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Stuart Douglas is the author of numerous short stories and novellas, and has edited several anthologies. He set up Obverse Books in 2009, a small press imprint. He contributed a story to Titan's Encounters of Sherlock Holmes in 2013, and is the Features Editor of the British Fantasy Society journal. He lives in Edinburgh.
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Cover
Available Now from Titan Books
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also Available from Titan Books
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THE RIPPER LEGACY (August 2016)
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THE WHITE WORM (February 2016)
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MURDER AT SORROW’S CROWN (November 2015)
Steven Savile & Robert Greenberger
THE VEILED DETECTIVE
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THE SCROLL OF THE DEAD
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THE ANGEL OF THE OPERA
Sam Siciliano
THE WEB WEAVER
Sam Siciliano
THE GRIMSWELL CURSE
Sam Siciliano
DR JEKYLL AND MR HOLMES
Loren D. Estleman
SHERLOCK HOLMES VS. DRACULA
Loren D. Estleman
THE ECTOPLASMIC MAN
Daniel Stashower
THE WAR OF THE WORLDS
Manly Wade Wellman & Wade Wellman
THE WHITECHAPEL HORRORS
Edward B. Hanna
THE SEVENTH BULLET
Daniel D. Victor
THE TITANIC TRAGEDY
William Seil
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES: THE ALBINO’S TREASURE
Print edition ISBN: 9781783293124
E-book edition ISBN: 9781783293131
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
First edition: May 2015
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Names, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.
© 2015 Stuart Douglas
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
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For Julie, without whom I’d never even have started
Throughout my long acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes, it was my practice to present to my friend a copy of my notes on any case of particular sensitivity. Generally, Holmes would glance over the freshly written adventure with barely concealed irritation, mutter some unflattering remark, and indicate that I could do with it as I wished. Occasionally, however, he would frown and, showing a sudden interest, quickly read the entire manuscript. ‘I think,’ he would say, in due course, ‘that this particular case would be best kept between ourselves for the moment.’ And with that he would disappear into his room, my piece for The Strand in his hand – and it would be consigned to the tin box he kept there, never to be seen again.
Now, however, with everyone involved – bar myself – long since deceased I find myself often sitting in my favourite bay window in the weak winter sunlight, with the same tin box open on my lap. I read the collection of notes and asides, summaries and complete manuscripts, and am transported back to my younger days, when Holmes tackled any mystery that came his way, and I stood at his side, his faithful chronicler to the end.
But the world has changed immeasurably during my long life, and matters that seemed scandalous to us in the old century appear commonplace as we navigate the second third of the new. If a king may abdicate his throne and choose love over duty – and be applauded for doing so – then perhaps the time is right to bring these last few cases of Sherlock Holmes into the light? At the very least, the case I find recorded in my notes as ‘The Albino’s Treasure’ has surely lost all power to rock the nation, and yet several elements contained therein may prove to be of interest to a modern readership.
The tale which follows occurred in the year 1896, when the new National Portrait Gallery had just opened its doors, and I was back in Baker Street, sharing rooms with my old friend.
It was never the habit of my friend, Sherlock Holmes, to rise early in the morning. Though he was more than capable of remaining awake and alert for days on end if the need arose, his preference was always to breakfast late if he possibly could. As I was by no means an early bird myself, this suited us both admirably, and Mrs Hudson knew better than to allow anyone to call before a reasonable hour of the morning. A heavy knocking at the door to my room, therefore, and Holmes’s voice calling gruffly for me to rouse myself came as something of a surprise.
Responding to the urgency in his voice, I barely took the time to pull on my dressing gown before moving through to the sitting room we shared, and was already asking questions of Holmes before I took one step into the room.
‘What on earth is going on, Holmes?’ I asked. ‘And what time is it?’
In reply, Holmes – who I saw was as poorly dressed for company as I – gestured first to the mantel clock, which stood at a little after five a.m., and then to the long figure of Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, who stood just inside the door, directly in front of us.
The Inspector at least had the grace to appear momentarily embarrassed, before the obvious seriousness of his mission overcame whatever reticence he felt. He laid his hat on the table beside him and, as Holmes waved an irritated hand in his direction, began to speak, evidently continuing a discussion curtailed by my arrival.
‘Yes, Mr Holmes,’ he said firmly, ‘anarchists it is.’ From his tone it was apparent that Lestrade was as impatient to progress with matters as Holmes, though it remained to be seen if their motivations were equally well matched. Holmes said nothing and, after a small pause, Lestrade continued. ‘Now, before you say another word, complaining about politics and the like, I should tell you that we have reason to suspect an anarchist plot aimed at the very top of English society – possibly even threatening the safety of Her Majesty, the Queen.’
As he spoke these last few words, Lestrade favoured first Holmes then myself with a look; his small eyes narrowed even further than usual, stressing the importance of this last statement, as though that were at all necessary.
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!