Maxim Jakubowski - The Mammoth Book of the Adventures of Professor Moriarty

He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I spoke over him. ‘You are, no doubt, wondering how I myself achieved an invitation. Indeed, it is a question I have pondered. I believe it could be something to do with the desire of the host to add some culture to the affair; several singers, ballerinas, pianists – even a painter if the rumours I have heard are right – have been invited to attend. I fear I am primarily intended to be decorative.’

I did not mention the letters I owned from the prince, begging me to attend the party as the last chance he would have to see his ‘true fair Rosalind ’ before the machinations of political marriage took him. I had barely considered the letters myself, and intended to take up his invitation in order to enjoy myself.

‘So you see, Professor, it is not merely a question of behaving appropriately to the occasion. It is a question of clearly belonging. ’

‘You will be allowed to bring a guest, as you have an invitation,’ he said, as if I had never spoken. ‘Surely nobody will question your choice.’

‘Sir!’ I said. ‘As a gift to the prince, the king has commissioned the composition of a new dance. All guests will be dancing the Modjeska Waltz. You could stumble once and give the game away.’

‘What is the Modjeska Waltz?’ he said.

‘ Ah ,’ I said. ‘It is something that was not included in the society pages so as to weed out those who might attend without permission. It is a dance that the guests will know. I myself know enough of it to pass, but only because I am surrounded by chorus girls for my work at the opera. They are all experts in the newest society dances and take pride in a comprehensive knowledge of the newest fashions. I can only imagine who is teaching the other decorative attendees.’

‘Most interesting,’ he said (and it was truly as if he did not know), ‘and the Modjeska Waltz will be a partner-changing dance, I suppose, in order to allow the illusion of social mingling without forcing the grander guests present to deign in actual conversation with the lower orders?’

I nodded, assuming that he regularly read the society pages as another point of professorial eccentricity.

‘Fascinating. And who is Modjeska?’ he asked.

‘Oh, some snippet of an actress or a singer of some sort, that the prince feels pertinent to honour with a tune or two,’ I said, and I sniffed to show that I had no interest in this matter.

‘Very well,’ said the Professor. ‘In any case, you consider this to be a barrier to my entering the ball?’

‘I do indeed’.

He thought for another moment. I was considering buttering a scone when he changed tack.

‘You are aware of my thesis, The Dynamics of an Asteroid ?’ said Moriarty.

I gave him a look that said, I am not. I consider it irrelevant whether or not I really knew.

‘It is my most renowned monograph,’ said the professor, and I guessed that he was not as confident as his words suggested. It was a forced boast.

‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘I suppose your other writing is concerned with too niche and obscure a subject to warrant a large audience.’

‘It is composed of such pure mathematics that no man can refute it!’ he cried, knocking over his Earl Grey. A starchedapron’d whelp ran to the table to wipe the mess.

‘I am sure,’ I said, once the whelp had departed, ‘that your thesis is highly renowned in the circles of those who speak, as you say, pure mathematics. However, my primary languages are those of the arts, Professor, and I cannot see why you wish to speak with me.’

Moriarty sighed, and commenced the story anew.

‘Did you read in the newspapers last year, of the discovery of a fragment of asteroid in the Netherlands?’

‘I cannot say it stuck in my mind, if I did,’ I said. (And that was true; the latest scientific discoveries of the age were of some passing novelty interest, but of little use to me in any greater capacity.)

‘Well, the news struck me with great force. For my experiments, it is vital that I have access to the stone.’

‘It is for the Dowager Duchess of Croome,’ I said, seeing now that his interest in the ball was nothing to do with the society pages. ‘The prince has had the stone embedded in a brooch, which he will present to her at the ball.’

‘It is not for the Duchess of Croome.’ said Moriarty. I was put in mind of a child denied a sugar mouse.

‘You seek to contradict royalty?’ I said. ‘Who – or what – do you suggest the stone is for?’

‘It is for Mathematics!’ he cried, and beat his fist upon the table so that the china rattled. I saw several whelps start at the sound and wonder if they would be required to mop up a further spillage.

Moriarty had, perhaps, even startled himself with his violence, and he spoke next with a more controlled voice. ‘I need entrance to the ball,’ he said. ‘You are invited.’

‘I am,’ I said.

‘I need entrance. I need to get close enough to the duchess to acquire the brooch. It is no use sending an agent in for this, I must do it myself.’ I raised an eyebrow, and he explained: ‘It is a matter of mathematics. I act in my professorial role; I do not propose to become a criminal.’

‘You propose to steal.’

‘It is the KING OF B— who has stolen!’ he cried, and this time I feared for the teapot. ‘Stolen a prime specimen from under the very eyes of Science! To reduce such a discovery of such importance to the modern age to a piece of … a piece of costume jewellery … !’

I let the jibe at costumes stand, and waited.

‘I need to get to the ball, Miss Adler, and I need to remain there long enough to acquire the brooch. I need to appear to belong at the ball. Miss Adler, I need to know the Modjeska Waltz.’

I waited for more, but he sat back, sipped his refilled cup, and waited.

Finally, the penny-farthing dropped. ‘Professor Moriarty,’ I said, ‘are you asking me for … dancing lessons ?’

For the first time in this escapade – and, I wonder now, perhaps the only time – Moriarty seemed truly embarrassed. He pushed scone crumbs around his plate. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if that is what it will take to get me close enough to acquire the stone, then that is what it will take.’

I let him suffer as I pondered this.

‘I must say, I do rather fancy the challenge,’ I said. ‘But first you must tell me, Professor. You claim to wish to accompany me to the dance in order to examine a brooch. Such a robbery would be tantamount to high treason; you do not seem to think I would quail at this. There is social danger, even if we are not caught in our designs, in our attending this event. There are better dancers than I, who would be able to instruct you in the Modjeska Waltz. And so I ask you, Professor Moriarty – why have you come to me?’

Now the embarrassment faded, and a sharp keenness flashed in the professor’s eyes like a stolen jewel in the wrong place. ‘We are of one mind, Miss Adler.’ He said. ‘Or rather, we have both bested the same mind. I can think of nobody I would rather trust with such an important mission of personal and professional pride.’

‘I know who you are thinking of,’ I said. ‘This is a case, I take it, of “my enemy’s enemy”?’

If I have a fault, it is that, when poetic justice requires it, I am also, sometimes, willing to put personal and professional pride above common sense. We shook hands and agreed on the date of the professor’s first lesson.

‘This is nonsense! Why ever do people do this for fun and frivolity?’

‘That is not for us to question. Let us begin again, Professor. And do try not to move your lips as you count.’