The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [275]
The day was warm, yet I felt suddenly cold. “Holmes, is it possible that James Phillimore has slipped sidelong in Time? I recall the original case: there was evidence of some sort of circular vortex in Phillimore’s house. Can a man fall through a hole in Warwickshire in 1875, and emerge in Manhattan in 1906? It would explain why Phillimore has not aged, and why his suit has not become more worn.”
We were standing outside a greystone edifice at Number 1789, Broadway. A brass plate near the entrance informed us that this was the home of something called “The Cosmopolitan. A Hearst Publication“. Sherlock Holmes tapped his fore-finger alongside his nose, as if taking me into a confidence. “Ignore the newsboy, Watson, and humour me in a charade.”
Holmes strode purposefully to the exact spot where the Vitascope apparatus had stood. “This is a good place to start, Watson,” said my friend in a loud voice, “if we intend to collect the reward.”
I did not take his meaning, but I played along: “Yes! Certainly! A good deal of money is at stake.”
Sherlock Holmes now took out a tape-measure, and began making precise measurements of the kerb and the pavement, all the while muttering about a large reward. He seemed wholly unaware of the newsboy, who was observing Holmes’s every movement with the keenest attention. When he was unable to contain his curiosity any longer, the urchin spoke in thick American tones: “Wutcha lookin’ fer, cul?“
“Go away, lad,” said Holmes. “Can’t you see that we’re busy? The officers of the Edison Film Company have engaged us to investigate a serious incident of vandalism, and …”
“I know wutcher aftuh,” said the boy conspiratorially. His mouth was crammed full of some glutinous substance which he chewed furiously whilst he spoke, thus obscuring his diction all the more. “You’re lookin’ for the jasper who jiggered that camera, ain’tcher?”
Holmes looked up from his measurements. “The Edison Film Company have offered a substantial reward for information leading to the arrest of the man who damaged one of their kinetographic …”
“How much?” said the boy. “That reward, I mean.”
“We have no intention of paying good money for idle rumours,” said Holmes. “Since you clearly did not witness the incident …”
“I seen him!” boasted the newsboy. “I seen the whole thing!” Now he began to re-enact the whole affair, in broad movements, taking by turns the roles of James Phillimore, the Edison cameraman, and even the camera itself. “There was one o’ them camera fellers here, takin’ pitchers. A dude came along, swingin’ his umbreller, see? He looked like the kind of a guy who would make trouble just fer the sport of it. Sure enough, I seen him poke his umbrelly into that camera there. He pulled it out again, and then he walked away laughin’. The umbrella weren’t damaged, but the camera started racketin’ loud enough to wake yer dead granny. The cameraman started cussin’, and he had to stop the camera. I seen him fiddle it fer a coupla minutes, and then he started it up again.” The boy’s face split into a broad grin. “Do I get the reward?”
“Not unless you can tell me the culprit’s name and address,” said Sherlock Holmes, pocketing his tape-measure and drawing forth his jotting-book. Somehow a five-dollar banknote had gone astray from Holmes’s note-case and was now protruding – by accident, surely – from the leaves of his jotter. “If you can offer us some useful information …”
“That’s them!” said the boy, stabbing a grimy finger towards the book as Holmes opened it.
I looked over his shoulder, and was amused to see what my friend had been sketching so industriously during our cab-journey In the pages of his jotting-book, Holmes had drawn two large portraits that I recognized as likenesses of our adversaries from bygone adventures: Professor Moriarty and Colonel Moran. Between these two, scarcely more than an afterthought, was a small and hastily scribbled rendition of James Phillimore. Yet the newsboy now ignored the large conspicuous