‘That’s what I thought at first,’ Oliver said. ‘But there’s another, darker possibility. It could be a gauntlet, designed to draw Holmes out.’
She felt her forehead crinkle, because the suggestion sounded very much like the start of a classic Sherlock Holmes adventure. ‘But who would go to the trouble? And why? There’s no such person as Professor Moriarty.’
‘There’s no such person as Sherlock Holmes and yet he seems to have developed a knack for solving real-life crimes recently,’ Oliver pointed out. ‘Do you think it’s a game of some sort?’
‘It certainly sounds like one,’ Harry said, shrugging. ‘But it has to be a coincidence. No one knows Holmes had anything to do with the Mildred Longstaff or Morden Fen cases.’
‘True,’ Oliver conceded and huffed out a breath. ‘I suppose the safest thing to do is ignore it.’
‘I don’t see what else we can do,’ Harry replied. ‘Unless a fiendishly difficult crime presents itself in the next seven days.’
Oliver snorted. ‘In which case every amateur detective in England will take up the challenge. Scotland Yard will be delighted.’
When the papers arrived, just before lunchtime, Harry took the copy of theTimesup to the library to study the letter for herself. Whoever had written it appeared to have a reasonable passing knowledge of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories; Sherlock Holmes had frequently described his encounters with Professor Moriarty as a terrible game, often with deadly consequences. But Harry found it hard to believe that the letter in the newspaper was anything more than a joke between friends. It couldn’t have anything to do with her, and her own activities on Holmes’ behalf.
Could it?
