The Final Adventure of The Master Thief

by SamuelClark1975

Holmes finally corners and catches the Master Thief: Arsene Lupin, but it comes with a heavy price and a startling revelation.

The Final Adventure of The Master Thief

"I have found him, foiled him and caught him," announced Holmes as he burst into the living room of 221b, Baker Street. He was covered head to foot in ashes and soot and after his announcement he coughed repeatedly.

"Found whom?" said I, quite taken aback at his arrival and his appearance, one could've mistaken him for a common chimney sweep.

Holmes had been gone for some days and had been missing for intermittent periods over the past few months. I, wishing to take a break from the mess and complications that were my wedding arrangements had sought solace with Holmes and his pleasant rooms, they being much better organised and tidy of late, due to these missing periods, Mrs. Hudson had been afforded the opportunity to do some spring cleaning, as it were.

"Why the man who has so alluded us over the past two years, Arsene Lupin. It was a delicate operation and despite its rather mundane conclusion and the simple trick that finally exposed him, the matter brought about a few points of high intrigue and interest, something, no doubt, that may interest your many readers. So, Watson, get out your notebook and pencil and I will begin the story."

I put the newspaper aside and fetched said notebook and pen from the desk. As my pencil hovered, ready to write, Holmes interrupted. "But first I think I should wash and change and perhaps take some rest, it has been a rather trying couple of months."

"Yes, of course," said I and not without disappointment for I was itching to hear the story. I waited for several hours and at one point even spent some time in the Red Lion, were I took my Friday afternoon Mauresque. Finally my anticipation and excitement came to an end, it had taken him sometime to wash away the soot and ash from himself and his clothes.

"Are you aware of the three diamonds commonly referred to as The Mother, The Father and The Child?" asked he, by way of beginning the account.

"Yes, I believe, at least, according to some people, that the child is cursed. The story goes that since that particular cut of the original diamond was badly crafted, it gained its legend in being an unfortunate child, stricken by deformity and brings to the owner many hardships and ill will, sometimes an unfortunate death."

"Yes, a rather imaginative story, but nothing more than that."

"But Holmes, many owners of the child have in fact met with untimely and unfortunate deaths."

"Yes, but this is not evidence of a curse. For what death is particularly timely or fortunate? And given the fact that the diamonds are the subject of much public attention, and have had multiple owners over hundreds of years, it is reasonable to conclude that all its owners will eventually meet with some form of misfortune, it is the natural course of existing. Why one could say a small rock or pebble is cursed, or this pencil," said he, picking one up from the table. "As long as the inanimate object in question lasts for a long enough time and has enough owners some misfortune is fated to befall at least one of them, if not more."

I paused, his argument was indeed well reasoned and perfectly rational, as is his usual way.

"These diamonds are currently held with the Duchess of Alsace. There is some dispute, and a rather bitter one at that, over their ownership."

"Yes an Austrian Prince, I believe?" said I.

"Not a prince, but a nobleman. Who has a peculiar habit of commissioning symphonies, but only in the key of C. A minor point. His claim to the three diamonds is somewhat legitimate. He was set to marry this Duchess of Alsace and they were given to her as an engagement present. When the engagement was broken, she kept the diamonds despite numerous requests for them to be returned to Moriarty and his family line. The three diamonds were stolen from her home in Strasbourg some months ago."

"Excuse me? Stolen? Surely this is something that would've been in the news."

"It was kept very hush, hush. Due to the manner in which they were taken and the rather uncouth habits the Duchess has taken to since being widowed."

"Habits?"

"Yes, they are of a rather scandalous nature and I have been instructed not to disclose them, under any circumstances, but they are the crux and the key to the whole business. To leave this detail out would seriously inhibit the instructive nature of deductive methodology that any of your readers might glean from your... tales." Holmes said this last word with much scorn, but I had learned to ignore his derision. "But I do concede that including this detail in the account may bring with it accusations of treason against you."

I paused, shocked at the consequences, but after a few moments a realisation came upon me. "But Holmes, you forget that these accounts are not matters of truth or record, this detail is easily hidden under the guise of fiction and I can change the names of key players and fudge certain details."

"Ah hah! You make quite the point, Watson. And here I was worrying that your very freedom was at stake."Mmm, then I guess I need not have held these back as collateral." Holmes then plucked a package wrapped in a red velvet cloth and placed it upon the table where he proceed to reveal its contents. To my shock and awe it was the three diamonds. The Child of the three was indeed a badly cut chunk, but it held the light of the room within it, glistening and sparkling with multiple colours.

"You must return them this instant," said I, after an awed pause and taking the opportunity to hold the diamonds in my palm.

"Yes, yes, I will, all in good time."

"So, what is this scandalous habit?" said I, greatly intrigued.

"Well it seems the Duchess on very rare lonely occasions dresses down and goes amongst the common people of Strasbourg, inhabits its inns, taverns and cafes looking to seek out suitable men for... for... unchristian carnal congress. Grief and loss does strange things to the mind, almost to the point of insanity."

I raised my eyebrows and gave brief pause. "Intriguing indeed, in a back alley sort of way. But I fail to see how this detail is the key to your capture and arrest of Arsene Lupin."

"You jump ahead too far, Watson. Patience. It is key because this fact is little known to the general public and if one has knowledge of it, it can be exploited to one's advantage. This was Lupin's way in," he paused, lit a cigarette and continued. "The three diamonds are housed in a small room connected to the Duchess's bedroom, the only way to access the room is via that bedroom and even if one gains access the diamonds are locked within a safe, the key to which always hangs about the Duchess's neck. It doesn't take much of a leap to then follow these facts to their logic conclusion and unearth the method by which Lupin stole the diamonds. Patience and stealth. Lupin watched her activities and then followed her into Strasbourg and one of its cafes. A bold confidence and charming manner in which to woo the Duchess, a sleeping potion mixed in with her drinks and Lupin slips the key from her neck, quietly accesses the room and the safe, takes the diamonds and escapes through the window, over the grounds, through the neighbouring woods and forests then crosses the border into Germany and then on to Austria and Vienna, where he would deliver the diamonds to the man who commissioned the theft."

"The Austrian nobleman? Really? I must say I do find it hard to believe that people of the highest order would employ common thieves and criminals to do such things."

"You think far too highly of royalty, and Lupin is hardly a 'common' thief. Why he is the best in all France, if not the world."

"Still, you caught him, as you so boldly announced earlier."

"Indeed, but not without a struggle, you have experience of the man, been involved in those adventures, yet you still call him a common thief. Despite his chosen criminal profession I do have a certain respect for the man. And it seems the vast majority of his thefts have motives other than financial gain. Donating those paintings of the Marquis, then overpaying a downtrodden miner to deliver such paintings, and this case, returning the diamonds to their rightful owner."

"You forget, Holmes. The man attempted to steal those loan documents on the Atlantic. For what noble reason did he have in that case? And I might add, he tried to kill you, poison you. He is a criminal and no fleeting gesture or noble motivation is going to admonish him of that."

"You are quite stiff upon this point aren't you?" said he. "Perhaps, in dealing with the criminal mind and seeking to catch them, one develops a certain affinity or empathy."

"Matters of moral relativity aside, Holmes, how did you catch him?"

"Again you jump ahead. And I didn't do it alone. Word of the planned theft found its way to a certain European wide agency, one designed and set up by my own sister. A sort of shadow police force if you will."

"Spies?"

"Yes, but spies who have jurisdiction across European borders and are inter connected. They have no real democratic or authorisation in law, so their endeavours must be done in secret. I was approached by my sister some months ago, not long after our encounter with the downtrodden miner in Lille. I can now confirm to you that I wasn't wrong in thinking Christophe Gaudin was in fact Arsene Lupin and this secret police force thought the same. They had been watching him and his activities for quite sometime. He had clandestine meetings that took him to Bruges, Vienna and Berlin, and coincided with his deliveries to the galleries of those nations and cities."

"But why didn't they arrest him straight away?"

"No hard and solid evidence, Watson. We had to wait and watch until he made bad move. But Lupin being Lupin, I anticipated that he would not make any kind of mistake. I would have to force it out of him, in the same way a chess player pins his opponent's king, thus inhibiting his movements."

"But how, Holmes?"

"A simple process of deduction concluded from the facts known at the time. A number of agents and myself were located in Strasbourg and the Château of the Duchess, we knew an attempt on the diamonds was to happen, but we didn't know when and given Lupin had been commissioned by this Austrian nobleman the logical conclusion was that he would make for Germany, the nearest major and populous city being Stuttgart, his escape would be further narrowed by him having to cross the river Rhine."

"But, Holmes couldn't he have laid low in a smaller town or village?"

"He could have, indeed, but a stranger would be easily exposed in such places, a populous city and the transient nature of the population is a better choice to hide amongst the crowds. And Lupin has origins in the Alsace region on the border with Germany, so the city's streets would be very familiar to him, thus allowing him to blend in more easily."

"Why leap ahead in such fashion, surely you and these shadow agents could've intercepted the man as soon as the diamonds were stolen?"

"We could have, but alas the agent on shift was lax in his duty and succumbed to sleep, allowing Lupin to escape, unnoticed. Remember when I said the key to following someone is to know where they are going?"

"Yes."

"Concluding that he would end up in Stuttgart and one of its finer hotels, I headed straight there. Of course the agents thought the conclusion dubious and fallible and instead tried to follow him through the eastern German countryside trails. They lost him. I enquired at numerous hotels for bookings under the names of Lupin's many aliases. The name Galliard Wolf, was most singular in its oddity and it being a translation of Lupine, the conclusion that he would be in that hotel was obvious. Lupin's first error. I booked myself into the room next to his and awaited his inevitable arrival."

"Again, Holmes why not simply send word to these shadow agents and have him arrested on his arrival?"

"There was no telling that he would have the diamonds on his person, he could've posted them, or hid them before his arrival. No, I needed a way to confirm they were in his possession and have him point there location out to me."

"Pardon? Why on earth would he point them out to you?"

"Fire."

"Fire?"

"Yes, in the midst of a fire or some other threat, a man will inevitably reach out for that which is most valuable to him. A cheap trick and somewhat meretricious, but most effective. I watched him for a time, in a suitable disguise, that of a humble and clumsy, scatter-brained priest. The first time I engaged him I purposefully fumbled with the key to my room and reached out for his help in opening the door. The second, I intruded upon him while he ate in the hotel's own restaurant, he was most inconvenienced my my presence, but held himself out of gentlemanly politeness. All the while I wondered as to his long repose in Stuttgart and the hotel itself. He told me that his business partner was delayed in matters further afield than Europe and that he was waiting on his return to finalise his business. This gave me ample time to spring the trap and position myself so as he would reveal to me the location of the three diamonds. Staging a fire in my own room might have done it, but I cannot see through walls. The problem was how to gain access to his own room and be present at the outbreak of the staged fire. I had three options, the first, clamber through the window and scale the balcony to Lupin's adjacent room and window, then throw the smoke bomb inside."

"Smoke bomb?"

"Yes, a plumber's smoke bomb, used to seek out leaks within the piping. The second option was to find a way to steal into his rooms, using my disguise as a clumsy priest and request to borrow something. While searching I would then set off said smoke bomb. This was the most fallible option as there were too many variables to account for and too many that would result in detection."

"The third?"

"Ahh this was quite the stroke of luck. As I was examining the window and the narrow balcony outside of it, I happened to turn back into the room and a glint of light in the unlit fireplace caught my eye. It was a mere sliver, but enough to peek the interest and perhaps a way of avoiding the climb out of the window, this method was precarious and dangerous, my room was situated on the fourth floor. A considerable drop if I was to fall and one that would most certainly kill me or, at the very least, severely injure myself."

"What was this sliver of light?"

"The fire place only uses one chimney for both fireplaces and I discovered that our two rooms and the fireplace within was only separated by a heavy metal sheet panel and one could slide the panel open, no doubt, allowing access for a chimney sweep."

"And perhaps, Santa Claus."

Holmes arched a single eyebrow at me, with a very dubious look. "Well hardly, since it was a hotel and I don't image Santa Claus visits hotels very often, and only on Christmas Eve." said he and continued. "I had originally planned to lay the smoke bomb within the fireplace, wait for Lupin to arrive and settle within his room and then I would light the wick and retreat to the balcony of his window, wherein I would watch his reaction to the fire and thus he would show his hand and the location of the hidden diamonds."

"But didn't you discount the window balcony method, it being too precarious?"

"I did indeed, but needs must. It matters not, for the need for this design was circumvented."

"It was, how?"

He paused for dramatic effect. "I found the diamonds." said he. "As I was placing the plumbers smoke bomb within the fireplace bed I unearthed some ash and there, glinting and sparkling in the dusk light, were the three diamonds in plain sight."

"He had hidden them in the fireplace, that's absurd, surely the diamonds would be damaged." exclaimed I.

"Only if he had a fire lit. And diamonds are extremely resistant to fire. One has to produce a very extreme temperature, more than that of a household fireplace. Lava erupts at anything up to around 1200 degrees Celsius, while the melting point of diamond at surface pressure is around 3550 degrees Celsius."

"So I assume that is the end and you had him arrested?"

"Not yet, he could easily claim no knowledge of the diamonds existence and perhaps accuse some previous tenant of the hotel room or perhaps even my own, given the interconnected fireplaces. A further trap was needed and the problem was extenuated by the fact that at the moment I discovered the diamonds, Lupin entered his room."

"Mon dieu, Holmes what did you do?"

"I remained where I was. I stood hiding myself within the chimney shoot, keeping my feet apart, so as to hide them from view. And thus, why I entered these rooms covered in soot and ash. I spent a frustrating amount of time jammed in that chimney, it was most unpleasant. However, it gave me some time to formulate a plan. A rather simple plan in the end. I would return to London with the three diamonds as quickly as possible using my sooty appearance as an opportunistic disguise, that of the humble chimney sweep. As soon as Lupin left the room I checked out of the hotel and took the first train, no the last train out of Stuttgart and back to London, tolerating the looks of passers by, the ticket sellers and hotel employees. And now I am here and we await Arsene Lupin."

I paused, shocked. "So your declaration that you had," I refereed to my notebook, "found him, foiled him and caught him, was false?"

"Just a matter of time, Watson, just a matter of time."

"How do you know for sure that he'll come here, he did not know that you, yourself were pursuing him."

"I left a calling card in the fireplace. If he values the diamonds and the job assigned to him by this Austrian nobleman, or whomever has commissioned him, he will come. There are, of course, some of these shadow agents positioned in the street outside, ready to intervene."

"And if he doesn't come?"

"Then he shall remain illusive, and the diamonds returned to the Duchess of Alsace."

And so we waited, much to Holmes's chagrin as he paced the room and smoked cigarette after cigarette. I took the opportunity to write up Holmes's account from the notes I had taken, the story and dialogues being fresh in my memory. After a time the atmosphere in Holmes's lounge grew substantially poisonous and thick with tobacco smoke, as such I crossed the room to the window, so as to let in some fresh air. I paused at the window and peered out, surveying the street, curious as to who and where these shadow agents had placed themselves. I could see little due to the particular narrowness of the avenue and the fact that it was evening time and few people roamed this particular rue.

"There are three, Watson," said Holmes. I flinched and turned around.

"Three?"

"Three shadow agents of course, where you not trying to seek them out?"

"Yes, but how did you know?"

"It is obvious, Watson, merely observation combined with context." He joined me at the window and proceeded to point out each man in turn. "The gentleman of the road there, nestled in the porch of the closed book shop, there is an agent at the end of the street, out of our view and another at the other end of the street. Mmm it seems we have a visitor."

"We do?"

"Yes, the beggar man's look seems very focused upon my front door."

"Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson's voice came from the hall and promptly she entered. "There is a man here, requesting a visit with you. I said you were currently occupied, but he is quite insistent and seems very desperate."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson, do let him in."

"But Holmes..."

"Easy Watson, this client will provide a most welcome distraction from all this waiting."

After an unusually long passing of time the man entered and it became apparent as to why it took so long. The man was in his seventies and walked with a stoop in his back and a cane in his hand, he had a devil of a time merely putting one foot in front of the other. I crossed the room and assisted him into Holmes's lounge chair, it being the closest to the door. The man took a moment to catch his breath and recover his constitution, mopping his brow with a handkerchief and settling his good nerves. Holmes waited patiently upon a dining chair, his fingers clasped together in front of his nose and his eyes closed, he looked as though he were in some deep meditation and was elucidating his mind, in order to best facilitate a blank slate, and thus address whatever the man's problem was with as much clarity as possible.

"So, Monsieur Prevot what can I help you with," said Holmes.

The man puffed and panted, most shocked. "Mr. Holmes how on earth do you know my name without me even mentioning it?" asked he.

"Your handkerchief, it has your name written on it. Simplicity itself. Now with our introductions out of the way, what matter is it that concerns you?"

"My dog, Mr. Holmes, it may seem trivial and perhaps not up to the stakes of your usual interest, but he is a faithful friend, indeed my only friend these past few years since my wife's passing. Her name is Sif, after the Norwegian goddess."

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, "your wife's name is Sif? Or the dog?"

"The dog. She is a pure white Siberian Husky. I acquired her as a puppy from a Russian sea merchant and she has been with me ten years since."

There was a long pause, Holmes remained in his seat, still in his pose, absorbing this information. Monsieur Prevot waited patiently for a response and as he did his eyes flitted about the room training themselves upon almost every object and detail of it. It was here I noted a youthful presence and alertness in his eyes that belayed his age.

"And how did the dog come to be missing?" asked I.

"Three days ago, it was a morning. Wherein I usually take Sif for a walk and buy the morning newspaper and then sit for a while in the park. On this occasion I didn't take the dog, he was sleeping peacefully in front of the fireplace and I didn't have the heart to disturb him. I went about my usual business, buying the newspaper, some coffee beans and bread. It took all of half an hour. When I returned home Sif was gone." Holmes's eyes opened suddenly in reaction to this. "The door had been locked, no windows were opened there was no way Sif could've gotten out of his own accord. It is a small apartment and on an upper floor, above a Horologist's shop."

Holmes stared at Monsieur Prevot for a brief moment, stood up and in methodological fashion walked toward the window where, to my confusion, he proceeded to paint an 'X' on the window. Monsieur Prevot looked to me for an explanation, but I was lacking and merely shrugged.

"So, Mr. Holmes shall you take on my case. I know it might seem trivial but..."

"Yes, I will take on the case, it has significant interest. Or at least I would take on the case."

"How do you mean?" said he.

"There is no case and you are not Monsieur Prevot," declared Holmes

Following this declaration I heard footsteps pounding out a hurried rhythm on the staircase and in the next moment the three shadow agents burst into the room. Before Monsieur Prevot could protest or put up any kind of resistance they had him by both arms. I watched at the fireplace, some distance away, as Holmes approached Prevot and then peeled away the wax mask upon Prevot's face, revealing him to be the very youthful Arsene Lupin.

"Attendez! Attendez! Arrêtez!" cried Lupin as the three shadow agents ushered him from Holmes's apartment. He cried was most earnest and of a desperate nature, so much so the agents took pause and allowed him a moment. "I beseech you Holmes to hear me out and the reasons for my transgression. After which, I shall willingly accept my fate."

Holmes took pause and lit a pipe while peering at the man. "Go ahead," said he.

"My hand was forced from the outset, by a thoroughly unscrupulous and ruthless man."

"The Austrian nobleman?" asked I.

"Yes, the very same." he turned his attentions back to Holmes, who remained still and stiff. "Holmes, he has my daughter. He threatened her life if I did not steal the diamonds for him."

Holmes merely arched an eyebrow.

"Daughter?" asked I.

"Yes, the girl you met when you visited my home in Lille."

"If this is indeed the case then what action do you wish me to take?"

"I implore you, Holmes, you must go to Mont Sainte-Odile and the abandoned monastery upon the hill there, at noon tomorrow. You must give him the diamonds and he will return my daughter. I was to meet him myself, but you interrupted the process and thus the reason for my visit."

"And how are we to know that you are not fabricating this?" asked I.

"If I am what have you to lose, lost time and the expense of the trip? These are trifles compared to the life of a child, my child. You and the law can do with me what you will, but you must go, you must give him the diamonds."

"And what of the Duchess of Alsace, are the diamonds not hers?" My question was left ignored. Holmes then gave a look to the lead shadow agent, as if looking for his approval.

"We have our man Mr. Holmes, the diamonds are no concern to us."

"We will do as you ask, Monsieur Lupin. You have my word," said Holmes, quite to my surprise. A moment later the Shadow agents left ushering the ill fated Arsene Lupin with them.

"Why on earth did you agree to his request, Holmes, he is untrustworthy criminal. The man could quite conceivably laying a trap for you, I mean us."

"That is possible, but I think saving his daughter is worth the risk, and the situation might be of heightened interest."

"How so?"

"This Austrian noblemen intrigues me. I think there is more than meets the eye with him. When is the next train to Strasbourg and the Vosages mountains?"

We set forth on the earliest train out of London and onward to Strasbourg, I was considerably anxious about the whole affair and felt a keen sense of danger about the whole business. Attempting to quell these fears I asked Holmes of his methods in discovering the man Prevot was in fact Arsene Lupin, considering the fact that for the majority of the interview Holmes had his eyes closed.

"I knew the instant he stepped into the room, it was a particularly easy deduction. Given the fact that Lupin had very little time to finesse his disguise, hindered by the urgency of the matter, as he was. Three points. Firstly and the most obvious, he had a copy of the Stuttgart Zeitung rolled up in his coat pocket. Secondly, the youthful eyes ran contrary to his disguise as an old man, the eyes are usually glassy and not nearly as keen as his were, they darted about the room the instant he stepped inside, presumably he was searching for the diamonds. Thirdly there was no conceivable possibility that he could own a dog, especially a white Siberian Husky."

"How so?"

"There wasn't a single dog hair upon his coat and the rest of his clothes."

"But could he not have had his coat washed and he did say his dog had gone missing?"

"He could have, but he hadn't. There was notable mud spattering upon his sleeve, it comes from riding in those Hansoms, from the wheels, they are directly below the window, where one might lean one's arm. And the dirt was dry, many days, if not weeks old. One doesn't tend to wash one's coat as often as one's normal attire. And if he owned a white dog, there would surely be stray dog hairs. Oh and a forth point. The wax mask was ill designed and revealed much, especially to someone who also engages in the art of disguise and can see the finer points and mistakes. The wax layer did much to present an aged skin, but he made the mistake of stopping at the neck, where there is considerable loosening of skin in the aged man. A false beard usually hides this well enough, but in his haste I suspect he didn't have one to hand."

"It seems Lupin was outdone by a mere lack of time."

"Yes and the fact that his daughter was taken hostage by this Austrian," Holmes paused, "who can now hardly be called a nobleman."

"That is if Lupin's claim proves true."

"Indeed, Watson, indeed."

After some hours the train's whistle bellowed, announcing our imminent arrival in Strasbourg and we alighted the train and struck out amongst the Strasbourg citizens, which were aplenty. It is a particularly medieval city with its thatched houses and its many church steeples pointing skyward and all wrapped around it's many canals. We had no time for sight seeing as the hour was closing in. We sought out passage to the Vosages by way of a carriage and alighted at the foot of a hill and the small village. From here on in we took to hiking. A great mass of fog swirled about the hills and the greenery there and a heavy and eerie silence made every small sound more prominent than it might be. It jangled my nerves and put me on edge, especially considering the danger that may lay ahead of us. We cut our way through some dense undergrowth and wound a path through the trees and eventually came out on top of the hill and the ruins of the monastery marked by three crumbling main buildings or turrets. With the fog and the silence of the place, the atmosphere felt primeval, at once holy and unholy as if the very birth of the universe happened in this place and would mark it's end.

Holmes struck on ahead making bold strides toward a small and derelict church set betwixt the three ruined turrets.

"Wait!" I called out, "where are you going?"

"The church of course, seems like the most logical place for a rendezvous such as this, does it not?" said he. Dutifully, I followed. "You have your weapon I trust?"

I nodded grimly after checking the revolver holstered at my hip. Church bells rang out, twelve times marking the hour.

"Well, at the very least we made it on time," said Holmes wryly. And he made his way down a grassy slope toward the side entrance to the church. The instant we stepped inside we were set upon by gun fire. All the shots narrowly missing by inches. I ducked for cover behind a pillar and Holmes in an alcove that housed a crumbling statue of the Virgin Mary.

"Snipers, three of them." I called out to Holmes, evaluating the scene in an instant, using my experiences during the war in Sfax and estimating the trajectory of the shots. These gunmen had missed on purpose. At this range a kill shot would've easily been accomplished.

"Who are you? And where is Lupin?" A voice cried from above and more specifically from a second floor at an opening that had a clear view down at the rotting pews and benches. The voice carried a notable Austro-Hungarian lilt. There was little time to answer as another onslaught of gun fire rained down upon us. The bullets hit the statues and pillars, chipping away at the stone and creating small plumes of chalk dust. One of the bullets even went clean through my hat, knocking it asunder and toward the pulpit close by.

"We are here on Lupin's behalf." Holmes called out. "We have the diamonds."

"Holmes, no!" said I as he stepped out into the centre of the church and held up the diamonds in the velvet bag.

"Well if it isn't the self styled gentleman detective. None other than Mr. Sherlock Holmes. And his little dog, Watson. You, sir are no gentleman."

"And you by the same token are no nobleman. Where is the girl, Lupin's daughter?"

"I warned you against inconveniencing me and my endeavours Holmes." A flash of recognition cross Holmes's face and indeed my own."

"Moriarty?" Holmes called out. "Technically I am not inconveniencing you, this exchange would have taken place without my interference."

"But you are interfering and a price will have to be paid, Holmes, mark these words. Now, lay the diamonds upon the lectern and step away."

"The girl! Lupin's daughter. Not until I see her."

"She's safely locked away in the cellar. The key will be laid down once the diamonds have been authenticated. And do not try any funny business, you have already witnessed the fact that I have three crack shots with muskets aimed at you."

Holmes paused momentarily, then with little choice he laid the velvet bag down upon the lectern and stepped clear, taking cover once again in the alcove. After several silent and tense moments, footsteps echoed about the church, coming distinctly from a side stairwell overhanging the entrance by which we entered. A short and very diminutive man in a well tailored suit approached the lectern and proceeded to examine the diamonds one by one, using an eye glass. A jeweller of some description, a very high end one. His actions were precise and his manner was one of exactitude. After he was finished he looked up to the second floor platform and nodded. He replaced the diamonds back in the velvet bag and placed a large metal key upon the lectern, then proceeded to walk away, his footsteps, once again echoing around the cold stone building as he walked.

All was still for a moment, both I and Holmes remained in our positions, not daring to venture out just yet.

"You will wait for fifteen minutes, then and only then can you go down to the cellar and free Avaline." came Moriarty's authoritative voice. "If you move from your positions within that time you will be shot." Following this we heard footsteps and shuffling and the opening and closing of doors and I saw from my position, the man Moriarty and three other men- the diminutive Jeweller and two others, who carried themselves in the manner of soldiers. By my calculations there should have been another and then I realised one sniper must've remained behind. Both I and Holmes dutifully waited the allotted time and remained silent, it was a tense period and I dare not move or even flinch for fear that I would be shot down on my feet.

I feel I must break the rather meretricious illusion I have been employing throughout this narrative. For reasons of commercialism and for those of practicality too. It seems the Journal des Débats has a significant distaste for my own narrative voice and feels it is too cold and scientific. Thus-wise I have employed Dr. John Watson's own voice and his point of view in relating this narrative, but the illusion can no longer hold any weight because of the circumstances and happenings that occurred toward the end of the tale.

The fifteen minutes had elapsed and both I and Watson crept out from our cover, most relieved that the frightening ordeal was over. I grabbed the key from the lectern and ventured toward the stairwell leading to the cellar at the rear of the church. Watson followed but I stopped him.

"Wait here, just in case. I believe there is one of Moriarty's confederates still in the building and he may still have a cruel surprise lying in wait for us."

"But..."

"You are the only one in our party with a weapon, Watson. It is best you stay here and defend our position." said I, interrupting his protest.

"Very well," said he and I noticed a nervous quiver in his voice, added to this he glanced about the church in a wary fashion.

"Fear not, Watson, you are more than capable of handling yourself."

"Yes, yes." said he. We parted company and I made my way down the stone stairwell. The walls were wet with damp and an ominous drip, drip permeated the dark downward spiral. I struck a match but it did little to illuminate the area. Finally I came upon the bottom of the stairwell and a large wooden door. I used the key and the door creaked and strained, the rusted bolts cried out as if in pain, as I opened it. Stepping inside I paused and searched around the cellar for the girl. At first all I saw were shelves and abandoned barrels and broken bottles scattered upon the floor. It was as dark as pitch. Then faintly I heard whimpering from the bowels of the room. I made haste toward it, relighting another match.

Here I found the little girl, she was dressed in a nightgown and was hugging a small teddy bear. She shrank back against the wall as I approached.

"It's okay I've come to rescue you. My name is Sherlock Holmes," said I in the softest tone. She blinked and looked up at me, assured by my words and I held out my hand.

"Sherlock Holmes?" said she, weakly. "You're the clever man my father is always talking about, he says you're the cleverest in all France."

"Well I don't know about that. One would have to survey France's population in its entirety to be sure." The poor child was on the brink, pale and she shivered uncontrollably in my arms. I had some difficultly in carrying her up the narrow stairwell and on a few occasions I lost my footing. Time was of the essence and I hurried as much as I could, for she began to fall in and out of conciousness. No doubt Watson and his medical skills would carry her on, at least until we got her down the mountain and to the village. But it was not to be, for when I finally ascended the stairs and came out into the church proper, Watson was nowhere to be found. I called out his name, but no response came. I searched the area, but there was absolutely no trace of him and hindered by the fact that Avaline needed medical attention I could not make a proper and thorough evaluation of the scene. I ventured outside, the sunlight had broken the fog and had left a white sheen of dew upon the grass. I was expecting that Watson might be waiting there, but again there wasn't any sign of him. There were no footprints in the dew and the twigs and undergrowth had not been broken. I called out his name again, but no answer was returned. It was inexplicable.

In the village I sought out the local doctor a youthful and amiable man although unambitious (for if he was ambitious he would be plying his trade in a city or at the very least a larger town) and seemed out of his depth, he did not inspire much confidence but he assured me that Avaline would recover, in time. I left her in his good care and ascended the hill once more felling that I would surely find some evidence and perhaps feeling I would find Watson but after a thorough investigation of the scene and the study of any minor detail I found nothing that could or would lead me to Watson's whereabouts. I was as if he had vanishing into thin air. The only conclusion that could sensibly be reached was that the remaining confederate of Moriarty had either shot him or abducted him. I dismissed the first idea as some trace would most certainly be left behind and as I have stated before there was none, the second conclusion was something of a reach, for there were no footprints or marks in the dust where a struggle would surely have taken place and given the acoustics of the large church, cries and shouts I would have surely heard. I spent the next few days, as I awaited Avaline's recovery, in search of hard clues that would lead to the discovery of my colleague and friend but came up short. The villagers answered with firm 'no's' upon my enquires and were notably curt and reluctant to give any full details pertaining to my friend and to the church and it's demise. Avaline recovered and was back to her enthusiastic self once more and it seemed she remembered little of her trauma and if she did she managed to hide any ill effects very well. A most inquisitive child, burning with questions upon her lips, about London, about myself and my work. With little left to do in the village we returned to London and Émilie.

I was not relishing giving the news to Émilie about Watson's disappearance as one finds it difficult to be in the presence of raw emotion, whether than be joy or sadness. I explained the previous events in the briefest of terms, Émilie sat and listened attentively and showed little emotion throughout, that was until I explained Watson's inexplicable disappearance, but even then she remained still and I saw tears well in her eyes. She fixed herself and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Her response was spoken in words as a certainty, as certain as the sun rising each morning, with authority and bold confidence.

"There were no signs of struggle? You found no blood? Heard no shot?" I shook my head. "Then he is most certainly still alive and you Mr. Sherlock Holmes, using your powers of logic and deduction, you will find him and you will find him alive and well."