Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Danse Macabre E-Book

Paul D. Gilbert

• Herausgeber: Delos Digital
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Giallo - short story (16 pagine) - There is more to a poem than meets the eye!

When a distraught widow informs Sherlock Holmes that a personal and romantic poem has mysteriously returned from her late husband's grave, Holmes' reluctantly agrees to investigate. There is more to this poem than meets the eye!

Paul D. Gilbert was born in 1954 and has lived in and around London throughout this time. He has been married to Jackie for 40 years and she has always shared his great passion for Sherlock Holmes! They have two sons, one of whom farms in Spain. He has been in clothing retail for most of his working life, although he is now an undertaker. He has a passion for ancient history and he enjoys music, sport and movies. His remaining ambition is to be able to write full time; he enjoys the process so much.

Among his books: The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes (2007), The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra (2011), The Annals of Sherlock Holmes (2013) Sherlock Holmes and the Unholy Trinity (2015) and Sherlock Holmes: The Four Handed Game (2017).

Leseprobe

Luigi Pachì, editor

Paul D. Gilbert

Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Danse Macabre

SHORT STORY

ISBN 9788825409307

© 2019 Paul D. Gilbert

Ebook Edition © 2019 Delos Digital srl

Piazza Bonomelli 6/6 20139 Milano Italy

Version: 1.0

Contents

CoverThis bookThe AuthorSherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Danse MacabreChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4In this series

This book

There is more to a poem than meets the eye!

When a distraught widow informs Sherlock Holmes that a personal and romantic poem has mysteriously returned from her late husband's grave, Holmes' reluctantly agrees to investigate. There is more to this poem than meets the eye!

The Author

Paul D. Gilbert was born in 1954 and has lived in and around London throughout this time. He has been married to Jackie for 40 years and she has always shared his great passion for Sherlock Holmes! They have two sons, one of whom farms in Spain. He has been in clothing retail for most of his working life, although he is now an undertaker. He has a passion for ancient history and he enjoys music, sport and movies. His remaining ambition is to be able to write full time; he enjoys the process so much.

Among his books: The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes (2007), The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra (2011), The Annals of Sherlock Holmes (2013) Sherlock Holmes and the Unholy Trinity (2015) and Sherlock Holmes: The Four Handed Game (2017).

From the same author

Paul D. Gilbert, Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Christmas Stocking221BISBN: 9788825402391Paul D. Gilbert, Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Risen Corpse221BISBN: 9788825403763Paul D. Gilbert, Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Black Plague221BISBN: 9788825406962

1

It is a well documented fact that when actively involved with a particularly challenging case, my friend Sherlock Holmes was prone to disappearing for days on end, without leaving either a word or indication as to his location or circumstance.

As frustrating as this trait of his undoubtedly was, after many years of having to endure this thoughtless behaviour, it was something that I had eventually become rather used to and grown to accept. The affair of the ‘Treasure of The Poison King’ however, took this to new extremes, for he had neither been seen nor heard of in over a week!

Notwithstanding the most singular nature of this adventure, at Holmes’ earnest request, I must consign my account of this to another time and concentrate instead upon the unique problem brought to us immediately afterwards by Lady Roberta Wakeham.

Lady Wakeham had presented herself and her predicament to us on a particularly wet and windy morning towards the end of October. The trees that had lined Baker Street had been twisted and contorted into grotesque caricatures of their usual stately selves and the gales had howled through every crack and crevice.

We had been assured of the gravity of her situation by virtue of the fierceness of the conditions that she must have endured in reaching us in the first place. She had clearly dispensed with the convenience and shelter of a carriage, for her hooded cape was soaked through and her hair, once it had been finally revealed, was bedraggled and dripping profusely onto our rug.

Holmes was on to his feet in an instant and he draped the lady’s outer garment over the back of a chair close to our fire before showing her to a seat adjacent to his own. An instant later Mrs. Hudson arrived bearing a tray of steaming coffee and some feminine care and comfort. We allowed the poor woman a moment or two of warm indulgence, before gently inquiring as to the nature of her predicament.

Lady Roberta Wakeham was a slim statuesque woman in her early sixties to whom time had dealt most kindly. It had not been hard to visualise her as very attractive in her youth and she had lost neither her poise nor posture with the passing of the years. She spoke with a light, modulated tone and her smile was a soft and gentle one. She passed a card over to my friend and he smiled at its sodden condition and the lady’s strict adherence to protocol.

“You have endured much in your efforts at reaching my door on such a day and I observe that your right hand still shakes, despite it having been warmed by the fire and Mrs. Hudson’s coffee. Pray, explain to me how I might be able to aid you at this trying time. Remember that you should exclude nothing, no matter how trivial it might appear and you can be rest assured that the discretion of my colleague, Dr Watson, may be relied upon as surely as my own.” Holmes was leaning forward, with his elbows resting upon his knees; however his tone was invitingly modulated as opposed to his usual authoritative pitch.

“You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, although I do hesitate in setting this matter before you, such is the somewhat outré nature of my distress.”

“Lady Wakeham, you should have no concerns on that score, for Mr. Holmes positively rebels at the very notion of the commonplace.” I smiled as I brought out my note book and pencil.

“Well said Watson. Please begin Lady Wakeham.” Holmes sat back into his chair, clasped his hands together and closed his eyes in a deep, meditative state of concentration.

“You should know at the outset, Mr. Holmes that my late husband and I fell in love and were married at a very early age and that we have remained as such throughout our forty years, right up to the moment of his untimely death last Halloween. That is not to say that we enjoyed forty years of continuous, unbridled bliss. Of course, that is not only impossible, but I am not even sure if that is desirable.

My husband, Henry, inherited his fortune and estate and therefore had neither the need nor the inclination to do a day’s work in his life. Naturally he had an excellent education but he used this to hone his undoubted talent as a poet, a passion for which he had enjoyed since his early childhood. His talent and energy have been rewarded with the publication of many of his collections and he has even enjoyed a form of celebrity as a result of this”

“Ah of course, I am very familiar with his work!” I exclaimed, much to my friend’s obvious annoyance. Lady Wakeham gently tilted her head in appreciation before continuing.

“Mr. Holmes, you should know that my late husband had his demons, as is quite often the case amongst those great romantic poets, of which my husband certainly was one.

On those, not uncommon, occasions when the words refused to reveal themselves to him and his inspiration had failed to motivate him, he was prone to drown his angst and frustrations in a frenzied orgy of drinking. He was never abusive or violent during these Bacchanalias, you understand, but he did take himself off to the far wing of the house, where he felt that he would cease to be the cause of any distress. In that he was correct and successful, however, during the course of these excesses he was also liable to abscond to a small, exclusive gentlemen’s club, whose name escapes me, where he would quite often gamble away a considerable sum of money!” Lady Roberta was clearly distressed by these horrendous recollections, quite understandably I should say and she paused to delicately blow her nose and draw a deep breath or two, before quietly apologising for her protracted pause.

“Although I had not realised this at the time, Henry had almost drained the coffers dry. Indeed, what should I have done? He had always been most discreet in all of his indulgences and all matters of business and finance had remained within his exclusive domain. It was only several months after his passing that his creditors began arriving at my door.”

“Calm yourself, Lady Wakeham, for you are surely amongst friends here.” I offered. She smiled gratefully and continued.

“My ignorance regarding our affairs, prompted me to seek the advice of one of our oldest friends and Henry’s solicitor of long standing, Sir. Cecil Blanding. It was only now that the full horror of my situation revealed itself. Blanding searched through each and every one of Henry’s books and papers and finally came to the deplorable conclusion that my only hope of staying out of the courts and avoiding public ruin, was to sell up the estate and pay off Henry’s debts with the proceeds of the sale!”

Despite the stoic comportment of those of her creed, this last revelation proved to be too much for her Ladyship and Holmes waved me impatiently towards her, that I might calm and comfort her. Meanwhile, Holmes had leapt up from his chair and hurriedly lit a cigarette by the window.

“Lady Wakeham, as distressing and unfortunate as your predicament surely is, I fail to see how any crime has been committed, save for your late husband’s reckless disregard for your future well being. I am afraid that my humble practice has no means of paying off his debts for you.” Holmes pointed out with an unnecessarily acidic air.

Lady Wakeham suddenly stood up and raised herself to her full, not inconsiderable height.

“Mr. Holmes, I shall disregard your discourteous manner, in the hope that even now you might prove to be of use to me. I shall tell you something now that I hope you will regard with an open mind, rather than that of the pragmatic sceptic that I would normally have expected of you.

You see, I am well acquainted with Dr. Watson’s accounts of some of your adventures and I am aware that you regard matters of the heart with a derisory distain.”

“I cannot deny it.” Holmes admitted apologetically and he suggested that her ladyship return to her chair with a wave of his hand.

“Henry and I were unashamedly romantic, Mr. Holmes and had been from the moment that we first met all those years ago. That is why I know that he would never have left me in this predicament without having first made provision for such an eventuality. He made three pledges to me, Mr. Holmes, the nature of which might seem absurd to a man of logic like you, but they meant everything to me.”

“Three pledges?” Holmes repeated impatiently and Lady Wakeham nodded her head defiantly and emphatically.

“In his darker moments, Henry’s thoughts and quite often his work turned to the nature of death and its aftermath. He believed that should we two remain in love and faithful to the other, it would transcend even death itself. I have remained true to this pledge and despite all that has befallen, my love for him has kept him alive, in my heart at least, or so I thought.”

“Lady Wakeham, please!” Holmes was clearly becoming exasperated by her Ladyship’s most extraordinary declarations.

To her credit, she ignored Holmes’ ire and persisted with her explanation.

“Henry further pledged that should anything happen to him, he would ensure that adequate provision would be made for every eventuality that might befall me. Obviously Cecil Blanding’s revelations caused me to believe that Henry had sadly failed me, but I had not allowed for the results of our third pledge.”

Holmes’ impatience and irritation had, by now, transformed into a marked indifference. Consequently it was I who inquired further into her Ladyship’s true meaning.

“What exactly did you mean when you said ‘or so I thought’ when referring to your enduring love?”

“I used that phrase, Dr. Watson, because I now have good reason to believe that Henry has not really left me at all! Before you admonish me further, for your refusal to accept a supernatural explanation is well known to me, Mr. Homes, I must tell you that I am not a young girl prone to flights of fancy. I have good reason for my doubts. Let me explain.” Holmes eyed her quizzically with knitted brows.

“Henry and I first became acquainted at a recital held at the home of a mutual friend in Holland Park. Our eyes met as they began to play a passage of music that we subsequently discovered to be our favourite piece: Danse Macabre by the French composer, Camille Saint-Saens. From that moment the music became forever embodied within the soul of our romance, so much so in fact that Henry wrote a poetic accompaniment to the piece.

I loved the poem as surely as I did the music and subsequently we both pledged that it should remain within our private domain for all of time. Indeed, we further vowed that it should remain so, even after death and that the survivor would place the poem within the coffin of the other, sealed forever from public gaze. The dire consequences of his compulsions left poor Henry a broken man and his health suffered and deteriorated beyond repair. Mercifully, his end was brief and without pain and with his final breath he thrust the poem into my trembling hand.

I kept my promise, Mr. Holmes and the poem of Danse Macabre has resided within my husband’s coffin since his passing, a year ago today.”

“Madam, you have yet to explain why you hold the belief that your husband has somehow managed to defy man’s ultimate destiny” Holmes stated simply, although now clearly intrigued by our client’s tale.

“Not surprisingly, my belief is beyond your realm of understanding, Mr. Holmes, nevertheless I would appreciate your logical explanation for the fact that this envelope came through my letter box this very morning!”

2

Lady Wakeham offered Holmes a plain, unmarked buff envelope, but he directed it in my direction. Somewhat hesitantly I pulled out two folded sheets of foolscap paper; however they nearly fell from my grasp when I saw the heading at the top of the first sheet.

“Danse Macabre.” I read in a hushed deferent tone.

At once Holmes returned to his seat and pursed his lips with his left forefinger.

“Read it Dr. Watson, please read.” Lady Wakeham implored and Holmes nodded his acquiescence.

On an unholy night such as this,

Two lovers glow in eternal bliss

And so they dance

Turning to each other they exchange a kiss

And swear to the other a lovers Trist,

And still they dance

The night of the spirits closes in,

And soon their wailing creates a dreadful din,

They will dance for evermore, evermore.

So still the night, starry bright night

The flying clouds betray a lustrous moon,

The lovers start to sway and swoon,

And still they dance.

They are drawn towards the unearthly sky,

And feel as if they can truly fly

As they dance.

The music of the spirits calls to their soul,

But still they meld and closer hold

And still they dance.

The demons sing and the night grows cold

Lovers shuddering not so bold

Their swirling slows as the cockerel crows,

Their spirit fades.

Their skin turns white as the spirits fall; they fade to naught as the gravestones call

The dawn is king and they dance no more, no more….

Nevermore

It seemed an age before another word was uttered and it fell to me to break the silence.

“What a truly remarkable and evocative piece of work.”

Holmes dismissed my remark with an impatient wave of his hand. He reached out hungrily for the envelope, surprisingly ignoring the sheets of poetry that had been folded within, and then began to examine it meticulously with his smallest glass.