biggest one takes over. That’s the way things go.’
‘I know,’ Sherlock said, ‘but I can’t do anything about that. Not right now. At least we’ve got Harkness out of the way, and destroyed his blackmail material. That’ll make a lot of people happy.’ He frowned, looking at the way Matty was casually standing in the middle of the alley. ‘What happened to that man who got sent out – Nicholson?’
‘The bloke with the beer belly? He came out and just stood here. Didn’t look happy. Looked like he’d tear someone’s head off as soon as talk to them, in fact.’
‘Where were you?’
Matty indicated a pile of crates on the other side of the alley. ‘When I heard him coming I hid there. He wasn’t exactly keeping quiet. There was curse words he used that I’d never heard before.’
‘So what happened?’
‘He stood there for a few minutes, then his friend came out.’
‘Marky,’ Sherlock confirmed.
‘Yeah, him. He grabbed the other bloke by the arm and said something to him. Next thing I knew they were both heading off down the alley.’
Sherlock nodded. ‘I managed to persuade Marky that, with Harkness’s blackmail material gone, the town was going to become a very unfriendly place for them to be. I think they’ve decided to try their fortunes elsewhere.’
‘Where to now?’
‘Let’s go home,’ Sherlock said.
‘I ain’t got a home, apart from the narrowboat.’
‘I meant Holmes Manor.’
Matty shook his head forcefully. ‘I don’t like that housekeeper,’ he said, ‘and she don’t like me. If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay here.’
‘I think,’ Sherlock said, ‘that you’ll find Mrs Eglantine’s influence over the Holmes household will diminish rapidly within the next hour or so. I’m sure you’ll find yourself welcome at the manor from now on.’ He glanced critically at his friend. ‘Well, if you dust yourself off and comb your hair, you will.’
With Matty perched behind him on Philadelphia’s back, Sherlock cantered along the familiar roads towards Holmes Manor.
‘Do you think I could get something to eat when we get there?’ Matty called over Sherlock’s shoulder.
‘I think that can be arranged,’ Sherlock called back.
It took about half an hour to get to the manor house, and when they turned in through the main gate and headed up along the drive to the house Sherlock could feel Matty tensing behind him. Bypassing the front door, he trotted around to the stables and left the horse in the care of one of the grooms.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’m eager to see this matter closed.’
He entered through the main door, Matty behind him. The shadowy hallway seemed empty, but he knew that appearances were deceptive.
‘Mrs Eglantine!’ he called.
A part of the shadows detached itself and stepped forward. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop by ten degrees. ‘Young Master Holmes,’ said a voice in a tone so cold that icicles could have formed. ‘As you seem so determined to use this house as a hotel, coming and going when you please, perhaps you ought to be paying for the privilege of staying here.’
‘I would expect the quality of the housekeeping staff in a hotel to be considerably better than here,’ he rejoined.
The expression on Mrs Eglantine’s face didn’t change, but Sherlock felt the atmosphere in the hallway become even colder.
‘Make your quips, child,’ she hissed. ‘Enjoy them while you can. Your time in this house is limited.’
‘If you are expecting your friend Josh Harkness to do something about me, you are going to be disappointed. Mr Harkness is in custody, and won’t be getting out in a hurry.’
‘You are lying,’ she said through clenched teeth, but Sherlock could tell that she was suddenly on the defensive.
‘I never lie,’ he said simply. ‘I leave that to people like you.’ He paused for a moment, working out his next move. ‘Please tell my aunt and uncle that I wish to talk to them in the dining room.’
‘Tell them yourself,’ she said. Her voice could have cut glass.
‘You are the servant here, not me. Pass on my request. Do it now. Please be so good as to ask Cook for a plate of sandwiches and a jug of lemonade as well. My friend and I are hungry and thirsty.’
The housekeeper stared at him with an expression on her face that indicated that she was re-evaluating him, and didn’t like what she was discovering. She turned and disappeared into the shadows.
‘Come on,’ he said to Matty. ‘Let’s get ready.’
He led the way across the hall to the dining room. It struck him that he could have chosen to have the confrontation in the reception room, where guests were entertained, but he wanted to do this somewhere more formal, less comfortable.
The table in the centre of the dining room was bare apart from two candlesticks and a bowl of fruit. Matty helped himself to a pear while Sherlock sat in a chair on the far side, with the light of the windows behind him. Matty followed him around the table and stood behind him eating the pear.
Sherlock tried to quiet his breathing. He knew what he wanted to achieve over the next few minutes, but he knew that he was dealing with people, not chess pieces, and people sometimes did what you least expected them to do. What if Mrs Eglantine had more influence over his uncle and aunt than just her possession of some incriminating material? Perhaps they would defend Mrs Eglantine, despite what had already gone on in the house. Perhaps the three of them would join forces against him.
The door opened and Sherrinford Holmes entered, with Aunt Anna close behind him.
‘It is unusual for a man who is master in his own house to be summoned by his ward,’ he said mildly.
‘I apologize if Mrs Eglantine gave the impression that I was summoning you,’ Sherlock replied quietly. ‘I merely wanted to talk to you both about something serious.’
‘Is this related to what happened in the library earlier today?’ Sherrinford Holmes asked. ‘If so, I distinctly remember saying that we would speak no more about it.’
‘This concerns a man named Josh Harkness,’ Sherlock said, ‘and his influence on this family.’ He felt that he should ask his aunt and uncle to sit down, but that would have been rude. It was their house and their dining room: he didn’t want to be seen as being arrogant.
Before Sherrinford could reply, Mrs Eglantine entered the dining room. Two maids followed her; one carried a plate of sandwiches while the other held a tray with a jug and four glasses. They put them on the table.
‘Please,’ Sherlock said to Mrs Eglantine as the maids left, ‘stay for a few moments. This concerns you as much as it concerns my aunt and uncle.’
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. She seemed edgy, uncertain. Even scared.
‘You haven’t introduced me to your friend,’ Sherrinford said. He pulled out a seat at the dining table for his wife. She sat, and he followed.
‘This is Matthew Arnatt,’ Sherlock said. ‘He lives in Farnham.’
‘A gypsy,’ Mrs Eglantine said. ‘Of no worth.’
‘I told you before,’ Matty said from behind Sherlock, ‘I ain’t no ’Gyptian.’
Sherrinford Holmes tapped the table briefly. ‘Even if you were,’ he said, ‘not only are the Egyptians a noble and ancient race who are often mentioned in the Bible, but you are also named for one of Jesus Christ’s disciples and the author of one of the four Gospels. You are welcome in my house, Matthew.’
‘Cheers,’ Matty said.
‘Are you hungry?’ Sherlock’s aunt asked. ‘Perhaps you would like a sandwich and a glass of lemonade.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ the boy said, and reached over Sherlock’s shoulder to grab a couple of sandwiches.
‘So,’ Sherrinford Holmes said, ‘what is so important that you have convened a family conference, and what does this have to do with the man you mentioned – a man whose name I cannot bring my lips to form.’
Sherlock took a deep breath. ‘Josh Harkness is a blackmailer,’ he said. ‘He collects facts about people – facts
