The Secret Fiend

“The prime minister wishes your presence,” says the coachman.

The boy turns and walks slowly back across the road, his head lowered.

“Look at me, son.”

The aging visage, wrinkled from work and care, still has those dark, twinkling eyes, that big nose the political illustrators like to exaggerate, as if he were a Hebrew Pinocchio, as if he were Mr. Dickens’ evil Jew, Fagin. For Sherlock Holmes, looking at him is like looking into the face of God.

“You are about the streets at a rather late hour.”

“So … so are you, sir.”

The prime minister lets out a huge guffaw.

“Oh! I do not get to laugh much anymore.”

“Sir … why can we not all vote: women and men and all the poor?”

“Ah. You are a thinker. That is good.” He pats Sherlock on the shoulder. The boy wonders if he will ever clean that spot again. “When I was a youth I was impetuous. I wanted to be the greatest novelist the world had ever seen and the choice of all the ladies and the fanciest dresser. And when I first became a politician, I wanted to change the world … on my first day in parliament!”

Sherlock smiles.

“But humanity will not put up with that. We are a rather large group with many points of view. There will always be poverty, hatred, poisonous ideas, as well as love and kindness and decency. Life changes slowly. The most important thing is to do your part to steer things in the right direction. And that is what I am trying to do. Like my fellow human beings, I am not always right … I am not always good. I have a bad side. We all do. I have, for example, a very poor opinion of my scandalous opponent … Mr. Gladstone, and I use the term Mr. with some reservation. But I am trying, I have my nose, this big Jewish nose, pointed, I think, in the right direction. And with me, I hope to take the English people. Some day, we will, indeed, all vote.”

“I am a Jew,” blurts out the boy.

“Are you? What is your name?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well, Master Holmes, if you might allow me to impart some advice, do not be too much of a Jew. Be a human being first. Treasure your Jewishness, but listen to others – they may be, believe it or not, just as noble as you. That’s what the Christians must do – and the Muslims and the Conservatives and the Liberals and the Irish, who are igniting bombs in our city to get their way, and the Americans, who so often think they are right when they have no idea, and cause damage in the world.”

Benjamin Disraeli pauses and sighs.

“This Spring Heeled Jack chap, he who wants to scare us into change – his terror will not work, I assure you. We shall change, together, at our own speed. He is of the mistaken impression that what he believes is the truth … and all others are wrong. It is good to have beliefs, do not misunderstand me. But if you think you are absolutely right about something, my son, about anything … then you probably aren’t. Human beings are not God. We were cast out from the Garden of Eden when we tried to be. We are all imperfect, but if we are wise, we learn every day. Tell me, what are you going to do with your life?”

“My mother was killed by a criminal. I want to seek justice. But I can’t, not yet. I am still just a boy.”

“Nonsense!” shouts the prime minister. He glares at the lad, sending a shiver right into his heart. “BEGIN TODAY!” Disraeli turns away. He taps his stick on his carriage and gingerly climbs in. It starts to pull away.

“I am counting on you, Sherlock Holmes,” he says, as the coachman urges the horses past the Palace of Westminster, into the London night. Up above, Big Ben strikes midnight.

Be sure to read the first three books in the award-winning series:

EYE OF THE CROW

DEATH IN THE AIR

VANISHING GIRL