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

give her the facts as Holmes had related them to me. She listened quietly and without interruption, her eyes on my face. Finally, she turned to Holmes and said soberly; “I appear to have been a nuisance to you, Mr. Holmes. I do hope I haven’t spoiled your plans?”
    “Not now we have retrieved you. Did you see Moriarty at all?”
    “I saw no-one that resembled Watson’s description. I believe I was being held by employees. It puzzled me, the attack, for I could fathom no reason for it, but now I understand.”
    “You are both going to have to travel with me,” Holmes said, his mind apparently settled. “Moriarty has introduced a new twist to the match and I haven’t the time to shore up my defense. Everything I have planned will come to fruition in three days’ time, so for three days I must keep myself and both of you out of harm’s way. We must leave England.”
    “Just like that?” I queried.
    “Do you wish to die?” Holmes asked me harshly. “For obvious reasons I cannot leave Elizabeth here. For those same reasons I will not leave you behind. Come, Watson, you’re always looking for adventure. Here is one for you, filled with genuine danger and difficulty.”
    “Well, of course I will come,” I replied. “If only to keep your neck firmly attached to your shoulders.”
    “Thank you,” he said. He turned to Elizabeth. “I am afraid I must insist, Elizabeth. For your own safety.”
    “I concur,” she agreed simply. I was delighted to see Holmes’ disconcerted expression. He had not expected such a commonsense response. “When are we to leave?”
    Holmes outlined his plan.
    •ï¡÷¡ï• •ï¡÷¡ï• •ï¡÷¡ï•
     
    The next day at dawn, we began to execute our individual roles in Holmes’ carefully coordinated escape from London. My own part I have already related elsewhere and I have indicated Holmes’ task. Elizabeth was warned not to return to her room, which she had readily agreed upon. Both Holmes and I were puzzling on how to protect her for the rest of the night when she said simply; “Provide me with ten pounds and I will look after myself. It is clear we cannot remain together. I will meet you tomorrow on the train.”
    Holmes gave her the funds without demur and she bid us goodnight before slipping from the room and disappearing through the tradesmen’s entrance at the back of my house. That was the last I saw of her until I arrived breathlessly at Victoria Station the next morning. I had just tussled with an Italian priest who had insisted on my services as translator and was heading for the train when I collided with a Sister of Mercy. The thought occurred to me that I was beset by the church when I focused on the startling green eyes beneath the wimple. “Elizabeth?” I breathed softly.
    She nodded a little and picked up her carpet bag again. “Let me help you, Sister,” I said more loudly for the benefit of eavesdroppers. I assisted her onto the train. “I didn’t know you,” I said quietly as we made our way to our compartment.
    “It was the only way I could think of to disguise my hair. Holmes hasn’t arrived?”
    “No.” I made a small sound of annoyance as we reached the compartment, for the Italian priest was sitting quietly on the seat, his cane between his knees. “I have just had the most infuriating conversation with that silly priest. I don’t speak a word of Italian.”
    Elizabeth put her fingers to her lips, suppressing a smile. “Oh,” she murmured simply, examining the priest through the glass.
    I strode into the compartment and attempted to explain to the man that he was in the wrong seat. I found both my voice and my temper rising. After a moment, Elizabeth put a calming hand on my arm. “Leave him. He seems harmless enough.”
    I threw myself into a seat. “Where’s Holmes? That is what I want to know.”
    Elizabeth sat opposite me, next to the priest. “I have no doubt he will be on the train in time. Relax, Watson.”
    I