Sherlock Holmes and the Knave of Hearts by Steve Hayes Read Free Book Online Page B

crushed the flower in one hand and then threw it into the corner of the dismal cell.
    ‘There,’ he said. ‘It’s gone.’
    But Gaston’s reaction had told him all he needed to know. It also confirmed his suspicion that there was more to all this than had first appeared.
    ‘I want you to think of me as your friend,’ Holmes said quietly. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer them truthfully and I will do everything in my power to help you.’ Holmes paused to let his words sink in, then said: ‘Why are you so frightened by dripping water?’
    Gaston opened his mouth, but seemed unable to form words. The best he could manage was a nervous shake of the head.
    ‘It’s all right, Gaston. I am here to
help
. I know you were coerced into shooting your uncle. What I need to know now is who coerced you? And why?’
    Gaston tucked his chin into his chest and looked up at Holmes from beneath incredibly sad brows. His lower lip trembled . He started to rock back and forth, clearly agitated.
    ‘Who hit you?’ Holmes asked, gesturing to the all-but-faded bruise on Gaston’s jaw.
    Gaston shook his head.
    ‘You will be punished for what you did,’ Holmes told him. ‘But unless you help me, whoever made you do it in the first place, they will walk free. That hardly seems fair.’
    Gaston turned away from him, huddled into a protective ball and continued rocking.
    ‘What did they do to you, Gaston? Whatever it was, I promise they shall never harm you again.’
    More rocking.
    ‘Who
are
they, Gaston?’
    Gaston turned to face him again. The sadness in his eyes was almost depthless. He leaned forward, again seemed about to speak, then shook his head and hugged himself tighter.
    Holmes considered briefly; then, on impulse, took out a scrap of paper and a pencil. He offered them to Gaston. ‘Give me their names, and I will see that they are brought to book for this.’
    Gaston stared at him for a long moment. In his expression was a mixture of confusion and helplessness. Then, as if reaching a decision, he reached out one trembling hand and took the scrap of paper and pencil. Holmes stood back, waiting. Verne’s nephew sat a little straighter and rested the paper on one knee. He started crying as he scrawled:

    V D C

    ‘What does this mean?’ asked Holmes, taking the paper when Gaston offered it back to him. ‘What do these letters stand for?’
    But Gaston’s only response now was to shake his head and start sobbing. Holmes reached for him, intending to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. But the younger man flinched away from him. Holmes withdrew his hand and nodded to show he understood. ‘It’s all right,’ he assured. ‘I know you’re afraid of me. But if I’m to help you, Gaston, you
must
trust me.’
    Gaston only curled back into a foetal ball.
    With nothing more to be had from the man, Holmes once again allowed his shoulders to drop, hunched his back so that he appeared shorter, and knocked on the cell door. ‘You may let me out now,’ he called in Lucien Menard’s high voice. ‘I am finished here for the time being.’

CHAPTER NINE

A Waiting Game
    L ater, back in his room at the Hotel Couronne, Holmes began removing his disguise. ‘I am more convinced than ever that this is no mere family squabble,’ he told Watson. ‘Indeed, I am afraid that Verne may be dealing with an enemy who has considerable resources and no small degree of sophistication .’
    Watson was watching him from a chair on the other side of the room. Not for the first time he was amazed by Holmes’s ability to alter his appearance. Clothes, hair, posture, speech … everything would change. He would not simply pretend to be someone else, he would
become
that person. And he would skilfully apply stage makeup from the small kit he rarely travelled without until the illusion was complete.
    ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked as Holmes now used a sponge to remove the sallow colour of ‘Lucien Menard’s’