Secret Archives of Sherlock Holmes, The, The by June Thomson Read Free Book Online

points along the railings and the steps of the landing stages.
    Holmes and I were also suitably equipped, although in our case for a quite different catch, he with his loaded riding crop, I with my Webley No. 2 revolver which fitted snugly into the pocket of my blazer.
    Within ten minutes we were joined by Lestrade, dressed like us in flannels, blazer and boater and looking so unfamiliar in this holiday attire that I failed to recognise him. It was only when he approached Holmes and shook his hand that I realised with a start who he was.
    ‘Everything is arranged as you suggested, Mr Holmes,’ he remarked sotto voce as we bought our tickets and strolled on to the pier. ‘The local constabulary have agreed to put a dozen men on duty, some mingling with the crowds, some stationed as anglers along the length of the pier.’ He nodded towards the fishermen gathered by the railings. ‘If needed, I can summon them with a double blast on my whistle.’
    ‘Excellent, Lestrade!’ Holmes replied. ‘And what of Holy Peters’ sister?’
    ‘She, too, is taken care of,’ Lestrade assured him. ‘Two matrons from the Brighton police force will be despatched to the hotel and will arrest her on the stroke of eleven o’clock.’
    ‘So all we have to do is to await the arrival of our own big fish,’ said Holmes, with a satisfied air. ‘No doubt he will come in with the tide.’
    The tide was indeed rising and, despite the potential danger of an imminent confrontation with Holy Peters, Holmes seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, walking briskly with his head flung back as he breathed in the crisp, salt-laden air, his eyes darting eagerly this way and that as he absorbed every detail of the scene, from the colourful dresses of the ladies as they promenaded up and down the pier to the more distant view of the beach, with its canvas changing tents and bathing machines for the convenience of the swimmers, the goat carts anddonkeys for the children, the horse-drawn wagonettes along the seafront ready to convey the holidaymakers to such places of interest as the Devil’s Dyke. 9 Although it was by then essentially a pleasure centre, Brighton’s origins as a fishing port were still evident in the nets spread out to dry on the shingle and the stalls set out along the beach selling the proceeds of the latest trawl.
    Further off still, and almost lost in the dazzle of the sun on the waves, were boats of all shapes and sizes – rowing boats and skiffs, yachts and dinghies – and beyond these the looming shape of the paddle steamer, the Brighton Queen , nosing up to the pier to unload its passengers at one of the landing stages.
    I was so absorbed myself with all this colour and activity that I almost missed the sudden appearance of Holy Peters from among the crowds, and it was only when Holmes tugged at my sleeve that I noticed him.
    Holmes set off after him, Lestrade and I following suit, falling in behind our quarry who, unaware of our presence, was striding out purposefully on this morning stroll of his, ignoring everyone about him until a few minutes later when his real motive forbeing there became apparent. Suddenly the crowds parted to allow an invalid chair free passage. It was coming towards us as if making for the exit and we therefore had a clear view of its occupant, an elderly lady who, despite the sun, was well wrapped up in shawls, a plaid blanket spread over her knees. A middle-aged woman was in charge of the chair, a qualified nurse-companion, I assumed, judging by her dark-blue cloak and bonnet which gave her a professional air.
    Holmes, Lestrade and I lingered at the railings among the anglers, watching with fascinated interest as Holy Peters set about his work.
    To give the man his due, he was very good at it. The surprised delight with which he greeted the old lady as if the meeting was entirely fortuitous, the solicitous manner in which he bowed his head over her hand as he raised it to his lips, could not have