The blackmailer scooped one knife off the floor and pulled the other one from the vat with extraordinary strength. He turned to face Sherlock. ‘The longer you fight,’ he snarled, ‘the better that waistcoat will look on me.’
‘Dream on,’ Sherlock said. ‘The only new clothes you’re going to get are a prison uniform.’ He reached to one side, to the ladder that Harkness had used to get up to the rim of the vat. Grabbing it by the rungs at the top end, he swung it around until the other end pointed at Harkness. The man’s eyes widened even further. He pulled his right hand back again, preparing to throw a knife, but Sherlock rushed at him, hitting him in the chest with the bottom rung, pushing him backwards. Caught by surprise, Harkness staggered backwards, arms flailing. Before he could catch his footing and push back, his right heel caught in the slushy papers and cardboard that he had pulled from the vat. His foot skidded, and he fell. His head hit the wooden floor with a solid crack. His eyes rolled up in his head.
Before Harkness could recover, Sherlock threw the ladder to one side and dropped on to the man’s chest, his knees pinning the man’s arms to the floor. He scooped the knives from Harkness’s nerveless hands and held them up, poised, with the blades pointing at Harkness’s face. Harkness was horrified. Before he could struggle free, Sherlock brought the knives flashing down, one on either side of the man’s neck. The knives embedded themselves into the wood, pinning the material of his jacket to the floor.
Sherlock climbed to his feet and stared down at the man. ‘This is where the police will find you,’ he said. ‘Remember that sometimes the rabbits fight back.’
He turned and ran towards the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
After leaving the police station, where he had given the police an edited version of what had happened, Sherlock stood breathing the fresh air. It was like diving into a sparkling river when you were covered in mud. He could feel the horrible smells of the tannery being flushed from his lungs. He knew the air outside wasn’t particularly fresh, but compared to the stench inside the tannery it was as pure as could be.
He had a feeling that his clothes had become impregnated with the smell, and he decided that he needed to change as soon as possible.
He found Matty standing beneath the window of the tannery. His friend breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw Sherlock.
‘Wasn’t sure what had happened to you,’ he said. ‘I thought Harkness might have got you.’ He frowned. ‘What happened to Harkness? You didn’t . . . kill him, did you?’
Sherlock shook his head wearily. ‘We had a little talk,’ he said. ‘I left him there and told the police where to find him.’
Matty shrugged. ‘It won’t make any difference. When the big fish in the pond gets caught,’ he said, ‘the next biggest one takes over. That’s the way things go.’
‘I know,’ Sherlock said, ‘but I can’t do anything about that. Not right now. At least we’ve got Harkness out of the way, and destroyed his blackmail material. That’ll make a lot of people happy.’ He frowned, looking at the way Matty was casually standing in the middle of the alley. ‘What happened to that man who got sent out – Nicholson?’
‘The bloke with the beer belly? He came out and just stood here. Didn’t look happy. Looked like he’d tear someone’s head off as soon as talk to them, in fact.’
‘Where were you?’
Matty indicated a pile of crates on the other side of the alley. ‘When I heard him coming I hid there. He wasn’t exactly keeping quiet. There was curse words he used that I’d never heard before.’
‘So what happened?’
‘He stood there for a few minutes, then his friend came out.’
‘Marky,’ Sherlock confirmed.
‘Yeah, him. He grabbed the other bloke by the arm and said something to him. Next thing I knew they were both heading off down the alley.’
Sherlock nodded. ‘I managed to persuade Marky that, with Harkness’s blackmail material gone, the town was going to become a very unfriendly place for them to be. I think they’ve decided to try their fortunes elsewhere.’
‘Where to now?’
‘Let’s go home,’ Sherlock said.
‘I ain’t got a home, apart from the narrowboat.’
‘I meant Holmes Manor.’
Matty shook his head forcefully. ‘I don’t like that housekeeper,’ he said, ‘and she don’t like me. If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay here.’
‘I think,’ Sherlock said, ‘that you’ll find Mrs Eglantine’s influence over the Holmes household will diminish rapidly within the next hour or so. I’m sure you’ll find yourself welcome at the manor from now on.’ He glanced critically at his friend. ‘Well, if you dust yourself off and comb your hair, you will.’
With Matty perched behind him on Philadelphia’s back, Sherlock cantered along the familiar roads towards Holmes Manor.
‘Do you think I could get something to eat when we get there?’ Matty called over Sherlock’s shoulder.
‘I think that can be arranged,’ Sherlock called back.
It took about half an hour to get to the manor house, and when they turned in through the main gate and headed up along the drive to the house Sherlock could feel Matty tensing behind him. Bypassing the front door, he trotted around to the stables and left the horse in the care of one of the grooms.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’m eager to see this matter closed.’
He entered through the main door, Matty behind him. The shadowy hallway seemed empty, but he knew that appearances were deceptive.
‘Mrs Eglantine!’ he called.
A part of the shadows detached itself and stepped forward. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop by ten degrees. ‘Young Master Holmes,’ said a voice in a tone so cold that icicles could have formed. ‘As you seem so determined to use this house as a hotel, coming and going when you please, perhaps you ought to be paying for the privilege of staying here.’
‘I would expect the quality of the housekeeping staff in a hotel to be considerably better than here,’ he rejoined.
The expression on Mrs Eglantine’s face didn’t change, but Sherlock felt the atmosphere in the hallway become even colder.
‘Make your quips, child,’ she hissed. ‘Enjoy them while you can. Your time in this house is limited.’
‘If you are expecting your friend Josh Harkness to do something about me, you are going to be disappointed. Mr Harkness is in custody, and won’t be getting out in a hurry.’
‘You are lying,’ she said through clenched teeth, but Sherlock could tell that she was suddenly on the defensive.
‘I never lie,’ he said simply. ‘I leave that to people like you.’ He paused for a moment, working out his next move. ‘Please tell my aunt and uncle that I wish to talk to them in the dining room.’
‘Tell them yourself,’ she said. Her voice could have cut glass.
‘You are the servant here, not me. Pass on my request. Do it now. Please be so good as to ask Cook for a plate of sandwiches and a jug of lemonade as well. My friend and I are hungry and thirsty.’
The housekeeper stared at him with an expression on her face that indicated that she was re-evaluating him, and didn’t like what she was discovering. She turned and disappeared into the shadows.
‘Come on,’ he said to Matty. ‘Let’s get ready.’
He led the way across the hall to the dining room. It struck him that he could have chosen to have the confrontation in the reception room, where guests were entertained, but he wanted to do this somewhere more formal, less comfortable.