Young Sherlock Holmes_ Death Cloud - Andrew Lane [92]
The Mrs Eglantine was a small boat, tucked into a pier on the edge of the dock. Fishing nets were strung around it like cobwebs. Amyus Crowe and Matty Arnatt were waiting for them beside its gangplank.
Virginia rushed into her father’s arms. He swung her up into the air and hugged her close. Sherlock pounded Matty on the back.
‘How did you know where to find us?’ he asked. ‘How did you even know which country to look in?’
‘You got to remember, I’m a tracker by trade,’ Crowe said. ‘When you didn’t return to the hotel, and when we realized that Ginny was missin’, we tried to retrace your steps. I heard about the fire in the Rotherhithe Tunnel, an’ a little bit of questionin’ established that a boy fit-tin’ your description was seen running away. Meanwhile, Matty here traced the boat that took Ginny to the docks. By the time we got there, Maupertuis’s ship had sailed, but we found a dockmaster who remembered seein’ both of you taken on board. Dragged on board, he said. The ship set sail, but he remembered hearin’ the sailors saying as to how it was a short trip across the English Channel to Cherbourg. So we hired ourselves a fishin’ boat and headed on over to look for you. We arrived here only shortly after Maupertuis’s ship did. Either they were slow, or they stopped somewhere along the way. Not sure which.’ His voice was as solid and thoughtful as ever, and his words gave nothing away about his mental state, but Sherlock thought that he looked older somehow, more tired. He kept his arm around Virginia’s shoulders, pulling her close. She didn’t seem to want to pull away. ‘I found out that the Baron had a place nearby, an’ I was just about to hire some local men to form a posse when you showed up. A useful confluence of paths, I would say.’
‘It makes sense,’ Sherlock said. ‘We were heading for the nearest port to Baron Maupertuis’s chateau. That was obviously where his ship would dock, and you were following his ship. The chances were we would all end up in Cherbourg at some stage.’ He smiled. ‘The only amazing thing is that you found a boat named after my uncle’s housekeeper. What are the odds of that?’
‘She used to be called the Rosie Lee,’ Crowe said, smiling back. ‘I reckoned as to how a more familiar name might attract your interest, if you was in the area an’ lookin’ for a way back to England. I was goin’ to rename her the Mycroft Holmes, but her captain informed me in no uncertain terms that ships an’ boats get women’s names.’
‘You expected us to escape from the Baron?’
Crowe nodded. ‘I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t. You’re my pupil, an’ Ginny’s my kin. What kind of teacher would I be if you’d both just sat back an’ let yourselves be kept prisoner?’ His words were jocular, and there was a smile on his face, but Sherlock could sense a deep undercurrent of unease, perhaps even fear, within Crowe that their appearance had only just begun to wear away. He reached out with a big hand and grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder. ‘You kept her safe,’ he said, more quietly. ‘I thank you for that.’
‘I know that everything you did to get here was logical,’ Sherlock said, just as quietly, ‘and it all worked, but what if it hadn’t? What if we’d never escaped, or if we’d gone a different way, or if you’d been at one end of the dock and we were at the other, getting on a different boat? What then?’
‘Then things would have turned out differently,’ Crowe said. ‘We are where we are because things happened the way they did. Logic can shorten the odds considerably in your favour, but there’s always random chance to contend with. We were lucky – this time. Next time – who knows?’
‘I don’t expect there to be a “next time”,’ Sherlock said. ‘But we still need to stop the Baron’s plans.’
‘What are they?’ Crowe asked, face creasing in puzzlement. ‘I’ve pieced some of it together, but not everythin’.’
Quickly, Sherlock and Virginia explained about the bees,