I looked at him. He had the contented look I imagine comes over every actor at the conclusion of a performance that has clearly impressed his audience. Finally I managed to say — “But Holmes, you were masterly. You were the man …”
“Thank you, Watson. It’s good to know the skills I picked up in America as a young man have not totally atrophied. Oh, have I never related that part of my pre-Watson existence? Remind me to do so when we have rather more leisure. It may serve to pad out one of your more lurid tales.”
Suddenly a thought struck me.
“But what about the real Steel,” I stammered, “suppose he had walked in while you were impersonating him?”
“I have too much confidence in my brother’s ability to exert his personality when he so chooses,” Holmes replied, looking in that direction. Mycroft acknowledged the compliment with the merest inclination of his head.
“Mycroft intimated that there were those in the highest echelons of the Government who would value Steel’s opinion on matters of national importance. To ensure security the meeting was arranged away from prying eyes in the privacy of Mycroft’s private rooms with catering provided by the Diogenes Club opposite. So tell us, Mycroft, what state secrets did you manage to impart?”
“I’m afraid that, owing to the excitement of entertaining so distinguished a guest, I was a little carried away. As I recall, the conversation barely moved beyond the topic of Coptic scrolls and how they might conceivably undermine the very foundations of revealed religion — a topic which seemed to exercise Mr. Steel considerably as the evening wore on.”
“I told Mycroft to keep him occupied until I knew his name would have been called to speak. I was fairly sure that what he would have to say was likely to produce a certain — shall we say? — frisson.”
“That it certainly did,” I attested fervently. “I thought they were about to lynch him — you. It reminded me of some of the accounts I’ve read of the French Revolution. You could have cut the emotion in the House with a knife. But gentlemen, put my simple mind at rest — what precisely was the point of it?”
“A riposte in the battle for the hearts and minds of the British people,” Mycroft replied gravely.
“I’m not sure I’d pitch it with quite such gravitas,” Holmes added. “While the ‘British people’ are undoubtedly possessed of both, they scarcely consider them in those elevated terms — at least, not in my observation. No, Watson, in simpler terms my aim was to put a spoke in Moriarty’s wheel and that we have undoubtedly done. He was expecting some sort of frontal counter-attack and had prepared his defences accordingly. Yet any student of his methods — and I flatter myself that I am one — knows that our dear Professor’s modus operandi contains one unifying thread. He never soils his own hands with the minutiae of the execution of his plans. Therefore, he is vulnerable through his minions.
“Removing Steel — for be in no doubt we have done just that — may be no more than a temporary inconvenience, as I say, a mere spoke in the wheel of Moriarty’s plan but in a complex piece of machinery one wheel meshes in with the working of another and another, so that a change of speed may lead to disaster for the whole machine. More important, we have shown Moriarty that his plans are capable of disruption. Perhaps just as galling for a man of his vanity will be this …”
And he picked up a piece of paper from the table next to him and handed it to me. “He thought that only he was ingenious enough to pursue his course with one hand and orchestrate his literary conceit with the other. He now knows differently …” On the paper was printed in Holmes’s distinctive hand …
TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE
AGREED TO HAVE A BATTLE
FOR TWEEDLEDUM SAID TWEEDLEDEE
HAD SPOILED HIS NICE NEW RATTLE
Below the quotation was the familiar face of the Cheshire Cat but this time its grin was upside down, giving it a faintly sinister, Oriental appearance.
“That will appear in all of tomorrow’s newspapers — including the Clarion — as my private message to Moriarty. But the main message, which those same papers will carry free and gratis was the one I delivered earlier this evening and which you, Watson, were good enough by your unfeigned reaction to authenticate. The Right Honourable Members saw Tweedledee — but they thought they saw Tweedledum and it is on him that they will vent their anger and frustration. Tonight was just as much of an execution as the one Moriarty contrived yesterday — except that on this occasion the victim lived. Only one man will truly appreciate the — if I may employ the pun — double entendre …”
And allowing himself a small whisper of a smile, Holmes settled back in his chair and completed his toilet. “I think we might safely say that the price of steel has just gone down.”
I could not forebear to state what seemed to me to be obvious. “But tomorrow Steel will deny that he was present in the House and explain where he really was …”
“So he will,” Holmes replied, “but who will believe him? He knows he dined with Mycroft and now you and I know but the rest of the world will assume he is merely trying to avoid the consequences of his actions. After all, several hundred of our leading citizens have the evidence of their own eyes and they are not likely to admit the possibility of error. We have simply turned Moriarty’s weaponry upon himself. QED.”
“Tonight we witnessed Act Two — or perhaps that dignifies it too much. Let us say an entracte. We must now possess our souls in patience until we see what Moriarty does next.”
The impact of the evening’s events suddenly seemed to hit me and I found myself stifling a yawn.
“Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me,” I said, “I think I’ll possess my soul by having a good night’s sleep.”
As I left the room, I could again hear the murmur of their conversation, as each completed the other’s sentences. With two such minds working in concert, what chance did an antagonist have — even one as clever as Professor Moriarty? Even so, I had no intention of letting that thought lull me into any false sense of security. There was much to be done before we pulled through. The game was afoot but it most certainly was not over.
It must have been that realisation that disturbed my sleep. I am usually a sound sleeper and, as usual, I was off the moment my head touched the pillow but then the dreams came crowding in.
I was walking through a house very like the one in Chester Square. It was totally empty of furniture and every room was mirrored, so that I could not avoid seeing my own reflection at every turn. Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice crying out something and I knew it to be Alicia Creighton’s. She was clearly in distress and was calling my name. I opened one door and suddenly saw her in the distance beckoning to me. She was dressed in the Alice in Wonderland costume and the strangest thing was that the faster I hurried towards her, the further away she seemed.
From room to room I went and each one seemed smaller than the last — or were the walls and ceiling coming towards me? Now I could catch glimpses of other people I knew scurrying past me in the opposite direction, each of them dressed as Alice characters.
There was Mycroft, an enormous Mock Turtle, lugubriously murmuring to himself — “Jam tomorrow and jam yesterday — but never jam today …”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” I heard my inner voice saying — only to have Holmes, who now happened to be passing dressed as the Mad Hatter, raise his hat with the label saying ‘In this style — 10/6d’ say politely “Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it.”