"Only to those whose vision is dim are you a boy," Moriarty said. "But luckily the lights will be low. See if that jacket fits you while I find a shirtfront and collar in this pile of clothing."
Five minutes later Moriarty was straightening the white bow tie under the points on the high, stiff collar he had appropriated from the pile. "Now the shoes," he said, "and we have to do something about your hair."
"They're dark brown shoes," Jenny pointed out, "and the trousers are much too long, so the shoes won't show much."
"True," Moriarty admitted, "but they have an entirely different sound. But, as the musicians all seem to have worn their own shoes, we'll have to take our chances. Now the hair—"
"I can braid it and wrap it really quickly so it will fit under a hat," Jenny offered. "Or I can sort of put it down the back of the jacket."
"Let's try that," Moriarty said.
Jenny pulled her hair tight in back and twisted it and tucked it into the jacket. "What do you think?"
Moriarty examined her critically. "I think it will be dark, and we'll have to take a chance. Wait a second." He took a dark blue scarf from the shelf and wrapped it around her neck and over her shoulders. "There, that might do. Drape it casually in front. That's good."
He took her to the door of the room. "You'll need courage and fortitude," he told her, "but this should work. It's based on the sort of misdirection that magicians are fond of, and they make their living fooling people. There's a curtain right outside this door separating you from the stage. Conceal yourself behind the curtain. In a few moments I'm going to call for a committee from the audience to come on stage and inspect Madame Verlaine for an effect we have planned. When the committee leaves the stage, you join them as though you'd been there all the time, and walk back along the right side to a table about halfway down the room. A man and woman are sitting there. The man is handsome and elegant, the woman beautiful and regal. I believe her dress is light blue, but it may be too dark to tell. Sit down with them. I'll have the man put both hands on the table, palms up, so you'll know where to go. The man is Prince Ariste Juchtenberg and his wife is Princess Diane. I'll speak with them while Madeleine—Madame Verlaine—is being inspected. They'll get you out of here."
Jenny Vernet took several deep breaths and adjusted her lapels. "I hope this works," she said.
"It should," Moriarty assured her. "Come out with me now."
Moriarty took Jenny to just the right spot behind the curtain and then went on stage. Mim Ptwa Nim was just finishing telling an elderly lady that her defunct husband would not object to her remarrying. "He favors it," she purred.
"He won't be jealous?"
"Where he is there is no jealousy," Mim Ptwa Nim intoned, "only love."
"I hope you have found this exhibition of interest," Alexandre Sandarel said, approaching the audience. "We will conclude," he told them, "with a demonstration of the reality, and may I say the playfulness, of the spirits. For this I would like some gentlemen in the audience to come up and assist me. You will form a committee representing the rest of the audience to assure there is no fraud or trickery in what is about to happen." He peered out. "You, sir? And you? Come onstage, please. And you, sir. And, yes of course, you also. Anyone else? You, sir? Come on up."
Seven men answered the call for volunteers. Madeleine remained passively seated in her high-backed chair facing the audience, still apparently in a light trance. Sandarel produced one end of a thick rope, which trailed off to somewhere in the back of the stage. "Madame Verlaine?" he asked, approaching her.
"Yes?"
"Is your spirit guide still here?"
"She is no longer speaking through me," Madeleine said in a soft monotone that the audience strained to hear. "But I can still sense her presence."
"Will she move some objects for us?"
"She will try, but she needs absolute silence and privacy."
Sandarel turned to the audience. "If we are very quiet, we may be able to induce Mim Ptwa Nim, Madame Verlaine's spirit guide, to show us her presence by physically materializing and moving some objects that we will place near Madame Verlaine. We must place screens around her to insure her privacy. So, to prove that something psychical is indeed occurring, I have asked these gentleman to come onstage and assist me in tying up Madame Verlaine." He turned to the cluster of gentlemen onstage. "If one of you would please examine this rope to make sure that it is, indeed, what it seems to be: a solid length of number seven rope, of the sort used by mountain climbers."
One of the men looked over the rope carefully, as though he had some idea of what a "number seven" rope should look like, and then four of the men watched while three of the men tied Madame Verlaine securely to the chair, with her hands fastened to the arms. Sandarel supervised the bondage, and the whole audience could hear him urging them to, "Tie her tighter! Right, pull up on that rope! Now wrap it around a couple of times for good measure!"
When the committee was finished tying and roping and looping, it would not have occurred to anyone in the committee, or in the audience, that the knots were cleverly devised so that Madeleine could slip her hands out of the ropes at will. Of such secrets are most miracles made.
Four tall screens were produced, and Madame Verlaine was boxed inside of them, along with an empty cigar box, a small brass bell, a tambourine, a silver bracelet, a brass carriage horn, a corked bottle of wine and four wine glasses, a vase, and a bible; all of which were placed in a semicircle on the floor in front of her. The committee distributed itself around the screens.
For about two minutes nothing happened, and then the manifestations began. First the cigar box came flying over the screen in front, and then a loud honking began from within the screens. Then the honking stopped, and the carriage horn in turn was tossed over the front screen. For a long moment there was nothing further, until all at once the bell rang and rang and the tambourine clashed and appeared atop the screen, apparently held by a ghostly hand, while the bell kept ringing.
This kept up for a while until, with a shocking suddenness, all four screens were blown outward as by a great wind, and everything came to a shattering halt. There, right where she had been, Madame Verlaine still sat, bound to her chair. On her lap was a wooden tray which had not been there before, and on the tray were four glasses of wine. The uncorked bottle was by her feet, but there was no corkscrew in evidence.
The committee untied her, examining the ropes carefully as they did so. Then they knocked and prodded at the arms and back of the chair in which she sat. But the rope was real and the chair was solid; no hidden panels, no trap doors.
"Look," Doctor Sandarel said, pointing to the floor near the chair. The bible that had been placed on the floor now lay open. The silver bracelet lay on the right-hand page. "It is a message," he proclaimed. "Will one of you please pick up the bible and read what is encircled by the band of silver?"
One of the committee picked up the bible and read:
" 'The words of the wise heard in quiet are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools. Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good.
" 'Dead flies make the perfumer's ointment give off an evil odor; so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honor.'"
Sandarel nodded. "Ecclesiastes," he said. "Perhaps it is a message for someone here. I will not try to interpret it, but perhaps My Lord Bishop has some idea?" He peered out into the audience. "No? Well, so be it. You gentlemen of the committee may return to your seats now, and we thank you for your assistance."
The audience applauded, and the committee left the stage and returned to their seats. Jenny, in her borrowed suit of black, slipped out with the committee and sat at Prince Ariste's table, and no one seemed to notice that the committee had one more member leaving than it had coming.
Sandarel took Madeleine's hand, and together they came forward and bowed to the audience. "Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen," Sandarel said. "We have enjoyed this chance to enlight
en you as to some of the mysteries of the human mind. You have been a kind and generous audience and as attentive as we could hope for. We trust that you will take away from this evening's presentation more than you came with. I know that we will. This ends our presentation. May St. Simon smile upon all your endeavors."
They exited together, amid enthusiastic applause. "A very exhilarating experience," Madeleine whispered to Moriarty as they entered the green room. "One could come to enjoy the attention and the applause."
"Bah!" replied Moriarty. "Come, let us get away from here. We still have much to do."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — RESCUE
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly!
Like a teatray in the sky.
— Lewis Carroll
Sherlock Holmes looked incredulously at Moriarty. "A kite?"
"Just so. A large kite."
It was two in the morning. Madeleine and Jenny Vernet had gone to their well-earned sleep, leaving Moriarty, Holmes, Watson, and the prince and princess sitting around the table in Prince Ariste's railroad car drinking tea and discussing the impending rescue of the Barnetts. Professor Moriarty had a plan. Sherlock Holmes was not amused.
"A man-carrying kite?"
"It's been done before," the professor commented dryly. "By whom?"
"By me. I have some experience using a kite of a modified Burmese design, constructed for me in London by Prince Tseng Li-chang. In addition to his usual trade of creating Chinese antiquities for the European market, the prince aids me in the construction of astronomical devices. We found that a tethered kite can be quite stable for long periods of time. Usually I loft special dry-plate cameras, or recording manometers and thermometers, but on occasion I have permitted a man to go up."
"It must be quite exciting," Princess Diane commented.
"So I believe," Moriarty said. "As the kites will bear the weight of only a very light person, I have never been able to make the experiment myself."
"Yes, but in the middle of the night?" the prince asked. "Isn't it considerably more dangerous in the dark?"
"Many of my experiments have been conducted in the middle of the night," Moriarty explained. "Most of them are designed to further my astronomical research, although a few have had other purposes. Some things cannot easily be accomplished in daylight."
Holmes gave the table a resounding slap. "Well, I'm damned!" he said. "The Tainsburn and Belaugh Mint robbery—that's how it was done!"
Everyone turned to look at him, and Holmes explained: "it was a year ago February, I believe. I was called in to investigate a robbery at the Tainsburn and Belaugh Mint, a private company that engraves and prints the currency of many small countries that don't possess the facilities for such precise and delicate work themselves. On this night four specially constructed trunks full of Maldavian currency had been prepared for shipping the following morning. Someone—some gang—broke in during the night and made off with all four trunks, taking currency to the value of about two million pounds."
"I remember that, Holmes," Watson said. "It was one of your few failures, I believe."
Holmes glared at Watson silently for a moment, and then went on: "You will also remember, old friend, that the Scotland Yard refused to act on my suggestion. I cannot affirm that the case would have been solved if they had, but as they did not, I take no responsibility for their failure."
Watson wrinkled his brow. "Your suggestion? Oh, yes, I remember. When Inspector Lestrade asked you what you thought of the robbery, you replied: 'I call your attention to the footsteps on the roof.' "
"Indeed." Holmes turned to the others. "You must understand that the building housing the mint is, of necessity, a fortress. Six stories high, and standing alone on its block. All the windows are barred and, at night, securely locked from the inside. The trunks were taken out through a side door which was kept secure by dropping steel bars into slots on the inside. There was no possible way to open it from the outside as it had neither handle nor key. Nonetheless it lay open the next morning and the trunks were gone. The night watchman was found trussed up on the floor of the manager's office. He claimed that he had been struck on the head from behind while he was making his rounds."
"The footsteps on the roof?" Princess Diane asked.
"I discovered the marks of some footsteps in the dust on the roof—marks that must have been made on the day of the robbery as there was a heavy rainfall the night before which would have removed them."
Princess Diane raised an enquiring hand. "Why was there dust on the roof, so soon after a heavy rain?"
"It's London, your highness. There is dust on everything within hours of its being cleaned. Some attribute it to the coal fires burning in every hearth."
"And Scotland Yard failed to act on your information?" Prince Ariste asked.
"Inspector Lestrade arrested the night watchman. He said the footsteps could have been made by anyone. I pointed out to him that they began abruptly in the middle of the roof, as though someone had dropped from the sky, and went straight to the roof door."
"That's right, Holmes," Watson averred. "I remember. Lestrade said that if you wanted to go crawling about on the roof looking for footsteps, that was all right with him, as long as you left him alone to do his job."
Holmes pointed his forefinger at Moriarty. "There was no way anyone could have climbed up to the roof," he said. "I thought of a balloon, remembering that you have a fondness for balloons, but a balloon couldn't be controlled that finely. Besides, a balloon large enough to carry a man would surely have been seen. But a kite! That never occurred to me."
"I remember Lestrade's remarks were particularly pointed when you said that you detected the hand of Professor Moriarty in the crime," Watson added. " 'When has there been a crime in which you didn't see the hand of Professor Moriarty?' he asked you. And perhaps with some justification."
"You and Lestrade do me an injustice, Watson," Holmes said, leaning back in his chair and tucking the interlaced fingers of his hands under his chin. "I don't see the hand of my friend the professor in every crime. Only in those which elude solution and show a degree of cunning way beyond that of the average criminal."
Moriarty chuckled a hard-edged chuckle. "Confess it, Holmes," he said, "whenever you walk down a country lane, you see my minions crouching beneath every bush."
The two men glared at each other. Prince Ariste raised his hand as though inserting a barrier between them. "As pleasant as these reminiscences must be for both of you," he said, "we do have something of rather pressing importance to discuss."
Moriarty nodded and turned away from Holmes. "I have spoken with Herr Heerschmit, your artificer," he told the prince, "and he has constructed the device according to my rough sketch. It is about eighteen feet long and twelve feet across. The body is sailcloth and the frame is, I believe, willow. I use bamboo, but Herr Heerschmit assures me that this is strong enough. He also obtained five hundred meters of half-centimeter line from the railroad supply shed. It will be more than strong enough."
"Are we going to go ahead tonight?" Prince Ariste asked.
"I see no advantage to waiting," Moriarty said, Princess Diane put down her cup. "May I express a concern?" she asked.
"Of course," Moriarty told her. "What is it?"
"Will not the escape of Jenny Vernet alert those in the castle to our presence?" she asked. "I don't mean our presence specifically, since we assume they don't know who we are, but the presence of some force inimical to their goals. Might they not be expecting an attempt to rescue the Barnetts? If so, will even the advantage of approaching the castle from an unfamiliar direction be enough to offset the loss of surprise?"
Watson slapped his knee. "By gad, I hadn't thought of that," he said.
"That is possible," Moriarty admitted, "but I don't believe it's probable. Graf von Linsz cannot be sure how Miss Vernet managed to escape. Since she, apparently, went through
two locked doors, he will be more inclined to blame those inside the castle than to look for an outside antagonist. He may well credit the mythical 'Moriarty' whom he seems to regard as his nemesis with being involved somehow, but he will assume that 'Moriarty' has subverted someone in his household."
"Let's hope you're right," Prince Ariste said. "What's the plan?"
"Very simple," Moriarty told him, sketching a triangle with rounded corners on the sheet of paper in front of him. "Here's the castle. This"—he made an X—"is the front, and here"—another X—"is the room in which the Barnetts are being held. It's two floors below the roof. We can't approach from the front because of all the people on the meadow tonight. The kite will be sailed from this side," he pointed, "as there seems to be a prevailing wind from the south."
"It's very gusty," Prince Ariste said. "Will we have any trouble keeping the kite up?"
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