sir,” said another voice. This one had a tinge of North Country in his inflection.
“Careful with that,” said Paxton, “let’s not spill any.”
“It’s heavy, sir,” said another voice, this one distinctly Cockney.
“No back talk,” said Paxton sternly.
Then Holmes and I saw the three men emerge from another tunnel and stand on the ledge, not more than a few feet away from us. We pulled back to avoid being seen.
Besides Paxton, I recognized the other man as his servant (though he was now wearing a workman’s shirt and a pair of soiled trousers). Along with them was the man we’d seen on the ladder feeding the fish.
What followed next will haunt me till the end of my life. One of the men pulled up a bucket of fish and emptied its contents over the ledge into the water below. The other man took a second bucket and did the same.
For a moment there was silence, and then I heard splashing in the water. Then something rose out of the water the likes of which I’ve never seen before. It was a massive tentacle, of the sort one might see on an octopus, except that this was at least fifty feet high with the circumference of a large Roman column. It was covered with suction cups of various sizes.
A second tentacle of equal size appeared along its side, thrashed around in the water for a few minutes, and then they both vanished into the depths from which they had come. Before I could catch my breath from beholding such a sight, Paxton turned to his men and said, “Bring me the main course.”
At this, one of his henchmen disappeared from view, returning immediately with a portly man, whose arms were bound behind him with rope and whose mouth was gagged with a handkerchief.
Holmes took out his revolver, then gestured to me to step forward and reveal ourselves. We moved quickly into the open with our revolvers aimed at the trio.
“Good evening, Dr Paxton,” said Holmes.
Paxton and his men turned abruptly, as did their prisoner.
“You’re trespassing, Mr Holmes,” said Paxton.
“A small transgression compared to what you are engaged in,” replied Holmes.
“What do you know?” asked Paxton.
“I’m afraid I know everything, Paxton. Dr Watson and I just now witnessed your little pet.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Paxton.
“And now,” said Holmes, “I must ask you to unhand that man and step aside.”
“On the contrary, Mr Holmes, “said Paxton, holding on to the bound man, “if you or Dr Watson, advance even one step, I shall push this man over the precipice to his reward.”
“Then we are at a stalemate,” replied Holmes.
“Not quite,” said Paxton, “if you do not drop your weapons, I will make good on my threat regardless.”
“And if we obey, you will send this man to his doom nonetheless.”
“It’s a sad day when a man of science like myself is not trusted.”
“If you throw this man to your creature, I will subsequently shoot you, and then you shall join him.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Holmes,” said Paxton, “your reputation is that of a man of intellect, not violence.”
“And yours is of a genius gone wrong.”
“Your barb stings me,” said Paxton. “It sounds like something I’d expect from those narrow pinheads at the Zoological Gardens, or the Marine Biological Association.”
“To be fair, Paxton, “said Holmes, “I actually admire your theories.”
“Your insincere flattery is pathetic. You don’t even know my work.”
“I refer to your monograph on the mating calls of blue whales, your monograph on inter-species communication of sea mammals, your monograph on instinctual memory in dolphins, your monograph detailing—”
“I am most impressed, Mr Holmes, I see I have misjudged you.”
“It’s not your theories I quarrel with, doctor, it’s your methods.”
“Sadly, they are necessary to further my work.”
“The animal …” said Holmes.
“The animal, as you call her,” said Paxton, “is my affair, and one I choose not to discuss with outsiders.”
“Then allow me,” said Holmes, “this creature, whom Watson and I just witnessed, is a giant squid. It was long thought to be a legend, one that dates back to antiquity. For millennia, routinely dismissed as being the disturbed visions of intoxicated sailors. All that changed seven years ago, in 1888, when the carcass of just such a giant squid, washed up on a beach in New Zealand. Needless to say, it was quite celebrated news, not only in the scientific world, but internationally. However, a live one has never even been photographed, let alone captured. It is nothing less than a discovery of monumental and historic proportions.”
“You are correct,” said Paxton.
“You’ve had him for only two months,” said Holmes.
“How on earth did you know that?” asked Paxton.
“The local fishermen,” replied Holmes, “where you only recently increased your demand for their services. The amounts of fish you’ve been purchasing is not commensurate with the seals, dolphins, and others in your sea menagerie.”
“Yes,” said Paxton, “by my estimation, she eats at least five hundred pounds of fish a day.”
“Perhaps you should amend that statement. As of late, the creature has been dining on a more varied diet of beef, by way of the livestock you’ve been clandestinely abducting from the local farmers. Then there’s the matter of the occasional human being, as well, such as Mr Harris and now this man, a recluse from the nearby hills, no doubt.”
“You claim to know my work,” said Paxton, “yet you fail to understand what a true pioneer and visionary must endure. What I have done will alter the course of modern marine biology. But before I reveal her to the world, she must be studied, tested—”
“And fed human sacrifices.” said Holmes.
“What is the loss of a few peasants in the name of science? Future generations will revere my name as the man who brought the feared Leviathan of the bible to humanity. Now then, Holmes, I suggest that you and your friend relinquish your firearms.”
Before Holmes could respond, a voice behind us said, “I have a gun trained at your backs. Do not turn around. Obey the doctor.”
Holmes let the revolver fall from his hand, as I did the same with mine.
“Gentlemen,” said
