Read Online The Infernal Device & Others: A Professor Moriarty Omnibus by Michael Kurland - Free Book Online

broken."
     
                  Brekinsky tapped the file. "Our records indicate that you are trustworthy," he said, clearly doubtful.
     
                  "One does not have to believe in the God of Abraham and Moses to keep his word," Moriarty said.
     
                  "Ah," Brekinsky said, grabbing at the phrase. "Then you do believe in some sort of deity?"
     
                  "I am willing to admit of the concept that there is a guiding force in the universe," Moriarty said, choosing his words carefully.
     
                  "I will interpret that as a belief in God," Brekinsky said. "I could not return to Moscow and tell the Tsar, my brother, that we have employed someone in this matter who does not believe in God."
     
                  "He is acceptable?" Zyverbine asked.
     
                  "Yes," Brekinsky said. "He is acceptable. I pray God he is acceptable! You may tell him. "
     
                  " Very well, your Grace."
     
                  Brekinsky stuck out his hand, and Moriarty took it. "You are shaking the hand of a Romanoff," Brekinsky said. "We have long memories for good and evil." He turned and left the room.
     
                  Moriarty sat down. "Well?" he said to Zyverbine.
     
                  "Russia and Great Britain have been to war three times this century," Zyverbine said, "but each time it has been a minor conflict, of marginal concern to the real interests of either country."
     
                  "Yes," Moriarty said. "So?"
     
                  "A war between the two countries, with both sides fully committed, would be a horrible thing. The world's greatest land power against the world's greatest sea power. It would go on for years. Millions of people would die. It could turn into a global conflict, pulling the other nations of the world irresistibly into its vortex."
     
                  "Yes."
     
                  "It is possible that one man, in England now, could cause this tragedy. He is a madman. You must stop him. He calls himself Trepoff."
     
                  "Trepoff!" Moriarty said. "I have seen the name. "
     
                  " Indeed?" Zyverbine said.
     
                  "Yes. I received a communication from someone wishing to speak to me concerning one 'Trepoff,' who said he would call in the evening. It seemed to assume some prior knowledge of the matter that I did not have. Shortly after the note, I received a bomb. The man never called."
     
                  "So!" Zyverbine said, clasping his hands together. "Was the note signed? If so, with what name?"
     
                  "The letter 'V' was affixed to the bottom."
     
                  "Vassily!" Zyverbine exclaimed, nodding his head almost imperceptibly up and down. "Vassily!"
     
                  "Vassily?" Moriarty asked.
     
                  "Yes. We did not know that he had tried to seek your aid, although it was from him that we first got your name. He was our best agent in England. He is dead."
     
                  "Dead."
     
                  "Some weeks after warning us of Trepoff's presence in England, and of his intentions, Vassily Vladimirovitch Gabin, known in London as Ned Bunting, the street artist, died of drinking poisoned soup."
     
                  "I'm sorry," Moriarty said.
     
                  "His widow received the Imperial Order of Merit, Second Class, and a pension of thirty roubles a month," Zyverbine said. "Very thoughtful," Moriarty said.
     
                  "I understand Vassily was a very good street artist. They paint directly on the pavement, do they not? Street artists?"
     
                  "They draw on the pavement," Moriarty told him, "with colored chalks. A very