The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [137]
Mr. Thomas looked up startled at the crashing entrance of a breath-less undergraduate into his lodge.
“Mr. Thomas, get Holmes on the telephone, I have to talk with him; it’s an emergency.” I was grateful that the old man did not pre-tend he didn’t know the name of his unacknowledged employer, merely saw my face and reached for the telephone.
I stood tautly, tapping my fingers on the counter, wanting to scream at the slowness of the thing. Connexions were made, exchanges con-sulted, and then Mr. Thomas’s face became still.
“I see,” he said, and, “Thank you.” He hung up and looked at me.
“The telephone lines seem to be down on that side of Eastbourne,” he said. “Some kind of accident on the road, apparently. Can I do any-thing, Miss?”
“Yes. You can go around the corner and tell the garage to get my motor out. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” With surprising agility Mr.Thomas ducked out the door, leaving his post unattended, and I pounded off up the stairs. I had the key in my hand before I cleared the last stair, reached for the keyhole, and stopped. There, in the mid-dle of the shiny brass knob, was a black, greasy smudge.
“Holmes?” I whispered, “Holmes?” and flung open the door.
Forces Joined
The enterprise is hopeful, but full of hardship and danger.
It would seem to have been conceived by some sovereign
intelligence, that was able to divine most of our desires.
t’s a good thing there wasn’t another bomb here, Russell. There wouldn’t be much left of you.” It was the old priest from the library, sitting in my chair and peering at me with disapproval over his spectacles.
“Oh, God, Holmes, it is good to see you.” To this day he swears that I thrust his head between my breasts, but I am quite certain that he was on his feet by the time I reached him. I was reassured that his musculature had not suffered during his weeks of confinement and en-forced sloth, and in fact felt distinctly bruised about the rib cage from the force of his arms. He of course denies this.
“Holmes, Holmes, we can talk again, it’s over, I know who she is, but I thought she had you, my watchers disappeared and your telephone line is out, and I was coming up here to get the revolver and drive down to
Sussex, but you’re here, and—”
Fortunately Holmes interrupted this drivel.
“Very well, Russell, I am flattered that you seem relieved to see me alive, but could you be a bit clearer please, particularly concerning the telephone line and the watchers?” He reached up to reattach his beard, and I stooped to pick up an eyebrow from the floor and absently handed it to him.
“I’ve been working in Bodley this afternoon—”
“Oh for God’s sake, Russell, don’t be completely daft. Or has my absence softened your brain?”
“Oh, of course, you were there. Why didn’t you make yourself known then?”
“And have a scene like this in the midst of those hallowed halls? I thought you might wish to work there again in the future, so I came here to wait for you. I could also see you were on the edge of something and didn’t want to risk knocking it out of your head. I did blow my nose loudly in your ear, if you remember, but when that failed to get your at-tention I took the hint and left. What did you find? I could see that you were working on the Roman numerals theory, but without peering too closely I couldn’t see where your thoughts were taking you.”
“Yes, Holmes, it was a code. Roman numerals in a base eight, not base ten. It spelt Moriarty. And do you know who had me working on base eight three days before the bombs were set?”
“I do remember, yes, your maths tutor. But how does—”
“Yes, and she even told me of Moriarty’s exercises, though not di-rectly, of course, just mentioned offhand that she had seen some prob-lems in a book and—”
“Ah,