The Collected Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in Japan by Ben Stevens Read Free Book Online Page A

said. As aflame as my mind was with nervous curiosity, I replied: ‘Yes, Holmes- san .’
    The senior monk returned a few minutes after with the key.
    ‘And now we learn if this really is… the last riddle,’ said Katamari, his hand shaking slightly as he placed the key in the lock that was a few inches behind the canvas. It fitted perfectly, and turned to the right with a satisfying clunk .
    The door immediately swung outwards; that is, away from the reverse of the thick canvas.
    ‘You’re sure it’s okay to further despoil this painting?’ asked Holmes quietly.
    ‘Yes, yes!’ snapped Katamari irritably. ‘Do you not realize what – ’
    With an effort he caught himself, and made an obvious effort to steady his breathing.
    ‘Forgive me, Holmes -san ,’ he said then. ‘What with everything that has happened recently, I find myself a little…’
    ‘Of course, of course,’ returned that detective from the great English city of London sympathetically. ‘Maybe seeing what lies in the room that has been hidden behind this painting will solve one mystery, at least...’
    So using the knife, Holmes cut out a neat rectangular shape for us to pass through. He put the part of the painting he’d cut out on the stone floor. Katamari then held the lamp inside this doorway. We saw it was the top of some stone stairs leading downwards. There was a general smell of earth, and age.
    We entered inside, and walked down. Ten steps and we found ourselves in a small, underground room that had a large wooden rack full of the same thick lengths of bamboo which had contained the last two riddles.
    Holmes took one of these lengths of bamboo from the wooden rack. He removed one of the wooden plugs placed in either end and threw it aside. The rolled-up piece of paper he then removed looked even older than the others I’d seen. He opened it up with extreme care, watched all the time by Katamari. I saw what was written and made a small noise of surprise. It was in a language the like of which I’d never seen before.
    ‘Sanskrit…’ breathed the senior monk.
    ‘Do you know it?’ asked Holmes.
    ‘Yes… I studied it, during my time in Chang’an.’
    ‘As did I,’ returned Holmes, whose expression was then one of absolute fascination as he stared at the unrolled scroll.
    ‘I do not say that I am anything like fluent in it, but what I can read is just… Incredible… absolutely incredible…’ he murmured – an opinion that was obviously shared by Katamari. One had only to glance at the senior monk’s expression to realize that.
    ‘We… we have to assemble everyone in this temple, now,’ said Katamari. ‘Let us go to the main hall. We will leave the scrolls here for the time-being.’
    Holmes gave a small nod – his expression I noticed a little tight – and we followed the senior monk back up the narrow flight of stone stairs, and into the so-called ‘Barrel Room’.
    We crossed the narrow corridor, and entered into the main hall that was lighted with a number of candles. They glowed around the golden statue of Buddha.
    Katamari bade us to kneel close in front of the altar – clearly, we were about to give thanks to Buddha for what we’d just discovered – and he lit two sticks of incense in a pot beside us.
    Then, quite suddenly, he said, ‘I will go and fetch every other monk – even the Jushoku , if he is not too ill. Please remain here.’
    And with that he walked quickly away, leaving the main hall.
    At once an appalling sickness seemed to grip my mind. I could hear my heart beating ever-louder and faster in my ears. And shrieks – great cries of appalling grief and agony.
    The candle-flames were all blurred… I could not focus on anything…
    But I could begin to see such demons and other things from hell that I thought just the sight of them would strike me dead…
    Some distant part of my brain realized my face was horribly contorting; I was being rapidly driven towards death by sheer fear …
    Then,