Young Sherlock Holmes_ Fire Storm - Andrew Lane [30]
The table in the centre of the dining room was bare apart from two candlesticks and a bowl of fruit. Matty helped himself to a pear while Sherlock sat in a chair on the far side, with the light of the windows behind him. Matty followed him around the table and stood behind him eating the pear.
Sherlock tried to quiet his breathing. He knew what he wanted to achieve over the next few minutes, but he knew that he was dealing with people, not chess pieces, and people sometimes did what you least expected them to do. What if Mrs Eglantine had more influence over his uncle and aunt than just her possession of some incriminating material? Perhaps they would defend Mrs Eglantine, despite what had already gone on in the house. Perhaps the three of them would join forces against him.
The door opened and Sherrinford Holmes entered, with Aunt Anna close behind him.
‘It is unusual for a man who is master in his own house to be summoned by his ward,’ he said mildly.
‘I apologize if Mrs Eglantine gave the impression that I was summoning you,’ Sherlock replied quietly. ‘I merely wanted to talk to you both about something serious.’
‘Is this related to what happened in the library earlier today?’ Sherrinford Holmes asked. ‘If so, I distinctly remember saying that we would speak no more about it.’
‘This concerns a man named Josh Harkness,’ Sherlock said, ‘and his influence on this family.’ He felt that he should ask his aunt and uncle to sit down, but that would have been rude. It was their house and their dining room: he didn’t want to be seen as being arrogant.
Before Sherrinford could reply, Mrs Eglantine entered the dining room. Two maids followed her; one carried a plate of sandwiches while the other held a tray with a jug and four glasses. They put them on the table.
‘Please,’ Sherlock said to Mrs Eglantine as the maids left, ‘stay for a few moments. This concerns you as much as it concerns my aunt and uncle.’
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. She seemed edgy, uncertain. Even scared.
‘You haven’t introduced me to your friend,’ Sherrinford said. He pulled out a seat at the dining table for his wife. She sat, and he followed.
‘This is Matthew Arnatt,’ Sherlock said. ‘He lives in Farnham.’
‘A gypsy,’ Mrs Eglantine said. ‘Of no worth.’
‘I told you before,’ Matty said from behind Sherlock, ‘I ain’t no ’Gyptian.’
Sherrinford Holmes tapped the table briefly. ‘Even if you were,’ he said, ‘not only are the Egyptians a noble and ancient race who are often mentioned in the Bible, but you are also named for one of Jesus Christ’s disciples and the author of one of the four Gospels. You are welcome in my house, Matthew.’
‘Cheers,’ Matty said.
‘Are you hungry?’ Sherlock’s aunt asked. ‘Perhaps you would like a sandwich and a glass of lemonade.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ the boy said, and reached over Sherlock’s shoulder to grab a couple of sandwiches.
‘So,’ Sherrinford Holmes said, ‘what is so important that you have convened a family conference, and what does this have to do with the man you mentioned – a man whose name I cannot bring my lips to form.’
Sherlock took a deep breath. ‘Josh Harkness is a blackmailer,’ he said. ‘He collects facts about people – facts that they would rather did not become public – and he threatens to expose them if they don’t pay him money on a regular basis.’
‘Are you implying,’ Sherrinford said, a quiet note of warning in his voice, ‘that this criminal has somehow discovered a secret about this family? I am a respected biblical scholar, and my wife is a pillar of the local community. What secrets could we possibly have that would attract the attention of a villain of this calibre?’
Sherlock shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter what he may or may not have discovered. The important thing is that all of his files – his entire collection of documents and letters – have been destroyed.’
Mrs Eglantine gasped, and brought a hand