The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

'Are we to question him here, then?' I asked.

He paused, lips pursed, deep in thought. After a minute I cleared my throat.

'No, Watson,' he said, turning back toward Baker Street. 'I think that can wait until tomorrow. I have much to do first.'

The next morning Holmes knocked loudly on my door until, bleary eyed, I called, 'What is it, Holmes?'

'It's half past six,' he said. 'Mrs Hudson has the kettle on and breakfast will be ready at seven sharp.'

'For heaven's sake,' I said, sitting up. 'Tell me, why have you awakened me so early?'

'We have an appointment!'

'Appointment?' I asked, still cloudy. I rose and opened the door. 'Ah. Pendleton-Smythe and his amateur beggars, I assume. But that's not until nine o'clock sharp – you said so yourself!'

'Exactly!' He had a fevered look to his eye and I knew he'd been up most of the night working on the mysterious colonel's case – although what the actual nature of the case was, I still hadn't a clue. Yet Holmes seemed to place singular importance on it.

When I had shaved and dressed, I emerged to find an excellent repast set out for us by Mrs Hudson. Holmes had barely touched his plate. He was rummaging through stacks of old newspapers strewn across the floor and every flat surface of the room.

'Here it is!' he cried.

'What?' I asked, helping myself to tea, toast, and orange marmalade.

'A pattern is emerging,' he said softly. 'I believe I have all the pieces now. But how do they fit?'

'Explain it to me,' I said.

He held up one hand. 'Precisely what I intend to do,Watson. Your clarity of thought may be what I need right now.' He cleared his throat. 'In 1852, Oliver Pendleton-Smythe and six of his schoolmates were expelled from Eton. They were involved in some scandal, the nature of which I have yet to ascertain official reports tend to be vague on that sort of matter.'

'Rightfully so,' I murmured.

'Young Pendleton-Smythe found himself shipped off to South Africa after six months of knocking about London, and there his career proved unexceptional. When at last he retired and returned to London, taking charge of his family's house, things seemed to go well for him. He announced his betrothal to Dame Edith Stuart, which you may also remember from the society pages.'

'A step up for an army colonel,' I commented.

'I suspect she may have been involved in the Eton scandal, but that is mere conjecture at this point,' Holmes said. 'Yes, to all appearances it is a step up for him. However, two weeks later he broke off the engagement, and the next day – three days ago, in fact – he disappeared.'

'Until he showed up on our doorstep.'

'Just so.'

'Where does this Amateur Beggar Society fit in?' I asked.

'The Secret Mendicant Society, as it is more properly called, was part of a network of spies set up by the Emperor Constantine. The Roman Empire had more than its share of beggars, and Constantine realized they heard and saw more than anyone gave them credit for. Originally, noble-born members of the Society would dress as beggars and go forth to collect news and information, which then made its way back through the network to Constantine himself.

'The next few emperors made little use of Constantine's beggars, but oddly enough the Society seems to have established itself more strongly rather than collapsing, as one might have expected. It developed its own set of rites and rituals. One faction in India splintered off and became affiliated with the Thuggee, of whom you may be familiar.'

'Indeed,' I said, 'I have heard of those devils.'

Holmes nodded. 'Sometime in the Middle Ages they seemed to disappear. However, in 1821 a condemned man mentioned them in his last statement. Since then I've found two other mentions of the Secret Mendicant Society, the first being a satirical cartoon from Punch dated 1832, which refers to them as a rival to the Free Masons as if everyone had heard of them,

and the second being the scrap of paper found in Colonel Pendleton-Smythe's house.'

'So where does the colonel fit in?'

'I was just getting to that,' Holmes said. 'Of the six chums expelled from Eton, I have been able to trace the movements of three. All three died in recent weeks under mysterious circumstances. What does this tell you?'

'That the colonel is next on the list to be killed?' 'Precisely,Watson. Or so it would seem.'

'You have reason to believe otherwise?'

'Ha! You see right through me, Watson. It seems distinctly odd to me that this rash of murders should coincide with Pendleton-Smythe's return from Africa.'

'Indeed, it does seem odd,' I agreed. 'But perhaps there are other circumstances at work here.You won't know that until you speak with the colonel himself.' I looked at my watch. 'It's only half an hour until our appointment.'

'Time,' said Holmes, 'for us to be on our way.'

I stared at him in bewildered consternation. 'You'll have Pendleton-Smythe convinced you don't want to see him if you keep to this course!'

'Rather,' he said, 'I am endeavoring to make sure the meeting does take place. Your coat, Watson! We'll either meet him on the street on his way here – or if, as I suspect, he intends to skip our meeting since he was recognized yesterday, we will meet him at his rooming house!'

I grabbed my coat and hat and followed him once more out to the street.

We did not, of course, meet Pendleton-Smythe in the street; Holmes always did have a knack for second- guessing other people's actions. When we arrived at the rooming house, we found a stout gray-haired woman whom I took to be the landlady sweeping the steps.

'Excuse me,' Holmes said briskly, 'I wish to ask after one of your tenants – a military man with a slight limp, dark coat, dark hat. I have a letter he dropped last night and I wish to return it to him.'

'You'd mean Mr Smith,' she said. 'Give it here, I'll hand it to him when he's up.' She held out her hand.

'Is he in, then?' Holmes asked.

'Here now, who are you?' she said, regarding us both suspiciously and hefting her broom to bar our way.

I hastened to add, 'This is Mr Sherlock Holmes, and we must speak to your Mr Smith. It's very urgent.'

'Mr Holmes? Why didn't you say so, gents? 'Course I've heard of you, Mr Holmes. Who hasn't, round these parts? Come in, come in, I'm forgetting my manners.' She lowered the broom and moved toward the front door. 'I'm Mrs Nellie Coram, Sir, and I own this establishment. Mr Smith's room is on the second floor. I'll just pop up and see if he'll come down.'

'If you don't mind,' Holmes said, 'I think we'd better come upstairs with you.'

'Oh, is he a slippery one, then?' she said. 'I thought he might be, but he paid me a fortnight's rent in advance, and I can't afford to be too nosy, business being what it is these days.'

'He is not a criminal,' Holmes said. 'He is a client. But it is urgent that I speak with him immediately.'

She laid a finger alongside her nose and gave him a broad wink, but said no more. She led us in at once, up a broad flight of steps to a well-scrubbed second floor hallway. She turned right, went down a narrow passage to a closed door, and there she knocked twice. A gruff whisper came in answer almost immediately: 'Who is it?'

'Nellie Coram,' the landlady said. 'I have two visitors for you, Mr Smith.'

The door opened a crack, and I saw a single piercing blue eye regard Holmes and me for a second. 'Come in,' said the voice, stronger now, and its owner moved back and opened the door for us.

Holmes and I went in. I looked around and saw a small but tidy room: bed, wash-stand, armoire, and a single straight-backed chair by the window. A copy of The Times lay open on the bed.

Pendleton-Smythe closed the door before Mrs Coram could join us, and I heard a muffled 'Humph' from the other side and the sound of her footsteps as she returned to her tasks downstairs. The colonel himself was a man of medium height and strong build, with iron gray hair, blue eyes, and a small moustache. He wore dark blue trousers, a white pinstripe shirt,

and a blue jacket. But it was the service revolver in his hand that most drew my attention. Pendleton-Smythe held it pointed straight at Holmes and me.