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118 pages

English

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It is Christmas 1889: Sherlock Holmes becomes involved in a case of international importance when the senior partner and master engraver of London's most eminent security printer seeks his aid most urgently; the newly engraved, but as yet unproofed, plates for the next run of official Bank of England notes have been stolen from the company's high-security vault, with no sign of forced entry to the premises. The currency of Great Britain is in grave danger. The Chief Cashier of The Bank of England believes he has no choice but to pay a vast ransom, but Sherlock Holmes thinks otherwise The secret and illicit printing press is even now running... But where is it located? Holmes and Watson have just five days to unravel the mystery, apprehend the villains and save the nation's economy from complete collapse - or pay the staggering ransom demand. But there will be perilous consequences; the investigation takes the duo deep into the vilest and most dangerous rookeries of 19th-century London, shocking and brutal murder will be done and in the process Sherlock Holmes will make an implacable and life-long enemy who will pursue him to the end of his days to wreak his revenge.

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Publié par	eBook Versions
Date de parution	01 août 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781843962700
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0240€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

SHERLOCK
HOLMES

THE MASTER
ENGRAVER

Ross Husband

GLENROSS EDITIONS
Copyright © 2013 Ross Husband

First published 2013 in the
United Kingdom by GlenRoss Editions,
Norfolk, England IP21 4YG.

ISBN 978-1-84396-270-0

Also available in paperback
ISBN 978-1-48279-073-3

ebook editions production
www.ebookversions.com

Ross Husband has asserted the
moral right to be identified as the
author of this work under the terms
of the 1988 Copyright Patents Act.

This book is sold subject to the
condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold,
hired out or otherwise circulated without
the copyright holder s prior consent
in any form of binding or cover than that
in which it is published and without a similar
condition, including this condition, being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser. With
stated exceptions, the characters appearing
in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead, or any
descendants thereof is purely coincidental.

All rights are reserved to the author and
publisher. Reproduction in any form currently
known or yet to be invented, or the use of
any extract is only permitted with the written
approval of the author. Violation of these terms
may result in civil or criminal prosecution.

Use of the Sherlock Holmes characters created
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle by permission of Conan
Doyle Estate Ltd

www.conandoyleestate.co.uk

(Authorised for distribution
in European Union countries by
Jonathan Clowes Ltd,
The Director of Copyrights EU)
Cover illustration

Self-portrait:
Hendrik Goltzius's Right Hand, 1588
Pen and brown ink
9 x 12 5/8 in (23 x 32.2 cm)
Teylers Museum, Haarlem
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Philosopher John Gray,
on Sherlock Holmes:

An exemplar of logic
who lives by guesswork, a man who
stands apart from other human
beings but who is moved by a sense
of human decency...

Holmes embodies the
modern romance of reason -
a myth we no longer believe in,
but find it hard to live without.

(Kind permission of
English Philosopher John N Gray
BA, M.Phil, D.Phil)
It is easy to accept that
a piece of paper that costs a few
pence to produce is worth five,
ten, twenty or fifty pounds...

Gaining and maintaining
public confidence in the currency is
a key role of the Bank of England
and one which is essential to
the proper functioning of the economy

The Bank of England
Museum - 2012
...is for my late father, H Robertson Husband, one of the wisest men I ever knew who, fifty years ago, first introduced me to the beautifully logical world of Sherlock Holmes. He also showed me how simple it is to make a tolerable low-powered microscope to facilitate my childhood attempts at forensic investigation. I have it still.
Contents

Title Page
Copyright Credits
Epigraph 1
Epigraph 2
Dedication

Chapter One
The Master Engraver s Dilemma
Chapter Two
Angraecum Sesquipedale
Chapter Three
Mr Nathan Madgwick
Chapter Four
A Night in Bedlam
Chapter Five
A Den of Thieves
Chapter Six
The Game s Afoot
Chapter Seven
The Mist Thins
Chapter Eight
The Chain is Broken
Chapter Nine
The First Proof
Chapter Ten
A New Alliance
Chapter Eleven
Asa Bormanstein
Chapter Twelve
The Chief Cashier s Dilemma
Chapter Thirteen
The Smell of Money
Chapter Fourteen
Judas Silver
Chapter Fifteen
The Villains Are Taken
Chapter Sixteen
A Call to Arms
Chapter Seventeen
A Rat Trap in Belgravia
Chapter Eighteen
Justice is Served on a Plate

Preview - The Murders On The Square - Chapters One Two
Author Note Essay
Acknowledgements
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
The Master Engraver s Dilemma

It was an unseasonably mild, late November afternoon in 1889 when I concluded my final house-call of the day at a private patient s house in Marylebone. The gleaming mahogany doors closed softly behind me and as I descended the imposing granite steps I reflected that having a wealthy hypochondriac patient or two was no bad thing for a retired army surgeon with a new wife to support, and setting up in a small but promising private practice.
It being only three in the afternoon, and with no other matter pressing, I chose on impulse to visit my old roommate, Sherlock Holmes in nearby Baker Street, having seen him but once or twice since my marriage.
To be candid, despite my blissfully happy new married estate, I still hankered for that dangerous frisson of excitement and cerebral stimulation that invariably ignited within me when in happy proximity to Holmes remarkable mind and its uncannily logical workings.
As I reached for the door-handle at 221B, I hesitated; momentarily it seemed to me for just the briefest of instants that all might be as before, just as it had been for several most lively years; that the door to my old room would yet be ajar, could still be open to me, and Holmes might hail his willing amanuensis from within a dense cloud of pungent tobacco smoke as he wrestled with whatever devilish puzzle or villainy he was in train of addressing; or was I merely indulging emotion in the absence of rationality?
Wishing to surprise my friend I ascended as silently as one may on a stair which I well know to creak loudly on five of the seventeen treads; I had long memorised their sequence and how to avoid them. Soundlessly I turned the doorknob and entered the silent parlour.
Frequently, our rooms at 221B Baker Street had been redolent of some aroma; most typically it would be strong shag tobacco, or perhaps cigar smoke; on occasion pungent chemicals might pervade the air - formaldehyde, spirits of alcohol and once even, the distinctive and heart-stopping lethal almond perfume of prussic acid. I had become accustomed to such miasmas.
Nonetheless it was with a degree of revulsion that I was assailed by the overwhelming, sweet coppery reek of decaying blood that afternoon. The source was evidently the open carboy, half-full of the stuff, upon his work-bench.
Holmes was seated at his desk in a great cloud of tobacco smoke with his back toward me, head down, pipe in hand and all but inundated by a great litter of crumpled news-sheets and journals. The room remained still and quiet - he had not detected my stealthy arrival.
I paused, and was about to say something light-hearted as, for example A caller to see you Mr Holmes when he abruptly set down his pipe. Without turning he murmured Do come in Watson and please, for heaven s sake, stop tiptoeing round like a thief in the night!
He spun round, and my bewilderment mixed with deep vexation must have shown, for my friend burst out laughing uproariously. Oh Watson, to see your face; what a glorious study in frustration!
But how on earth could you have known it was I? Disappointment seized me; Oh, obviously, you merely observed me arrive, from the window.
I have been seated at my desk since noon. Then you simply heard the street-door close.
I overheard no such thing.
Then assuredly you did not hear the stair, for I avoided those steps which screech an alarm.
That is perfectly true. I see that matrimony and your practice have been keeping you rather more exercised than you had anticipated. I was accustomed to these abrupt changes of subject as Holmes mercurial mind leapt ephemerally from one thread of thought to another. As it happens Holmes, you are perfectly correct; how does that bear upon the matter? My friend smiled.
It is simply that for some weeks before you abandoned me and upped-sticks for Kensington, you had repeatedly vowed to send those favourite old ox-blood leather town shoes to be re-soled on account of the abominable squeak from the right.
It has since abated somewhat, and no doubt the autumn dampness has further quieted it; however, the all-but inaudible, peculiarly high, still near-perfect A-flat, occasioned when you lift your right heel in climbing the stair is perfectly distinctive to a student of the violin, particularly one who explores the higher registers of which the instrument is capable. And thus you betrayed your arrival most individually and musically.
I merely surmised, therefore, that you have not yet found the time among your other busy professional and private affairs to have them sent for repair. Other than that treacherous heel, your ascent might have been quite silent.
But enough of this inconsequential nonsense; tediously, events have of late become somewhat slow and I find myself applying my brain to the most trivial of puzzles. Now how are you old friend? This is truly the most capital of surprises! I sat in my old chair once again.
As no doubt you detect, Holmes, life treats me very decently by and large; my patient-list grows almost weekly; indeed, I imagine that by the coming spring I shall likely have to refrain from accommodating further new patients - that or perhaps seek a junior partner.
But all in all, I count myself a fortunate man, and providentially rather more in funds than when first we took these rooms all those years ago. And yet...
I tailed off wistfully and paused. Holmes looked up from perusing his papers and fixed me keenly; And yet what , Watson?
And yet this, Holmes; I recall how very alive I felt this summer past when we were up in the Highlands investigating the Ballantyne Castle murders. True, it was a grim and bloody business and, granted, I took another gunshot wound but truly, tell me this Holmes - what other London medical doctor of the ordinary has enjoyed the privilege of assisting Europe s only consulting detective in his work?
My companion chuckled. Should you imagine that I have been continuously engaged in unravelling chilling mysteries, I regret you are in error! There is little currently to challenge me. See here... and he rummaged impatiently through the more sensational pages of the news-sheets;

ENTIRE SIDE OF GREEN
BACON STOLEN UNDER MYSTERIOUS
CIRCUMSTANCES!