The Return of Sherlock Holmes: A Classic Crime Tale. Philip Harbottle

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The Return of Sherlock Holmes: A Classic Crime Tale - Philip  Harbottle

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at your hands.” He glanced at Watson who was hovering solicitously at her side. “Dr. Watson?”

      Watson nodded as Lady Frances looked at him. “Mr. Holmes is an authority on poisons.”

      “Poisons?” She extended her hands quickly.

      Holmes examined them carefully.

      “The medicine you took a short while ago…,” he murmured, raising an interrogative eyebrow,

      “Which Nurse Shlessinger gave me?” Lady Frances asked, her voice wavering.

      Holmes nodded. “It made you feel cold?”

      “Yes, very cold…deathly…as I told Dr. Watson.…”

      “I’ve changed the prescription, of course.” Watson said promptly.

      “And rather dizzy?” Holmes continued, releasing her hands.

      “Yes. I couldn’t think properly.”

      “What you have been taking,” Holmes explained, “was administered to you for the precise purpose of weakening your willpower, preparatory for an attempt at blackmail.”

      Lady Frances stared at him in disbelief. “Blackmail? Oh, my God!” She swung to Watson. “Is…is this true?”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “You have been the victim of a deliberate plot,” Holmes told her. “But fortunately, your brother suspected, and came to Watson.”

      “You mean, Dr.…Dr. Shlessinger and his sister…?” Lady Frances whispered.

      “…are notorious criminals, who intend to bleed you of every penny you possess!” Holmes finished bluntly.

      “Oh!” Lady Frances slumped in her chair.

      Watson took her hands comfortingly. “You are safe now. Absolutely out of danger.”

      “What…what had the man with the two names got to do with all this?” Lady Frances asked.

      “I will explain everything later,” Holmes assured her. His tone became urgent. “But now, we must get you away from here.”

      “But where shall I go?”

      “An hotel, where your brother has arranged for you to stay,” Holmes told her. “You can stay there until all this has blown over.” He pointed to the French windows. “Dr. Watson will see you safely by way of the garden. I’ve got a cab waiting.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s all according to plan.”

      Watson and Lady Frances followed Holmes to the French windows.

      He was just opening the windows for them when Shlessinger and Cecilia came into the room. Shlessinger strode forward angrily.

      “What the devil’s going on?”

      “They’re kidnapping our patient,” Cecilia commented.

      Holmes ushered Watson and Lady Frances out into the garden. “Hurry, hurry.…”

      When they had gone he closed the windows and turned calmly back into the room.

      “Damn your eyes!” Shlessinger snarled.

      Holmes tapped his pocket where he’d put the phial taken from laboratory. “I’ve got here the poison you were giving to Lady Frances. “Evidence to jail you both.”

      “The phial! He’s got the phial!” Cecilia screeched furiously.

      Cecilia following, Shlessinger lunged forward, his hands extended. “You can’t think you’ll get away with this!”

      They halted in their tracks as Holmes suddenly produced a small revolver from his other pocket. “Put your hands up!” he snapped.

      Shlessinger started to obey, but Cecilia resumed moving forward.

      “It’s only a toy!” she cried. “He’s bluffing! Stop him!”

      Shlessinger moved towards Holmes, only to halt abruptly as the detective fired a shot at his feet.

      “My God!” Shlessinger shouted. “He’ll kill us!”

      “I shan’t warn you again,” Holmes said evenly. “Hands up and keep them up!”

      This time both Shlessinger and his sister obeyed. Keeping them covered and forcing them back, Holmes crossed quickly to the open door. Still keeping them covered, he took out the key from it with his free hand. At that moment a loud taxi-hoot sounded from the street.

      “Just coming!” Holmes murmured, darting out and slamming door after him.

      Shlessinger and Cecilia rushed towards the door, then halted as they heard the key turning in the lock.

      Shlessinger began wrenching at the door handle. “He’s locked us in! You’ll pay for this, Holmes!” he shouted.

      “Yes!” Cecilia screeched in rage. “Colonel Moran will see to that. D’you hear, Mr. Bloody Sherlock Holmes? Moran’ll settle your hash!”

      She quivered with rage as another taxi-hoot sounded outside.

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