Moriarty

‘He was forced to take a year off work and during that time, I nursed him day and night. To begin with, all I looked for was his recovery but as the months passed and he became a little stronger, I began to hope that he might put his police career behind him. His brother, Peter, is an inspector. His father had risen to become a superintendent. There was, I knew, a sense of family tradition. But even so, with a young child and a wife who feared for him almost daily and with the knowledge that he would never recover his former strength, I allowed myself to believe that he might choose to begin a new life elsewhere.

‘I was deceived. My husband dedicated the year of his hiatus to the betterment of his career as a detective. He had met Sherlock Holmes twice. He had been beaten by him twice. He was determined that, should they meet again, history would not repeat itself a third time. In short, Inspector Athelney Jones would make himself the equal of the world’s most famous consulting detective and to that end he threw himself into his work with a vigour that belied the disease that had crippled him. You see some of the evidence around you but believe me when I say that this is but a small part of it. He has read everything that Mr Holmes has ever written. He has studied his methods and replicated his experiments. He has consulted with every inspector who ever worked with him. He has, in short, made Sherlock Holmes the very paradigm of his own life.’

Everything she said made sense to me. From the moment I had met Athelney Jones I had been aware of his interest in the great detective. But I had not appreciated how much it went to the heart and soul of who he was.

‘My husband returned to his office a few months ago,’ Elspeth Jones concluded. ‘He thinks he has fully recovered from the worst of his illness — but what actually sustains him is his knowledge of Holmes’s work and his belief that he is now Holmes’s equal.’ There was a terrible pause and then, faltering, she continued. ‘I do not share that belief. God forgive me for saying it. I love my husband. I admire him. But more than anything, if he remains blinded by this cruel self-belief, I fear for him.’

‘You are wrong—’ I began.

‘Do not try to be kind to me. Look around you. Here is the evidence. Heaven knows where this obsession will take him.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Protect him. I do not know these people he is up against, but I am terribly afraid for him. They would seem to be ruthless. He, in his own way, is so lacking in guile. Is it wrong of me to speak to you in this way? I do not know how I would live without him and these dreadful murders, the attempt today …’

She broke off. The whole house was silent.

‘Mrs Jones,’ I said. ‘You have my word that I will do everything I can to guide us both through to safety. It is true that we find ourselves up against a formidable enemy but I do not share your misgivings. Your husband has already demonstrated to me, time and again, his extraordinary intelligence. I am perhaps a few years older than he, but even so I recognise the fact that I am the junior partner in this enterprise. That said, I promise you with all my heart that I will look out for him. I will stand by him. And should we find ourselves in danger, I will do everything in my power to protect him.’

‘You are very kind, Mr Chase. I can ask no more.’

‘He will be back very soon,’ I said. ‘We should go downstairs.’

She took my arm and we went back down together. Shortly afterwards, Jones returned and found us sitting before the fire, discussing the five boroughs of New York. He did not see that anything was amiss and I said nothing.

But as I returned to Camberwell station, I was deep in thought. The night was still black, the fog rolling across the pavement. Somewhere far away, a dog howled in the darkness, warning me of things I did not want to know.

TWELVE Foreign Soil

Jones was in a more ebullient mood when we met the next day, exhibiting that strange alacrity of spirit which, I now knew, had found its inspiration in the example set by the greatest detective of all.

‘You will be relieved to hear that, finally, we make progress!’ he announced as we met outside my hotel.

‘You have been back to Chancery Lane?’ I asked.

‘Silas Beckett and his associates can wait. I would say that it will be at least a week before they slip away into the night.’

‘How can you be so sure if you have not returned?’

‘I knew it before we left, my dear Chase. Did you not remark upon the position of the hurdy-gurdy player? He was standing precisely eight paces from the front door of the barber’s shop.’

‘I’m afraid I do not follow you at all.’

‘I begin to think that you and I might have a future together. You shall leave Pinkerton’s and I shall resign from Scotland Yard. You will enjoy living in London. No! I am quite serious. The city has need of a new consulting detective. We might even take rooms on Baker Street! What do you say?’

‘I am not sure what to say.’