Free Victorian Villainy by Michael Kurland Page B

was it not burned?” asked Holmes.
    “It was,” van Drum told him. “At least the attempt was made. The original was found in a fireplace grate, charred and singed. But it had been folded over several times, and so it was merely the edges that suffered the damage, and the whole message was retrieved intact.”
    I smiled, reflecting on the image of a high government official crawling about in a fireplace.
    Holmes glared at me. “I detect your hand in this,” he said.
    I was not amused, and I’m afraid that I allowed an ill-considered expletive to pass my lips.
    “Quite so,” said Lord easthope.
    “His name is on the document,” Holmes insisted. “Can’t you see—”
    “Enough!” cried Mycroft in a deceptively quiet bellow. “Your name is also on the document. Take my word for it, Sherlock, that whatever else Moriarty may be involved in, he has no hand in these events.”
    Sherlock Holmes gave his brother a long glare, and then assumed an attitude of sulky acquiescence from the depths of his chair.
    Baron van Durm looked from one to the other of us. “I thought you said they could work together,” he said to Mycroft.
    “They can,” Mycroft assured him. “They just need a little time to get over their mutual spitting match.”
    I resented that. I had done nothing to encourage Holmes in his asinine accusations. But I held my tongue.
    “When we saw the references to you, we naturally checked,” Lord Easthope said, “and ascertained that you were, indeed, being watched. Had you noticed?”
    “I assumed that it was at the behest of the younger Mr. Holmes,” I said.
    “I thought Moriarty was up to more of his usual deviltry,” snarled Holmes.
    “Well there, you see, you were both mistaken,” said Easthope. He turned to Mycroft. “Are you sure these are the men we want?”
    “Yes,” said Mycroft.
    “What of Lamphier and Ettin?” Holmes asked.
    “Ah!” said van Durm.
    “Would that be Alphonse Lamphier the noted French criminologist?” I asked.
    “Yes, it would,” van Durm affirmed.
    “How can you be sure that he is the Lamphier referred to?” Holmes asked.
    “Because he was murdered yesterday.”
    “Coincidence,” said Holmes.
    “He was found in the ruins of a burned-out cottage outside the village of Lindau,” said Lord Easthope. “Pure accident that he was found. He—his body—could have stayed there for months. He was almost naked and had his hands tied together. He was already dead when the place was set on fire, but a section of interior wall collapsed and preserved his body from the fire.”
    Holmes opened his mouth to say something, but Lord Easthope continued, “He had scratched some words on his inner thigh with a pin before he died. Ils se réunissent . Means ‘they meet,’ or ‘they assemble,’ or ‘they gather,’ depending.”
    “I stand corrected,” said Holmes. “One can stretch coincidence too far. Does anyone know precisely what he was working on when he was killed?”
    “Our agents in Paris are attempting to ascertain that even now,” van Durm said.
    “What would you have us do?” I asked.
    “As they—whoever they are—are watching you,” said Lord Easthope, “we infer that they have reason to fear you. Perhaps because of your known abilities, each of you in his own sphere, or perhaps because you possess some information that you might not even know you have, that would be of value.”
    Holmes and I pondered this for a minute. Just as I was about to disagree with this diagnosis, Holmes anticipated me. “I think not,” he said.
    “Baron van Durm looked startled. “Why not?” he asked.
    “In Welsh coal mines the miners take a canary down into the pits with them,” Holmes said. “It is to give them early notice of bad air, as the canaries are more susceptible than the miners. We are these people’s canaries.”
    “I fail to see the analogy,” said Lord Easthope.
    “Our, ah, opponents watch us because they believe that, if Her Majesty’s