Page 102 of The Hollow of Fear
“You mustn’t abandon hope, my lord,” he said.
Lord Ingram did not look worse for wear—yet. It had been only a day. “I have not. I have friends working on my behalf.”
“Sergeant Ellerby is seeking the other body specified by Sherlock Holmes with all his might,” said Treadles, feeling more than a little stupid. He wasn’t sure how that would help Lord Ingram.
“You must thank him on my behalf until I can do so in person. He has been very kind.” Lord Ingram smiled a little. “And how are you, Inspector? How is Mrs. Treadles? Cousins Manufacturing running smoothly under her stewardship?”
“I think so. Or as smoothly as can be expected now, since she is still relatively inexperienced. But I’m quite astonished at how much she has learned.” There was a lingering sweetness on his tongue. It took Treadles a moment to recognize it as pride—he always used to speak of his wife with pride and now he was once again doing so. “I would find the management of such a large organization overwhelming, but she enjoys herself immensely.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I hope to have you both to Stern Hollow someday soon.”
He imagined his friend, free again. The Treadleses, walking arm-in-arm on that beautiful estate, talking and laughing. And himself, bathed in forgiveness and understanding, neither of which he deserved, but he hoped to.
Someday.
“I will be most gratified to have that come to pass.”
Lord Ingram smiled slightly. “Holmes is on the case. We have nothing to fear.”
Lord Ingram wasin custody for more than thirty-six hours before the message Charlotte had been waiting for came, typed on plain paper, posted from one of the busiest corners of London, in an envelope addressed to Sherlock Holmes.
Hand over Mr. Finch and exculpatory evidence will be offered for Lord Ingram.You may post your reply in the papers as a +10 Caesar cipher.
She immediately sent in her reply.Hand over exculpatory evidence first.
The response came two hours after the morning editions became available, this time delivered to the mail slot at 18 Upper Baker Street itself.You are not in a position to negotiate. Give your answer as a Vigenère cipher. Keyword: STERN.
She took a deep breath and dispatched her next message to the evening papers, coded as specified:22 Compton Lane, Hampstead Heath.
The manin the parlor of 22 Compton Lane had become accustomed to making himself at home in different surroundings. He always carried the same Darjeeling tea and the same pair of house slippers wherever he went, so that there would be some sense of familiarity and coziness, no matter how strange and inhospitable his new dwellings.
This house was not so bad. Close enough to London to be convenient, but with slightly cleaner air and somewhat less clogged streets. There was a bookstore nearby he enjoyed browsing—in fact, he’d spent too much money there—and the food at the tea shop on the next street was downright decent.
He had just settled into his chair, a glass of Armagnac at his side, a Mrs. Braddon novel in hand, when he heard suspicious sounds at the front door. He rose and extinguished all the lights in the parlor. The firelight from the grate couldn’t be helped, of course, but he did take the poker in hand, before he secreted himself behind the grandfather clock.
Men came into the house. Two of them. One went deeper, ascending the stairs. The other came toward the parlor.
He recognized those footsteps.
The intruder walked into the parlor. He glanced at the glass of Armagnac and the hastily cast aside book—and cocked his revolver.
The occupant of the house stepped out from behind the grandfather clock.
The intruder raised his firearm. Then his expression changed.
The firelight was not brilliant, but it was illumination enough in such close quarters.
“Remington,” said the intruder coldly. “What are you doing here?”
Lord Remington shook his head. He’d thought he had steeled himself, but still he was close to tears. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be you. Even after everything I’ve learned, I still hoped that we were wrong and that it wouldn’t be you, Bancroft.”
22
Stern Hollow, earlier
“What doyou think of what you are being asked to do here?” murmured Charlotte.
“Oh, I will go to jail before I give up my virtue, you may depend on that.”
