Young Sherlock Holmes_ Fire Storm - Andrew Lane [95]
Macfarlane considered for a moment. ‘It’s true that I’m not a man who countenances violence to bairns,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘I won’t go!’ Sherlock blurted out.
Crowe rounded on him. ‘You will if ah say so, son,’ he hissed. ‘You don’t know what Bryce Scobell is capable of.’
‘But—’
Crowe raised his hand. ‘No more discussion. Better two of us stay to confront Scobell than all four of us. Ah’d feel easier in mah heart if ah knew that you and young Matthew were safe.’ He turned to Macfarlane. ‘Well? Do we have a deal?’
Macfarlane stared at Crowe for a while. ‘On the one hand, you’re right – there’s no specific reward offered for the two laddies. On the other hand, they’re resourceful, and I think that, despite what you say, you might be more inclined to cooperate if I keep them here. So, no, there is no deal. I hold all the cards at the moment, and there’s no reason for me to give any of them up in a hurry.’
Something was still tugging in the depths of Sherlock’s mind about the name ‘Macfarlane’. He tried to give it space to come through, to make itself more obvious. Something he’d heard recently? No, something he’d seen.
‘That murder case!’ he said suddenly as the memory broke through to the surface of his thoughts. ‘The one where Sir Benedict Ventham was killed.’ He tried to bring the images of the newspapers into focus in his mind – the one he’d read on the train from Farnham to London, and the one he’d read in the park at the head of Prince’s Street. ‘The woman who was arrested – her name was Macfarlane, and the newspaper said she was connected to the Black Reavers.’
A hush seemed to settle over the room. Macfarlane’s face turned thunderous. ‘Mah wee sister,’ he growled. ‘To have that happen to her! She’s not even guilty! She wouldn’t hurt a fly!’
‘She’s related to a criminal gang leader,’ Crowe growled. ‘Ah presume the police just took one look at her family tree an’ threw her into jail.’
Macfarlane stood and walked forward, stepping off the dais and coming right up to Crowe. The two men stood face to face, nose to nose. They were both the same height, and had the same impressive build and the same mane of hair. The only differences between them were that Gahan Macfarlane’s hair was black instead of white.
‘She isn’t guilty of any crime,’ he said quietly, his words dropping into the expectant quiet of the room like stones into a still pool of water. ‘She always hated the line of business that I’d gone into. She’s a God-fearing lass, and nothing could ever change that.’
‘Things can happen,’ Crowe said, equally quietly. ‘Perhaps this Sir Benedict Ventham attacked her, and she had to protect herself.’
‘She wrote to me.’ Macfarlane wasn’t blinking. He was staring straight at Crowe, daring the big American to continue finding reasons why his sister might be guilty. ‘She swore to me on the Bible that she didn’t do anything that might have resulted in his death, and that she mourned his death like she mourned the death of our own dear father. I believe her.’
‘In that case,’ Sherlock said loudly, ‘I have a business proposition for you.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Macfarlane stared at Crowe for a long moment, as if he hadn’t heard Sherlock speak, then swivelled his head until he was looking directly at him. ‘Go on, laddie. Astound me.’
‘If we can clear your sister’s name, show that she’s innocent – you let us go. You don’t give us to Bryce Scobell.’
Sherlock could hear a murmur of disbelief run around the room.
Crowe had also turned to look at Sherlock. In contrast to Macfarlane’s calm, almost serene expression, he was frowning as if he was wondering what Sherlock was up to. Sherlock had to admit that he wasn’t sure himself.
‘Let me get this right,’ Macfarlane said slowly. ‘You want to . . . what? Investigate the murder? Look for things the police might have missed? And you seriously think you can collect enough evidence to convince the police that young Aggie is blameless in this crime?’
Sherlock shrugged. ‘What have you got to lose? If we fail to prove her innocent, then you give us