The Sherlock Holmes Megapack: 25 Modern Tales by Masters: 25 Modern Tales by Masters Read Online Free PDF Page A

back and turned to contemplate the dancing couples moving about the floor. “I have identified five possible methods for surreptitiously removing one or more of the emeralds from their case and then from the room. I am certain, were I to exert myself, I could add half-a-dozen more.”
    “Surely you jest!” I stared at Holmes in surprise. “The door is locked, the windows are closed and barred, and a guard is stationed outside. What more could be done?”
    “What more, indeed.” A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “If all my adversaries were as straightforward as you, I would have no fears at all about the fate of the von Kratzov emeralds.”
    His words stung. “If my contributions are so useless, I wonder that you include me in your investigations at all.” I accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman and drank rather more deeply than usual.
    “Watson!” Holmes turned to me, his brows drawn together, yet not in a scowl. “I beg your pardon, my dear fellow. My words were ill chosen. Do not ask me, however, to apologise for the sentiment. Your mind acts as a touchstone to that which is pure and good; although agile, it lacks the sordid depths and devious paths of the criminal’s mental processes.”
    Somewhat comforted, I took another sip of the count’s excellent champagne.
    “What would you have me do this evening?” I asked.
    “Will you assume responsibility for following Her Grace? I shall concern myself with observing Denbeigh and Sheppington.”
    “With pleasure. But do you think it possible that she could steal one or more of the emeralds and elude detection?”
    “That, of course, is the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” With an enigmatic smile, Holmes disappeared into the crowd.
    A few moments later, Her Grace was announced, along with her son and grandson. I could see no sign of Holmes, yet I had no doubt he knew the whereabouts of every individual in the room.
    Mindful of my charge, I peered at the dowager duchess and her party over the rim of my champagne flute. Resplendent in diamonds and sapphires, Her Grace displayed an engaging vivacity. She smiled at the count’s attentions, which were so marked as to be offensively Continental; indeed he stood so close that he actually trod upon her skirts.
    With a thunderous expression, Sheppington clenched his hands into fists, but a word from Denbeigh stilled him. Drawing the young man away with a firm hand upon his shoulder, Denbeigh led him toward the supper room.
    Her Grace continued to smile as the count gestured and spoke, yet her gaze appeared to follow their retreating forms. It was only upon the announcement of the arrival of another guest that the count bowed and turned away, leaving the duchess alone.
    I stepped forward and, catching her eye, bowed.
    She approached and extended her hand. “So here you are, Doctor.”
    I raised her hand to my lips and then, somewhat reluctantly I confess, released it.
    Leaning close, she lowered her voice. “I assume Mr Holmes is also here?”
    “He is, Your Grace.”
    She nodded in abstraction. A young guardsman inadvertently jostled her, and after politely receiving his incoherent apology, she drew a deep breath and took my arm in a firm clasp.
    “Let us remove ourselves from the throng,” she said. I led her to a quiet corner by a heavily curtained window, and she continued: “You mentioned that we had met before at the Smythe-Parkinsons’.”
    “Yes, several years ago. At a fancy dress ball.” I smiled at the memory of that carefree country weekend.
    “What were you wearing?”
    “I went as Pierrot. Not very original, I am afraid,” I said, my face warming. A more elaborate costume had been beyond my means.
    “I am certain you looked most handsome.” The duchess tilted her head inquiringly. “And do you remember what I wore?”
    “Of course. An Elizabethan-inspired dress in blue,” I replied promptly. “I believe it was velvet. You were enchanting.”
    Indeed, she had