The Gospel of Sheba by Lyndsay Faye Read Free Book Online

am not playing at judge, jury, and executioner. I am asking your friend Mr. Lomax to do so—he solved the crime, he knows best what’s to be done about it.”
    â€œNo, he doesn’t!” Watson exclaimed, waving his brandy glass. “No offense, Lomax, there’s a good fellow.”
    â€œNone taken.”
    â€œYou aren’t following me. If he’s right about this crime, which he is, which I shall determine once and for all tonight, I presume, or else why would he be here, none of it can be proven in court,” Mr. Holmes protested, a scowl distorting his lean features.
    Watson sat forward, moustache bristling. “Why the devil can’t it be? Attempted murder I should think would do nicely. Any one of these four men—Pyatt, Huggins, Grange, and now Lomax—could easily have been killed over this dirty business.”
    â€œNot Pyatt,” I suggested, sipping at the brandy. Its pleasant burn distracted me from other, deeper aches.
    â€œNo, I rather think not,” Mr. Holmes agreed, his thin mouth quirking.
    â€œWhy …” Watson began, and then his eyes lost themselves in the crackling flames. “Oh!” he said softly, glancing back at Mr. Holmes. “The swiftness of Pyatt’s recovery. The dismissive attitude Scovil evinced towards presidency of the Brotherhood of Solomon. Yes, I see.”
    â€œDo you really, or shall your sublibrarian friend explain it?” Mr. Holmes asked pettishly. “Go on, Mr. Lomax, I believe your reasoning is quite sound. Put it in order, and tell me whether you think a jury would swallow it.”
    Hesitating, I turned to Watson, who sat with his head angled in expectation. If he was piqued by the detective’s remark, he failed to show it.
    â€œScovil really did discover a centuries-old grimoire hidden in a secret room in his family manse and saw a rare opportunity,” I said slowly. “The book itself is genuine. I honestly don’t think he believes in ritual magic himself—it’s a pastime, not an art. If he could introduce his grimoire to the Brotherhood and then insinuate that he was the only mage righteous and disciplined enough to wield it, however, they’d naturally desire him for their leader. So he picked the right toxin and sent the book off with his comrades one by one, poisoning them. But lest he be suspected of a power grab, and lest he create an obvious motive for himself which would be noticed should a death occur, he brought Pyatt into his scheme. Scovil would shun the presidency as a true holy priest might—but Pyatt, who had believed in him, would be chosen in his stead. Pyatt claimed to have suffered the same symptoms when he studied The Gospel of Sheba , but he was probably shamming all along, spreading rumours so the club would be primed when Huggins fell ill. Pyatt and Scovil meant to rule that club with an iron fist.”
    â€œTo what specific object, I wonder, though I doubt not you are right,” Mr. Holmes mused, tapping his index fingers together.
    â€œWould you like my friend the sublibrarian to explain it to you?” Watson asked in a tone dryer than their fireplace.
    Mr. Holmes’s head drew back fractionally. “Yes, do go on, Mr. Lomax,” he suggested, and I knew it a peace offering, for all that the entire exchange had been encoded. Watson smiled briefly before returning his attention back to me.
    â€œMoney,” I said. I twisted my shoulders in apology for my class. “There are some for whom it is a religion. More money, always more. Scovil was of the type who hide the avocation well—outwardly open, inwardly grasping. He loved treasures, he told me, and such objects have their price. Pyatt was more obviously greedy, but no matter; Scovil’s mask was complete enough that they could milk the Brotherhood for all they liked. It was always more of a businessmen’s club than an occult academy. As for potential challengers,