Milverton nodded. “That’s what was supposed to have happened. But though Moriarty died, Holmes survived.”
“My God…Sherlock Holmes alive.” Shlessinger appeared shattered by the news.
“No need to let it worry you,” Milverton assured him.
“Worry me? Don’t you see what’s going on?” He paused to follow Shlessinger’s gaze and saw that Cecilia had came back into the room. “So it is Dr. Watson,” he went on. “Sent to spy on us by Sherlock Holmes.”
Seeing her brother’s evident agitation, Cecilia glanced at Milverton. “Have you given him the good news?”
“I was coming to that,” Milverton said.
Shlessinger looked at him sharply. “Good news?”
“Colonel Moran is taking care of Holmes,” Milverton told him complacently.
As realization dawned, Shlessinger gave a grim smile, visibly relaxing. “Moran! Who was Moriarty’s closest friend?”
Milverton nodded. “And who is determined to avenge his death.”
“So you’ve nothing to worry about,” Cecelia added.
“You can forget Sherlock Holmes,” Milverton told Shlessinger. “Lady Frances is all you need concern yourself with.”
“But what about her brother?” Shlessinger said, looking at his sister.
The woman shrugged. “He’s out of the way now…Zurich…urgent business. He went last night, so.…”
“Which brings me to the matter of the letter,” Milverton interposed. He took a letter from his inside pocket and handed it to Shlessinger. “Just check that it’s the same as the fake her ladyship received.”
Shlessinger took letter and began to read bits of it aloud: “‘My dear, If I have given you cause to believe…I shall have gone away…please’.…” He returned the letter to Milverton. “It’s identical,” he grunted.
“Postscript and all,” Milverton said complacently.
“Postscript and all,” Shlessinger agreed.
Milverton pocketed the letter and smiled. “My speciality.”
Cecilia looked at their visitor. “Any trouble with her ex-fiancé?” she asked.
“The Colonel’s looking after him, all right,” Milverton said confidently. He turned to Shlessinger, adding: “Now, to business. I need five minutes with your patient, that’s what I’m here for.”
Cecilia spread her hands “Dr. Watson’s with her at the moment.”
“Damn the man!” Shlessinger snapped.
“Look, why not leave her a note?” Cecilia suggested. “Say it’s urgent, and that you’ll come back this afternoon.…”
“Good idea!” Milverton nodded. He went over to the writing desk and, using his fountain pen, began writing on the notepaper he found already on the desk.
“I’ll see she gets your note,” Cecilia said.
Wolverton looked up. “What time shall I say I’ll be here?”
Cecilia thought for a moment. “Say three. I’ll fix it.”
Milverton finished the letter, placed it into an envelope, and sealed it. He handed it to Cecilia. “I haven’t signed it ‘Milverton’, of course. I’ve called myself Tamworth…George Tamworth.”
Cecilia nodded. “Of course, ‘Mr. Tamworth’.”
Unseen by the three in the room, a tall figure momentarily flitted past the French window.
“If there’s any hitch…,” Milverton said, considering, “…if she can’t see me…telephone me.”
“I’ll make sure she sees you,” Cecilia assured him.
“There’s no time to lose,” Shlessinger said.
“Back at three, then.” Milverton crossed to the door and went out, followed by Cecilia.
Frowning, Shlessinger looked back and at the French windows and hesitated.
“Come along,” Cecilia told him sharply. “We’d better see how Dr. Watson is getting on with our patient.”
Shlessinger continued looking at the French windows for a moment, listening intently, then gave a shrug and turned away. “All right, just coming. Thought I heard someone in the garden, but there’s no one.”
A few moments after they’d left the room, the fleeting tall figure appeared again outside. Suddenly Shlessinger returned, and stood in doorway, looking again at the French windows.
But the figure had gone. Shlessinger waited a moment, then with a shake of his head, turned and went out again. As he did so, the figure reappeared outside.
There came a click of a lock being turned, and Sherlock Holmes entered the room. He was wearing an ordinary suit and hat. Quickly crossing to Lady Frances’s chair, he picked up the crumpled letter she had thrown down. He pocketed it and then going quickly to laboratory door, he opened it and entered. A moment later Holmes came out of laboratory with a phial, which he glanced at before slipping it into his pocket. He shut and relocked the laboratory door.
He paused as he heard Lady Frances and Dr. Watson speaking in the hall. Turning back into the centre of room, he took off his hat and awaited their arrival.
Seeing the tall figure of Sherlock Holmes as she entered, Lady Frances gave a violent start.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Holmes!” Watson exclaimed as he followed her into the room. “But no one said you were here!”
“That is because I took good care that no one should know.”
“This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” Watson introduced hastily, as Lady Frances continued staring at Holmes, who gave her a little bow.
“How do you do, Lady Frances?” Holmes said, smiling.
Watson glanced at Lady Frances. “As I explained, your brother had a word with Mr. Holmes after his visit here.”
“And he seems to think I can be of help to you…over a certain matter,” Holmes told her.
Lady Frances frowned at him. “I know I agreed to Dr. Watson’s being here, but I didn’t think.…” She broke off as Shlessinger strode into the room, leaving the door ajar.
“Lady Frances,” he began immediately, “I wonder if.…” He stopped as he saw Holmes. Instinctively, he pretended not to recognise him. “Who’s this? Who are you, sir?”
“My name is
