Sherlock Holmes: The Army of Doctor Moreau

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Once Fellowes had been shown from the room, Mycroft turned to his brother.

“You seem particularly confident, Sherlock,” he said. “Do you really think Kane intends to lead you to Moreau’s base of operations?”

“I’m fairly certain we’ll have matters resolved before the night is out,” Holmes replied.

“That, my brother, is not quite what I asked.”

Holmes merely smiled. “This has not been a case to exercise the brain, Mycroft, as biologically fascinating as some of its details may have been, the matter was a simple enough one. Now it simply comes down to fast action.”

He turned to me. “Watson, we need to gather a hunting party, would you be so good as to visit The British Museum and enlist Professor Challenger? Of the lot of them he’s the least likely to fall dead of shock the minute he enters the sewers.”

“Nothing could kill that man,” said Mycroft. “He has the sensitivity of an ox.”

“Just so,” Holmes agreed. “And however much Kane may wish it otherwise we simply must have police involvement.”

Mycroft shifted in his seat. “I would rather this wasn’t the talk of Scotland Yard, Holmes. Is there really any need to drag one of your tame inspectors into this?”

“I would trust Lestrade to be discreet,” Holmes replied. “Gregson too, but both are far too well known within the city, I have no doubt Kane would recognise them.”

“Perhaps he just needs to accept that not everything can be as he wishes it,” I suggested. I was more than happy at the idea of the creature being taken down a peg or two. I disliked pandering to him in the least.

“As much as it irritates me to admit it, Watson, we need him. I may have talked a good game at Baker Street but he is in a much stronger position than we are and he’s clever enough to know it. The minute Lestrade turns up on the doorstep, Kane is likely to be out of the back window and halfway up the street.

“Ultimately, what does Kane care if these experiments continue? Oh, he has an axe to grind, of that I’m sure, he wishes for revenge, but he desires his continued freedom even more.”

“That’s if he even intends to help us at all. It must have occurred to you that this could be a trap?”

“Certainly, most probably sprung with his creator’s knowledge. If he wanted to kill us after all, he could have achieved that easily enough back at Baker Street …”

“He nearly did.”

Holmes smiled. “Just so. So why is he keeping us alive? It is either because he is still too scared of his creator to countenance facing him alone, he wants us to help him destroy him, or he is still working for the man he calls his father and his entire story is nothing but a tissue of deceit.”

“There’s one sure way to find out,” said Mycroft.

“Indeed,” said Holmes, “but we must at least allow ourselves some chance of success!”

A thought had occurred to me. “I know just the man!” I said. “Inspector Mann, he’s not local but he’s certainly trustworthy.”

I looked to Mycroft who reluctantly nodded. “I’ll just have to trust your judgement, Doctor,” he said. “But Heaven help you if this ends up in The Police Gazette.”

“Excellent,” Holmes agreed, “I leave you to contact him. I have another couple of fellows in mind but I shall drop a line to them on my way.”

“On your way where?” I asked, only too aware that I was being left out of the picture again.

“To the home address of the man claiming to be Dr Moreau,” he said, “with whatever representatives of the law Mycroft will allow me.”

“What?” Both Mycroft and I asked the same question. Neither of us could believe what Holmes had said.

“Oh I don’t expect him to be there,” Holmes said, as if that explained everything to everyone’s possible satisfaction. “The man’s not an idiot, and while he has done everything possible to cover his identity, I sincerely doubt he’ll risk capture at this important stage in his plans.”

“But who is it?” I asked.

Holmes just smiled. “After your excellent work on this case I wouldn’t dream of telling you. You’ll come to the same conclusion I’m sure, and feel all the more vindicated to have done so under your own steam.”

I could have throttled him.

“And what about me?” asked Carruthers. “What would you like me to do? I’d hate not to be of service at this important stage in the case.”

“Mr Carruthers,” said Holmes, “the role you play will be of vital importance, rest assured of that.”

He looked at me. “Please, Watson, we haven’t much time! Challenger! Mann!”

I considered arguing but experience had taught me how efficacious that usually was. “Very well,” I said, “I shall be your errand boy.”

With considerable restraint I managed to walk out of the room and through the rest of the building without making a single noise.