The Secret Fiend

time and the descriptions of him, given by the working-class women whom he attacked, were sensational and difficult to accept as the truth – blue flames coming from his mouth, red eyes and devil-ears, and two wildly different descriptions of a bizarre, angry face, hissing the word chaos! The only information of note comes from the second attack. During it, the villain seemed intent upon truly hurting its victim, beginning to physically assault the unconscious girl. Fortunately, it was interrupted by two burly tradesmen who happened to be walking by after a late night at a public house. It seems as though the Spring Heeled Jack is turning more violent, and that if he can get at someone and not be interrupted … murder may, indeed, be the result.

Sherlock gives himself a good head start, leaving almost two hours before dusk. He tells Bell that he is planning to meet Beatrice in Southwark, which the old man approves of, given the increasing aggressiveness of the Jack. It doesn’t take the boy long to get to Knightsbridge – it is almost directly east of where he lives. Not confident in Master Lestrade’s ability as a snoop, he has asked the boy to meet him at the Wellington Arch and keep out of sight. It is perfect because there is a tiny police station built right into the arch, which a single constable occupies, and where the inspector’s son can hide. Sherlock will then go to Queens Gardens, trail Malefactor, and pick up Lestrade on the way back, hopefully as their suspect walks to Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

But when Sherlock arrives, young Lestrade isn’t there. An hour later, he still hasn’t come and Holmes turns restless. Did someone intercept my note at Scotland Yard? Perhaps Master Lestrade doesn’t want to work with me, or couldn’t obtain a revolver. He keeps circling the roundabout where the arch sits, staying out of the constable’s sight. Should I do this on my own? Should I go to Queens Gardens now? All he has is his horsewhip, a poor weapon against a gathering of Irregulars. But he will have make do. It is time to move. He will go alone, whether ill-advised or not.

Just as he is leaving, he hears a voice.

“Sherlock!”

Master Lestrade is puffing as he runs through strolling tourists toward the arch. He is wearing his checked brown suit and bowler hat, a thick woolen comforter thrown around his neck against the cool March evening. Something bulges in his pocket.

“My apologies.”

“That may not do. He may be gone.”

“My father didn’t leave the office until very late. I couldn’t take the pistol until he left the building. I have it here. I stole it from his desk.”

He offers an uneasy smile and then begins to pull it from his pocket. Sherlock grips his hand.

“Not here!”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Holmes doesn’t like what he sees: Lestrade is sweating, and he speaks in quick bursts. That’s not simply because he has been running. He is nervous. The attempt to pull a police revolver from his pocket in plain view at busy Hyde Park Corner announces that loud and clear. Sherlock needs a competent ally tonight. Otherwise, he might very well end up dead.

“Calm yourself.”

“I … I am ready to fight evil, to collar the villains who have attacked Miss Leckie. I am as serene as the Lake District.”

“Are you?”

“Look to yourself, Sherlock Holmes. I have been trained by the best.”

The boy wants to say that is what worries him, but he bites his tongue.

“Your tardiness may have destroyed our opportunity. I will hurry to Queens Gardens. Hopefully, Malefactor has not left yet, and I will not be observed. That would be catastrophic. Wait here and stay out of sight. If all goes well, I will pick you up on the way by.”

Sherlock turns to whisk along Knightsbridge Road, but stops in his tracks.

“Behind the arch! Now!”

“But why? … I don’t see –”

Sherlock snatches Lestrade by the collar and pulls him behind the hulking stone arch.

“He’s coming!”

“I can’t see –”

“He is in disguise, wearing a bowler, glasses, and black beard. I shall tell you when it is time to move.”

Sherlock waits a good minute before he peeks out from behind the gray stones. Sure enough, Malefactor has passed by and is heading down Constitution Hill, exactly like he did this afternoon. The sun is beginning to set.

“We shall keep a good distance. I am guessing he will take the same route.”

And so he does. Sherlock stays well back, much farther than when he followed his rival earlier in the day, so concerned is he about Lestrade’s abilities. The older boy continues to be nervous, holding one arm carefully over the pocket containing the pistol, eyes riveted ahead, obviously in pursuit of someone. Sherlock has to keep reminding him to look nonchalant.

Malefactor begins to discard his disguise once he gets to the other side of Trafalgar Square and into the smaller streets, just as he did before. Lestrade is amazed. But Sherlock makes sure that his detective friend doesn’t get too close a look. In fact, once they have reached Lincoln’s Inn Field, he won’t let the other boy enter the park or stand anywhere near the wrought-iron fence. He wants him somewhere on the far side of the street that surrounds the rectangular field.

The College of Surgeons is at the south end of the park, a big gray building with six Corinthian columns at its regal entrance and a black fence surrounding it. Sherlock knows this place well because Sigerson Bell always talks about it – its basement contains an amazing collection of scientific artifacts and bizarre oddities. The boy has sat in the park many times and stared at the building, imagining its innards. He’s also noticed two things about its exterior: there is a tight walkway between it and another building, about as wide as a man’s shoulders, and a gas lamp almost directly in front on the street. This will be a perfect place for Lestrade to wait, hidden and out of the way, and yet able to see the park. Sherlock is guessing that Malefactor will send his Spring Heeled Jack south of the river tonight, since many attacks have occurred there in working-class areas, and that is where Beatrice lives. The best way to get out of the Lincoln’s Inn Field area and go southward would be to leave the park by the entrance directly in front of the College.

It is a residential area, and only a few people are about at this darkening hour. Sherlock deposits his complaining partner in the walkway by the College, just out of view, telling him to remain silent and still. Lestrade is only to move when Sherlock appears and gives him a signal. Even then, he is to follow behind.

The Irregulars are convening at the opposite side of the field, under a cluster of big trees that provide cover. Sherlock doesn’t dare get close. Instead, he takes a long route around the park and stops at the north-east corner, well out of sight and a good fifty feet away. Still, he is able to look through the bars of the black iron fence and at least make out the outlines of the Irregulars in the growing darkness.

Two gang members are posted as lookouts in the park at a distance from each other and eight more are gathered in a circle around someone. The one in the middle is not Malefactor. Sherlock can see the boss’s tall top hat in the ring of boys looking on. There are eleven visible gang members in the eerie light. There should be twelve Irregulars plus Malefactor, for a total of thirteen. Where are the other two? This makes Holmes nervous. He glances around; he looks back. The shadowy boys are making their circle tighter, closing ranks, so it is difficult to see exactly what the one in the middle is doing. But Sherlock can see that he is tall … and that he appears to be pulling on something that looks like black wings.

Time to leave and rush back to Lestrade – they are about to unleash the Jack!

Sherlock moves slowly at first, trying not to make a sound, but when he is farther away, runs, ignoring the looks he gets from three gentlemen who walk past. He is glancing around, wary of a sudden attack by the two absent Irregulars. His breathing is getting heavier, sounding awfully loud in the quiet park area, but not so loud that as he turns the corner and heads up the street toward the College of Surgeons, he doesn’t hear the sound of a few voices … and someone moaning.

He looks up and sees something hanging from the lamppost in front of the College, a dark lump in the circle of soft light.

“They put him up there so fast I couldn’t even help him. There was two of them, two lads.”

“You saw it?”