Страница 39 из 162
"Quite odd," I agreed.
"Not odd at all," Holmes said.
He leapt from the carriage, snatched a handful of the crop from the edge of the field, and returned with a clump of unbroken stems still sprouting from their original earth. He held the roots in one hand and smashed the other against the stems, bending them at a right angle to their original position. Clods of dirt flew from his hand in reaction to the force of his blow.
But the stems did not break.
"Triticum aestivum at this stage of growth is exceedingly tough," Holmes said. "Exceedingly difficult to break."
Holmes pulled out one stem by its roots and handed it to me, then another for Sir Arthur. I tried to break my stem, and indeed it took considerable force even to put a kink in the fibrous growth. Sir Arthur bent his stem, folding it repeatedly back and forth.
"The field theorems would be more impressive," Holmes said, "if the crops were broken."
"But, Mr Holmes," said Sir Arthur, "the forces we are dealing with are mighty. A stem I ca
Holmes stared at him in disbelief. "Sir Arthur! First you are impressed with a feat that appears to be difficult, then, when the action proves simple, you claim yourself impressed because it is simple! Your logic eludes me."
In Holmes's powerful hands, several stalks ripped apart.
We returned to Undershaw. We drank Earl Grey from delicate porcelain cups, surrounded by heavy, disagreeable silence. Lady Conan Doyle and I tried in vain to lighten the conversation. When Sir Arthur a
A loud knock on the door, followed by shouting, broke the tension. Sir Arthur rose to attend to the commotion.
"One of your tenants to see you, Sir Arthur," the butler said.
Robert had followed the butler from the front door; to my astonishment he crossed the threshold of the sitting room. Then he remembered his place and snatched his battered cap from his head.
"There's been another field done!" he exclaimed. "Little Robbie just discovered it, coming home to get his brothers some bread and cheese!"
Holmes leapt to his feet, his grey mood vanishing in an instant.
Sir Arthur called for his autocar and we hurried off to see the new phenomenon.
The automobile, newly repaired, motored smoothly until we turned down the final road to the new field theorem. Suddenly it died. Robert stepped down from the ru
Sir Arthur revealed a knowledge of colourful oaths in several languages.
"Bushman," Holmes muttered after a particularly exotic phrase.
I reflected that Sir Arthur must have acquired this unusual facility during his service in the Boer War.
We walked the last half-mile to the field. The afternoon's heat lingered even in the shade of the hedgerows. Birds chirped and rustled the branches.
"Well, Robert," I said, "you'll have the chance to observe Mr Holmes in action, and he can hear your story in your own words instead of mine. Holmes, Robert is a great enthusiast for your adventures."
"I am flattered," Holmes said, "though of course the credit goes entirely to you, Watson, and to your craft."
We had no more opportunity to chat, for we reached the newly patterned field. Robert's children-including Little Robbie, who was considerably taller and larger than his father-had arrived before us, despite our use of the motorcar. They stood in order of descending height on the bottom rail of the fence, exclaiming over the pattern crushed into the field.
Sir Arthur made as if to plunge into the very center of the new theorem, but Holmes clasped him by the shoulder.
"Stay back!" Holmes cried. "Robert! To the lane! Keep away the spectators!"
"Very well, Mr Holmes." Robert and his children tramped off down the path.
I marveled at the efficiency of the "bush telegraph," to give everyone such quick notice of the new field theorem.
Holmes plunged past Sir Arthur. But instead of forging into the field, he climbed the fence and balanced atop the highest rail to gaze across the waving grain. He traced with his eyes the valleys and gulches etched into the surface. Only after some minutes, and a complete circumnavigation of the field, did he venture into the field theorem itself.
Sir Arthur observed Holmes's method.
"You see, John?" Sir Arthur said. "Even your Mr Holmes acknowledges the power-the danger-present here."
"Sir Arthur," I said in the mildest tone possible, "why should danger result, if the communication is from those who loved you, in another life?"
"Why… " he said, momentarily awkward, "John, you'll understand after the seance tonight. The other side is… different."
Robert ran down the path, panting.
"I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, Sir Arthur," he said. "We kept them away as long as we could. Constable Brown ordered us to stand aside."
"More devotion to duty than to sense," Sir Arthur muttered. He sighed. "I'm sure you did your best," said he to Robert.
A group of curious people, led by Constable Brown and minimally constrained by Robert's children, approached between the hedgerows. Holmes was right: Someone, somehow, had alerted the public. Sightseers who had come to see the other field theorem now found themselves doubly fortunate.
The constable entered the field just as Holmes left it. The sightseers crowded up to the fence to view the new theorem.
Holmes rejoined Sir Arthur and myself.
"I have seen what I needed," Holmes said. "It's of no matter to me if the tourists trample the fields."
"But we must survey the theorem!" Sir Arthur said. "We still do not know its meaning!" He ordered Robert to do his best to prevent the sightseers from marring the designs.
"If we depart now," Holmes said, "before the constable realizes he is baffled by the phenomenon, we will be spared interrogation."
Di
A photographer lowered his heavy camera from his shoulder. He set it upon its tripod and disappeared beneath the black shadow-cloth to focus the lenses. He exposed a plate, setting off a great explosion of flash powder. Smoke billowed up, bitter and sulphurous.
The journalists began to question Constable Brown, who puffed himself up with importance and replied to their questions. We hurried away, before the journalists should recognize Sir Arthur-or Holmes-and further delay us.
"If the motor starts," Sir Arthur said, "we will be in time for the seance."
For a moment I wondered if Holmes would turn volte-face, return to the field, and submit to questioning by Constable Brown and the journalists, in preference to submitting to the seance.
To our surprise, the motorcar started without hesitation. As Sir Arthur drove down the lane, Holmes puzzled over something in his hands.
"What is that, Holmes?"
"Just a bit of wood, a stake," Holmes said, putting it in his pocket. "I found it in the field."
As he was not inclined to discuss it further, we both fell silent. I wondered if we had to contend-besides the field theorems, the ghostly lights, and the seance-with wooden stakes and vampyres.
"Tell me, Sir Arthur," Holmes said over the rhythmic cough of the motor, "are any of your spirits known to live on Mars?"
"Mars?" Sir Arthur exclaimed. "Mars! I don't believe I've ever heard one mention it. But I don't believe I've ever heard one asked." He turned to Holmes, his eyes bright with anticipation. "We shall ask, this very evening! Why, that would explain Professor Schiaparelli's 'canali,' would it not?"