you were when you heard the shot that killed Mr Simeonov?"

"I was in my room."

"Your room is two doors down from Simeonov's, and yet when Lord Eversden and Orman Pasha arrived, they found Colonel Yusufoglu kneeling beside the body, while you stood some distance away. Why did you not rush to his assistance?"

"Yusufoglu's room was between mine and Simeonov's and he was able to reach him first," replied Leonticles, beads of perspiration beginning to appear on his forehead.

"Was the colonel in his room when the shot was fired?" asked Holmes.

"I think so. When I came out into the corridor he was already there, kneeling beside Simeonov."

"Mr Leonticles," asked Sherlock Holmes, bluntly, "did Colonel Yusufoglu kill Mr Simeonov?"

"No!"

"You seem remarkably sure of that. How can you know that he did not kill Simeonov?"

"Colonel Yusufoglu is not capable of murder. I have – I am sure he did not kill him."

"And yet Count Balinsky seems certain that the colonel is the murderer."

"Count Balinsky is mistaken," said the Consul firmly.

"Thank you, Mr Leonticles," said Holmes, suddenly, and rose to leave the room. As we reached the door, Holmes stopped to examine a small Greek statuette on a table beside the window.

"I have a great interest in the art of the Ancient Greeks. Is this not a reproduction of Aphrodite?" he asked the Consul, with a charming smile upon his face.

"No, no," replied our host, "coming round his desk, limping slightly as he came, and pointing to another sculpture on a table on the other side of the room, "this is Aphrodite." "Of course," said Holmes. "Thank you again, Mr Leonticles, we will take no more of your valuable time."

"We progress, Watson," said Holmes, as we sat in the cab on our way to Belgrave Square, "You noticed his limp?"

I had, indeed, noticed it. "Very similar to mine, Holmes, after I tripped over the pile of wood at Harrington Mews," I said, "Why did you not confront him with it?"

"There was no need," replied Holmes, "he knew it."

"But might he not flee the country, now that he knows you suspect him of breaking into the Bulgarian's house?" I asked.

"No, Watson," replied Holmes, with a smile, "I think not."

We arrived at the Turkish Embassy and were admitted by a porter who reminded me of the genie from Aladdin's lamp. He wore red boots with upturned toes, black baggy trousers and a green and highly ornate tunic. He accepted Holmes's card without a word and went to deliver it to Orman Pasha. A few minutes later, a sombre fellow in a suit and a fez came and escorted us to the Pasha's room.