Read Online The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Whitechapel Horrors by Edward B. Hanna - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Edward B. Hanna
Tags: United States, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Mystery, Private Investigators, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, British Detectives
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business here, and we have a fairly complete list of those whose business would have had them up and about at that hour. We’ve cross-checked it, of course. No one that we’ve been able to question saw anyone who looked the least bit suspicious or out of the ordinary: Not a soul. No one who didn’t belong, no one who wasn’t known, no one who acted strangely.”
Holmes looked up with a strange smile on his face, an almost gleeful grin that took the others quite by surprise. Turning abruptly, he slashed the air with his stick and stamped his foot on the ground. “God, but this fiend is a wonder! He is a wonder indeed!”
At that point there was a clatter in the passage and two uniformed constables entered the yard, wheeling a litter. Abberline acknowledged their presence and turned wordlessly to Holmes, a questioning look on his face.
Holmes shrugged. “I’m finished with her. Are you, Doctor? Yes? Well then, I see no reason why the body shouldn’t be removed, Inspector. As you see fit.”
Gingerly, the body was eased onto the wheeled contrivance, covered with a scrap of canvas, and taken away. Holmes stood off to one side, looking on quietly. He then turned and started pacing up and down, deep in thought, his walking stick on his shoulder like a soldier’s rifle. The others observed him silently.
The windows looking down into the yard had filled with curious faces throughout the morning as the sky had brightened. Obviously, an opportunity was not to be lost, and entrepreneurial spirits among those who owned the buildings had been doing a brisk business renting out places at the windows to journalists and the morbidly curious, including several who, one would think from their shabby appearance, could put their shillings to better use. Holmes suddenly became aware of their presence for the first time. He stopped and looked up in annoyance, and then swiftly turned and made for the passage leading to the street.
“It would seem that we are making spectacles of ourselves,” he said dryly to no one in particular. “Perhaps we should adjourn to a less public place.”
He led the way through the door into the dark passage and was almost to the street when a thought occurred to him and he stopped abruptly, causing the others who followed to pile up behind.
“I nearly forgot. Has this hallway not been examined? Yes? Well, I take it no one shall mind if I have a look. Inspector Abberline, would you be so good as to order one of your men to fetch some bull’s-eyes?”
Chandler spoke up from the rear. “We’ve already searched here, Mr. Holmes. I assure you, there was nothing to be found: only rubbish, as one might expect.”
“Nevertheless, I would like a quick look. Some light if you please.”
Lanterns were brought in short order and the others stepped aside as Holmes, on hands and knees, spent the next ten minutes crawling the length of the dank passageway, poking into every corner and cranny.He finally emerged into the daylight with the knees of his trousers covered in filth, a glint in his eye, and something tenderly clutched between thumb and forefinger. He held it up for the others to see, his thin lips turned up in a triumphant smile.
“Observe, gentlemen! Our elusive phantom has taken human form. And it would seem that he has more than one disgusting habit. He smokes!”
Several of the policemen in the group looked at him with undisguised astonishment, more than one concluding that he had taken leave of his senses. But Abberline and Chandler rushed to his side and peered closely at the flattened cigarette stub he was holding in his fingers. Holmes took out his pocket magnifying glass and examined the object with something approaching ardor.
Abberline was the first to speak, making no effort to disguise the strong notes of skepticism and impatience that crept into his tone. “How can we possibly know it’s the killer’s, Mr. Holmes? It could have been anyone’s, and it could have been lying in
Holmes looked up with a strange smile on his face, an almost gleeful grin that took the others quite by surprise. Turning abruptly, he slashed the air with his stick and stamped his foot on the ground. “God, but this fiend is a wonder! He is a wonder indeed!”
At that point there was a clatter in the passage and two uniformed constables entered the yard, wheeling a litter. Abberline acknowledged their presence and turned wordlessly to Holmes, a questioning look on his face.
Holmes shrugged. “I’m finished with her. Are you, Doctor? Yes? Well then, I see no reason why the body shouldn’t be removed, Inspector. As you see fit.”
Gingerly, the body was eased onto the wheeled contrivance, covered with a scrap of canvas, and taken away. Holmes stood off to one side, looking on quietly. He then turned and started pacing up and down, deep in thought, his walking stick on his shoulder like a soldier’s rifle. The others observed him silently.
The windows looking down into the yard had filled with curious faces throughout the morning as the sky had brightened. Obviously, an opportunity was not to be lost, and entrepreneurial spirits among those who owned the buildings had been doing a brisk business renting out places at the windows to journalists and the morbidly curious, including several who, one would think from their shabby appearance, could put their shillings to better use. Holmes suddenly became aware of their presence for the first time. He stopped and looked up in annoyance, and then swiftly turned and made for the passage leading to the street.
“It would seem that we are making spectacles of ourselves,” he said dryly to no one in particular. “Perhaps we should adjourn to a less public place.”
He led the way through the door into the dark passage and was almost to the street when a thought occurred to him and he stopped abruptly, causing the others who followed to pile up behind.
“I nearly forgot. Has this hallway not been examined? Yes? Well, I take it no one shall mind if I have a look. Inspector Abberline, would you be so good as to order one of your men to fetch some bull’s-eyes?”
Chandler spoke up from the rear. “We’ve already searched here, Mr. Holmes. I assure you, there was nothing to be found: only rubbish, as one might expect.”
“Nevertheless, I would like a quick look. Some light if you please.”
Lanterns were brought in short order and the others stepped aside as Holmes, on hands and knees, spent the next ten minutes crawling the length of the dank passageway, poking into every corner and cranny.He finally emerged into the daylight with the knees of his trousers covered in filth, a glint in his eye, and something tenderly clutched between thumb and forefinger. He held it up for the others to see, his thin lips turned up in a triumphant smile.
“Observe, gentlemen! Our elusive phantom has taken human form. And it would seem that he has more than one disgusting habit. He smokes!”
Several of the policemen in the group looked at him with undisguised astonishment, more than one concluding that he had taken leave of his senses. But Abberline and Chandler rushed to his side and peered closely at the flattened cigarette stub he was holding in his fingers. Holmes took out his pocket magnifying glass and examined the object with something approaching ardor.
Abberline was the first to speak, making no effort to disguise the strong notes of skepticism and impatience that crept into his tone. “How can we possibly know it’s the killer’s, Mr. Holmes? It could have been anyone’s, and it could have been lying in
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