"I am sure you did," Holmes said, handing the document back to the Maharaja. "And I am sure that you gave the statuette to Professor Moriarty. I won't even ask you what service the professor performed in return, your highness. It is a pleasure to meet you, despite the, ah, circumstances." He turned back to Moriarty. "There is a certain inevitability about this moment, Professor. I should have expected it, but I am ever the optimist."
"I am sorry to disappoint you," Moriarty murmured.
"I have not had a chance to properly thank you for coming to my assistance in that hellhouse," Holmes said. "It was very sporting of you."
"Think nothing of it," Moriarty said. "Whatever were you doing there, Holmes? It was an unexpected pleasure."
"You don't suppose you're the only one who reads the agony columns, do you?" Holmes asked. "I — borrowed — one of those pretty medals from someone who would not need it for a while, left him lying peacefully in a bush, and entered. By the by, Professor— that fellow Chardino; he was the killer, was he not?"
"He was," Moriarty agreed.
"I see." Holmes looked thoughtful for a moment. "One cannot justify murder under any circumstances, but there are some that come closer than others. Is there anything we should do — about his demise, I mean?"
"I am having a headstone erected for him next to his daughter's grave," Moriarty said. "You may contribute."
"What will it say?" Holmes asked.
"I think, 'A Loving Father,' " Moriarty answered.
"I will subscribe," Holmes said. "He certainly was that."
"A bit of news that you might want to pass on to your friends at the Yard," Moriarty said. "One of those Hellfire devils escaped the blast."
"Oh?" Holmes said.
"Yes. Colonel Moran saw him picking his way out of the rubble and recognized him, but he escaped in the confusion."
"Who was it?"
"Lord Crecy Darby. Colonel Moran knew him years ago in India."
"Plantagenet!" Holmes said.
"That's the chap," Moriarty agreed. "Colonel Moran calls him the most dangerous man he's ever known. Likes to cut up prostitutes. I would suggest you make an effort to find him, or we'll be hearing from him in a way we won't like."
"I shall pass the word on," Holmes said. "Well, adieu, gentlemen." He clapped his hat on his head and turned to leave.
"Do come back and entertain us again sometime," Moriarty said. "Au revoir, Holmes."
"Beg pardon, sir," Mr. Maws said, as Holmes stalked by him. "A district messenger has just come with this." He held up an envelope. "It is addressed to Mr. Barnett."
Barnett grabbed it out of Mr. Maws's hand. It looked like — it was certain'y Cecily's handwriting. He ripped it open.
One word only on the stiff paper inside: Yes.
"Catch him, someone!" Moriarty called. "Help him to a chair. Mr. Maws, bring the brandy. I think the poor man needs a drink!"
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Professor Moriarty Omnibus Page 58
