We beat a
hasty retreat from Merripit Hall and were lucky to escape undetected. Our
client, Rodger, was not so fortunate. He did manage to flee unseen but his
decision to take refuge in the deadly moor only resulted in a fatal end. Beryl
was found bound and gagged to a post. Evidently she had developed feelings for
Sir Henry and turned against her husband at the very last moment. As for Sir
Henry, the events of the night were far more than he could stomach. The man who
returned to Baskerville Hall that night was a pale shadow of his true self. No
mention of Sherlock could be found in the papers and as far as the outside
world was considered Inspector Lestrade had solved another sensational case.
But the man who was worst affected by the events of
the night was my poor friend, Jim. He was shattered when he saw his well laid
plans come crashing to the ground. He even refused to speak to me! The next
day, I found a note in his room stating that he would be out of town for a few
days. It so happens that when people live in fantasies like the ‘perfect
crime’, they easily fall into depression when things go amiss. Right then, what
Jim needed was a breath of fresh air and some time alone.
***
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It was Christmas Eve. 1885. The whole of London was
in a merry mood. Yet I sat on my chair feeling gloomy. It had been two months
since I last heard of Jim and I feared the worst. Had I failed my dear friend?
Should I have tried to find him? I did not know. All I knew was that I had lost
a brother. How can it be a ‘merry’ Christmas, if you did not spend it with your
family? There would be no presents, no cakes. And what good was Christmas
without hope? Quite appropriately, I
went to sleep reading Charles Dickens’ A
Christmas Carol.
The next morning, when I woke I was surprised to
find a present waiting for me in the living room. I opened it to find a strange
air gun. After all these years, Santa finally remembered!
“Merry Christmas, Seb!” said a familiar voice.
I turned around to find James Moriarty on the sofa.
“Where have you been?”
“America. Europe. Quite a few places.”
“So you were on a pleasure trip, while I sat here
worrying all day about you?”
“Not exactly. I always mix business with pleasure.”
So saying he gave me a big bundle of note.
“What’s this?”
“Your share.”
“My share?”
“For your part in the Baskerville incident.”
“I am your partner, Jim. Not your hired help. You
owe me nothing.”
“Oh! You are mistaken. This is not from me. Its from
our client.”
I froze on hearing those words. I had seen such
things happen before. When people cannot accept the harsh realities of the
world they live in, they make up their own stories to overcome their sorrow.
Jim needed a wake up call or he would be lost forever.
“Jim, snap out of it. Our client is dead. Though
they never found Rodger’s body, there is no way he could have made it out of
that death pit. He was swallowed by the Grimpen Mire and there he will remain
until Judgement Day.”
There was pin drop silence in the room. Nobody spoke
for a minute. Jim gave me a long cold stare. Then he burst into laughter, a
most unnerving one at that.
“I am sorry, Seb. I forgot. I should have
remembered! How foolish of me! You were not there! For Heaven’s sake, I should
have told it to you a long time ago.”
I stood there clueless. Not understanding a word of
what he said.
“Seb, you were at the wedding!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you know my ‘One Rule’?”
“The one you made up just to turn down Rodger? Yes.
One job per client. What about it?”
“That’s it, Seb! One job per client! Rodger was
never our client in this case! Beryl was! Or should I say Mrs. Baskerville was!
And the job was not to kill Sir Henry but to kill Rodger.”
It took a moment for the truth to register in my
mind. The perfect crime! The one that went unnoticed! Nobody cares what happens
to an antagonist! Nobody remembers! But I still couldn’t understand why Beryl
would want her husband dead, let alone pay such a hefty sum of money for it.
“Why did she want him dead?”
“Well, to be frank, when she arrived at our
apartments she didn’t. All she wanted was to help her husband. But once I broke
the news of the affair with Mrs. Lyons and promised Beryl a rosy future, she
was only more than willing to comply.”
“So you killed him and took his wife!” I said with
growing contempt. “I presume this pleasure trip was your honeymoon.”
“By Joves, no! Beryl was only my client.”
“So what’s all this about?”
“Before I tell you that, I have a question for you.
Do you know what happened to Sir Henry?”
“The last I heard of him, he was embarking on a long
voyage with Dr. Mortimer, probably to America. They said it was for his
nerves.”
“Would it amuse you to know that the doc didn’t make
it to the docks of America?”
“What?”
“My sources tell me that the good doctor had a glass
too many on his very first day. The next day, a lifeboat was found missing along
with a passenger.”
“Atleast, you didn’t kill him.”
“Why would I? He was an innocent man!”
“So, why did you put Mortimer out of the way?”
“I thought he would be a thorn in heaven. After all,
we should give the lovers some privacy.”
Then it hit me.
“Beryl was on that ship!” I exclaimed.
“Now you see it!”
“Jim, you idiot! What makes you think Henry would
fall for the woman who tried to kill him? No man would make such a mistake
twice!”
“My friend, as far as Henry is considered she was a
puppet in Stapleton’s hands. Besides she had been warning him from the day he
set foot on English soil. She even turned against her evil husband to save him.
Now she is a lonely widow. Don’t you think he will take pity on her?”
“Pity, perhaps. But he will never love her.”
“You underestimate the power of love, Seb. You ought
to read the Bible more often.”
“The Bible? What has the Bible got to do with this.”
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