Free Sherlock Holmes-The Army of Doctor Moreau by Guy Adams

closest stack and burrowed beneath the tarpaulin. I heard him draw out a pocket knife and tear at the sack underneath. After a moment he reappeared.
    “As far as I can tell,” he explained, “it’s nothing more than grain.”
    “Hardly criminal.”
    He looked around. “Who knows how much of this is just window-dressing?” he said. “Perhaps Messrs Kenton and Waldemar do indeed deal in animal food, with Kane working under their innocuous cover.”
    He jumped down and we made our way after Klaus and Martin.
    Towards the rear of the warehouse, Holmes bid me to stop as he craned to listen. Just ahead of us there was a rattle of metal and the sound of something being dragged across the floor. We could hear rushing water, accompanied by the sound of Klaus and Martin struggling. Moving closer we saw them, lit by a lantern in Martin’s hand, descending through a hole in the ground.
    “I hate this,” Martin moaned. “Why I can’t work for someone who conducts business where it’s dry and clean is beyond me. Have you seen the state of the walkway down there?” He looked up at Klaus. “What am I asking? You probably feel right at home.”
    Klaus nudged the man with his toe. “Keep with the talk pretty boy, I’ll send you for a swim down there. Let you float to the river with the rest of the filth.”
    Martin paused in his climb down to stare back up at the German. “I have a feeling the two of us aren’t going to work well together,” he said. “I just can’t imagine I won’t end up killing you before the week is out.”
    “You make big promise,” said Klaus, mangling his English more than ever.
    Martin disappeared and, with a low growl like an irritated dog’s, Klaus followed on after him.
    “What charming fellows,” muttered Holmes. “I might advise Kane that he would achieve a great deal more if he could only keep his staff in line.”
    “Seems to me he’s doing all right,” I said. “Though, on reflection, I would aspire to a lair located somewhere other than a sewer.”
    “Perfect place if you can tolerate the smell,” Holmes replied. “A whole city could be hidden beneath our feet, with invisible access to all parts of the metropolis.”
    “All well and good until you die of cholera.”
    “Yes, Doctor.” Holmes moved over to the grating which Klaus had slid back into place behind him. “I suggest we give them a few more moments to get clear,” he said. “I am more than capable of following their trail after all. It wouldn’t do to bump into them.”
    “Agreed.” I would happily never come face to face with either gentleman again.
    Holmes walked over to the closest row of crates and flipped back the tarpaulin. Looking around, he spied a crow bar, fetched it and loosened the crate’s lid. He stepped back as the smell from inside assailed his nostrils.
    “Some form of dried meat,” he said, replacing the lid, “packed in strips.”
    “Animal food then. As claimed on the outside of the building.”
    He nodded, reached into his pockets and withdrew a box of matches. “Shall we go?” he asked, squatting down to lift the drain cover.
    I helped him to lift it as noiselessly as possible. Klaus and Martin should have been some way ahead of us by now but the noise would carry down there, and we didn’t want to announce our presence. We stood listening for a moment. Faintly we could hear the sound of talking, presumably the two thugs. It was clearly coming from some distance away. Holmes lit a match and dropped it through the hole. Briefly it illuminated a short ladder leading to a narrow walkway. “It would be wisest to use light sparingly,” he whispered. “To begin with, let us follow the evidence of our ears and be careful where we place our feet.”
    “Very careful,” I agreed, disgusted at the thought of traversing the sewer network in the dark. The pair of us descended.
    I was about to draw the cover back into place when Holmes stopped me. “The sound of you dragging that will