Sherlock Holmes and The Adventure of The Cold-Served Revenge

XVIII: The World Does Not Stop!

It began to rain and I cried with the heavens.

Holmes was mournful as well, though he did not share my grief over the death of the beautiful criminal. He was thrown into despair rather by the definitive loss of the strategic plans for the defence of England and the many important documents whose originals had burned. Many ingenious inventions thus ended at the murky bottom of Loch Ness.

It was not until the following summer that the future would in its way still find the path.

After the crash of the airplane we drove down to the banks of the lake and hired a boat. We searched the surface thoroughly, but found only bits of debris. We remained there until nightfall. In the first hours we still hoped that Alice had managed by some miracle to escape from the sinking wreckage and survive. But the water was cold, the weather unfavourable, and as time went by it was increasingly clear that our hopes were in vain. Due to her intransigence and pride, Lady Moriarty, just like the heavy fuselage of the triplane, was at the bottom of Loch Ness.

The next day Mycroft’s people began to arrive. Together we searched the banks of the lake. But we did not find any traces there either. In Glinney, meanwhile, a second team arrested Alice’s servant, who was grieving by the side of Rupert’s remains among the rubble of the burned down castle.

We returned to London with one arrested person and reported to Mycroft. But we could only boast of a partial success: we had prevented the secret war documents from falling into enemy hands. But we had not succeeded in returning them to the King.

I must admit that Mycroft valued our achievement more than his despondent brother.

“Although we do not have the patents to the war machines, neither does Wilhelm,” he said. “That is more than enough.”

In any event, they had long been working on new strategic plans for the defence of the country. The risk of a breach had been far too great.

The suffragettes led by the Pankhurst clan continued to be a pressing social problem. But with the dispersion of their militant comrades we had nevertheless succeeded in declawing them. Nevertheless, they continued to promote their objectives in their own way.

As for Luigi Pascuale, his work in the factory of Vito Minutti did not last much longer after the end of our case. Mycroft sent his Italian counterpart an unofficial message full of exceedingly interesting information, which divorced Luigi not only from his lucrative position, but also for a while from his freedom.

Meanwhile Holmes and I took a several-week-long rest.

The case had been a great burden on my friend’s weakened heart. I judged that if he had continued to exert himself thus just a little while longer he would have suffered another coronary. His injured hand also required care, particularly the crushed finger. With the help of experts from the clinic we succeeded in saving that too, although the detective never quite fully recovered all feeling in it.

But this was a small price to pay compared to what would have happened had I not intervened.

Unfortunately, Holmes saw it differently.

To tell the truth, since we got back to London he hardly spoke to me. He blamed my foolhardiness for the loss of the documents. For a long time he did not allow me to explain that I had only acted impulsively when I could no longer bear to witness his suffering.

We reconciled shortly before his return to Fulworth.

“Cherchez la femme,”[24] he said to me by way of farewell, as we embraced on the platform before he boarded the train. “Never forget it, my friend.”

The phrase hung in the air as I gazed through clouds of white steam at the departing train.