THE PRICE OF REVENGE

by

Maura Kelly

In the summer of l90l Holmes and I had been invited to a shooting party in Yorkshire. Normally Holmes did not enjoy engaging in game hunting, but the gathering had been arranged by an old friend, Sir Andrew Pilkington.

Sir Andrew had informed us a few months before that he had purchased an estate in Yorkshire for a hunting lodge. The hunting in that part of the country was known to be excellent. Sir Andrew had requested our presence primarily to use Holmes's knowledge translating old manuscripts. Sir Andrew had found a treasure trove of ancient documents and knew that Holmes had a great expertise and interest in deciphering that type of text. London was at the time in the midst of a terrible heat wave and both Holmes and I agreed a short sojourn in the country would be very pleasant. The invitation from Sir Andrew was readily accepted.

We took the train to the Yorkshire district and then hired a trap to take us to the hunting lodge. When we arrived, I was surprised to see that Sir Andrew's new acquisition looked more like a medieval castle than a hunting lodge. I remarked on my observation to Holmes but he just shrugged the comment off as if he had known what to expect.

We were greeted somberly at the door by Sir Andrew's old family retainer and found ourselves in the grand entrance hall. The place was brimming with numerous types of armories on display. The butler instructed the driver from the trap to leave our bags in the entry hall. After he divested us of our hats and coats, the butler requested we follow him.

I was amazed as we walked down various hallways trailing Sir Andrew's butler that the walls we past had even more weaponry than had been exhibited in the great hall.

"Now I see why Andrew purchased the place."

"Yes, Watson, his interest in armory." Holmes agreed, stopping to look at a particular sword. "Stonebreak Abbey was widely known for its armament. The family who originally built this place was well known for keeping the enemy at bay."

"Stonebreak Abbey?"

"The original name of this medieval pile. It was then taken over by a religious order, monks I believe. I suspect Andrew will call it something else though." Holmes mused.

"When was it built?"

"Around the time of Richard the Lionheart."

The butler reached a door knocked and then showed us into a huge drawing room.

At the far end of the room were two men; Sir Andrew Pilkington and Brigadier Sir Robert Covington. They both greeted us warmly.

"Holmes, Watson, so good to see you. I am glad you accepted my invitation," our host enthusiastically welcomed.

"Thank you for including us, Andrew." I responded. "With a heat wave in London we were delighted to have a reason to leave the city. "

"Well, I am sure you will enjoy the shooting, Watson." Then our host turned to Holmes and told him excitedly, "And I can promise you Holmes a surfeit of newly discovered manuscripts, some I have found even date back to Richard the Lionheart's reign."

"It certainly sounds intriguing, Andrew."

"What sounds intriguing?"

The question was asked by the familiar voice of James Dudley. A particular acquaintance of both Holmes and myself whom I would have preferred never to see again. Dudley, Holmes and I had attended school together. We were not friends. But we had occasionally crossed paths with the man in some context or another since our youth.

Dudley had walked in with the butler who had been summoned by Sir Andrew to show us to our rooms.

"Well, Dudley, what an unexpected treat." Holmes said sarcastically.

"More like trick." I whispered to Holmes sotto voice.

I saw Holmes choke on his laughter as he followed the butler out of the drawing room.

"Seen any ghosts lately?" I whispered to Dudley just before I followed Holmes out the door. I could not resist the evil taunt referring to our last meeting when Dudley was ‘found out’ of some nefarious dealings, regarding a spiritual medium, by Holmes and myself. *1*

When I reached the room the butler showed me to, I was annoyed to find I was angry that Dudley was here. I placed my bags on the bed and just stood there in contemplation of the many times I had encountered James Dudley. And how even the sound of his voice could irritate me.

"We could always cry off, Watson," Holmes offered as he stood in the doorway to my room.

"I am sorry Holmes I was not attending. What did you say?"

"I said we could always declare some emergency that needs to take us back to London, if you prefer." Holmes suggested.

I looked at Holmes speculatively. "You were not surprised to see him here?"

"No, Watson, I was not." Holmes remarked with a sigh as he came fully into my room. "We all run in similar circles and we have some of the same friends. It would be unusual if we did not run into the man."

I looked at my friend in exasperation. "I was the one who decided not to mention Dudley being involved in any of that Gretton scandal. That is the only reason he is still invited into the same circles."

"True," Holmes agreed as he stood with his arms crossed leaning against the mantle. "I am sure if some of the others had been apprised of his involvement in duping members of his own class, they would drop him immediately."

I looked at Holmes thoughtfully. "It was never established that he just wasn't duped along with everyone else. I really could not in good conscience condemn him when the evidence did not prove him guilty."

"You are a good man, my friend." Holmes told me proudly, "But I do suspect Dudley was making money from Gretton every time he introduced him to a new client."

"But it was never verified."

"No," Holmes agreed regretfully. "Do we stay or go, Watson, the choice is yours?"

"We stay of course. I have no intention of allowing Dudley to chase me away."

"Shall we get ready for dinner, then?"

"Capital idea, Holmes."

***

Holmes and I came downstairs and entered the drawing room. Sir Andrew greeted us and offered each of us a glass of wine. I listened for a few minutes as Holmes and Andrew discussed the possible history of the transcripts that had been found in the castle. I sipped my drink and glanced round the large room checking to see who else had arrived besides Dudley.

Along with Sir Andrew there was Adrien Foote in the corner who was in conversation with Dudley not surprising they were always together at these gatherings. The Brigadier had not come down yet, I noted.

All were familiar faces, except one. The newcomer was a man near the fire conversing with one of Holmes’ distant relations, the Honourable George Blakeney.

"Pardon me, Andrew, but who is the gentlemen, talking to Blakeney?"

"My apologies, gentlemen, let me take you over and introduce you to Lord Darcy."

"Lord Darcy," Holmes stated. "The peer of the realm who is half Cherokee Indian?”

"The very same."

Sir Andrew immediately took both Holmes and me over to where Lord Darcy was and introduced us. We found him a charming and knowledgeable fellow who captivated out attention until the butler summoned us to the banquet hall.

Dinner was the usual lively affair. Sir Andrew always set a good table and his wine cellar was considered one of the best in England. Conversation round the table was energetic, bouncing from politics, to horse racing, to the coming shoot tomorrow.

We lingered over the port and I joined into the discussion that our host and Holmes were having regarding Sir Andrew's latest finds.

The two men started a friendly argument about medieval history and the possible dates of some of the manuscripts. I listened to their discourse for a while, then turned my attention to the other discussions round the table.

Blakeney, the Brigadier and Lord Darcy were reviewing the last race they had seen that afternoon before coming to Yorkshire. I laughed silently to hear Blakeney talk about the fact he had been sure the horse he had bet on would win, which of course it had not. Poor George, he was a capital fellow but had a reputation of betting on anything and everything.

Dudley as usual was talking guns with Adrien Foote. I had taken Holmes’ earlier advice and just ignored Dudley as much as possible, which was certainly ironic since he used to do that to me at school.

I was cognizant that he had no desire to bring up our last meeting. His involvement with Conrad Gretton, who had been duping the nobility with seance trickery, would not set well with our other friends.

Sir Andrew got everyone's attention by bringing up the plan for the shooting party. He suggested that we breakfast round nine and then head out round ten in the morning if that were agreeable.

Everyone at the table concurred to the time and all were eager to take part, even Holmes. That astonished me. I knew he rarely took the time to join in on this particular sport. It had never been one of his major interests.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Dudley looking at Holmes, too. He also seemed to be amazed that Holmes was joining the shoot.

Holmes plainly caught Dudley's gaze of incredulity. "Does that surprise you, Dudley?"

"Well, a little Holmes. I always understood that you did not like to hunt."

"He's the best shot in the group, Dudley. We proved that the last time we were all together," the Brigadier pointed out.

"Of course, Watson, never got a chance to shoot, because of his injury." Sir Andrew reminded the Brigadier. *2*

"Oh, maybe we could have another, contest." Blakeney suggested, ever hopeful of something new to bet on. Holmes against Watson!"

Holmes laughed. "No thank you, George, I already know who is the better shot. My friend, Watson. We need no contest to prove that!"

"Thank you, Holmes." I responded graciously smiling in remembrance of the last time we were all together.

"A bit egotistical, Watson, not to even show a little humility."

"Why should I, Dudley? I am the best shot."

Later in Holmes's room I broached the subject that had bothered me at the dinner table. "Holmes why have you all of a sudden decided to go grouse hunting with all of us tomorrow. I know you are not particularly fond of the sport."

"Practice, my dear Watson, you know my aim needs improvement." Holmes shrugged nonchalantly. "I reasoned this would be a good time to elevate my skill in that area."

"You shoot just fine, Holmes," I told him bluntly, now beginning to wonder what my friend's real motive might be. "Besides, you had planned to go and study the old manuscripts Andrew discovered recently."

"I'm still planning on doing that, Watson, just not tomorrow."

Holmes ended our short discussion by pulling out one of his favorite pipes. Sitting in the chair near the fire he proceeded to light it, draw on it and stare into the fire as if contemplating some puzzle that had apparently just reared its head.

I looked at my friend, confused for a moment, trying to comprehend his mood. With Sherlock Holmes it was not easily done. I knew that the main reason he had chosen to come here was the chance to peruse the newly found documents of Andrew's, not to go hunting.

I tried to reason out what might be bothering my friend. Holmes was undoubtedly up to something. I could tell that, but what, I probably could not even guess. Looking over at him as he still gazed into the fire, I decided not to seek any answers from him tonight. What good would it do me? Holmes always had his own agenda. He would let me in on what was going on in his own good time, he always did. So I retired to my room and bed leaving him still staring at the fire.

***

The next day we had been out grouse shooting for a number of hours when we broke the party up into two different groups to hunt. Holmes, to my surprise, had chosen to join the group Dudley was with.

Holmes, Dudley, Foote and Blakeney went off together and I stayed with the Brigadier, Darcy and our host, Sir Andrew. I was genuinely confused by Holmes's joining the group that included Dudley, but decided to ignore Holmes’s peculiar maneuver and just enjoy myself. I could worry about what he was doing later.

Our party seemed to be the most successful. It turned out that Lord Darcy was also an excellent shot. He and I bagged more than half of our group's birds. When we met up with the others, we had beaten them by a half dozen birds. Not surprising since the best marksmen, excluding Dudley, were in our foursome. Dudley was not happy to be with the less productive company and started to harangue them as soon as the rest of us were within earshot.

"Foote, how was it possible you missed that easy last shot?"

"Easy?" Holmes said languidly. "Because you never left the poor fellow alone."

"I have to agree," added Blakeney. "James, you picked on Foote unmercifully."

"Well, you were no help, either of you." Dudley pointed out nastily. "I noticed the great Sherlock Holmes, great shot that you are supposed to be, barely bagged any of the birds."

"He really is a nasty little man, is he not?" Lord Darcy whispered to me in his deep rich voice.

"Indubitably."

I did not know his Lordship well, but right then my estimation of Lord Darcy jumped ten fold. Obviously a man of discriminating taste.

Sir Andrew had arranged for luncheon to be served in the middle of the clearing near the forest entrance. The servants had laid a plentiful table. We all spent an enjoyable hour discoursing on the morning shoot.

After lunch was finished, I assumed Holmes would go and start studying the manuscripts; the real reason he had come to Stonebreak Abbey. But he again surprised me and chose to continue the hunt, again choosing to join Dudley's group.

The afternoon waned and we all gathered at the clearing to compare trophies and head back to the Abbey. I, by this time, had decided that when we were back in our rooms together I would ask Holmes point blank what he was up too. Because it was becoming very clear to me now that he was not just around to hunt.

***

I reached my room, quickly freshened up and changed for dinner, then went next door to talk with Holmes. He let me in and continued dressing. I watched him for a few minutes trying to figure out how to ask him what he had been up too, but could not think of a good opening to introduce the subject I wanted to discuss. Holmes himself opened the topic.

Holmes looked at me, sighing, "You have been giving me that look all day, Watson, what is the problem?"

"Holmes, why did you shoot all day? I thought you were eager to start translating Andrew's manuscripts?"

Holmes looked almost tense for a moment and then answered my question. "I might have been a bit hasty in saying I did not enjoy hunting. I found it very stimulating today."

"Oh, I see." Which of course I did not. I could not really come out and say Holmes was lying right to his face. It would not set well and I would never find out what he was really doing.

Holmes looked at me with that penetrating gaze of his. "What do you mean by that?"

I tried another tack. "I mean, it is as if Dudley is now your bosom buddy."

Holmes looked at me for a moment and then answered my statement. "You know, Watson, maybe we have misjudged the man. He is not really as bad as we thought.

Speechless, I stared at him for several moments, searching for words from my stunned mind. "You are not serious, Holmes!”

"Yes I am."

Now I knew Sherlock Holmes better then anyone and I was painfully aware that he did not like James Dudley and never had. I did not believe his bald statement that he was beginning to admire the fellow. I definitely was not going to swallow that tale. "What are you really up to, Holmes?"

"My dear, Watson, what makes you think I am up to something?"

I snorted in disgust. "Holmes you just fed me the biggest fairy tale. Now tell me what is really going on?"

His lips twitched with a suppressed smile. "All right, Watson, to put it another way, I am doing what I do best. I am hunting." With that cryptic comment my friend left the room to go downstairs, leaving me pondering what he had meant by that his last comment.

After dinner Sir Andrew showed us the many medieval armaments, he had obtained when he had purchased Stonebreak Abbey and the land surrounding it. The house itself was not really attractive. The furnishings were old and needed a lot of repair, but Andrew did not seem to mind. He had only one interest in the old pile; the weaponry inside the place. We spent the better part of the evening touring the various wings.

It was late. We went to our beds that night. I was unable to continue the unfinished conversation I had been having with Holmes earlier that evening.

***

After the morning hunt, which Holmes again participated in, Andrew suggested we investigate the many caves in the area. It would have been better if we all had declined this idea.

"You know I don't know this place well yet and I would really like to explore every acre just to see what else might be hidden," he informed us.

"I certainly would be willing to join you in investigating this place, too," Dudley agreed.

"I never considered a medieval abbey to be your particular forte, Dudley." Holmes commented sharply, but I knew he was also eager to explore.

The caves Andrew showed us into were intriguing and Holmes not surprisingly, became engrossed. He wanted to explore every nook and cranny. We all carried lighted torches because the caves were very dark and you could see only a few feet. There were a number of caves, some seemed to go on for a long way while the others stopped abruptly in dead ends.

The other members of our party had left the cave that Holmes and I were still studying. Holmes had found a particularly fascinating piece of armory that had been discarded in this area of the cave.

It was nothing I could identify, but Holmes seemed to recognize it and was excited by the find. He was careful not to touch it. I reached down to pick up one I had also found similar to the one Holmes was observing, when Holmes immediately cried out.

"No, Watson!"

He pushed me out of the way just as a huge pile of rocks and debris rained down, cutting off his cries. I was stunned for a moment and found myself in the dark as the torches had gone out when the cave collapsed. The others must have heard the sound of the cave-in because I found myself being helped up. I could see my rescuer was Lord Darcy. Since he was a large man, he picked me up effortlessly. We were joined almost directly by the rest of the party. The others came in carrying torches to help relight the cave.

"Watson, are you all right?" Andrew asked me in concern.

"Yes, I think so but where is Holmes? He was here with me when the roof fell in on us." I grabbed a torch from George and turned in horror to where Holmes had been standing only a few moments before. It was now blocked with tons of rocks.

"Oh, my God, Holmes is buried behind the cave-in." I immediately started digging at the blocked tunnel, calling his name frantically.

When I explained to the others, what had happened Dudley immediately jumped in with the accusation that I had caused the cave-in and trapped Holmes.

"It is your fault, Watson." Dudley insisted.

"If it is anyone's fault, Dudley it is mine, for suggesting we investigate the caves." Sir Andrew told him angrily. “It was an accident!”

I tuned out the argument between the two men because I felt oddly enough that Dudley was right. It was all my fault. In my mind I heard Holmes’s cry as he warned me.

The rest of the men joined me. Dudley told Andrew he would return to the Abbey and get help and tools to help dig.

We all dug with our bare hands waiting for Dudley to bring back assistance. It seemed forever, but my mind was more concerned about the precious minutes ticking by for my trapped friend. Dudley finally arrived almost two hours later with the servants from the hall and I was angry it had taken him so long to get back to us. However, I did not waste energy on recriminations. There were more than enough directed at myself.

We spent the rest of the day and the better part of the night trying to dig out Holmes. As the hours passed I became convinced we would not reach him in time. Finally Sir Andrew called a halt. I began to protest, but Andrew assured me he had no intention of abandoning Holmes.

"Watson we need to rest and we need light to continue to work. We also need some beams to support this area. The whole hill could come down on us at any time.”

I knew he was right and reluctantly acquiesced to his suggestion. "But, Andrew, I plan on being out here by first light."

"So will we all."

***

I had no desire to rest. We had all worked as long as we could and then we came back to the Abbey to get some food and catch a few hours of sleep. Sir Andrew had sent for engineers at the local military barracks in hopes they could figure a way to remove the tons of earth that trapped Holmes.

I wasn't hungry so I went into the drawing room and spent the time pacing up and down the room. It was a few hours till morning and I would be going out as soon as the sun started to come up.

I could still not believe that Holmes was buried out in the caves right now and I could not do anything about it till daylight. Sir Andrew promised that everything that could be done to find Sherlock Holmes would be done but that did not make me feel any better. I didn't want to think what we would find when we did get through. Was Holmes alive? And if he had survived beyond the initial cave-in did he have enough air? Dudley had been right, it was my fault. Holmes warned me not to touch the device but I did not listen. How I wished, it had been I who had been trapped in the cave-in and not my friend.

I again found myself at the window for the tenth time in an hour willing daylight to come so we could start digging and find Holmes. I was afraid that tomorrow would be too late.

My reverie was broken by a movement I saw down in the garden. The night was very dark, but I could see enough of the grounds to identify the person as Dudley.

I heard the sound of a door opening and turned from the window to see Sir Andrew standing there. "Sorry, Watson, I did not mean to disturb you, but I could not sleep and I knew you would be down here." He sat down in the chair near the fire. "I feel so bad that I insisted we investigate the caverns. I should have made sure they were safe before we went into them."

"It is all right Andrew, I doubt you could have kept Holmes away from them anyway."

"Such a senseless thing and it is my fault. I should never have listened to Dudley when he suggested I buy this place," Andrew said sorrowfully.

"Dudley?"

"Yes, James was the one who found this place for me," Sir Andrew affirmed. "He knew how much I desired to acquire more armament and weaponry to add to my collection."

"He knew about this place?"

"Oh, yes, I do believe he used to spend some of his summers here."

"Really." I was now beginning to get an inkling of something more having gone on then any of us had seen. But I knew with a certainty that Holmes had seen it. "I just saw Dudley outside in the garden."

"Yes, I ran into him, he said he was too upset to rest and decided to go have a smoke outside."

I had gone back to the window and looked out just in time to see Dudley start out across the lawn towards the woods. Now my suspicions of Dudley became even stronger. "You know I think I will join him."

"Of course, and do not worry, Watson I am sure we will find Holmes."

"I hope so."

I let myself out of the house and headed in the direction I had seen Dudley go.

The night was very dark and a slight mist rained down as I crossed the front lawn of the Abbey. The cold was well suited to my melancholy mood this early morning. I was still not sure why I felt I needed to follow James Dudley, but I did what instinct drove me to do, and went after him. After ten minutes I had not spied him walking in the direction I had followed. I was beginning to believe I had already lost the quarry I had barely even seen yet.

Then I found myself near the clearing where we had lunch the other day and I could hear a sound as if someone were crashing through the trees. It had to be Dudley farther up ahead of me. No animal in this vicinity would sound that heavy going through a forest.

It was not easy for me either to walk through the woods without light, but I was not turning back now. I knew I was on the right track following Dudley. A few minutes later I saw a light through the trees and realised that Dudley was somewhere near the caverns. For some reason he seemed to be heading toward the caves where the fateful accident that had changed my life had occurred.

I skirted the trees surrounding the clearing and came upon Dudley not far off. He was holding a torch and was entering one of the caverns. I noticed his movements were furtive looking round as if he were afraid that he was being observed. He entered a different cave than the one we had originally gone into yesterday.

I waited until he had gone inside, then entered. His torch light flickered on the rock walls as he proceeded deeper into the cave. Taking one of the torches I lit it and followed behind him as carefully as I could. I heard a grinding noise further up the way and wondered what it might be and came around a bend carefully aware that I needed to stay out of sight of my quarry.

I need not have worried as I came around the next bend I was surprised to realize it was a dead end and Dudley was no where in sight.

That was not possible. How could he just vanish? Some secret exit obviously existed, one that Dudley knew about. I angled the torch close towards each wall searching for something that would put me on Dudley's trail. It was a few minutes before I found it. A latch cleverly located in the rock face was the mechanism. Carefully I lifted it and heard the same grinding noise I had heard only a few minutes ago. I stopped for a moment to be sure Dudley was not waiting for me on the other side of the door and then went through the opening.

I found myself in what could only be catacombs. Built long ago, probably by the monks, I concluded. The tunnels were most likely connected to all the caves on the Abbey property. I looked both ways trying to decide where I should begin looking for Dudley. It was like a maze down here.

I picked a direction, very careful as I walked. Someone had thoughtfully put torches all along the way. Dudley no doubt, and whatever he up to I hoped to discover very soon.

Voices faintly, then quite clearly echoed through the catacombs. One laughing, that was Dudley, the other serious. Whom was Dudley talking too? It took me only a second to recognize the other voice, it was Holmes.

Holmes was alive! I was overwhelmed with joy. But how did he come to be down here?

I hurried through the tunnel following the sound of the voices which with any luck would lead me to the two men. One of them I had thought never to see again.

I listened as the conversation reverberated through the catacombs. The voices were my lifeline. It wasn't easy tracking them, I continually came to a dead end and had to begin again. Most of the dead-ends contained coffins, the monks last resting place I surmised. As I continued to work my way through the labyrinth, I listened to what Holmes and Dudley were discussing.

I heard Dudley giggle. "You are dead Holmes."

"I have been dead before, Dudley," was Holmes dry retort.

"Yes, but your dear friend Watson is so devastated by your "death" that I am not sure what he will do."

"He will survive if that is what you are implying."

"Oh, too bad I was hoping if he despaired enough... oh, well never mind I will have to think of something else. Or perhaps I can help him along . . . ."

“You’ll never get the chance.”

“And who will stop me?”

"It seems to me that you are taking this awfully far for revenge."

"What do you mean?"

"Watson’s slights surely don’t deserve this kind of vengeance," Holmes urgently pointed out to the man. "What you have done now is kidnapping and attempted murder."

"What slights?"

I heard Holmes laugh for a moment. "Oh, you do not know the truth about the shooting match do you, Dudley? You see I did not beat you. Watson did."

"What do you mean?"

"My dear Watson can be very devious when he wants. He put blanks in my gun and lay above us in a small clearing and used an air gun to shoot for me."

"We did not hear any other shots."

"An air gun, is a silenced weapon. It was specially made for Professor Moriarty but it eventually fell into our hands."

"You cheated!"

"From a certain point of view. But Watson felt it was appropriate, as did I, since you were the one who deliberately injured his hand." *1

"I will get him." Dudley intoned heatedly. "He was the one I really had intended to be caught in my trap not you Holmes."

"Yes, I know."

"You don't seem surprised by that, Holmes."

"I am not Dudley. Why do you think I was constantly at your side? Your scintillating conversation?" Holmes sneered. "I knew you intended Watson harm."

"I did harm him much more than expected." Dudley chuckled. "He was absolutely devastated by your "death," Holmes. He even thinks it was he who caused the cave-in."

"You made Watson believe my supposed death was his fault? When I saw you pulling the secret lever?"

"True, but he will carry that guilt for a long time."

"Yes, but he is still alive. That is all that matters to me," Holmes told Dudley pointedly. "I am only pleased that your plans were aborted."

"They were not. I have you."

"A valid point. But you do not have Watson, which pleases me immensely."

"You are awfully blasé for a fellow whom I just might leave here forever."

"No, I doubt that."

"Why do you not believe me?"

"Because you still haven't got, your main target, Watson."

"I will have him, with you out of the way Holmes, who will stop me?"

I could hear the two voices even clearer now as I came upon a wooden door. The door was partially opened and I carefully glanced in and saw my friend. Holmes was sporting cuts and bruises, shackled to a wal, but blessedly alive.

"Watson!" Holmes gave me a slight nod. Dudley, his back to me, was unaware of my presence. "Right about now I should think."

My revolver was already in my hand.

"Hello, Watson." Holmes told him gleefully. "Dudley, old man, I do believe you are finished."

Dudley turned quickly and tried to draw the revolver I saw stuck in his waist band. "I would advise against it, Dudley. We know I am the better shot and I would gladly shoot you without compunction."

Realizing that I was dead serious, Dudley put his hands up in surrender.

***

"I still cannot believe Dudley would go to such great length's to get back at Watson," Sir Andrew said as he looked from one man to the other. "I mean you kept secret his involvement with Gretton." *2

"Yes, but he had been hoping to marry Lady Penelope and he believed Watson prevented that. By exposing Gretton for the fraud he was, he made Dudley look the fool."

It had been a long day. Dudley had been picked up by the constables early in the morning. The rest of the party had spent the better part of the day getting much needed rest that had been deprived the night before. I had no problem sleeping now that Holmes was alive and well.

Holmes had promised everyone an explanation on the events that had occurred. The other men of the shooting, party excluding Dudley of course, were also in attendance. We all sat round comfortably near the fire in the drawing room sipping drinks and listening to Holmes’ story.

Holmes continued his narrative. "I understand he had creditors banging at his doors.”

"Bad investments," Lord Darcy put in. "I had heard he was on the ropes before he came here."

"Yes, and he needed that marriage to Lady Penelope badly to stay out of debt."

"So Watson's intervention saved Lady Penelope from marrying that blackguard," Sir Andrew interjected into the story. "But because of Watson's interference it brought Dudley's wrath down on Watson himself."

"You knew he was after me?" I asked Holmes.

"I suspected it," Holmes admitted. "I found out after the case with Conrad Gretton that Dudley was in dire financial straits."

"So when you saw him here, you immediately went on your guard and that's why you went grouse shooting with Dudley at your side for two days."

"Exactly, Watson. I told you I was hunting did I not? But man was my quarry, as usual."

"What I don't understand Holmes is how you knew about the traps in the cave?”

"Ah, that is easy to explain, Andrew. You see the first night I was here I could not sleep. So I went down to your library and started transcribing some of the manuscripts you had found. The one I had chosen related the events of how the monks protected themselves from Cromwell's men. They had utilized the caves by setting traps by the doors that let them escape into the catacombs. They built these ingenious traps as a way to escape from Cromwell's men and survive. The trap door could be triggered by a lever and would at the same time cause a massive cave-in. Leaving the soldiers trapped, buried under the tons of rocks and the monks would be safely away."

"That explains why some of the caverns were long tunnels and others became dead-ends."

"Exactly, Watson."

"So Dudley knew all this?" Lord Darcy queried.

"Yes, he had spent much of his youth here."

"But how were you able to escape the cave-in?" Andrew prodded Holmes to continue.

"I had learned the secret from the manuscripts. So when the trap was tripped I was able to roll into the tunnel. It was enough to escape the major part of the rock fall, but I did receive a glancing blow. Which gave Dudley enough time to secure me in the dungeon?"

"That was why it took him so long to come back with help from the Abbey."

"Bravo, Watson, exactly," Holmes applauded. "Now the only question Dudley will be asking himself is -- “

"Was his attempt at revenge worth the price."

"Just so, Watson, just so."

THE END

*1

The Adventure of Holmes in the Mist

*2

Revenge is Sweeter When Served With A Smile