Free The Veiled Detective by David Stuart Davies

but also create a name for yourself into the bargain.”
    “Not my own name,” I pointed out tersely.
    “A minor matter. You quibble too much. I think your brain is now crowded with details, and the newness and audacity of this enterprise is dulling your thoughts. You need time to think things through.”
    “What is the point? There is no choice.”
    Moriarty grinned. “There is choice, although I grant you, it is rather limited.”
    “How am I supposed to meet this man? You say I am to share rooms with him — what if he doesn’t agree to it? There are so many uncertainties.”
    “These are not things you need worry your head about. It has all been planned for and arranged. I can assure you that nothing has been left to chance. That is my way.”
    What was I to do? Even in my current startled state I realised that, for the time being, I had to accept the situation and throw my hand in with the Professor, otherwise it was unlikely that I would see another sunrise. In surviving for the moment, it was possible that I could then begin to plot my own escape. Maybe I could enlist the help of this Sherlock Holmes to carry out a coup on my new master? I also realised that I must convince Moriarty that I wasn’t entering into the game with any great reluctance, otherwise it would be much harder for me to persuade him that he could trust me and therefore relax his gaze upon me.
    “You mentioned remuneration,” I said, sitting forward.
    “I did. A very healthy sum of money will be paid in to your new bank account, one in the name of Watson, on the first of every month.”
    “A healthy sum...?”
    “One hundred pounds every month.”
    At this, my mouth really did drop open in surprise. To me, in my impoverished state, that was a king’s ransom. For an unguarded moment, I bathed in the glow of my new-found wealth until a small voice inside reminded me from whence the money came.
    “I pay my trusted employees very well, Watson. And in your new position you will be one of the most important and one of the most trusted.” He raised his finger in warning. “So, do make sure that you deserve my trust.”
    “I... I will do my best.” The words stuck in my throat and I felt an overwhelming sense of unease take hold of my senses.
    “I feel sure your best will be good enough. I am rarely wrong in my judgement of character. So, then, have we an arrangement?”
    With as much conviction as possible, I mustered a smile — a dead smile. “Yes”’ I said, “we have an arrangement.”
    “Excellent!” cried the Professor, grasping my hand.
    It was early evening when Sherlock Holmes made his way back to his diggings in Montague Street. His mind was whirling with figures and formulae. He had spent the day working in one of the laboratories at St Bart’s Hospital, attempting to develop a solution which would indicate the presence of bloodstains, however infinitesimal they might be. He wished to create a reagent that was precipitated solely by haemoglobin and thus could provide incontrovertible proof that human blood had been spilt. The old guaiacum test was clumsy and uncertain and therefore could not be relied upon in criminal matters. If he could create an infallible test, one that would work no matter how old the bloodstains were, it would be the most important medico-legal discovery for years, and would certainly boost his reputation in the world of crime detection. He had read of the case of Von Bischoff in Frankfurt the previous year, and was convinced that if such a test had been available then, the fellow would have mounted the gallows. As it was, he was set free.
    Holmes believed that he was nearly there. A few more days, further experiments with the various combinations of powders, crystals and quantities. He was confident he would reach his goal, but, as always, he was impatient. These ideas jostled around his brain as he climbed the stairs to his quarters.
    On entering his sitting-room, he noticed an envelope on the