The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [133]
“And have you any alternative explanation?” I enquired.
“It is far too early for that,” he replied. “It would be a serious error to attempt an explanation when we have so little data. Our next effort must be to acquire further information so that the full pattern of these curious events reveals itself.”
It was the afternoon of the following day when he enquired, “Have you any engagement this evening, Watson?” When I replied in the negative he said “I thought we might take in this evening’s lecture at the Aldridge Institute. Mr Edgar, of Addleton fame, is lecturing on ‘The Stones and the Stars’, apparently a dissertation on Sir Norman Lockyer’s theory that ancient religious monuments were constructed in relation to the movements of heavenly bodies.”
The Institute turned out to be in a remote part of south London and Mr Edgar’s lecture was not well attended. Nevertheless it was an interesting evening. Edgar was a man of about forty, with the long hair of a scholar and owlish spectacles that imparted a solemn aspect to his face though his lecture revealed a ready wit. His lantern slides, from photographs which he himself had taken, were not only informative but in some cases strikingly attractive. I recall particularly a picture of the great trilithon at Stonehenge lit from behind by the rising sun of midwinter. His arguments in favour of Lockyer’s theory, though complex, were lucidly explained for a lay audience and convincing.
As the small audience trickled out at the lecture’s end Holmes rose and approached Edgar who was giving some instruction to the lantern operator.
“We have enjoyed your talk,” said Holmes,
“Thankyou, gentlemen,” said the lecturer, “but I hope you are not journalists.”
“Why should you think so?” asked Holmes.
“Because I have received a deal of attention from that profession since the death of Sir Andrew Lewis, and I have nothing to say to the press.”
“You may be assured that we are not journalists,” said my friend. “I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my colleague, Dr Watson.”
The lecturer’s eyes widened behind his round spectacles. “The consulting detective!” he exclaimed, “What, may I ask, is your interest in archaeology?”
“You may have read”, said Holmes, “my papers on ‘Logical Deductions from Strata’ and ‘Early English Charters as a Guide to the Keltic Principalities’, though they were not published under my own name, but it is not those that bring us here. I would welcome your assistance in my enquiries into the death of Sir Andrew Lewis.”
“The death of Sir Andrew!” repeated Edgar. “Surely it is not thought that …”
Holmes raised a hand. “No, Mr Edgar. This is not a matter of murder. Sir Andrew, so far as anyone can tell, died naturally, but the manner of his death bears a strange similarity to the deaths and sicknesses that struck Addleton after the opening of the ‘Black Barrow’.”
“You believe in the so-called Curse of Addleton, then?” asked Edgar.
“Certainly not,” said Holmes, “but I have reliable information that the village has suffered a strange disease since the excavation and it would be in the interest of Addleton’s people to determine the cause.”
“I know nothing of medicine, Mr Holmes. How can I help you?”
“Simply by telling me what you recall of the excavation at Addleton Moor,” said Holmes.
The archaeologist began packing his lantern-slides away in their long wooden cases, while he spoke.
“It was a favourite project of Sir Andrew’s,” he began. “As a student he had been on Addleton Moor and seen that snow did not lie on the Black Barrow and grass did not grow upon it. He did not, of course, believe in the Curse, but he did believe