Sherlock Holmes and the King of Clubs Read Online Free
Author: Steve Hayes
could do to keep pace with him.
Upon reaching the box, Holmes took out a thin stack of envelopes and stuffed them into the slot. As Watson studied his friend’s profile he was momentarily transported back in time, for it seemed just then that the years had hardly touched Holmes. Age had done nothing to reduce his more than six feet; his grey eyes appeared as incisive as ever; his nose still as thin and hawk-like; his chin as square and prominent as it had ever been.
Then Holmes started across the road. Watson hurried after him, realizing that time had left something else about Holmes unchanged – his ability to be as insufferably cryptic as ever.
They climbed the steps to the Shiells House. Without pausing, Holmes pushed open the door and entered a hallway with a counter along the left-hand wall. Behind it sat a scruffy-looking clerk of about thirty, dressed in a white shirt, maroon tie and a food-stained navy waistcoat. Looking up from the paper he’d been reading, he greeted Holmes and Watson.
‘’Evenin’, sirs. ’Ow can I help you?’
Holmes glanced at the register. Reading the most recent entry, he said to Watson, ‘Mr and Mrs Haslemere, Room Seven.’ Then, fixing the clerk with a penetrating stare he snapped, ‘The pass-key, if you will.’
‘P-pass-key?’
‘I have yet to meet the lock I cannot master,’ Holmes replied, ‘but the pass-key will make my job here tonight considerably easier.’
‘You’re talking in riddles, mate. Are you drunk? You’d better ’op it.’
Holmes stood his ground. ‘As an accomplice in blackmail, you presently occupy a very precarious legal position. Were I you, I should look to distance myself from the prime movers in this sordid enterprise and cooperate before the authorities get involved.’
Watson watched the blood drain from the clerk’s face. ‘I dunno …’ he began.
‘Then I suggest you summon a policeman at once, for part of your premises is presently being used for a highly immoral purpose.’
The clerk grew surly. ‘I know nothing ’bout that, guv.’
‘Then give me the pass-key and don’t interfere,’ ordered Holmes.
Grudgingly the clerk obeyed. ‘Remember now, I don’t want no trouble.’
Ignoring him, Holmes climbed the stairs to the first floor. Labouring behind him, Watson said, ‘B-blackmail? Holmes – what is this all about?’
‘Very soon now,’ Holmes replied grimly, ‘you will see for yourself.’
CHAPTER FOUR
The Badger Game
A T THE HEAD of the stairs, Holmes looked firstly left, then right. The narrow hallway was lit by a single, flickering gaslight. Spying room seven, he went to the door and swiftly unlocked it. With a still-baffled Watson at his heels, he entered a spacious gaslit room that was furnished with a double bed, a chest of drawers and two armchairs. A six-fold Coromandel lacquered screen stood in the far corner, presumably masking an area where one might make one’s ablutions, or use the chamber set.
Though clothed, Irene Hastings and her companion sat, embracing, on the edge of the bed. On seeing Holmes, they sprang apart, shocked by his sudden entrance. The man looked horrified to have been caught in such a compromising situation and immediately began to bluster.
Irene, astonished to see Watson at Holmes’s elbow, managed a hasty but undeniably hollow-sounding, ‘John! Thank goodness you’re here! This man—’
Holmes cut her off, saying, ‘– has just had a very narrow escape …
Mrs Channing.
’
Struggling to straighten his tie, the man frowned, confused. ‘Chan –? What the deuce do you mean…?’
‘It is quite elementary, sir,’ said Holmes bluntly. ‘You have been seduced by your companion, as have many others before you. And having allowed your vanity to get the better of you, you have left yourself open to blackmail.’
The man gaped. ‘
What
?’
‘You have been the mark in what is known as the badger game,’ said Holmes. ‘A curious expression, I grant you, but one
Upon reaching the box, Holmes took out a thin stack of envelopes and stuffed them into the slot. As Watson studied his friend’s profile he was momentarily transported back in time, for it seemed just then that the years had hardly touched Holmes. Age had done nothing to reduce his more than six feet; his grey eyes appeared as incisive as ever; his nose still as thin and hawk-like; his chin as square and prominent as it had ever been.
Then Holmes started across the road. Watson hurried after him, realizing that time had left something else about Holmes unchanged – his ability to be as insufferably cryptic as ever.
They climbed the steps to the Shiells House. Without pausing, Holmes pushed open the door and entered a hallway with a counter along the left-hand wall. Behind it sat a scruffy-looking clerk of about thirty, dressed in a white shirt, maroon tie and a food-stained navy waistcoat. Looking up from the paper he’d been reading, he greeted Holmes and Watson.
‘’Evenin’, sirs. ’Ow can I help you?’
Holmes glanced at the register. Reading the most recent entry, he said to Watson, ‘Mr and Mrs Haslemere, Room Seven.’ Then, fixing the clerk with a penetrating stare he snapped, ‘The pass-key, if you will.’
‘P-pass-key?’
‘I have yet to meet the lock I cannot master,’ Holmes replied, ‘but the pass-key will make my job here tonight considerably easier.’
‘You’re talking in riddles, mate. Are you drunk? You’d better ’op it.’
Holmes stood his ground. ‘As an accomplice in blackmail, you presently occupy a very precarious legal position. Were I you, I should look to distance myself from the prime movers in this sordid enterprise and cooperate before the authorities get involved.’
Watson watched the blood drain from the clerk’s face. ‘I dunno …’ he began.
‘Then I suggest you summon a policeman at once, for part of your premises is presently being used for a highly immoral purpose.’
The clerk grew surly. ‘I know nothing ’bout that, guv.’
‘Then give me the pass-key and don’t interfere,’ ordered Holmes.
Grudgingly the clerk obeyed. ‘Remember now, I don’t want no trouble.’
Ignoring him, Holmes climbed the stairs to the first floor. Labouring behind him, Watson said, ‘B-blackmail? Holmes – what is this all about?’
‘Very soon now,’ Holmes replied grimly, ‘you will see for yourself.’
CHAPTER FOUR
The Badger Game
A T THE HEAD of the stairs, Holmes looked firstly left, then right. The narrow hallway was lit by a single, flickering gaslight. Spying room seven, he went to the door and swiftly unlocked it. With a still-baffled Watson at his heels, he entered a spacious gaslit room that was furnished with a double bed, a chest of drawers and two armchairs. A six-fold Coromandel lacquered screen stood in the far corner, presumably masking an area where one might make one’s ablutions, or use the chamber set.
Though clothed, Irene Hastings and her companion sat, embracing, on the edge of the bed. On seeing Holmes, they sprang apart, shocked by his sudden entrance. The man looked horrified to have been caught in such a compromising situation and immediately began to bluster.
Irene, astonished to see Watson at Holmes’s elbow, managed a hasty but undeniably hollow-sounding, ‘John! Thank goodness you’re here! This man—’
Holmes cut her off, saying, ‘– has just had a very narrow escape …
Mrs Channing.
’
Struggling to straighten his tie, the man frowned, confused. ‘Chan –? What the deuce do you mean…?’
‘It is quite elementary, sir,’ said Holmes bluntly. ‘You have been seduced by your companion, as have many others before you. And having allowed your vanity to get the better of you, you have left yourself open to blackmail.’
The man gaped. ‘
What
?’
‘You have been the mark in what is known as the badger game,’ said Holmes. ‘A curious expression, I grant you, but one
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