The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part II by David Marcum Page B

enter.
    â€œI have a message for you, Mr. Holmes,” the boy said, holding out a folded sheet of paper, and trying to catch his breath.
    Holmes took the paper and opened it. His smile grew and he dug into his pocket. He handed the lad a coin. “Thank you. Your expedience is very much appreciated.”
    â€œThank you, sir. Good day,” the runner said. He turned on his heel and left.
    â€œWell, gentlemen, one half of the mystery has been cleared up. Now we only have to wait for the answer to the second half. I suspect it will be here very soon.”
    â€œOut with it, Mr. Holmes,” Chamberlain scowled. “We are talking about a murder here, you know.”
    Holmes handed the paper to Chamberlain. As he read it his brow furrowed. “What’s the meaning of this? We already know this,” he exclaimed.
    â€œRead it aloud for the good Doctor, if you please.”
    â€œâ€˜JACOB COLLIER IS DEAD.’ If this is some kind of joke, Mr. Holmes, I’ll have you spend a night looking through bars.”
    â€œI assure you it is nothing of the kind. What the note doesn’t say is confirmation of a clue you didn’t even know you had, Inspector.”
    â€œYou little rascal, you!” Mrs. Hudson’s voice was shrill. “I’ll take my broom to your breeches to teach you some manners!”
    Seconds later a scruffy ragamuffin burst through the door.
    â€œWe found him, Mr. Holmes. We found him,” the boy said with excitement. “Here’s the address.”
    Holmes glanced at the message.
    â€œGood work, my boy.” Holmes scribbled on a new sheet of paper and handed it to the boy. “Please take this to the man.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHere is your promised sixpence. Make sure to have each of your associates who aided you stop by for theirs tomorrow, will you?”
    The boy smiled, gave a quick salute, and left.
    Holmes turned to Chamberlain. “Inspector, if you would care to accompany Dr. Watson and me to Southall, your name should appear in the papers once again by tomorrow.”
    â€œThis best work out, Holmes,” grumbled Chamberlain as we descended the stair. “Valuable time has already been wasted.”
    In Southall, our brougham pulled up to the curb. We climbed down. Before us rose a fashionable, narrow-windowed building of five stories.
    Chamberlain frowned at Holmes. “All right, Mr. Holmes. What are we doing here?”
    â€œIsn’t that Collier’s bookshop across the street?” I asked.
    â€œIt is,” Holmes said, “and it’s under observation.”
    â€œBy the murderer?” Chamberlain asked.
    â€œPatience, my good man. Note that we are standing just down from The Grand Garden Hotel? Inside is a man with whom you will need to speak. If my calculations are correct, he should be in the lobby very soon. I would ask that you have your revolver ready, as he may not go easily.”
    We entered the doors of the hotel and found a quiet spot in the corner on a pair of Chesterfields. After several minutes Holmes quietly pointed to the stairs at the far end of the room. We stood and followed closely behind him along the wall and columns, getting to within about ten feet of the man.
    â€œJack,” Holmes said in a low tone.
    The man - the same one we had spoken to a short time ago at Baker Street - spun around with a look of sheer horror on his face, his hand already slipping into his waistcoat pocket.
    â€œThat’ll do you no good, sir,” said Chamberlain, pulling his pistol and pointing it at the man.
    Holmes walked over and stared hard at the man. “Gentlemen, I would like for you both to meet Mr. Jack Collier - brother to Jacob Collier.”
    â€œWhat?” cried Chamberlain. I shared his confusion.
    â€œLet us find someplace more private, shall we?” Holmes asked. “We need not put this man in any more danger.”
    Chamberlain took Collier by the arm.