The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes - Jamyang Norbu [30]
'But what went wrong yesterday, Mr Holmes?' I asked.
'Our nervous friend here ...' Holmes turned to the clerk, who was cowering in the corner of the room,'... used too much heat to stick the wax on the hatch yesterday, thereby causing a portion of it to drip on the counterpane. This thinned the seal and caused the premature opening of the hatch. But I apportion too much blame to you, Mr Carvallo. It was, after all, a most desperate commission, and remarkable that such a faint-hearted person as yourself should have attempted to undertake it. It would tax the limits of any man's courage to handle such a creature once — but twice! That was above and beyond the call of duty. Or was it because your master does not tolerate failure? A hard man, is he not? It would be difficult to imagine someone more unforgiving than the villain whom you have the misfortune to serve. What kind of hold does he have on you?'
'I cannot tell.' The wretch sank his face in his hands. 'It is too late,' he sobbed. After a while he raised his head and with great effort attempted to get a hold of himself. Taking a deep breath he spoke, a note of hopeless defiance heightening the pathos in his voice. 'No, gentlemen, I cannot tell. Whatever fate the law may impose on me, it will be a kinder one than what I will surely suffer if I betray my master.'
'Oh, you think so, do you?' said Strickland harshly, snapping a pair of handcuffs on him. 'Let me tell you, my man, that if I have anything to say about it you'll hang from the highest gallows in the Bombay Presidency.' He turned to me. 'Kindly ring the bell, Huree.'
A littie while later Inspector MacLeod and two constables came in. Strickland gave them a number of instructions, after which they left with the wretched prisoner.
'The power of fear,' said Holmes gravely, settling himself in an armchair. 'I should not have underestimated it. Observe how even such a piteous wretch as our Portuguese clerk could steel himself to defy us, when the fear of Moriarty's retribution cast its dark shadow over his heart.'
'But he is dead,' I argued. 'You said ...'
'The man is dead,' corrected Holmes, 'his work lives. The Professor may lie at the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls but his charming society still has the power to reward, and, what is more relevant to our case, to punish those who betray it. Here in India, over a vast criminal empire, rules a bosom friend of Moriarty. That is the man who has inherited his dark mantie. That is the man who is after me now.'
'Give me his name, Mr Holmes,' said Strickland, 'and I'll soon have him sweating behind steel bars.'
'I commend your energy, Strickland. But I fear that such a direct course of action would prove futile. Colonel Sebastian Moran is a most cunning and dangerous adversary. At the moment the only net we have is too frail to hold such a formidable prey.'
'But, dash it all!' cried Strickland. 'The man is an honourable soldier.'
Holmes threw up his hands in resignation. 'Our net is indeed weak when a representative of the law fails to recognise his foremost adversary.'
'You astonish me, Mr Holmes,' Strickland remonstrated. 'You expect me to believe that an English gendeman, a former member of Her Majesty's Indian Army, the best heavy-game shot in India, a man with a still unrivalled bag of tigers, is a dangerous criminal. Why, I was with him just two nights ago at the Old Shikari Club. We played a rubber of whist together.'
'Well,' shrugged Sherlock Holmes,'I suppose you cannot really be expected to have seen through the fellow's masquerade. After all, a couple of months ago Scotland Yard didn't even know of the existence of Professor James Moriarty. But believe me when I tell you that after the Professor, our Colonel Moran is probably the most dangerous criminal alive.'
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a slim morocco-bound notebook. 'Humm.