The Problem of Threadneedle Street (The Assassination of Sherlock Holmes Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

audacity to impersonate me. Surely this is a remarkable individual. Dangerous, yes, but surely remarkable. His intelligence is clearly second to none. As I was saying, burglary has always been an alternative profession had I cared to adopt it, and I have little doubt that I should have risen to the top.” He paused and turned to the bank manager. “Ah, Mr. Bennett, could I trouble you for a glass of water? I find that my throat gets a bit dusty down here.” The manager looked startled at such a trivial request in the midst of an exposition that touched upon a theft of such gravity, but he scurried off to do as Holmes’ commanded.
    Holmes watched him go, and then returned to his explanation. “As I surveyed the room, I learned that there was no method by which the thieves could have entered either from above or from the sides. But the floor is another matter entirely. This would not be the first time I have seen a man tunnel into the floor of a bank vault.”
    “Mr. Holmes!” protested Gregson. “Have you gone mad? These flagstones are cemented in place!”
    “Indeed they are, Inspector,” said Holmes, with his enigmatical smile. “And I expect they have been so for many years. Ah, thank you, Mr. Bennett,” said he to the swiftly returning manager, who handed Holmes his requested glass of water. My friend took the smallest sip, and then returned to his account. “Have you ever had any reason to replace one of the flagstones, Mr. Winthrop?”
    “Not that I can recall,” the man spluttered. “But, really, Mr. Holmes, how could a gang possibly pass through a base of cemented flagstones? They would have to be insubstantial!”
    Holmes did not answer for a moment. He walked slowly and thoughtfully among the crates and around the room until he stopped. So absorbed was he in his thoughts, that the hand carrying the glass had carelessly spilled some of the water along behind him. “No, Mr. Winthrop, they would simply have to move one of the stones and replace it afterwards. Like this one, for example.”
    He pointed down at his feet. As we stared at the small puddle of water, we realized that most of the decades-old join-lines between the flagstones absorbed the water readily. But at the spot indicated, the water refused to be absorbed, which could only denote that the cement was freshly poured.
    §
    After some initial consternation, Gregson summoned several study constables armed with chisels, mallets, and pry-bars. They made short work of the cement indicated by Holmes’ water-spilling expedient. Within moments, the large and heavy flagstone was lifted off to one side. A black hole yawned beneath, into which we all peered, while Holmes, kneeling at the side, leaned down into it with one of the constables’ lanterns. A finely carved shaft, complete with steel ladder, lay open to us. At the moment, however, we had no thought for how the tunnel had been mined, for our eyes were riveted upon the bottom of the shaft, where we could see the unmistakable reflection of rippling water.
    “Gentlemen,” said Holmes. “I present to you the Walbrook River.”
    “But that’s impossible,” stammered Winthrop, his face turning a ghastly color of green.
    “No, sir, merely improbable. Did you not know that the sewers of London ran directly under your bank?”
    “The sewers?” said Winthrop, weakly.
    “Indeed, sir. You see below you a glimpse into our distant past, like some parting of the veils of time. It was around this very stream that the Romans built this place. They built a temple or two in this garrison town on the far edge of their empire. But they also built a wall, and it was that which gave the brook below us its name. Many centuries later, foul and rank with the rubbish and waste of the City’s teeming population, it was one of the first of London’s rivers to be vaulted over and buried far beneath our streets. And now, like the Fleet, the Tyburn, and many others, it forms part of the sewer system created in