Sherlock Holmes and the King's Evil: And Other New Tales Featuring the World's Greatest Detective Read Online Free PDF

the carpet twice with the ferule of his stick.
    “What I mean, sir, is this. Four days ago I received through the post a black marble clock in the shape of a classical Athenian facade—with figures. If you know anything of me, you will know that I am a collector of clocks and a past president of the Horological Society of Great Britain, as well as a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries.”
    “I was indeed aware of that,” said Holmes graciously.
    “Well, then! The clock of which I speak came from a dealer in Greek Street, Soho. I had not heard of this dealer before and there was no explanation as to why it had been sent. I assumed it must be a gift or presentation of some kind and that a letter explaining this would follow. No such letter has arrived.”
    “Perhaps you would do me the kindness of describing the clock in detail.”
    “It was a most unusual one, Mr Holmes. It appeared to emanate from the French Revolutionary period and even to sing the praises of that unfortunate event. At the quarter, it sounded the first two notes of the Marseillaise. At the half, it sounded four, at the three-quarters six, and at the hour the first ten, completing the opening line of that distasteful anthem.”
    At this point the Archdeacon broke briefly into song.
    “All-ons, en-fants de la pa-trie—uh—uh! After that it struck the hour.”
    “I low singular,” said Holmes as if the tedium were well-nigh unbearable, “Pray, do continue your most interesting account.”
    “On the top of the pediment stood a figure of Marianne, wearing a Cap of Liberty, as though at the head of a mob. To either side, in niches, are two figures, whom pennants stamped in gold identify as Danton and Marat. My manservant, Parker, unpacked it and after breakfast we stood it upon the mantelpiece in the library. It was soon wound up and ticking. At midday on Friday, I was reading in a chair just beside the mantelpiece. The clock played its ten notes and then struck the hour. At once, there was a whirring sound from the mechanism, a sharp crack and a puff of smoke from Marianne’s pedestal. It was such a mouthful of smoke as might be exhaled during the consumption of a cigar. The figure in its Cap of Liberty fell off the pediment.”
    Sherlock Holmes shifted his long legs to ease them.
    “I fear, sir, you have been the victim of an elaborate practical joke. I am bound to say that your views upon revolutionary outrages are quite well known.”
    “You fear that, do you?” said the Archdeacon testily, “Wait until you have heard the rest. I thought, as you do, that the device was sent merely to try my patience. I summoned Parker and ordered that the object should be removed at once and placed in the potting-shed. That seemed the most appropriate place for it. I replaced it with a testimonial clock from a grateful congregation at the Tabernacle Church, Ebbw Vale, which had been there to begin with.”
    “This story has scarcely brought you all the way to Baker Street,” I said helpfully.
    Once again, the Archdeacon’s forefinger pointed in the direction of heaven and his eyes grew wider.
    “Wait! That night the household, such as it is, had gone to bed soon after eleven o’clock. At what must have been midnight, I was woken from a doze by a blast which sounded as though a gas-main had exploded. I got up at once and looked from the window. The potting-shed was just in my view—or rather it was not. It had gone. There was a smell of burning fabric in the air and the moonlight was reflected on several shards of broken glass. Anyone in the vicinity at the time of the explosion would have been killed.”
    “And it was in the light of such danger that you sought our advice?” I asked sceptically.
    “No, sir. I do not keep a dog and bark myself. I summoned the police but unfortunately they were very little help. They pointed out that the evidence I offered had been destroyed most efficiently by the explosion. They promised to look into the matter but,