Free Sherlock Holmes & The Master Engraver (Sherlock Holmes Revival) by Ross Husband Page B

do what I just done, even if I does say it meself. But if , an’ I’m only sayin’ if , it don’t work first-orf, ’ere’s a little dodge.”
    With some curiosity I studied the crooked little scoundrel as he fawningly discoursed with my clever, elegantly-attired colleague and I reflected that there is, strangely, about some free-born Britons a cringing and innate baseness, a quite needless and uncalled for lick-spittle awe of rank, wealth or education which appears not to exist even in the most despotic tyrannies in Europe, yet is principally and almost exclusively to be found thriving among the English working classes. Perhaps, I reflected, it affirmed for them some comforting value which anchored them securely at their allotted station in life, cheerfully above their lesser brethren – the hucksters, itinerant tinkers and drink-sodden brawlers, yet reassuringly beneath their acknowledged betters, the men of learning, letters and position. In such a way, I supposed, were their lives ordered.
    I watched Pollitt select one of the simpler keys – my guess would be the one to Petch’s office – and take it to the bench where he smoked it in a sooty candle flame. He returned with the smut-blackened key and a small selection of wafer-thin files.
    “Now Mr ‘olmes Sir, if it don’t work first orf, you smokes it so, and tries again. You takes the key out ever so gently and see where the lamp-black has gone bright on the bit – them’s the parts you ‘as to file away.” He walked over to the parlour door, inserted the key in the lock and attempted to turn it, with no result of course, but that was clearly not his point. Returning he indicated those areas on the blade, now showing bright, which had conflicted with the levers of the lock mechanism.
    “Nah Mr ‘olmes, supposin’ just in case you ever did find a lock to match this key, heugh heugh, I’d better throw in these files, compliment’ry o’course.”
    Holmes nodded curtly, looked up, and addressed our two visitors, his face now a stern pale mask, cold and deadly serious.
    “Now listen gentlemen both, and listen very closely; I believe our work here is complete.
    “You, Pollitt, will leave here everything you brought with you; you will take nothing away. Not even your recall of the last two day’s events. You have never visited Baker Street. The fee buys all. The same strictures bind you also von Huntziger.
    “Any loose talk whatsoever – believe me, I will hear of it – and you will discover to your very great discomfort, just how fast and how far Sherlock Holmes can reach out. Is that well understood?”
    Both divined instantly that the good-natured badinage between consummate detective and wily master criminals had now quite evaporated, and that Holmes was in deadly earnest. I myself would dread to cross him, and I am his close friend and confidant. I shuddered to think what anguish he could cast across these two rogues’ lives should they ever be minded to turn their hand against him. “Very well, gentlemen; if that is clearly understood, here is your payment as agreed.”
    In a flat, chilling tone he added “I am satisfied with the results of our short association. Have a care that you keep matters that way” and he passed over two envelopes, both of which vanished in a blink, one into a grimy inner pocket, the other, considerably thicker, slipped deep inside a rich velveteen jacket.
    “Oh, one more thing, Pollitt; who in London, other than you, might be unscrupulous or skilled enough to perform the work you have accomplished, and to this standard, with no awkward questions being asked?” A crafty look passed over the ferrety little locksmith’s face – clearly he perceived an opportunity to extort more money. He scratched his head, feigning great perplexity. “Well, I can’t say as I rightly knows Mr ’olmes, and my memory ain’t what it was. I ain’t a peach you know. An’ then again it’d take some time but I could make some