The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [66]
“The next few emperors made little use of Constantine’s beggars, but oddly enough the Society seems to have established itself more strongly rather than collapsing, as one might have expected. It developed its own set of rites and rituals. One faction in India splintered off and became affiliated with the Thuggee, of whom you may be familiar.”
“Indeed,” I said, “I have heard of those devils.”
Holmes nodded. “Sometime in the Middle Ages they seemed to disappear. However, in 1821 a condemned man mentioned them in his last statement. Since then I’ve found two other mentions of the Secret Mendicant Society, the first being a satirical cartoon from Punch dated 1832, which refers to them as a rival to the Free Masons as if everyone had heard of them, and the second being the scrap of paper found in Colonel Pendleton-Smythe’s house.”
“So where does the colonel fit in?”
“I was just getting to that,” Holmes said. “Of the six chums expelled from Eton, I have been able to trace the movements of three. All three died in recent weeks under mysterious circumstances. What does this tell you?”
“That the colonel is next on the list to be killed?”
“Precisely, Watson. Or so it would seem.”
“You have reason to believe otherwise?”
“Ha! You see right through me, Watson. It seems distinctly odd to me that this rash of murders should coincide with Pendleton-Smythe’s return from Africa.”
“Indeed, it does seem odd,” I agreed. “But perhaps there are other circumstances at work here. You won’t know that until you speak with the colonel himself.” I looked at my watch. “It’s only half an hour until our appointment.”
“Time,” said Holmes, “for us to be on our way.”
I stared at him in bewildered consternation. “You’ll have Pendleton-Smythe convinced you don’t want to see him if you keep to this course!”
“Rather,” he said, “I am endeavoring to make sure the meeting does take place. Your coat, Watson! We’ll either meet him on the street on his way here – or if, as I suspect, he intends to skip our meeting since he was recognized yesterday, we will meet him at his rooming house!”
I grabbed my coat and hat and followed him once more out to the street.
We did not, of course, meet Pendleton-Smythe in the street; Holmes always did have a knack for second-guessing other people’s actions. When we arrived at the rooming house, we found a stout gray-haired woman whom I took to be the landlady sweeping the steps.
“Excuse me,” Holmes said briskly, “I wish to ask after one of your tenants – a military man with a slight limp, dark coat, dark hat. I have a letter he dropped last night and I wish to return it to him.”
“You’d mean Mr Smith,” she said. “Give it here, I’ll hand it to him when he’s up.” She held out her hand.
“Is he in, then?” Holmes asked.
“Here now, who are you?” she said, regarding us both suspiciously and hefting her broom to bar our way.
I hastened to add, “This is Mr Sherlock Holmes, and we must speak to your Mr Smith. It’s very urgent.”
“Mr Holmes? Why didn’t you say so, gents? ‘Course I’ve heard of you, Mr Holmes. Who hasn’t, round these parts? Come in, come in, I’m forgetting my manners.” She lowered the broom and moved toward the front door. “I’m Mrs Nellie Coram, Sir, and I own this establishment. Mr Smith’s room is on the second floor. I’ll just pop up and see if he’ll come down.”
“If you don’t mind,” Holmes said, “I think we’d better come upstairs with you.”
“Oh, is he a slippery one, then?” she said. “I thought he might be, but he paid me a fortnight’s rent in advance, and I can’t afford to be too nosy, business being what it is these days.”
“He is not a criminal,” Holmes said. “He is a client. But it is urgent that I speak with him immediately.”
She laid a finger alongside her nose and gave him a broad wink, but said no more. She led us in at once, up a broad flight of steps to a well-scrubbed second floor hallway. She turned right, went down a