Michael Kurland - Professor Moriarty Omnibus

"I still don't see it, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade said. "The French coast must be five hundred miles from here."

"What is that to someone being wafted along by the currents of the upper atmosphere?" Holmes asked. "I tell you, Lestrade, Moriarty is escaping us!"

"But why?" Lestrade persisted. "We have nothing against him."

"Ah, but he doesn't know that," Holmes said. "The guilty flee when no man pursueth.' "

"That'd be ther wicked," Constable Wiggs said over his shoulder. "Ther wicked flee when no man pursueth: but ther righteous are bold as a lion.' Proverbs."

Holmes turned to glare at the imperturbable Wiggs. "Thank you, Constable," he said.

The upper tip of the sun disappeared behind a low-lying hill to the southwest. "It will be pitch-dark in twenty minutes," Lestrade said. "How is this balloon going to navigate in the dark?"

"It will be in the hands of the man who penned The Dynamics of an Asteroid. Do you really think that determining in which direction the French coast lies will be too much for him?"

"I suppose not," Lestrade said.

"Can't we go any faster?" Holmes demanded. "It will be dark before we get there!"

"Yer said transportation fer fifteen," Constable Wiggs said. "Yer didn't say nothin' about racin'."

"Confound it, man, I could run faster than this," Holmes said.

"That yer could," Wiggs agreed.

"Then I shall!" Holmes cried, and he leaped off the side of the wagon and rapidly disappeared down the road ahead.

Over the next twenty minutes the last of the daylight gradually dimmed and vanished. The horses, undeterred by the dark, continued stoically plodding along down the center of the dirt road.

About ten minutes after the last of the twilight had disappeared they came upon Holmes standing in the middle of the road waiting for them. "Thank God you're in time," he said. "Moriarty and his men are right over that hill. The whole lawn is lit up bright as midday with electrical lighting. There is a great black balloon tied down in the center of the lawn, and Professor Moriarty is just about ready to ascend, as far as I can tell. A crowd of locals with picnic baskets have gathered at the far end of the lawn, where the road curves about, and they are sitting there, gnawing on chicken bones and watching the spectacle. I tell you, Lestrade, that man has more gall than the Prince of Wales, assembling a crowd to watch his getaway. We must hurry!"

Lestrade climbed down from the wagon and gathered his men about him. "We are at your orders, Mr. Holmes," he said.

"There is no time for finesse," Holmes said. "We will go straight over the hill and apprehend Moriarty and all of his henchmen. He must not get away in that balloon. And unless I miss my guess, the evidence of his crimes will be in the balloon with him. Are you armed?"

"As you instructed," Lestrade said, "we checked out five handguns before we left. I have given them to the five men who can account themselves best with them."

"That should be sufficient," Holmes said. "I expect that we have a large enough force so that there will be little resistance. Come now, we must arrive before the balloon goes up."

Lestrade and his men struggled up the hill in an irregular line behind Holmes. As they worked their way up they could see the glow of yellowish light that spilled over from the far side. At the top of the hill, beside an irregular jumble of massive stones that were the remains of some Neolithic temple, Holmes gathered his troop. A few hundred yards ahead of them, down a shallow, brush-covered slope, lay the wide expanse of flat, well-rolled land that was the east lawn. Beyond that, almost invisible past the illuminating circle of electrical lights, sat the massive east wing of the manor house. Built over two hundred years before of large blocks of the native stone, this was the original house, which had been added to over the centuries by generations of Sigersons until it represented less than a third of the present structure.

At the back of the lawn, toward the house, two low sheds had been erected. One housed the electrical generating plant, to judge by the cluster of wires coming out of the top and leading to the array of electrical lights strung on the surrounding trees and poles. The other held some sort of machinery. A pair of long hoses emanating from the second shed curled across the lawn to the center, where, held to the earth by several thick cables, floated the giant aerostat. The device consisted of three great gas bags separated by a large metal ring, in which was suspended a fabric-covered gondola. The whole was painted black, and it rose perhaps ten stories in the air. The top disappeared into the dark sky above the electrical lights, and was visible only as an inky presence, blotting out the stars.

Even as they watched, the hoses from the shed were being disconnected from the couplings to the gas bags. Suddenly two flares, like great skyrockets, shot up into the night, leaving a stream of white light behind them as they climbed.

"Look at that!" Lestrade exclaimed. "It must be some sort of signal."

"Quickly!" Holmes cried. "There's no time to lose!" Leaping up, he led his little force scurrying and sliding down the hill to the lawn below. As they reached the edge of the lawn two of the tethering cables fell away and the balloon flew skyward, trailing a third cable below it like an umbilical cord.

"There he goes!" Holmes yelled, running forward like a demented man to reach the gondola before it was too high. "We must stop him!" He leaped for the bottom of the gondola and managed to grab it with his fingers, but there was nothing to cling to and he fell away.

"Stop! Stop!" the constabulary yelled, racing across the lawn. One of them drew his pistol and fired at the ascending balloon.

"Come back down here!" another one yelled, stopping to take aim at the rapidly rising gondola, "Come back in the name of the law!"

Once the shooting had started it was contagious, and within seconds a fusillade of small-arms fire was directed at the great black object, which was rapidly disappearing into the great star-filled bowl of the night sky. Two of the policemen reached the one cable which, rising from layers of coils on the ground, was still attached to the ascending gondola. One of them leaped for it and was fifteen feet in the air before, realizing the folly of what he was doing, he let go and fell to the ground.

Moriarty's men dived for cover under whatever was available as this strange armed band appeared in their midst and began shooting at their precious aerostat. The locals, who were mostly sitting together on the side of the lawn nearest the road, began shrieking and howling. Most of them ran off into the night, but a few sat stolidly watching, perhaps suspecting that this was all part of the entertainment.

Gradually the shooting and yelling died away, until, within two minutes, the small group of Scotland Yard men were clustered silently in the middle of the lawn together, staring at the sky.

-

"What is the meaning of all this?" a firm, didactic voice suddenly asked from close behind them. "Inspector Lestrade, have you taken leave of your senses?"

Lestrade jerked around like a man on a string and gaped at the tall, dark-clad figure. "Professor Moriarty!" he gasped.

"I refuse to believe that you didn't expect to find me here," Moriarty said. "Now, what exactly is the meaning of this charade?"

"I — we — thought you were in that balloon."

"I see," Moriarty said. "Anytime you see an aerostat ascending into the sky, you naturally assume that I am aboard. And this, of course, explains why you were shooting at it."

"Ah, well, not precisely—"

Sherlock Holmes came striding toward them across the lawn. "Moriarty!" he yelled.

"Holmes!" Moriarty said, turning and shaking his fist at him. "Now I understand. This moronic escapade was your doing."