Sherlock Holmes and the Queen of Diamonds Read Online Free PDF

struck again, this time at the home of Lady Bingham!’
    While Holmes saw to his ablutions Watson collected his coat, pulled his cane from the rack by the door and hurried downstairs. As always, Mrs Hudson was busily engaged in her domestic chores, so he went outside, dug his cab-whistlefrom his pocket and gave a single shrill blast. A hansom soon drew up and Watson was just about to ask the driver to wait when Holmes, now washed, shaved and dressed, brushed past him. ‘Witton Abbey, Surbiton,’ he told the driver. ‘And there’s a bonus in it for you if you can get us there in half the time it normally takes!’
    The driver saw this as both a challenge and an opportunity to earn some extra money, so the journey was almost as reckless as it was fleet. As Watson was jostled back and forth inside the cab, he chided Holmes for endangering their lives. ‘After all,’ he grumbled, ‘is there really any call for such speed? The crime has already been committed. We’re too late to do anything now but investigate such clues as may have been left behind.’
    ‘That is precisely why we must hurry, Watson. Rosier is an admirable chap, quite one of the brightest men Scotland Yard has to offer, but even he runs the risk of contaminating or quite possibly eliminating altogether what little evidence there may be. If we cannot prevent such damage, the least we may do is limit it.’
    The journey took them through the fashionable sprawl of Mayfair, past the gasworks and breweries of industrialized Wandsworth and at last to the historic market town of Kingston-upon-Thames. It had rained during the night but now the sun started breaking through the louring clouds, and everything looked as fresh and clean as a picture postcard.
    From Kingston-upon-Thames it was a relatively short hop to the picturesque lanes and meadows of Surbiton, and presently they came within sight of Witton Abbey, as the Bingham estate was known. 
    It was a large Gothic-style house built from big white-stone blocks, with long, rectangular windows running along the ground floor and smaller sash windows along the second. As the hansom turned off the lane on to the gravel drive they saw a black carriage that doubled as transport for police or mobile cells in which to remove criminals, and a separate hansom.
    Barely waiting for their cab to stop, Holmes sprang from the vehicle and hurried to the front door. Telling the cabby to wait, Watson limped up the steps to the front door just as it was opened by a soberly attired butler.
    Before Holmes could introduce himself an authoritative voice behind the butler said: ‘It’s all right, Draper. Come in, Mr Holmes. I knew you’d want to be in on this.’
    The speaker was Inspector Maurice Rosier, a tall, tow-headed man dressed in a black herringbone suit and a striped school tie. Holmes held him in some regard, for unlike many of his ilk he had courage, tenacity and no small intelligence. He came forward, moving in a peculiar, predatory manner that was unique to him, and shook hands. ‘The bugger’s really outdone himself this time,’ he confided. ‘Stolen a necklace valued at five thousand pounds, and I’m at a loss as to explain exactly how he did it.’
    ‘You have your men out searching the grounds?’ asked Holmes.
    ‘Of course, sir.’
    ‘Then ask them to stop at once. Nothing further is to be moved, examined or inspected until I say so.’
    Rosier raised his eyebrows. ‘Very good, sir. I’ll pass the word.’ 
    He disappeared for a few moments, then came back and led them into a large sitting room, where Lady Bingham, a tall, thin woman who wore her grey hair in ringlets, sat on a sofa, dabbing at her eyes.
    ‘Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, my lady,’ he announced. ‘Mr Holmes has followed the case from the first and kindly offered his services in order to bring the thief to justice.’
    Lady Bingham stood up and allowed each of them to take her fingertips and nod respectfully. ‘It’s