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

‘But why an American?’

‘The Fulham dice, Munro. They are loaded to always show up a seven. If you were familiar with the game of craps, which is highly popular in America, not only in their saloons, but in the alleys and back streets of towns and cities from coast to coast, then you would know that a seven can both win a game and at other times lose it. A dexterous dice-sharper can substitute a pair of dice at an instant. This man was playing with O’Donohue and that means that O’Donohue was used to playing craps with him. He probably regularly cheated him.’

‘So, this American discovered that he had been duped, probably over many games and literally stuffed the dice down his throat. I see.’

‘But do you see, Munro? I bring your attention back to the ring. To the rings they were both wearing on the fifth fingers of their left hands. I would be very surprised if our American does not have exactly the same design on his ring.’

‘A pentagram? You mean there could be something to do with the satanic arts?’

‘Perhaps, but I think not. However, I do think that they were both members of a secret organisation.’

‘You mean Moriarty’s gang?’

‘No, to my knowledge, Moriarty is neither particularly religious nor superstitious. I think that they are both members of an anarchist group, entirely independent of Professor Moriarty.’

‘Anarchists? With what aim?’

‘Total disruption of society. One thing I think is likely, the dynamite was part of a consignment, which suggests that they planned to steal from Moriarty. Or rather, O’Donohue was planning to help the American steal the consignment, but the American decided to silence O’Donohue. They may have been gambling companions, but silencing the professor’s quartermaster could be a way of completely covering his tracks. This all implies that this man has a hot temper and he is totally ruthless.’

Munro stroked his moustache pensively. ‘So what now, Mr Holmes?’

‘I think it is time for you to retire to your home. It is late, but, for me, I have thinking to do. It is quite a three-pipe problem and I would like now to be on my own. There is no more to be done this evening.’

Professor Moriarty was wakened at five o’clock in the morning by Joshua.

‘My apologies, Professor. I thought it best to tell you straight away that young Decker, our urchin who runs with Sherlock Holmes’s irregulars is here. He and his fellows have been given a task by that meddlesome Holmes. It concerns the O’Donohue murder.’

The professor slid out of bed and donned the dressing gown that his elderly manservant held in readiness for him. ‘So it looks as if the great detective is somehow on the case. Have our people discovered anything yet?’

‘They are checking out Rossetti’s gang. It all points to them, according to Jack Lonsdale at the Fusilier’s Club.’ He sighed, then: ‘But I am afraid that the dynamite consignment has gone. Does that mean you will be moving against Rossetti?’

‘Not until I am ready. In the meanwhile I will listen to what young Decker has to say and I will give him instructions. Bring him to my study.’

Inspector Munro received the telegram from Sherlock Holmes in the early afternoon.

Munro, bring six men in plain clothes all wearing black to St Barnabus Church, Bethnal Green. Meet me on Roman Road at 3 p.m.

S.H.

A thick fog had fallen when Munro and his men met Sherlock Holmes in the cemetery of St Barnabus Church.

‘You see, Munro,’ said Holmes. ‘The window in the shape of a pentagram! Why the architect chose it has always been a mystery, but this is the reason for the pentagram on the rings of O’Donohue and the American. I am sure that you will find that this church was built with foreign money.’

‘We will find out in due course, Mr Holmes. But did your irregulars track your American here?’

‘They did, as I had every confidence that they would. He is Irish-American and he happens to be the vicar, the Reverend Elliot Sanderson, from Chicago. He is taking a service this afternoon at three thirty, which is going to be attended by the Prime Minister Lord Salisbury and almost all of his cabinet. You remember that Collingwood, the MP for Stepney, died suddenly last week.’

‘Shall we go in now?’

‘No, I am going inside alone. Give me five minutes then come in, prepared to make your arrest.’

Sherlock Holmes entered the church alone and Munro and his men waited anxiously, alert to move quickly.

After almost exactly four minutes, there came the sound of two shots from inside the church. Munro and his men rushed in to find Sherlock Holmes half collapsed on the front pew clutching his left arm, a heavy revolver still clenched in his right hand.

On the floor, sprawled out, was the body of a clergyman. He too had a smoking gun in his right hand, but whereas Holmes was merely wounded, the vicar was dead with a bullet hole between his eyes and a rapidly enlarging pool of blood about his head. His vestments were already soaked crimson.

Upon his outstretched left hand a signet ring with a pentagram symbol was plainly visible.

‘You will find dynamite with concealed wires leading to one of H. Julius Smith’s diabolically clever dynamo blasting machines behind the pulpit. I disabled the plunger and disconnected the wires, much to the Reverend Elliot Sanderson’s displeasure.’

‘You shouldn’t have tackled him alone, Mr Holmes,’ Munro remonstrated.

‘One man could slip in and have a chance of upsetting his scheme. Had a flock of police officers, albeit disguised as mourners, then I fear the outcome could have been worse. I think the Reverend of the Pentagram Society intended to martyr himself when he murdered the prime minister and the cabinet and everyone else who attended the funeral. As it was, he chose to play dice one last time when he accosted me.’

He smiled as he raised his revolver. ‘As you can see, I play with loaded dice, too.’

Then the great detective fainted.

Two days later, Sherlock Holmes was the talk of London and beyond. The conspiracy to murder the prime minister and his government by the anarchist group known as the Pentagram Society, a title given them by the sleuth himself, had fired the public imagination.

After hospital treatment of the flesh wound to his left arm, Holmes had returned to Baker Street where he had been inundated with telegrams and letters from well-wishers, a visit from Lord Salisbury himself and talk of a knighthood.

All of this Holmes greeted with his usual private disdain and with his public display of modesty. Yet he was pleased to see Inspector Munro when he dropped in.

‘Ah, Alistair – I trust that on this occasion you will not object to my use of your Christian name; it seems apt after our handling of this unholy affair by the anarchist Pentagram Society.’

‘Of course, Mr Holmes, that is perfectly in order. But, if you don’t mind, I will still use your title. That too seems only right, although I heard that it may soon be Sir Sherlock Holmes.’

Holmes adjusted the sling that he was wearing over his old grey dressing gown and laughed. ‘As you wish, Alistair. Yet I am sure that after this coup you yourself will soon be advancing in rank at Scotland Yard. Will you take a brandy?’

‘I’d prefer a whisky and soda if you don’t mind, Mr Holmes.’

‘Of course. And I shall join you. Make yourself comfortable by the fire while I pour them. It may take me a moment longer to operate the gasogene with one hand.’

‘Will you be getting Dr Watson to chronicle this case, sir?’

‘In due course, after a period of time to let it slip somewhat from the public mind.’

‘What will you call it, Mr Holmes?’

‘I thought “The Case of the Crooked Dice” or perhaps “The Case of the Fulham Strangler”.’