Chapter XIV

Into the Lion's Den

Irene Adler stood in the light of the hooded lantern with an inscrutable smile that seemed a mixture of pleasure and regret. I looked to Holmes. His eyes were locked upon her and held an equally inscrutable look. To Holmes she had been and perhaps would always be The Woman. The only woman to ever have bested him. The late Irene Norton nee Adler was not dead after all.

"Good evening, Mrs. Norton," Holmes said with no trace of any emotion. I, who knew him so well, understood that this was a false note. His complete lack of reaction was a reaction of itself. Holmes would not allow himself to be distracted from his purpose by anything. What emotions he felt then I can not say. What I did know was that he had them under his command and would never let them free.

"It's actually Mrs. Smets for the time being," she said demurely. "As you know, I was widowed and plan to be again very shortly, Mr. Holmes."

I had not known that Mrs. Norton (whom I will call Adler to avoid confusion) had been widowed but clearly Holmes had. There was something between them unspoken. I was later to learn that during Holmes's long absence after the affair at Reichenbach Falls he had met Miss Adler several months after her supposed death. She had been in search of the man responsible for her husband's murder. Undoubtedly, something had occurred.

"Time for that later, love," said Sparrow stepping between them. "

"Ye know why we're here, Irene," Barbossa said coming to his feet.

"The girl," she said with a nod. "He's taken her to his study. He hasn't abused her, though, she was very shaken when they brought her in. He is planning to take her in his boat to London and the safe house he has there in Whitechapel."

"By sea?" Barbossa said puzzled.

"I suspect that even with your considerable resources, Captain Barbossa, you would not be able to monitor the docks in London so well that Smets could not slip through," said Holmes.

"At the docks, no, Mr. Holmes," Barbossa replied cryptically. "At sea we have the advantage of him."

"Trust me, Mista Holmes," said the lady I now knew as Tia Dalma. "'Is boat will neva' leave dis cove."

She turned away from us and strode into the moonlit fields towards the beach. As she did so, the breeze that had been gently drifting from the sea grew in strength to a light wind. A woman who could call a dog back from the dead and deal with an armed and violent man was certainly more formidable than the young lady I had walked with on the beach collecting sea shells. I asked myself if the change in the wind could have been more than the shifting breezes off the coast.

"We must get Abigail out of there!" Mr. Hawkins said hotly. His temper had been renewed on hearing that his fiancée was to be spirited away.

"Gently, Mr. Hawkins," said Holmes. "Let us plan our strategy. We must not act rashly."

Irene Adler gave us a very thorough description of the interior of the manor house detailing the entrances and the number of staff present. She told us that the ten men sent out that evening to commit the acts of violence against us were not expected back. They had been told to await Smets on his boat where he had intended to meet them before the morning tide. She said, though, that there were still a number of men posing as grooms and that the servants in the house were all members of the Carbonari.

In matters of this sort, for all of our experience, Holmes and I were amateurs compared to the wily old Pirate Lords. I dare say that we could have worked out a plan with a good chance of success but between Barbossa and Sparrow we developed one I felt sure would come off in our favour. There was a dispute, however. The pirates proposed we eliminate Smets and his men while Holmes and I would have been happier to have them arrested. Hawkins was himself torn. His greatest concern was, of course, the safety of Miss Worth.

"Captain Barbossa," Holmes argued. "You can not kill them in cold blood. It would be an act of murder."

"You don't murder the enemy in a war, Mr. Holmes," Barbossa said with a very hard edge to his voice. "You kill 'em. Kill 'em before they can kill you."

"Mr. Holmes," said Sparrow. "If they were arrested they would be tried and hung for the crimes they've committed. We're just cutting out a few steps. Savvy?"

"This is England of the nineteenth century, gentlemen," Holmes persisted. "Not the Caribbean of the eighteenth."

"Mr. Holmes," said Miss Adler touching Holmes's arm. "Sherlock, if Smets and his men are arrested it is very likely that they will escape before they can be brought to trial. He has sufficient resources to ensure that he, at least, will escape."

"We've more a chance to rescue the girl with you than without you, Mr. Holmes," said Barbossa. "Either way, we're going in there and dealing with Smets once and fer all. This will end tonight."

Reluctantly Holmes and I agreed. I had known my old friend to act outside the law but this was far beyond anything we had done before. It was cold comfort knowing that acting as we were about to we would likely prevent a great disaster for England and indeed the rest of the world. On the other hand, we would be removing Miss Worth from harm's way. That was the thought that buoyed my spirits and my conscience. So, for a charming young lady, Holmes and I would beard the lion in his den and face whatever consequences that might arise.

We parted from Miss Adler. The pirates, save for Mr. Gibbs, went with her at least as far as the edge of Smets's estate. Mr. Gibbs accompanied Holmes, Hawkins and myself back to Trelawney House where we took Miss Worth's carriage which the pirates had used to transport Gibbs and drove to the estate from there. Hawkins and Gibbs were let down near the gates and followed close behind the carriage staying to the shadows in order to remain undetected. Their mission was to cover the front of the house and either prevent the escape of Smets or to dog his trail should the man somehow slip by them.

Holmes and I stopped before the tall wooden doors of the grand old building and crossed the gravel to the stone steps that led up to them. Holmes gave a pull at the bell rope and we waited somewhat impatiently for an answer. After a moment the bolts were thrown and the door opened noiselessly. Peering out from within was a swarthy little man in a butler's uniform.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said the butler. "How may I help you?"

"I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes and this is Doctor John Watson," said Holmes handing over one of his calling cards. "We have come on an urgent matter to see Colonel Martin."

"The hour is very late. Does the Colonel know you, sir?" asked the butler.

"The Colonel has never met me but he has met Doctor Watson," replied Holmes. "I think if you give him this he will see us."

Holmes produced from his pocket the slip of paper we had found upon the dead coachman earlier that evening. The butler's eyes flicked to it and then up to Holmes's. There was recognition in them.

"Please step in, gentlemen," he said retreating a pace to allow us to enter.

We handed over our hats and waited in the foyer until the butler returned to conduct us to Smets's drawing room. The room was unoccupied and the butler said that his master would be with us shortly as he had already retired to his rooms for the night. Holmes and I moved about the room noting the locations of the windows and the two doors. From Miss Adler's description we were on the side of the house farthest from the stables. We knew that the study where Miss Worth had been secluded was upstairs almost directly over our heads.

Holmes and I had to wait only a few minutes before Smets entered in his dressing gown. He was not quite so tall as I had estimated him to be when I had met him and Miss Adler on the road. With no more than a nod for greeting Smets addressed Holmes.

"What does this mean?" he said holding out the slip of paper.

"Come, sir," rejoined Holmes coolly. "There is no time for play acting. You know who I am from my card and I know who you are from your reputation. Mr. Hawkins has engaged us to act for him."

Smets stood with half lidded eyes, calculating. He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket before he spoke.

"The note said that I would be in touch," Smets said.

"Very good, sir," Holmes approved. "I am glad that you are sensible. Yes, the note was quite clear but you will understand that our client is in some trepidation over the safety of his fiancée. He is not the man to stand idle in the face of adversity."

"The young lady is quite well," Smets assured us. "She will be returned to Mr. Hawkins unharmed provided that I receive the entire collection in his possession. Every article from the sailor's chest, Mr. Holmes."

"That is problematical," Holmes replied. "The compasses were stolen. Until they are recovered we can not comply with this demand. Our client is perfectly willing to hand over all those articles still in his keeping but he will need to send to London for the items still at the museum."

"I was aware that he no longer has the compasses," Smets said moving to the mantel where he took a cigarette case down and lit one. "I will be satisfied to receive the remaining artefacts. How long will it take to have the items returned from London?"

"I should think we could have them by noon tomorrow but let us agree on tomorrow evening in case there is any difficulty with the trains," Holmes said reasonably.

"That is acceptable." Smets puffed out a grey cloud of smoke with a satisfied smile. "I propose making the exchange at sea. I know Mr. Hawkins has a boat. I will be very glad to meet him..."

Smets suddenly stopped speaking. His face went pale and he turned to the window. I glanced at Holmes who evidently had heard whatever had attracted our host's interest. My ears were still ringing from the report of the cannon in Sparrow's library.

"Treachery!" Smets cried turning on us with a snarl. "Stand where you are!"

From his pocket the Belgian had produced a small revolver and now threatened us with it. Holmes and I remained where we were. I knew that Holmes would be looking for a way to avert disaster and so I remained calm. However, I did not relax my attention. I was listening for whatever noise had caused our negotiation to end. Finally I heard it. Faintly from the far side of the house I could hear gun shots muffled by the intervening walls. Above us in the house I heard running feet and orders being called out.

"Hawkins would have done much better to have negotiated in good faith," growled Smets. "Now he will never see his fiancée again."

"Don't be a fool, Smets," Holmes said unruffled by either the pistol or the man's words. "You can not think that this disturbance is our client's doing."

Holmes was attempting to buy time and perhaps put the villain off our track. Smets narrowed his eyes and looked hard first at Holmes and then at me. I tried to remain as cool as Holmes. Smets took a step towards the door leading to the front hall while keeping his weapon pointed at Holmes. We turned as he traversed the floor so as to keep him in full view. Smets opened the door and called to his butler. The servant rushed to him and they exchanged a few hurried words of French then the butler vanished down the hall.

"We will wait a moment, Mr. Holmes," Smets said. "If you are lying your lives are forfeit as is that of Miss Worth."

There passed one of the most uncomfortable minutes of my entire life. Outwardly Holmes was as cool as ever but I doubt not that his pulse was as elevated as my own. I desperately wanted to draw my own revolver but dared not move until Holmes should give some indication that I do so. Smets stood waiting by the closed door calmly puffing on his cigarette while the noise from outside the house continued. Finally when I thought my nerve would crack there came a knock on the door. Smets called to the butler for news but the butler's words were unclear. Impatiently Smets tore open the door. An instant later the man was knocked from his feet by a solid right cross and Captain Jack Sparrow strode into the room grinning from ear to ear.

"Watson!" Holmes cried. "Quickly! The girl!"

Without a second glance I dashed for the door and the stairs. I climbed them taking two and three at a time. In a moment I arrived on the landing of the first floor a bit winded but no less eager to rescue the lady from this den of wickedness. I had taken only two steps down the hall when a door before me opened and a burly man rushed out. He was evidently as surprised as I for he stopped dead in his tracks. We recovered at the same time however and as I reached for my revolver he lunged at me drawing a long bladed stiletto. I found myself on the defensive at once. He slashed at me and I felt the hot tip of the knife on my forearm, which caused me to drop my revolver. I fought back with a punch to his jaw that rocked him but he was on me again before I could stoop and retrieve the gun. He was younger than I and more familiar with this sort of fighting so soon I found myself rolling on the floor with him. His left arm wrapped around my throat and his right with the knife was bearing down on my eye. I managed to hold off the knife hand with both of my own but the strangle hold would soon overcome me. I knew that it was a matter of seconds before the struggle would be decided and my life would end but I could not give up. For Miss Worth and to a lesser extent for my old friend Holmes I fought on. Through my mind ran foolishness. I regretted not having attended at least some of the Bartitsu classes that Holmes had recommended so highly. I wondered how deep the wound on my arm was. I had a flash of memory to the wound that Captain Barbossa had inflicted upon the man at St. James Church and hoped that this man had been as skilful in missing any vital blood vessel. Then I felt my old shoulder wound throb and the muscles there began to protest under the strain. They had never healed properly.

That was when inspiration blazed in my mind. I was not a wrestler nor a common street brawler. A little boxing and rugby in my youth and a few fights along side Holmes in more recent years were all that I could claim as combat experience of this kind. But I was a fully accredited surgeon with a complete knowledge of human anatomy. Maintaining my hold with my left hand I released my right hand grip upon the weapon arm pressing towards me and moved my hand to my attacker's upper arm. I clamped down with all the strength of my right hand putting as much pressure upon the brachial artery as I could summon. I was rewarded with a grunt of surprise from my assailant. He began to ratchet his arm tighter about my throat but I could already feel the strength of his knife arm lessen. In a moment, with a lack of blood to his extremity, I was able to push the knife away and got a bit of leverage. I calculated that his face was just off to the right of my head and with all the strength I could muster I rocked forward. Naturally he strove to pull me back and regain his advantage. This was all to my good, however, for when he drew back I reversed myself and drove the back of my skull into his face. His knife dropped and he let loose of me. I scrambled to my feet to face him and when he rose I caught him full on with as solid a punch as ever I have thrown. With a bleeding nose the man staggered back. I gave him no time to recover though. I struck him again and at that he toppled over the banister rail and plummeted to the marble tiles of the ground floor. I spared him not a glance for I did not know in what condition I should find Miss Worth.

I staggered to the door from which the man had come and pushed it open. There I found the young lady tied to a chair. She turned wide, fearful eyes upon me but instantly her fear drained away to be replaced by hope. I was a moment getting the ropes off her but soon she was free and threw her delicate arms about my neck in token of thanks. Knowing time was not our ally just then I reassured her and quickly lead her to the head of the stairs. On the way I retrieved my revolver and down we went. She shuddered upon sight of the man crumpled near the foot of the stairs and turned her face from him. Quick as we could manage I bustled Miss Worth out of the front door and into the waiting arms of her fiancée.

I was forced to cut short their words of thanks for I had not seen Holmes and wished urgently to locate him.

"He told me to wait here and that you would be along with Abigail," Mr. Hawkins said. "He, Smitty and Mr. Biggs sprinted off towards the stables just a moment ago."