Watson. You must swear on everything that is sacred to you that you will never tell Holmes, or anyone else, of this meeting. You must never write about it. You must never mention it. Should you ever learn my name, you must pretend that you are hearing it for the first time and that it means nothing to you.’
‘How do you know I will keep such a promise?’
‘I know you are a man of your word.’
‘And if I refuse?’
He sighed. ‘Let me tell you now that Holmes’s life is in great danger. More than that, he will be dead within forty-eight hours unless you do as I ask. I alone can help you, but will only do so on my terms.’
‘Then I agree.’
‘You swear?’
‘Yes.’
‘On what?’
‘On my marriage.’
‘Not good enough.’
‘On my friendship with Holmes.’
He nodded. ‘Now we understand each other.’
‘Then what is the House of Silk? Where will I find it?’
‘I cannot tell you. I only wish I could, but I fear Holmes must discover it for himself. Why? Well, in the first instance because I know he is capable and it will interest me to study his methods, to see him at work. The more I know of him, the less formidable he becomes. But there is also a broader point of principle at stake. I have admitted to you that I am a criminal, but what exactly does that mean? Simply that there are certain rules which govern society but which I find a hindrance and therefore choose to ignore. I have met perfectly respectable bankers and lawyers who would say exactly the same. It is all a question of degree. But I am not an animal, Dr Watson. I do not murder children. I consider myself a civilised man and there are other rules which are, to my mind, inviolable.
‘So what is a man like myself to do when he comes across a group of people whose behaviour — whose criminality — he considers to be beyond the pale? I could tell you who they are and where you can find them. I could have already told the police. Alas, such an act would cause considerable damage to my reputation among many of the people I employ who are less high-minded than me. There is such a thing as a criminal code and many criminals of my acquaintance take it very seriously. In fact, I tend to concur. What right have I to judge my fellow criminals? I would certainly not expect to be judged by them.’
‘You sent Holmes a clue.’
‘I acted on impulse, which is very unusual for me and shows how annoyed I had become. Even so, it was a compromise, the very least I could do in the circumstances. If it did spur him into action, I could console myself with the thought that I had done very little and was not really to blame. If, on the other hand, he chose to ignore it, no damage had been done, and my conscience was clear. That said, you have no idea how sorry I was that he chose the latter course of action — or inaction, I should say. It is my sincere belief that the world would be a much better place without the House of Silk. It is still my hope that this will come to pass. That is why I invited you here tonight.’
‘If you cannot give me information, what can you give me?’
‘I can give you this.’ He slid something across the table towards me. I looked down and saw a small, metal key.
‘What is this?’ I asked.
‘It is the key to his cell.’
‘What?’ I almost laughed aloud. ‘You expect Holmes to escape? Is that your master plan? You want me to help him break out of Holloway?’
‘I do not know why you find the notion so amusing, Dr Watson. Let me assure you that there is no possible alternative.’
‘There is the coroner’s court. The truth will come out.’
His face darkened. ‘You still have no conception of the sort of people you are up against, and I begin to wonder if I’m not wasting my time. Let me make it clear to you: Sherlock Holmes will never leave the House of Correction alive. The coroner’s court has been set for next Thursday, but Holmes will not be there. His enemies will not allow it. They plan to kill him while he is in jail.’
I was horrified. ‘How?’
‘That I cannot tell you. Poisoning or strangulation would be the easiest methods, but there are a hundred accidents they could arrange.
Doubtless they will find a way to make the death appear natural. But trust me. The order has already been given. His time is running out.’
I picked up the key. ‘How did you get this?’
‘That is immaterial.’
‘Then tell me how I am to get it to him. They won’t let me see him.’
‘That is for you to arrange. There is nothing more I can do without revealing my part in this. You have Inspector Lestrade on your side. Speak to him.’ He stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back from the table. ‘There is nothing more to be said, I think. The sooner you return to Baker Street, the sooner you can begin to consider what must be done.’ He relaxed a little. ‘I will add only this. You have no idea how keenly I have felt the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Indeed, I quite envy Holmes having such a staunch biographer at his side. I, too, have certain stories of considerable interest to share with the public and I wonder if I might one day call on your services. No? Well, it was an idle thought. But, this meeting aside, I suppose it is always possible that I may turn up as a character in one of your narratives. I hope you will do me justice.’
They were the last words he spoke to me. Perhaps he had signalled with some hidden contrivance, for at that moment the door opened and Underwood appeared. I drained my glass for I needed the wine to fortify me for the journey. Then, taking the key, I stood up. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
He did not reply. At the door, I took one look back. My host was sitting on his own at the head of that huge table, poking at his food in the candlelight. Then the door closed. And apart from one brief glimpse at Victoria Station, a year later, I never saw him again.
FIFTEEN
Holloway Prison
My return to London was, in some respects, even more of an ordeal than had been my departure. Then I had found myself little more than a captive, in the hands of people who quite possibly meant harm to me, being carried towards an unknown destination on a journey that could have lasted half the night. Now, I knew I was returning home and had only a few hours to endure, but it was impossible to find any sort of equanimity. Holmes was to be murdered! The mysterious forces that had conspired to have him arrested were still not content and only his death would suffice. The metal key that I had been given was clutched so tightly in my hand that I could have made a duplicate from the impression squeezed into my flesh. My only thought was to reach Holloway, to warn Holmes of what was afoot and to assist in his immediate exit from that place. And yet how was I to reach him? Inspector Harriman had already made it clear that he would do everything in his power to keep the two of us apart. On the other hand, Mycroft had said I could approach him again ‘in the most urgent circumstances’, which was what these surely were. But just how far would his influence extend, and by the time he got me into the House of Correction, might it already be too late?
With these thoughts raging in my mind, and with nothing but the silent Underwood leering at me from the seat opposite and darkness on the other side of the frosted windows, the journey seemed to stretch on for ever. Worse still, part of me knew that I was being deceived. The coach was surely going round and round in circles, purposefully exaggerating the distance between Baker Street and the strange mansion where I had been invited to dinner. It was particularly vexing to reflect that had Holmes been in my place, he would have taken note of all the different elements — the chime of a church bell, the blast of a steam whistle, the smell of stagnant water, the
