Secret Archives of Sherlock Holmes, The, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

women as “stray chickens in a world of foxes”, an apt simile and one that I am convinced can be applied with equal validity to Dr Wilberforce and his sister, who my intuition tells me are none other than the Rev. Dr Schlessinger and his wife reincarnated in Brighton.’
    ‘Then we must act at once, Holmes!’ I declared, remembering with horror the fate that almost befell Lady Frances Carfax 2 who, had not Holmes intervened at the last moment, would have been buried alive.
    ‘My thought exactly,’ Holmes agreed, getting up from the table and fetching his coat and stick. ‘Ipropose sending a telegram this very minute.’
    ‘To Inspector Lestrade?’
    ‘Not yet, Watson. First we must begin by making sure of our ground. At the moment, we have nothing but supposition. We need facts first and then a strategy to go with them.’
    Before I could offer to accompany him, he strode purposefully from the room. Seconds later, I heard the street door slam shut behind him.
    He returned within the hour looking jubilant.
    ‘The first hurdle has been crossed,’ he announced. ‘As the mountain cannot come to Mahomet, Mahomet shall go to the mountain. I have sent a telegram to Miss Pilkington at the Regal Hotel, arranging to meet her in Brighton this afternoon.’
    ‘At the hotel?’
    ‘No, no, my dear fellow! That would be folly indeed. If you recall, we met Holy Peters face to face at his lodgings in Poultney Square during the Carfax inquiry. He would recognise us at once. I have suggested to Miss Pilkington that she leaves the Regal on the dot of a quarter past two, ostentatiously carrying something in her right hand so that we may identify her, and proceeds to some suitable venue, where we shall meet to discuss the situation. That is the first step. If I am convinced that Dr Wilberforce is indeed Holy Peters, then we can take the second step, which is to book ourselves rooms in the same hotel.’
    As I was about to protest at this suggestion, Holmes smiled and held up his hand.
    ‘Rest assured, Watson, that if we do so, Holy Peters will not recognise us for the simple reason that we shall be disguised. Now, be a good fellow and pass me the Bradshaw 3 and I shall look up the next suitable train to Brighton.’ It was with considerable anticipation that I set off with Holmes later that morning for Victoria station.
    It was some time since I had accompanied him on a mission and I felt my pulses quicken at the prospect, more especially in this case, for I recalled with a shudder of revulsion that loathsome duo of Holy Peters and his female accomplice. Life with Holmes seldom lacked interest and I realised how much I owed him not only in friendship and companionship but also in that zest for adventure which he always aroused in me.
    We arrived in Brighton with a good half an hour to spare before our assignment with Miss Pilkington, and spent the intervening time sauntering up and down the esplanade with the other holidaymakers, enjoying the sun, the sea breeze and the general air of pleasure and relaxation. The prospect was superb. To our left lay the glittering sea and the crowded beach, blossoming like aherbaceous border with gaily coloured parasols; to our right the long splendid vista of hotels and restaurants, their façades painted in pastel shades of vanilla and peach and the pale yellow of rich clotted cream, resembling so many delicious pastries temptingly laid out for our delectation.
    The Regal was one of the larger hotels, with a glassed-in veranda running the entire length of its ground floor in which we could glimpse some of its guests lounging on steamer chairs amid a miniature grove of potted palms. Waiters moved softly between them bearing trays of tall glasses which appeared at that distance to contain iced sherbet or cordials, or perhaps strawberry ice cream.
    At the next corner, directly opposite the newly opened Palace Pier, Holmes consulted his watch and, with a sideways glance at me, remarked, ‘It is time