Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #12 Read online

  “But surely Mycroft’s people, or Scotland Yard, can place guards at his home to forestall any such attempt?”

  “Challenger would never accept such an arrangement. He is impossible in that regard as in most others. It is up to you and I to see this through. You are packed and ready to go? Then we leave tomorrow morning at first light, then catch our train at Victoria Station.”

  The Detective and The Professor:

  “There it is, Watson, Challenger’s house at Enmore Park. It has been a long trip, but we shall be there soon, so steel yourself, for I assure you this man can be most difficult,” Holmes warned as the small trap, drawn by a single horse, slowly brought the pair to the front yard of the great man’s home. Holmes paid the driver, and Watson gathered their two small valises in hand; then, with heavy hearts, both men walked up the cobble pathway to the front door.

  Watson looked at that door with some trepidation, then shot a wary glance to his companion. “Well, here we are, Holmes.”

  Holmes nodded, telling the doctor, “Go on then, ring the bell and let us begin what I am sure will prove to be a most singular adventure.”

  Watson took a deep breath and rang the bell. Immediately, the two men heard a loud bellowing voice roaring in answer from the other end of the house, “Go away!”

  Watson looked askance at Holmes, but his companion only smiled. “Ring it again, old fellow.”

  Watson did as Holmes instructed.

  “I told you to go away! Do not make me come out there and thrash you! For I surely will! Newsmen, drummers, interfering annoyances—I’ll not have you! Now be gone!”

  “Holmes, he sounds like a mad man.”

  “I have often had the occasion to notice, my good Watson, that there is a thin line between genius and madness and I am sure Professor Challenger possesses both qualities in ample measure.”

  Watson shook his head in despair. Holmes himself now rang the bell, and continued to ring it again and again until they heard loud footsteps rushing upon the wooden floor inside the house advancing towards them. Suddenly the front door was flung open and there in the doorway stood an enraged Professor Challenger; short, squat, a muscular bull with jet black hair and a coal-black beard that jutted out at them like a dagger. His eyes were a piercing grey, his manner was arrogant and threatening, and his gorilla-like hands were balled up into massive fists that appeared ready to strike out at any moment.

  In a bellowing Scotch accent he growled, “My lovely, patient Jessie tells me I must restrain me baser impulses to pummel those who would disturb me from my work.”

  Watson looked upon the man in utter amazement, wondering if he should have brought his revolver.

  Holmes allowed a wry grin, and simply offered his hand in greeting, “I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague, Doctor John Watson. Have I the pleasure of addressing Professor George Edward Challenger?”

  “You know you do, sonny!” Challenger blurted, then he reluctantly nodded, but he did not shake hands with Holmes. “All right, then, come in. I told Malone I would see you and I always keep my promises, but for the love of God I can not see what either of you men could contribute to my research upon the Titanic disaster. In fact, I am almost complete with that work, so I have no need of your help. As if you could offer any!”

  “Really?” Holmes asked, carefully diplomatic, knowing full well that he needed to tread lightly with this man as he entered his house. “I am happy to hear that news and would be most eager to view your findings.”

  “If you could understand them,” Challenger growled, looking at the Great Detective carefully. “The world is full of obtuse clods I am forced to contend with!”

  Holmes smiled calmly, “I see.”

  Watson had had enough by then. He stammered in anger, “Well, really, Professor! I am astounded! You present to us a most rude and offensive manner!”

  “Easy, my friend,” Holmes cautioned the doctor, but it was too late, for Watson was now on fire.

  “No, Holmes, I’ll not stand by and listen to this bombastic bore speak to you in such an arrogant manner! He is abominable! We come here to help him and this is the treatment we receive! I’ll not countenance such behaviour from this bearded popinjay!”

  “Popinjay!” Challenger barked in rage. “I’ll show you what a popinjay can do!” Suddenly Challenger crouched down into a low attack stance and charged Watson head-on like a wild bull.

  Watson was utterly surprised and totally taken aback by the sudden and most ungentlemanly attack, but Sherlock Holmes had expected just such a situation. He deftly lifted an umbrella from the nearby stand, and upending it, used the hook to grasp the Professor’s leg and quickly bring him down to the floor before he could reach Watson.

  Challenger hit the floor bellowing in anger, fuming and roaring in rage, “I was tricked! That was entirely unfair of you, sir!”

  “And I suppose I should have allowed you to pummel poor Watson here,” Holmes stated firmly with cold precision and total control. “I think not. He and I are here at your invitation. I am most disappointed in you, Professor, most disappointed. You are one of the most brilliant men in the British Isles, lo, even in the entire world. It is a shame you resort to such barbarous tactics and can not control your anger. It is, I must say, quite disgusting. Come, Watson, let us leave this man and his house immediately.”

  “George! George, what have you done?” This now from a high-pitched female voice belonging to a slim, petite, bird-like woman who had just run into the room. It was Challenger’s wife, Jessie, and she rushed to her fallen husband.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Jessie asked the much chastened Professor as she helped her husband to his feet, for Holmes’s words had a most intense effect upon him.

  “Yes, my love,” Challenger said softly, giving his wife a soft kiss upon the cheek. “I am fine, fine I tell you, now you should get back to your sewing and have no further worries on my behalf. This is Doctor Watson and Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Malone enlisted them to help me and…”

  “And you lost your temper again, George, did you not?” his wife scolded him firmly.

  “Yes, I am afraid I did, my love.”

  “Then an apology is in order, is it not, George?”

  “Yes, of course. I am sorry, my dear,” Challenger said softly.

  “Not to me, you ninny, but to these two gentlemen,” Jessie instructed him.

  Challenger smiled broadly at the rebuke, “Just teasing you, my dear. Yes, of course. Please accept my apology, gentlemen. My words were abominable, but I find these days that I am inundated by too many people, all of whom intrude upon my time and my work. Both of which are precious to me.”

  “As they should be,” Holmes stated, his eyes upon those of the professor. “Let us speak no more of it.”

  Then the Great Detective held out his hand once again and this time Challenger took it and shook it heartily. Then the same was done with Watson.

  “Good, now I will leave you gentlemen to your important work,” Jessie Challenger told them as she left the room.

  Challenger smiled a broad grin through his thatch of great black beard as he watched her walk out of the room. “That little lady is the love of my life, sirs. I have no idea how she can still put up with me after all these years, but she does.”

  “You are a most lucky man,” Watson stated sincerely.

  “You are correct, doctor,” Challenger said as he lead his two visitors into his large and comfortable study, closing the door behind him and then offering them seats. “Now tell me the real reason why you are here, Mr. Holmes.”

  “To help you with your research,” Holmes replied simply. “Malone said you needed some helpers.”

  “Hah! That’s a crock! I need no helpers—and in any event my research is all but completed. I have come up with a fasci
nating theory, something so earthshaking that it may be decades—or even a century—before the world will be ready to understand it.”

  “Indeed,” Holmes spoke up very much interested. “I would be delighted to hear of it. I am sure anything you have discovered will set the conventional scientific world upon its head.”

  Challenger preened a bit at the compliment, “It certainly will, Mr. Holmes, but at this moment I want the truth of your visit here. The real reason.”

  Holmes nodded, “Very well, Professor. Within the next forty-eight hours an assassination attempt will be made upon your life.”

  Challenger was silent for a moment with this grim news, then he laughed uproariously. “Bah! Nonsense! I receive death threats all the time. You have to do better than that, young man. Why, I am sure that half of my colleagues would murder me in my very bed if they had the nerve to do so and could guarantee they would get away with the crime. You have to do better than that. I do not believe you.”

  “Believe what you will, Professor,” Holmes stated firmly, “but Watson and I are here to forestall that attempt. I can not tell you from what source it will come or who is directly behind it, but I can tell you it is not a crime born out of passion of any type. It is a professional job.”

  “Professional, you say?” Challenger asked thoughtfully. It certainly sounded ominous.

  “Absolutely,” Holmes added. “Professor, I know that a brilliant man such as yourself works upon many research projects simultaneously. One of these may have attracted the attention of a foreign power. Watson and I are here to prevent the murder of the world’s greatest scientist—a man who possesses a brilliant mind of the very first order that can not be allowed to be shut down. It would be a tragic loss to the Empire, to humanity itself!”

  “Yes, surely it would,” Challenger stated in all seriousness. “But how do you know this? Ah, yes, of course, your brother, Mycroft. So what is the plan?”

  “Someone will show himself here within the next forty-eight hours. Until that time Watson and I will be honoured to be your guests and endeavour to help you in your Titanic project any way we are able.”

  Challenger nodded, accepting the terms, then a worried look came to his face. “Tell me, Mr. Holmes, is this assassination connected in any way to my research upon the sinking of the Titanic?”

  Holmes allowed a slim grin. “Most assuredly not.”

  “I presumed so, nevertheless I am gratified to hear that. It would grieve me severely if that great tragedy and loss of life were the result of anything other than cruel fate—as in some man-made incident.”

  “I assure you it was not,” Holmes confirmed.

  Challenger nodded in relief, “Well, gentlemen, Malone organized this meeting, but I fail to see how you can aid me in my scientific research. That research has been all but completed. All it needs now is for Malone to return later this month and write up my findings for publication.”

  “Then perhaps Watson and I could be of some little help. As men of natural inquisitiveness, we have our own theory of this tragedy but would be most pleased to hear yours. Eh, Watson?”

  “Absolutely, Holmes,” Watson replied, looking towards the black-haired, bull-like man seated behind his desk. “Professor Challenger, I can not begin to tell you how thrilled I am to make your acquaintance—I have followed your exploits in the scientific journals and your work is unparalleled.”

  “Naturally,’ Challenger asserted boldly, enjoying the prestige the doctor had bestowed upon him. “Then I shall explain to you my findings, so long as you both are capable of understanding them.”

  Holmes shot Watson a sharp look of restraint, and the two men patiently waited for Challenger to begin his explanation of the great steamship tragedy.

  Challenger began in his great booming voice, “Science, sirs, is a living, breathing, turbulent game. The minute one new discovery has been made it becomes obsolete as the world breathlessly awaits the next one to be made. I feel I have jumped ahead—perhaps by decades—in my findings. I have prepared voluminous books of calculations proving my findings beyond any doubt. I will allow you and the doctor to read them first-hand tomorrow morning. As for now, good sirs, it is rather late and Jessie calls us to dinner.”

  The two guests then dined with Challenger and his delightful wife, Jessie. Both men were rather astounded by this pairing of the larger-than life misanthropic little Hercules with such a petite and bird-like woman. But the love was certainly there for the guests to plainly see. For Jessie doated on her husband as though he were a young precocious boy of twelve years, and for all his terrible ways, Challenger’s gruff edges softened to putty at her loving manner.

  The foursome enjoyed a fine meal and afterwards Challenger—knowing something of Mr. Holmes’s reputation from Doctor Watson’s stories in The Strand—inveighed upon his guests to recount one of their most famous cases.

  The evening concluded with Challenger giving vent to his own opinions on every topic under the sun. Like an angry lord or some Olympian god of old, he railed against the impurity of science and the clods who were his colleagues. Finally it was time for bed and Jessie led Holmes and Watson to an upstairs spare bedroom, for the Professor would not hear of his guests seeking a hostelry in the local village for the night.

  Once Holmes and Watson were alone, the two men were able to speak freely out of the range of Challenger’s hearing.

  “I am much relieved the Professor invited us to stay here tonight, Watson.”

  “Yes, these accommodations are far superior to those any local village inn could provide,” Watson replied, unpacking his small valise.

  Holmes smiled indulgently at his friend. “That is not the reason I had in mind. Challenger is in danger, so it is good we are here in his home to stand watch. With that said, I will take the first four hours and you the second four, old fellow. Is that acceptable?”

  “Whatever you say, Holmes.”

  “Good man, now get some sleep. I will wake you in four hours.”

  Watson went to bed and was soon asleep snoring rhythmically as Sherlock Holmes stood alert guard, in deep thought on what the morrow would bring.

  Challenger’s Challenge:

  The night passed without incident and Holmes was sure that was only because of Watson’s and his own presence in the house. After dressing, the two guests joined Challenger and his wife in a delightful morning meal before getting to work.

  “I am something of an amateur astronomer, gentlemen, and enjoy keeping records of the events of the heavens that I observe with my telescope. I keep voluminous notes,” Challenger explained, leading Holmes and Watson to his study. There he picked up two heavy foot-thick binders in his large hairy hands. Carrying one massive binder under each arm he then led his guests outside the house to chairs upon the back yard patio, surrounded by a lovely garden and lush bushes.

  “My Jessie suggested we get out of my stuffy study and enjoy the morning air out here in the garden, and of course, she is correct. So sit down, gentlemen, and relax,” Challenger said as he seated himself in a chair across from his guests and presented Holmes and Watson each with one of the massive binders.

  “What is this?” Watson asked in some wonderment.

  “My work, doctor, the facts and figures of it all. Read it and it will make all clear to you as the morning sun,” Challenger ordered in a blustery roar.

  “Why, it must weigh ten pounds!” Watson said in astonishment, taking the massive tome and looking at it with grave misgivings.

  “Only a little over eight pounds, I assure you. I despise padding in scientific calculations but it is all there, not one whit more, nor one whit less,” Challenger stated proudly.

  “And what are we to do with this, Professor?” Holmes asked calmly.

  “Do? Why read it, of course, sir! Read it and learn the brilliance of my discover
y!”

  Holmes allowed a grimace as he leafed through the massive compilation. Challenger noted the gesture and grew a bit piqued, but Holmes quickly worked to tamp down the man’s rising mood, “Professor, there is no doubt your brilliant discovery here is an important one and will offer new information on the Titanic tragedy, but poor Watson and I are not scientists, and certainly we do not possess minds that are in your intellectual league.”

  “That is true, of course,“ Challenger allowed, staring suspiciously at the two men, “but you should not deride yourselves for your lack of intellect.”

  Holmes nodded with a tiny smile.

  Watson looked imploringly at his detective friend, then to Challenger, “You expect us to read all this? Now, at this moment? Why, it must run to a thousand pages!”

  “Eleven-hundred and fifty-five, to be precise,” Challenger boomed, “but I kept it purposely…slim. Only the essential information. Now read! Read it all! I will not comment one iota upon my discovery until you have read it all!”

  Watson gulped, opened the binder and flipped through the pages. They were for the most part covered with the most obtuse and complicated mathematical calculations. Even Watson, an educated and scientific medical man, could barely make head nor tail of them. He looked imploringly at Holmes for some aid.

  Sherlock Holmes simply smiled, opened his book and began reading. Watson shook his head, giving up on any assistance from his friend and tried to get through the first page introductory preface. He soon found himself totally at sea. Astronomy and solar calculations were not his strong point; he only wondered why Holmes was going through with this charade.

  “Delve into it, Watson,” Holmes boasted in good humour, “it makes for fascinating reading. The Professor has come up with a theory that I feel will rock the very foundations of our conventional knowledge about the Titanic disaster.”