Michael Kurland - Professor Moriarty Omnibus

"How careless of us," Barnett said.

-

At that instant an upstairs door opened and footsteps sounded over their heads. The murmur of voices grew louder.

Moriarty put the whistle to his lips and blew a triple blast. "All right up there!" he yelled. "This is the police. All of you come down with your hands over your heads. Resistance is useless!"

There was a moment of shocked silence from upstairs and then the murmur turned into a babble and the sound of footsteps increased in number, volume, and tempo.

Barnett started opening and slamming doors and shouting official-sounding instructions. "Simmons," he yelled, "take your men around the back! Dwyer, check these rooms out!"

Mr. Maws stomped up the front stairs with the stolid tread of the invincible English policeman. "You are all under arrest," he bellowed in a deep voice. "It is my duty to inform each of you that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Come along quietly, now!"

The milling footsteps upstairs broke into a panicked scurrying, as one of them found the back stairs and reported the fact to the others. A heavy sofa was pushed out into the upstairs hall facing the front staircase, and two men squatted behind it, pointing a brace of long-barreled revolvers at the advancing figure of Mr. Maws.

Mr. Maws dropped as someone's gun went off, and the bullet crashed through a print of Mercy Interceding for the Vanquished, which hung on the wall behind him. Mr. Maws's answering shot smashed into the door frame above the sofa.

There was a hurried whispering from behind the couch, and then a sliding sound, and then all was silent from above. Professor Moriarty climbed the stairs to where Mr. Maws lay and peered amusedly at the couch barrier. "The birds have flown," he said. "And a good thing, too."

Mr. Maws got up and dusted himself off. "Disgraceful!" he said. "I shall have to speak to that porter. I don't believe they clean this stair carpeting at all."

Barnett came up to join them. "Gone?" he asked.

"We have the building to ourselves," Moriarty said. "Except for the porter, and, I hope, Tolliver. You two go look for him. I wish to examine that meeting room and see if our friends left anything of interest in their haste."

"I hope those shots don't bring the real police," Barnett said.

"They may," Moriarty acknowledged. "In which case we are injured innocents. British stoic heroism. Saved a man from kidnappers — if Tolliver is here — but want no reward. After all, we didn't run away." He went up to the landing and boosted himself over the sofa. "But I'd better get a look at that room before they arrive."

Mr. Maws searched the rooms on the floor they were on, while Barnett climbed the last flight to the top floor and checked those rooms out. It was Barnett who found Tolliver. The third door he pushed open led to a lumber room full of disused furniture, Tolliver was securely trussed up and tied to a bed frame which rested against the far wall. Barnett cut the ropes with his pocketknife and released the brave little man.

"I heard the commotion when you arrived," Tolliver said. "What happened? If I might ask." He sat on a trunk and rubbed his arms briskly. "My hands are coming all over pins and needles," he explained. "They tied me a bit tight."

"It's good to see you, Mummer," Barnett said. "But you're going to have to become a bit more proficient at the art of following people so we don't have to rescue you every time you go out of an evening."

"I like that!" Tolliver said. " 'Ere I am trying to bring a bit of excitement into the lad's life, and 'e's full of reproach. After all, it's not 'im what got trussed up like a capon."

Barnett laughed. "Come on downstairs," he said. "The professor will want to say hello."

Moriarty was on his knees examining the floor in the meeting room when Barnett brought the Mummer down. "Don't touch anything!" he snapped as they entered the room. "I'm not through in here yet."

"You might at least," Barnett said, annoyed at Moriarty's lack of compassion, "tell the Mummer that you're glad to see him."

"Nonsense," Moriarty said, getting up and dusting off the knees of his trousers. "We're here, aren't we?"

"Well, I'm glad you come," Tolliver said. "I was beginning to get a bit concerned as to my future."

Mr. Maws appeared in the doorway. "Afternoon, Tolliver," he said. "Professor, I thought you might be interested to hear that I just glanced out a front window and noticed several large men taking up positions about the house."

"Scotland Yard," the Mummer said.

"Let us hope so," Moriarty said. He sighed. "No doubt they will remember about the back door. Ah, well. There doesn't seem to be anything of interest in this room, unfortunately. And to think, we had a whole room full of them here, and now they're all gone."

"Leaving nothing behind?" Barnett asked.

"Nothing of consuming interest," Moriarty said. "There's that hat" — he pointed—"and that picture, and a few cigarette butts of rather common brand."

Barnett went over to examine the picture, which was tacked to the wall by the door. A full-color portrait of Queen Victoria looking stuffily regal, it had been carefully cut out of a recent edition of the Illustrated London News.

"Well, well," Barnett said. "A patriotic bunch of anarchists. What will they think of next?"

-

The sound of someone pounding violently on the front door came up from below. "Open up!" an authoritarian voice bellowed. "This is the police!"

"Go down and let them in, Mr. Maws," Moriarty directed. But before Mr. Maws had reached the staircase, they heard the front door opening and the heavy feet of policemen treading on the stairs. "The porter!" Moriarty said. "I had quite forgotten about the poor porter. What must he think!"

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a uniformed policeman came into view. " 'Ere now, just you stand still there!" he commanded. "There's three of them — no, four — up here, sir," he called back down the stairs.

"Oh, officer," Moriarty said in the concerned voice of a nervous schoolmaster, "thank God you've come at last. We thought you'd never get here."

That set the policeman back. Confusion reddened his already ruddy ears. "What's all this, then? What's all this?" he said.

"My young friend here," Moriarty said, indicating Tolliver, "has been imprisoned by a bunch of foreigners. We had just contrived to effect his release when you arrived. Surely it was our summons that brought you?"

"I don't know nothing about that, sir," the policeman said. "You'd better wait here, sir."

"We'll just come downstairs," Moriarty said. "There may be more of them on the upper story. Tolliver, take your cap," he added, indicating the piece of headgear hanging from the back of a chair.

"My cap?" said Tolliver. "Oh, yes. Thank you, sir."

They went downstairs, edging past the policemen who were gathering for the assault on the upper story. On the ground floor officers were going from room to room, while the porter stood with three plainclothes Scotland Yard men and Mr. Sherlock Holmes in the front hall.

"Holmes!" Moriarty said. "Whatever brings you to Lambeth? And Inspector Lestrade, I believe."

"Acting on information received," Lestrade said stiffly, "I obtained a warrant to search these premises. I was informed that you might be here, Professor, although, quite frankly, I didn't believe it. I'll have to ask you to explain your presence here, sir."

Holmes pushed Lestrade aside and stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Enough of this, Moriarty!" he snapped. "We have you now. Where is she? The house is completely surrounded, you might as well give it up."

Moriarty shook his head. "Honestly, Holmes, I have no idea what you are talking about. You must have arranged this little raid, so I thank you. I was wondering why they gave up so easily. They must have looked out the window and seen you arriving. But I don't know what brought you."