The House of Silk_ The New Sherlock Holmes Novel - Anthony Horowitz [83]
‘Horribly.’
‘Perhaps that is punishment enough. It is when your friend turns his attention to larger matters, to business enterprises organised by people such as myself, that he crosses the line and becomes an annoyance. I rather fear that recently he has done precisely that, and if it continues it may well be that the two of us have to meet, which, I can assure you, would be not at all to his advantage.’
There was an edge to his voice that caused me to shudder. ‘You have not told me who you are,’ I said. ‘Will you explain what you are?’
‘I am a mathematician, Dr Watson. I do not flatter myself when I say that my work on the Binomial Theorem is studied in most of the universities of Europe. I am also what you would doubtless term a criminal, although I would like to think that I have made a science out of crime. I try not to dirty my own hands. I leave that for the likes of Underwood. You might say I am an abstract thinker. Crime in its purest form is, after all, an abstract, like music. I orchestrate. Others perform.’
‘And what do you want with me? Why have you brought me here?’
‘Other than the pleasure of meeting you? I wish to help you. More to the point, and it surprises me to hear myself say it, I wish to help Mr Sherlock Holmes. It was a great pity that he did not pay attention to me two months ago when I sent him a certain keepsake, inviting him to look into the business which has now caused him such grief. Perhaps I should have been a little more direct.’
‘What did you send him?’ I asked, but I already knew.
‘A length of white ribbon.’
‘You are part of the House of Silk!’
‘I have nothing to do with it!’ For the first time he sounded angry. ‘Do not disappoint me, please, with your foolish syllogisms. Save them for your books.’
‘But you know what it is.’
‘I know everything. Any act of wickedness that takes place in this country, no matter how great or small, is brought to my attention. I have agents in every city, in every street. They are my eyes. They never so much as blink.’ I waited for him to continue, but when he did so, it was on another tack. ‘You must make me a promise, Dr Watson. You must swear on everything that is sacred to you that you will never tell Holmes, or anyone else, of this meeting. You must never write about it. You must never mention it. Should you ever learn my name, you must pretend that you are hearing it for the first time and that it means nothing to you.’
‘How do you know I will keep such a promise?’
‘I know you are a man of your word.’
‘And if I refuse?’
He sighed. ‘Let me tell you now that Holmes’s life is in great danger. More than that, he will be dead within forty-eight hours unless you do as I ask. I alone can help you, but will only do so on my terms.’
‘Then I agree.’
‘You swear?’
‘Yes.’
‘On what?’
‘On my marriage.’
‘Not good enough.’
‘On my friendship with Holmes.’
He nodded. ‘Now we understand each other.’
‘Then what is the House of Silk? Where will I find it?’
‘I cannot tell you. I only wish I could, but I fear Holmes must discover it for himself. Why? Well, in the first instance because I know he is capable and it will interest me to study his methods, to see him at work. The more I know of him, the less formidable he becomes. But there is also a broader point of principle at stake. I have admitted to you that I am a criminal, but what exactly does that mean? Simply that there are certain rules which govern society but which I find a hindrance and therefore choose to ignore. I have met perfectly respectable bankers and lawyers who would say exactly the same. It is all a question of degree. But I am not an animal, Dr Watson. I do not murder children. I consider myself a civilised man and there are other rules which are, to my mind, inviolable.
‘So what is a man like myself to do when he comes across a group of people whose behaviour – whose criminality – he considers to be beyond the pale? I could tell you who they are and where you