Free The Lost Radio Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Ken Greenwald

Holmes about the entire incident.
    The following
morning found me seated opposite Holmes as we enjoyed an early breakfast. I
told him the entire story, leaving out no single detail that I could remember.
He sat, listening attentively as he finished the last of the meal.
    “And that’s the
way it was, Holmes. One of the most curious adventures I’ve ever had without
you.”
    “Very
interesting, Watson. You say this underground cellar was luxuriously furnished?”
    “Yes, and as I’ve
told you, I was surprised by the amazing mixture of people there. Some in rags
and some in evening dress.”
    “Just like the
nursery rhyme. ‘Some in rags and some in tags and some in velvet gowns.’ ”
    “Exactly,
Holmes. Even the feeling that I was taking part in a story out of the Arabian
Nights. I must say though I was pretty angry at the time. However, after a good
nights rest, I feel quite differently this morning.”
    “It would be
interesting to see if any repercussions of your strange adventure reach us.”
    “I doubt it. The
woman seemed frightened to death when I mentioned your name.”
    “We shall see.
Meanwhile, I’m expecting a client. If you’re not too busy with your practice, I
would greatly appreciate your taking some notes and observations on the matter.”
    “I’d like to
very much, Holmes. Do you know who it is?”
    “This telegram
will tell you much more than I can,” he said, handing me the paper that lay on
the table near him, “It arrived an hour ago.”
    He stood and walked
to the window. The rain was still coming down, washing the street clean not
only of the usual grime and soot, but of all people and vehicles, save for a
few passing Hansoms and carriages. I read the telegram aloud.
    “ ‘Be at your
lodgings this morning to discuss our problem. Stop.’ It’s signed A.M.S. Pretty
high handed message. Be at your lodgings! No ‘please.’ What do you suppose
A.M.S. stands for?”
    “I was just
toying with that problem,” he said returning to his seat.
    “Could it be the
American Medical School?”
    “No, Watson,
there’s no such body. You are referring to the American Medical Association.
The curious tone of the message inclines me to believe that the A stands for
Amateur.”
    “Very possibly.
Amateur Maskers Society.”
    “Or, Watson, the
Amateur Murderers Society,” said Holmes, laughing. “That would be a nice
thought, wouldn’t it?”
    The doorbell
rang and Holmes stood, expectation on his face.
    “That is their
representative, no doubt, to save us further guesswork.”
    I went to the
window and looked out, hoping to gain at least a glimpse of who it was that was
coming to see Holmes.
    “Holmes,” I
said, “it looks like the same carriage that I was driven in last night! But the
girl standing on your doorstep is dressed in the height of fashion.”
    “Splendid, Watson.
Unless my guess is incorrect, we have not heard the end of your adventure. Go
and meet the lady at the top of the stairs, old chap, and save Mrs. Hudson’s
legs.”
    I did as Holmes
suggested and opened the door just as a most charming young lady reached the
top of the stairs. I ushered the lady in as she acknowledged me with a smile.
    “Mr. Sherlock
Holmes?” she said, turning to my friend.
    “At your
service, madam. Won’t you sit down?”
    “I am Lady
Dorothy Broxton.”
    “But your voice,”
I said perplexed, “you’re the lady who fetched me last night, dressed up as a
beggar woman!”
    “Yes I am, Dr.
Watson. Forgive me for being so mysterious at the time.”
    “Doubtless you’ve
come to consult me regarding last nights unfortunate accident at the Amateur
Mendicant Society.”
    “How did you
know what the initials stood for, Mr. Holmes?”
    “It’s not too
difficult. After hearing Dr. Watson’s story of last night’s happenings, the
connotation seemed obvious, am I right?”
    “Perfectly. Last
night when Dr. Watson told us Julian was dead, we thought it was an accident.”
    “And now,”