Chronicles of the Lost Years (The Sherlock Holmes Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

his hands.
    I peered into the room. The rope had landed right in front of Elizabeth and she glanced up quickly. I waved her on encouragingly and she lifted her cuffed hands and caught the rope between them. “Now,” I told Holmes, but he was already hauling on the rope, hand over hand, his eyes glittering with concentration and his jaw clenched with effort.
    I watched Elizabeth’s ascent anxiously. The guard was racing toward her and she was barely out of his reach. However, Elizabeth remained clear-headed enough to wait until he was within range, then she kicked out with her boot and caught him a well-calculated and powerful blow in the face. It was enough to keep him occupied with his own miseries for the few seconds she needed to be drawn high out of his grasp.
    When her hands reached the lip of the skylight Holmes stopped hauling and by the expedient of reaching down and grasping her waist in one arm, I managed to lift her up onto the roof. She lay full length, her eyes closed and I could well imagine the fear and relief mixing in her blood.
    Holmes dropped the rope and crouched beside her. With one of his fine metal instruments he unlocked the cuffs about her wrists. “How bad is your concussion, Miss Sigerson?” he asked.
    Elizabeth sat up, rubbing her wrists. “For goodness’ sake, call me Elizabeth. Miss Sigerson is such an awkward mouthful.” She was smiling.
    Holmes looked at me inquiringly.
    “Very mild, I’d say,” I judged quickly, studying her eyes. “She is coherent enough.”
    Holmes looked amused. “Very well…Elizabeth. We must hurry.”
    •ï¡÷¡ï• •ï¡÷¡ï• •ï¡÷¡ï•
     
    We reached my consulting rooms two hours later, after completing a tortuous route to throw off any pursuers. Our escape from the roof of the warehouse had been dogged by several guards, whom we fought off before escaping into the alleys and subways of the London dockside. Holmes’ familiarity with the myriad little ways and paths was our saving, I believe. The trouble we had reaching safety did quell Holmes’ concern that the rescue had been suspiciously easy.
    I locked the door behind me and sat Elizabeth in a chair to examine her injuries. There was some bruising about a small cut on her forehead. “Did it bleed much?” I asked.
    “I don’t know,” she replied. “It knocked me unconscious. When I came to, somebody had already dressed it.”
    “So you were unconscious for a while,” I concluded.
    She nodded. “They attacked me outside my room last night. That’s not when I received this—” and she touched her temple. “I tried to raise as much noise as I could, but they held a rag to my face. It smelt…would that have been chloroform?”
    Both Holmes and I nodded.
    “When I woke I was quite ill and I found myself in that room in which you found me. My hands were cuffed. There were two guards, who took turns watching me. I could hear traffic somewhere nearby and decided I would attempt to draw attention to myself again. I began shouting and calling for help.” She looked up at Holmes. “I am aware of what you call your Baker Street Irregulars. Is that how you found me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then this blow has been worth the pain.”
    “The guards hit you?” I asked, appalled.
    “To keep me quiet, yes.” She smiled at my expression. “They warned me several times to stay silent, but I persisted.”
    I reached for my medical bag. “I have something for the headache. How do you feel, otherwise?”
    “I don’t feel either weak or ill, now. The fresh air and the exercise have done me the world of good.”
    I turned to Holmes. “Let me look at your hand, Holmes.”
    “It is nothing,” he said absently, examining the broken skin about his knuckles briefly before sliding his hand into his pocket. He was leaning against my tall bureau, frowning. “Perhaps you will explain to Elizabeth the events she has become involved in while I consider our next move?”
    I nodded and proceeded to