The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [106]
Holmes shook his head. “The door he had entered by was locked. So were the twin doors to the courtyard: locked and securely bolted. The windows all locked, too.”
“An oversight then. He left the door to the house unlocked?”
“He’s most particular to ensure it is locked. The laboratory contains many poisons and powerful acids. He states quite clearly in his letters it is his great fear that his son might find his way into the laboratory and injure himself playing with test-tubes and so forth. Therefore, he’s most scrupulous in keeping the door locked.”
“So that is the mystery?” I said.
He sighed, disappointed. “A very slight one, I’m afraid.”
“That an intruder stole an aerolite, shooting star, call it what you will? And that he left no clue as to his entry?”
“But there the mystery thickens.”
“Yes, you remarked the object wasn’t stolen, merely borrowed?”
“Correct. The stone vanished on the Monday night between Professor Hardcastle locking the laboratory then returning to it to retrieve his pince-nez which, he gauges, to be an interval of forty minutes.”
“When did the stone reappear?”
“It reappeared on the Wednesday morning on the son’s bedside table.”
I looked at Holmes in surprise then chortled. “Then it is a childish prank. The son took the stone. Carelessly he allowed it to be discovered.”
Holmes smiled. “We shall see.”
The carriage left the overheated chaos of central London behind. The air became fresher, although the carriage slower, as it climbed the steep hills toward Hampstead. The canyons of town houses and commercial premises gave way to the widely spaced villas and the great expanse of Heath that rolled away beneath a clear blue sky. The clip and clop of the horse became less frequent, too, as it toiled up that particularly steep lane that soars upward beside the prominent elevation of The Spaniard’s Inn. Not more than a hundred yards beyond the inn Holmes directed the cabbie to make a sharp right turn into a driveway leading to a large redbrick villa. A single-storey annex of fresher red brick abutted one flank of the house.
The moment the four-wheeler entered the driveway the garden bushes parted and a man leapt from them. He roared with the ferocity of a lion. In his hand he carried a bunch of twigs which he shook at us with extraordinary ferocity.
“It is time!” bellowed the man. “It is time!“
I recoiled in shock. “Good heavens, the man is going to attack us.”
He shouted repeatedly, “It is time! Dear God! It is time!”
“Take care, Holmes,” I said as my friend ordered the driver to halt while simultaneously throwing open the door of the carriage. “The man is clearly dangerous.”
“On the contrary, Watson. You’d rarely find highwaymen and footpads dressed in carpet slippers and well pressed trousers. This must be Professor Hardcastle. Oh. My good man, do be careful.”
Professor Hardcastle ran forward, stumbling as he did so to his knees. He was panting. A look of such horror in his face that it aroused my immediate pity.
The man gasped, his face a vivid red beneath his blond hair. “It is time. It is time …”
He struggled unsteadily to his feet and held out his trembling hand. Clutched in his fingers were the fresh green sprigs of some plant. “Mr Holmes … it is Mr Holmes, isn’t it … of course, it must.” He struggled to master his breathing. Then more calmly he fixed us with a glittering gaze. “You see?” he said, looking from one to the other. “It’s time.” He repeated the sentence in a whisper, “It is time.”
Holmes glanced at the plant, then to me. “Ah, I see. The professor is referring to thyme. He holds sprigs of the herb, thyme. And clearly he’s had a dreadful shock. If you would be so good to lend a hand, Watson, we’ll get the gentleman to his home, where perhaps brandy should help his poor nerves.”
The brandy did indeed soothe the man’s nerves. Once he’d dressed in a manner he deemed fully respectable, and we were seated in the morning room, he told Sherlock Holmes and I his story. At least he endeavoured to, for he was still in a state of shock. His hand trembled terribly.