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Authors: Sam Christer
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morning’s death and I believe you are integral to that process.’ He faced the gaoler. ‘Is Lynch wearing the same attire and restraints as he was in the refractory cell?’
‘He is, sir.’
‘Very good.’ He turned to me. ‘Could you please stand up and extend your arms?’
‘I need water and food. Before I do anything for anyone, I need to drink and eat.’
Holmes regarded me for a moment and then nodded. ‘He does indeed require refreshment. Dry skin. Crusted lips. Words ill-formed because of a sticky mouth. This man is dehydrated and needs sustenance, gaoler. Replenish him and I will return.’ Holmes spun on his heels and left.
Boardman gave me a hateful look and followed, slamming the door in protest.
An old orderly duly appeared and delivered a bowl of gruel, mug of weak tea and chunks of stale bread. He stayed until I had wolfed it all and then cleared everything.
A few moments later, Holmes returned. He was alone and had evidently instructed Boardman to wait outside.
‘Are you now able to comply with my former request?’
I stood and stretched out my arms as previously instructed.
He ran his hands around the manacle cuffs, inspected the chain then the lock and made several tutting noises. He stood back and studied my tunic, plucked at the cloth around my waist, knelt and examined my trousers.
As he did all this, I wondered whether the famed detective was more valuable to me alive than dead, for at this moment he afforded me a clear opportunity to kill him. Moriarty had once tasked me with this very chore but other events had taken priority. Now all I had to do was loop that chain around his neck and strangle him to death.
Holmes pulled at my ankle chains and then stood up. He extended his left hand and showed me a spring knife that had been concealed there. ‘You made a wise decision. I would
easily
have killed you had you tried to overwhelm me.’ He flicked the blade back into its steel body casing. ‘Sit down, please.’
I lowered myself onto the edge of the bunk and grimaced a little. ‘Before you ask, I was half asleep when I was attacked. I never even saw the face of the dead man, or the fellow with him.’
‘I realise all that.’
‘You do?’
‘Obviously,’ he said with a hint of irritation. ‘The large bruise on the deceased’s skull, distinctive injuries under his chin, abrasion on the front of his neck and patterned indentations on his skin all validate your claim.’
‘In what way?’
He looked perplexed. ‘I just explained the
way
. It would appear that like a hopeful fisherman on a darkened day, you cast your manacle chain blindly and got lucky with your catch. The bruises on his forehead show where you snagged him.’ He raised his fists and mimed the actions as he continued. ‘Once you had him, you yanked hard on the chain and reeled him in. Where, from the look of the skin around his neck, you set about choking him.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Somewhat ingeniously I imagine, for you must have been seated or even lying on your back. To escape strangulation, the fellow tried to grab at your face and injure you.’ He pointed down my left cheek. ‘You have fingernail scratches consistent with this on your face.’
‘I didn’t kill him …’
‘Also blatantly true. But you
would
have done, had his accomplice not mistakenly driven a makeshift knife into his heart instead of yours.’
‘Then I thank him for his mistake and you for your exoneration. Who was he and why did he try to kill me?’
‘Dear, oh dear.’ The detective frowned at me disappointedly. ‘Those are
entirely
the wrong questions to ask. The name of the dead man is of no consequence to you. None whatsoever. Of far more value is the identity of his accomplice, the man who killed him and then vanished into the gaol.’
I began to see his point. ‘How was it possible that two prisoners could come and go from their cells as they wished?’
‘It wasn’t,’ declared Holmes, ‘unless they were
‘He is, sir.’
‘Very good.’ He turned to me. ‘Could you please stand up and extend your arms?’
‘I need water and food. Before I do anything for anyone, I need to drink and eat.’
Holmes regarded me for a moment and then nodded. ‘He does indeed require refreshment. Dry skin. Crusted lips. Words ill-formed because of a sticky mouth. This man is dehydrated and needs sustenance, gaoler. Replenish him and I will return.’ Holmes spun on his heels and left.
Boardman gave me a hateful look and followed, slamming the door in protest.
An old orderly duly appeared and delivered a bowl of gruel, mug of weak tea and chunks of stale bread. He stayed until I had wolfed it all and then cleared everything.
A few moments later, Holmes returned. He was alone and had evidently instructed Boardman to wait outside.
‘Are you now able to comply with my former request?’
I stood and stretched out my arms as previously instructed.
He ran his hands around the manacle cuffs, inspected the chain then the lock and made several tutting noises. He stood back and studied my tunic, plucked at the cloth around my waist, knelt and examined my trousers.
As he did all this, I wondered whether the famed detective was more valuable to me alive than dead, for at this moment he afforded me a clear opportunity to kill him. Moriarty had once tasked me with this very chore but other events had taken priority. Now all I had to do was loop that chain around his neck and strangle him to death.
Holmes pulled at my ankle chains and then stood up. He extended his left hand and showed me a spring knife that had been concealed there. ‘You made a wise decision. I would
easily
have killed you had you tried to overwhelm me.’ He flicked the blade back into its steel body casing. ‘Sit down, please.’
I lowered myself onto the edge of the bunk and grimaced a little. ‘Before you ask, I was half asleep when I was attacked. I never even saw the face of the dead man, or the fellow with him.’
‘I realise all that.’
‘You do?’
‘Obviously,’ he said with a hint of irritation. ‘The large bruise on the deceased’s skull, distinctive injuries under his chin, abrasion on the front of his neck and patterned indentations on his skin all validate your claim.’
‘In what way?’
He looked perplexed. ‘I just explained the
way
. It would appear that like a hopeful fisherman on a darkened day, you cast your manacle chain blindly and got lucky with your catch. The bruises on his forehead show where you snagged him.’ He raised his fists and mimed the actions as he continued. ‘Once you had him, you yanked hard on the chain and reeled him in. Where, from the look of the skin around his neck, you set about choking him.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Somewhat ingeniously I imagine, for you must have been seated or even lying on your back. To escape strangulation, the fellow tried to grab at your face and injure you.’ He pointed down my left cheek. ‘You have fingernail scratches consistent with this on your face.’
‘I didn’t kill him …’
‘Also blatantly true. But you
would
have done, had his accomplice not mistakenly driven a makeshift knife into his heart instead of yours.’
‘Then I thank him for his mistake and you for your exoneration. Who was he and why did he try to kill me?’
‘Dear, oh dear.’ The detective frowned at me disappointedly. ‘Those are
entirely
the wrong questions to ask. The name of the dead man is of no consequence to you. None whatsoever. Of far more value is the identity of his accomplice, the man who killed him and then vanished into the gaol.’
I began to see his point. ‘How was it possible that two prisoners could come and go from their cells as they wished?’
‘It wasn’t,’ declared Holmes, ‘unless they were
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