Our struggle continued with undiminished intensity. There was a lot at stake. Rupert reached for Holmes with his great paw and flung him lightly over his head.
The detective flew forward and fell between me and the nobleman, stomach first on the ground. He tried to break his fall, but landed heavily on his crushed finger. He groaned and almost fainted from the pain.
Rupert bent towards him, flipped him over on his back and grabbed him by his sweater like a rag doll. He tossed him in the air and flung him onto the table. The breakfast dishes came crashing to the floor as the detective slid across the whole length of the table to the other side, where his body collided with the wall and fell again on the floor.
He no longer even groaned. I was worried that he did not get up.
His lordship roared like an animal and slowly turned towards me. I backed away from him gingerly, but to no avail. This blue-blooded mountain of man lurched at me horribly like a wild buffalo. I stumbled on Veronica’s corpse, rolled back and fell in a puddle of blood. I wanted to regain my footing, but my hands and feet slid in the darkening sticky fluid.
What could a man entering the autumn of life do against a hulk of forty in his prime?
But the Lord works in mysterious ways.
I felt like a beetle lying on its back, powerlessly waving its legs while a predator descends upon it. But behind the predator there appeared a shadow with the profile of an eagle.
It was Holmes!
Despite a severe contusion in his hand he was clutching a knight’s shield which he had removed from the wall. I would have selected the axe, but the detective never wanted to kill his opponents, just deliver justice.
Darringford was in such a frenzy that he did not notice him.
The detective grimaced as he raised the shield over his head and brought it down on Rupert’s bull neck.
For a moment he stood motionless, as though thinking about what had just happened. Then eyes bulging, he staggered and began to fall. He almost fell right on top of me, but Holmes shoved him so that he toppled to the side.
“That was close,” I said.
He tossed aside the shield and helped me get up. My shirt was covered in Veronica’s blood and stuck to my body. Holmes rubbed his crippled hand and wiped the blood. I took a look at it. The tip of the index finger was crushed and the rest of the fingers were badly bruised.
“By attempting to save me you have proved your friendship,” he said. “At the same time you have jeopardised everything that we have worked for!”
“Forgive me,” I said.
There was nothing more I could say.
“Do not apologise. We must act. She cannot have gotten far!”
We headed for the hall where we had last seen Alice. From there the doors leading to the courtyard in front of the castle were wide open.
It was already light outside. The sky was filled with clouds and it looked like it would rain.
The yard was full of Moriarty’s legacy: heavy machinery produced by the leading munitions factories of Europe, prototypes of weapons for which the owners had paid with their lives. Under wooden scaffolding stood a tank and to the side was a yellow two-seater triplane armed with machine guns. There were also cannons, howitzers and guns of every size and type imaginable, war machines that could plunge the world into catastrophe. These prototypes were waiting here for Tankosić, displayed in all their monstrous glory.
I remembered what Holmes had told me when he collected me at the break of dawn at the side door of the castle. He had been absolutely right.
To the left of where we stood were several low outbuildings.
On our right was a castle gate, enclosed from within by a lattice. When we ran out into the courtyard the gate screeched as it lifted.
There were gunshots. Two bullets dug into the trampled grass in front of us.
Alice’s old Model-T Ford burst out from among the vehicles parked at the gate, which included Rupert’s Silver Ghost under a canvas. Holmes and I jumped to either side. While I hid behind the open doors of the castle the detective ran towards the outbuildings.
“We don’t have a weapon!” he shouted at me. “Watson, you must find one!”
From where he was he had no chance of finding anything to counter her pistol. Once again I was our only hope. I waited until Holmes reached a position of relative safety behind the windows of the building adjacent to the castle. He crouched forward along the wall and as he climbed through the window, avoiding another round of gunfire, I dashed into the castle.
Alice fired at each of us again, but she was saving her ammunition.
“Hold on!” I called and returned to the hall where I had earlier seen a closet full of rifles.
The closet was open. The long racks held Rupert’s revolvers and rifles, some with special and to me incomprehensible modifications. I picked the one that seemed the most ordinary.
A sight consisting of several pieces of glass was mounted on the barrel. When I put it to my eye I realised that it was actually a telescope, permitting one to aim and shoot much farther than a conventional rifle.
Gripping the massive wooden handle of the rifle I felt a lot more secure. The bottom drawer contained boxes with bullets. I picked up a handful and quickly stuffed them in my pockets.
As I closed the glass door of the armoury I perked up. Something was wrong.
In the reflection in the glass I saw the dining room and the dead body of the headless suffragette. Except that where the unconscious Darringford should have been there was nothing. Our tussle and his defeat were marked by only a few bloody streaks.
I tightened my grip on the rifle and tiptoed into the dining room. The shield, the empty revolver, the broken dishes and overturned chairs, everything was where it should be. Except for Rupert. His bloody footsteps led to the corridor and the staircase.
I continued the search. The deadly silence did not reveal where the madman was hiding.
Monstrous ideas crept into my mind. All around me loomed high walls. Was he hiding behind a column waiting to ambush me? I cocked the rifle. The click of the lock gave off an eerie echo. Even the servants from the kitchen had disappeared upon hearing the first shots, apparently via the side entrance.
But I did not have time to waste on this degenerate lummox. Holmes was outside in a desperate situation and was waiting for my help. I prayed that Rupert had run off to his room and would leave us alone.
I backed out of the corridor and ran through the dining room to the entrance.
Cautiously I peered outside. The main gates were open, the latticework pulled back. The escape route appeared clear. But both cars were still standing in the courtyard.
Alice was sitting in her Model T and was trying to start it while keeping a watchful eye on the building where the detective was hiding. But the car would not budge. She did not notice me. She was frowning at the hood of the coughing vehicle and hitting the steering wheel.
Then I spied Holmes through one of the windows.
I motioned to him that I intended to follow her, but he waved his hand to indicate that I should not. His face was suddenly even paler. I wondered whether he had lost too much blood.
He pointed behind him and then to the countess. I understood that he was telling me that the building contained more than just buckets of feed and straw.
The detective had apparently decided to instead attempt to get back to me. But he could not do this without attracting Alice’s attention. I had to cover him. I waited until he was ready and when he jumped from the window and ran across the courtyard towards me I fired in the air. Alice was startled and ducked her head. Then she took cover behind the car and fired back blindly. This was perhaps even more dangerous to us than had she taken aim. Her bullets forced Holmes to rush for cover behind the tank.