Six more tales of Sherlock Holmes.
'The Torso At Highgate Cemetery' I watched as the policeman took out a notebook and read from an open page.
He spoke in a whisper.
Inspector Lestrade's face turned ashen.
He turned towards me, looking grim.
'The Mystery Of the Missing Artefacts' August 1916.
A telegram is brought to my fetid prison cell under the magnificent State rooms of Sultan Mehmed V Reş�d's �ırağan Palace.
It's from Sherlock Holmes.
My dear Watson, it read, do you remember the name of the fellow at the British Museum who contacted us over a certain matter just before I retired to my bee-farm in the South Downs? 'The Case of the Seventeenth Monk' Now, Holmes, I interrupted, checking the dragoman was out of hearing range, at least I've discovered you're alive.
What of the raison d'�tre of your presence in the back of beyond? What of this Otto M�ller? What indeed? came the rueful reply.
'The Strange Death of an Art Dealer' Oh my God! he exclaimed despairingly.
It could be a catastrophe! I beseech you, Holmes, sort this whole thing out.
I can neither think nor sleep nor attend to any matter of State.
'The Case of the Impressionist Painting' Holmes folded his napkin and sat back, staring into the fire.
Watson, I do not say this lightly: a shiver went through me at the look in O'Clery's eye when I revealed our identity.
I have never before felt so deeply we were in the presence of some vast potency, a power of evil.
'The Ambassador's Skating Competition' Holmes, Watson retorted, I must warn you, no one should confront such rich, powerful, and ruthless men head on.
We learned that lesson a few years ago.
We are not of their ilk.
They'll ride rough-shod over us again.
Lightly | A shiver went through me at the look in |
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