Michael Kurland - Professor Moriarty Omnibus

Barnett stared out the window at the passing London scene. He had several disquieting notions to consider.

"You're right," Moriarty said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "I am a criminal. Does this distress you?"

"I'm not sure," Barnett said. "I haven't really…" He looked up in astonishment. "How the devil did you know what I was thinking."

Moriarty chuckled dryly. "My attention returned from the abstruse world of mathematics to the interior of this growler," he said, "to find you staring out the window. Then you glanced surreptitiously at Tolliver several times and back out the window. As we were passing Newgate Prison at the time, it was not hard to surmise your thoughts — at least in their general outline. The process of association is almost unavoidable, I have found. Tolliver has recently told you of his criminal background, and the sight of Newgate reminded you of this."

"I recall something like that going through my head," Barnett admitted.

"Then you looked from Tolliver to me, glanced back out the window, stared at your feet, and shuddered slightly. You were considering the possibility of your new association putting you back behind stone walls. I confess that for a second I thought it might be merely a memory of Stamboul, but the shudder was too prolonged for that — so you were clearly viewing a return to the life of a felon. Therefore, you are afraid that your new employment might meet with disfavor in the eyes of the authorities. You have decided, or perhaps deduced, that I am engaged in illegal activities — that I am a criminal."

Barnett leaned back in the leather seat and stared at Moriarty. "What a weak chain of inference!" he said.

"It's hard, almost impossible, properly to verbalize the complicated and complex chain of interrelated data that allows a genius to arrive at the correct inductive answer," Moriarty said. "Especially in human relationships. The tilt of a head, the twist of a knee, the inclination of the elbows, and a thousand other factors are analyzed by the unconscious brain without ever coming fully to conscious attention. The attempt to describe it is doomed to suffer from excessive simplification and generalization. The test, therefore, is in the accuracy of the observation. Did I pass that test?"

Barnett nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I will admit it; that is what I was thinking. Although you will excuse me if I continue to consider it as mostly a lucky guess."

Moriarty smiled. "In science," he said, "the test of validity is reproduceability. Keep that in mind, Barnett, as we march into the future together."

-

The occupants of the four-wheeler remained silent for several minutes. Then Moriarty said, "Now about my, ah, criminal activities. Do you regret accepting employment with a criminal?"

"I don't know, Professor. There are crimes, and then there are crimes."

"A brilliant observation," Moriarty commented. "Am I to understand by this that there are some crimes you would condone and others you would find opprobrious?"

"I think that's true of everyone," Barnett said.

"Not so!" Moriarty said. "Most individuals in our enlightened society would neither commit nor condone any crime. They would cheerfully allow a child of twelve to starve to death working twelve hours a day over a shuttle-loom for a shilling a week; but then that is not a crime." He raised his hand. "But just let — Wait a second! What's that?"

"What?" Barnett asked, peering around.

"Do you hear that?"

"I hear nothing wrong," Barnett said, listening intently. "As a matter of fact, I can't hear anything over the horse's hooves."

"Indeed!" Moriarty said. "And the horse has just gone over wooden planking, such as is installed in the street to cover a temporary excavation for sewer lines and the like." He tried the door handle. "And, as there is no such excavation on the direct route to Russell Square, I deduce we have taken the wrong turning. We are now on Grey's Inn Road, I believe."

"Perhaps the jarvey knows a shortcut," the Mummer suggested, from his corner of the four-wheeler.

"And perhaps he's fixed the door handles so we won't fall out and hurt ourselves," Moriarty said.

"How's that?" the Mummer said. He tried the handle on his side and found it immoveable. "Why, that bloody barsted," he said, his voice raised in indignation. "What's the name of 'is game anyway?"

"Now, now, Mummer," Moriarty said, "don't lose your aitches; it's taken you long enough to acquire them."

"What's happening?" Barnett asked. "Won't the doors open?"

"They won't. And what's happening is that we're being abducted," Moriarty said, "like in one of the popular novels. Although I don't believe your virtue is in any danger." He wiggled a finger at Tolliver. "I thought I warned you about taking the first cab in the rank."

"Wasn't any rank," the Mummer said. "The growler was proceeding down the bloody street and I hailed him."

"Indeed," Moriarty said. "How convenient." He rapped on the roof of the four-wheeler with his stick. "Cabby!" he called. There was no response. Barnett wondered whether he had expected one.

Moriarty leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin on his hands, which were laced over the ivory handle of his stick. "This seems inane," he said. "They surely can't expect us to just sit here until the carriage arrives at some secret destination. My first inclination is to do just that, to learn who we are dealing with. But our mysterious adversaries will surely try to do away with us, growler and all, at the first opportunity. I'd suggest we exit from this clarence cab lockbox as expeditiously as possible. Mummer, remove that window and try the outside knob."

"It don't roll down, Professor," the Mummer said.

"I didn't suppose it would," the professor said. "Break the glass!"

The Mummer took a cosh from his belt and broke the glass out of the window on his side of the four-wheeler, while Moriarty used his stick to do the same on the other side.

"It don't open from the outside neither," the Mummer called.

"Remove the rest of the glass," Moriarty said, "and get out the window. Fast!"

There were a couple of thumping noises from overhead, and Barnett saw the cabby swing off his seat and drop to the street, where he fell, quickly regained his feet, and disappeared from view as the four-wheeler continued to move on at an accelerated pace.

"Whatever's going to happen is going to happen now," Barnett cried. "The jarvey's just left us."

The cab jounced and clattered down the street, lurching madly from side to side as the tempo of the horse's gait changed from a placid trot to a frenetic gallop.

"I rather think the jarvey did something to annoy our steed as a parting gesture," Moriarty said, knocking the remaining shards of glass out of the window on his side. "Thus enhancing an already interesting experience. Mr. Barnett, if you would make your way to the street through this window…"

Barnett looked out at the pavement, which was passing under the wheels of the cab at a dizzying speed. Then he glanced across the cab at Tolliver, who was already most of the way out of the window on his side. He shrugged. "This will ruin my suit," he said. Grabbing the leather strap above the door, he swung his legs out the window, twisted through, and dropped.

The cab swerved just as he let go, and he fell heavily on his side and slid across the cobblestones. A second later, Moriarty followed him out the window, hitting the ground feet-first, and then rolling forward in the baritsu manner to absorb the impact before coming neatly to his feet again.

The cab, now bouncing and clattering wildly behind an increasingly frenzied horse, barely missed a carter's wagon to its left and then careened into a lamppost on the right. Bouncing off the lamppost, it twisted over until it was riding on just two wheels. The traces gave way under the twisting force, and the horse, suddenly freed, raced off down the street. The four-wheeler righted itself again, now heading directly toward a bank on the corner. As it reached the curb, it exploded in a cloud of black smoke, sending wood and iron fragments hurtling through the air to clatter against the walls and breaking windows up and down the block. Barnett instinctively covered his face with his arms, but miraculously none of the fragments touched him.