Sherlock Holmes and Brigadier Gerard.

Otago Witness, Issue 2600, 13 January 1904, Page 72

Sherlock Holmes and Brigadier Gerard.

Sherlock Holme', lounging on his shabby eofa in his yellow figured dressing gown, was poking a charge of threepenny shag into- his blackened clay pipo and gazing introispeclively at tho shot-punctured ceiling, when the door was thrust open and an. old, whito-haircd gentleman strode into the room Though his furrowed face evidenced extreme age, in his eye still gleamed the light of martial ardour, and he carried himself witli the beaiing of a soldier who had earned medals. Clicking his heels together on tho mat, he raised one hand in a salute and struck himself op. the ohe«t with the other. Sherlock glanced at him, through -the corner of his eagTa eye, and, striking a match, proceeded to fill the room with the pungent; fumes pf smouldering shag.

"Good morning, Brigadier !"' he said 1 ., "Take the arm-chair". After all you've gone through j-ou nmet be very tired. Let me s-ce, now. You. left the Gare dv Nord ; at 3 p.m. yesterday, caught the night packet \ at Dieppe, had a. rough passage and a. stiff | dose cf mal-de-mer, travelled up to London. | Bridge with a pretty brunette, gob nearly run ovrT at tho Mansion House, wandered! along Choapside, Fleet sheet, +h© Strand 1 , and, after being directed by three different! policemon, finally took a cab at Charing] Crccs, and here you are. To what do I o\ve " "Peste !" snapped the Brigadier, impatiently. "I am not your biogiaphical 1 friend "Watson. You cannot astonMlu Etionne Gerard with j*our inferential synthesis. Are we not both threads from, the ! same 'Strand'? I come to ask you why I, Gerard, am out off thus abrupt, while you, Holmes, whom e-v-erjono thought spurs oub to a finish, are taken up and spliced into yet a longer yarn?" [ "The doctor prescribes rest, Etienne. You are growing old," remarked 1 Sherlock coolly. "Old!" cried the soldier, springing fromi the chair in his indignation. "Sir! Ago cannot wither nor volumes stale the infinite! ■variety cf Etienno Gerard. I have but! touched on tho many incidents of my 1 honoured and eventful career. In my last; narration I dfd but say good-night. I ami etill very much alive, while, by all tha canons of fiction, after that jump with Moriarty you should bo dead as a stone." Sherlock allowed himself to smile. "Gerard," he said, "I gave you credit! for mcro perspicacity. Did ycu think that vicr Vr"culd thus triumph over virtue? Moriarty wps a tough nut, I own. Tho tussle with him it wa.s that kmccked me off my legs for so long. For some time the doctor himself gave me up as on© dead. But? my destined end was not then, and, thanka to his wonderful skill and tho lengthy rest, Sherlock is now himself again. Holmes i 3 Holmes onco more." "It does not become me, Gerard, to boast r but I have been in some tolerably tight; p^ccs myrelf, and have survived to tell tho tak'," said Erienne. "That dive with tho Professor, though, beats all I ©ver did. Everybody imagined you'd taken a drop too muph at last. 'It wa,s a glerious andi fitting end to the career of the great Bakerstreet sleuth-hound,' they said. Aye, such: an end as I, Etienn© Gerard, would not have despised, had fate ruled it so. But there, yoti English — it is over the' same. You are wiped cut utterly, cc — iiid, hey i<r-esto I wefind you at ycur old game somewhere whero you arc- least expected. I coiild tell yen of a score of incidents which happened in the Peninsular " "Save them, Gerard," laid Sherlock. ''They'll make good reading when I have had my final conge." "How many congos is it proposed ycu should have?" queried the soldier acrimonicus'y. "Sir, do you take mo fo/ a professional cinder?" cried tho lynx-eyed unraveller. "My life, be it short cr long, is in tho hands of the doctor. If you feel aggrieved, talk to him. Fact is, Gerard, you're getting garrulous. You've been at it now, nay ewashbuekling Gascon, on and off for nearly nine- years, and the doctor thinks a change wonld bo beneficial. The fiat has gone forth, and you must quit the stage. "You'll excuse me now, won't j*ou? I am expecting my friend Watson every minute. There's an interesting little story connected with this pellet of Gorgonzoia cheese I have caged 1 under the tumbler whiohi I have promised to give him. It was discovered in the^ hollow tooth of ihe> dead! man. He had mysteriously disappeared. Search was futile until I arrived on tho scene. The secret, howe>ve r , w?s solved! as soon as I got on the scent. Au revoir, Brigadier. Be merciful to tho ladies." "Sir," said Gerard, with head uplifted! proudly and hand on breast, "the ladies will remember the gallant bearing cf Etienno Gerard when the tale of Sherlock Holmes'a police work has bee>n fovgette-n like the newspaper report of a week ago. I " His further utteranco was choked by a. paroxysm of coughing. Sherlock, with intent, had knocked over the tumb'.er. Tho gallant Brigadier, who had many a timo led a iorlom hope, was compelled to beat a hasty retreat as the blended fumes of ancient Gorgonzola and threepenny shag pervaded tho room. "Ha, ha, ouhl" he splutte-red, backing for the door. ''iTon— dieu — ouh, ha, ha I This fellow — to supplant me — Etien Hie voice died away down tho stairs, anct Sherlock, with a wink, replaced the tumbler and hrew open the windows. When "Watson arrived with his notebook he found him playing Chopin's "Funeral March" on his fiddle, with h'"<? eyes closed! and the seraphic expression of a Christmas I tree cherub on his palli'l face.