Free The Lost Radio Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Ken Greenwald Page B

you believe her story.”
    “Of course I don’t,
Watson. Now go with her, old fellow, and keep your wits about you. The game’s
afoot!”
    To return to
such a dismal and deploring place of death and intrigue did not sit well with
me, but Holmes had asked me to return and return I did.
    As I awaited his
arrival, I took the time to question a few of the members of the Mendicant
Society, but gained no further clues as to the reason or the cause of Julian
Trevor’s death.
    I was just
finishing my questioning of Sidney Holt, the tall gentleman who was so rude to
me only hours before. He was still being rude.
    “I’m afraid that
I don’t find your story very convincing, Mr. Holt,” I said to him as he stood
over me.
    “Oh don’t you
now? Then suppose you stop asking questions until Sherlock Holmes gets here. He’s
the man we’ve engaged to settle this business, not you! We’re paying for his
services, not those of his assistant!”
    “Mr. Holmes
asked ME to conduct this preliminary investigation,” I said coldly, restraining
my anger. “I am perfectly familiar with his methods, so keep a civil tongue in
your head if you want Holmes to continue with this case!”
    “I’m not
answering any more questions until he gets here!”
    “Insufferable
fellow,” I said under my breath as I turned away from him. “Lord Cecil, you say
that you saw Holt deliberately trip the dead man as he came down the stairs
last night?”
    “Yes I did,
doctor.”
    “Now where were
you standing, sir?”
    “At the head of
the staircase. Holt was beside me and as Julian came by he deliberately—”
    Lord Cecil was
interrupted by a small, aged man who spoke nervously.
    “Excuse me,
please, excuse me, number 11, but there is a strange man just come in. He is
dressed as you when you work, but I do not remember having seen him here
before. He speaks very rough.”
    “Did he give the
correct signal?” asked Lord Cecil.
    “Yes, and the
password, sir.”
    “He must be a
new member,” said Lady Broxton who had been standing beside me during the
entire time of my preliminary investigation.
    “I suppose we’d
better see him. Bring him in,” said Lord Cecil with great agitation, “A bad
time for him to come here, confound it!”
    Almost
immediately a large man, dressed in tattered clothes and sporting a great beard
came forward.
    “Quite a nice
place you got here!” he said. “Certainly do yourselves proud, don’t you?”
    “Who are you and
how did you get in here?” asked Lord Cecil rather suspiciously.
    “I gave the
signal and the password, just like Julian told me to. I’m a friend of Julian’s
and he told me to meet him here.”
    “Who are you,
really?”
    “Are we all
friends here?” said the bearded man, glancing about.
    “Yes,” Lord
Cecil reassured, “you can talk freely.”
    Suddenly this
strutting, ill-dressed ragamuffin of a man bowed deeply. Now, when he spoke, it
was with a slight Spanish accent.
    “Then permit me
to introduce myself. I am Don Louis Jose Fernando de La Storez, at your service.”
    “Why do you want
to join us?” asked Sidney Holt.
    “When Julian
tell me about this . . . well, it tickle my . . . how you say . . . my funny
bone? It is so charming an idea. Aficionados of Mendicancy.”
    “Well, I suppose
he’s all right,” Sidney Holt said, eyeing the new member.
    “Of course, I am
all right. Now where is Julian, please. He will vouch for me.”
    “He’s in the
other room,” Holt went on, “he’s had an accident.”
    “An accident?
Not a bad one, I hope.”
    “A very bad one.
Dr. Watson, you’d better take him in there and break the news to him,” said the
cynical Holt.
    I gestured for
the man to follow me. We entered the room and a look of shock crossed the man’s
face.
    “Your friend is
dead, I’m sorry to say. His neck was broken last night in some brawl.”
    “Yes, but I do
believe it was an accident, Watson,” came the now familiar voice of my friend
and