Doctor Who_ All-Consuming Fire - Andy Lane [41]
'Apart from the coincidence in names,' Holmes said, leaning forward and fixing his brother with a hard stare, 'is there any reason why he should be the same Doctor?'
'Well spotted, Sherlock. I do have a reason. You see, a good half of the people on this list are members of the Diogenes!'
Holmes stood bolt upright, and I must admit that I was taken aback. The entry requirements for the Diogenes were notoriously stringent. To find that many of our suspects were regularly gathered together under one roof . . .
'Who?' Holmes asked succinctly.
'If we ignore the Doctor, then Challenger, Baron Maupertuis and. .'
Mycroft trailed off. Holmes nodded. I felt completely left out. There was a name on the list that was being kept from me.
Mycroft Holmes pulled a discreet velvet cord, and within seconds a footman had entered the room. Mycroft murmured a few words, and the man left.
'I have asked Baron Maupertuis to join us, if he is on the premises,' Mycroft informed us.
'What sort of a man is he?' Holmes asked.
'A strange sort,' Mycroft replied. 'Rich - exceptionally so - and a bit of a recluse. He is of Dutch extraction, and owns the Netherlands-Sumatra Company, but has recently become a naturalized British subject. Seems to be trying to be more British than the British: friends with the Prince of Wales, goes to Ascot, you know the form. We suspect that he is mixed up in some shady business deals, which is why we encouraged him to join the Diogenes.'
'Because you wanted his help?'
'Don't be clever, Sherlock. We wanted to keep an eye on him.'
As we waited, Mycroft poured me a glass of heavy, sweet sherry, and made small talk about the weather. He was not very good at it and I was glad when the door reopened.
The man who walked into the room was tall, excessively so, and thin to the point of emaciation. His face was bloodless and completely without expression - so immobile, in fact, that it could have been carved in bone.
His hair was long, ash-blond and brushed straight back: the irises of his eyes were so pale as to be almost invisible, so that his pupils were black pinpricks floating on a white void. His morning attire was impeccable. He did not offer to shake hands.
'Mycroft,' he said finally. His voice was like the wind in dry reeds. 'I trust that this is important. I have another appointment.'
'I wished you to meet my brother, Sherlock,' Mycroft said. I could tell that even he, the imperturbable Holmes, was put out.
Maupertuis's gaze settled on Holmes and he nodded slightly. Although his expression did not change by one iota, something new had been added to the atmosphere of that room, an indefinable but ominous cloud.
'Charmed,' Holmes said, sniffing slightly. 'I was saying to my brother only a moment ago that we both belong to the same library.'
Maupertuis said nothing.
'A library in Holborn,' Holmes continued.
No reaction.
'I don't remember ever seeing you there. Do you go often?'
Maupertuis reached a skeletal hand into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved an ornate gold hunter, which he consulted. I noticed that the rest of his body did not appear to move at all. He swivelled slightly so that he was looking at Mycroft.
'Time presses,' he whispered. 'You understand.'
He turned to go, and as he did so, his gaze swept across me like the beam of a lighthouse. I felt as if insects were crawling across my skin. The feeling lasted but a moment, and then he was gone.
'He did not blink,' Holmes said finally. 'Most instructive.'
'A rum character,' Mycroft said. There was a fine beading of perspiration across his forehead. he took out a handkerchief and mopped it abstractedly across his face. 'I've never got his measure.'
'I wonder whether his appointment was real or feigned,' I said. 'It occurred to me that he might have wished to avoid further questioning,