The Ectoplasmic Man Read Free Page A

him. There was no trickery about it, I’m certain. The wall was put together brick by brick; it was absolutely solid. And he had it positioned so that he couldn’t get around it in any way, but somehow he managed to travel from one side to the other, right before my eyes! Right through the wall! Now how could he possibly have done that?”
    “He was assisted by elves?”
    “According to the Society for Psychic Research, Houdini can only do this trick by reducing his entire body to ectoplasm.”
    “Ectoplasm?”
    “It’s the substance of spirit emanations. What ghosts are made of. I know that sounds ridiculous, but how else could a man pass through a solid substance? At least at Scotland Yard there was a door in the cell, but this was a solid brick wall. So naturally when the theft occurred—”
    “Theft?” Holmes was instantly alert. “Would this theft be the crime of the century you mentioned earlier?”
    “The same. I can’t give you the details just yet because the matter is highly confidential and involves certain highly placed individuals. But I’m convinced that the crime can only have been committed by someone who can walk through walls. Mind you, I’m not saying he actually does walk through walls, but he certainly manages to convey that impression. So if you would just come down to the Savoy with me and have a look—”
    “Lestrade, this crime—”
    The inspector held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I’ve told you all I can. You are not an official detective, Mr Holmes, and this matter is absolutely confidential.”
    “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
    “What!”
    Holmes threw another lump of coal onto the fire. “I am clearly out of my depth, Lestrade. Men made of ectoplasm, thefts of such high confidentiality.” He shook his head. “No, no. It’s too much for me. Watson, would you care to take a stroll in the botanical gardens?”
    Lestrade’s mouth fell open. “But — but you don’t understand! All I’m asking is that you come down to the theatre with me and see this Houdini for yourself! Now where’s the harm in that? It’s not so much to ask, is it?”
    “I’m afraid it is, Inspector,” Holmes said evenly. “You are asking me to enter into a criminal investigation with no knowledge of the actual crime. You are asking me to entertain a theory which accommodates men who walk through walls. I am not an official detective, as you have so conscientiously reminded me, but neither am I a haruspex. Should you need my services in matters pertaining to the corporeal, my door will be open. Until then, good day.”
    Lestrade let out a long sigh and moved towards the door. “It’s just as well, I suppose,” he said, taking down his hat and ulster. “We were given specific orders not to consult you on this case. I just thought—”
    “Orders?” Holmes whirled about, his features drawn tight. “Orders from whom?”
    “Why, the government, of course!”
    Holmes stiffened. “What branch?”
    “The message came from Whitehall. It was unsigned.”
    A high colour crept into the gaunt cheeks of Sherlock Holmes. “Lestrade,” he said, his voice rigid with emotion, “either you are the most devious man at the Yard or you are an unpardonable lummox.”
    “What—?” The inspector stammered, but Holmes was already gone, running down the steps to Baker Street, blowing two shrill blasts on his cab-whistle.
                         
    * For some reason Watson is referring to “The Adventure of the Six Napoleons,” a case which occurred years earlier.

Two

    T HE E CTOPLASMIC M AN
    H olmes was silent as our four-wheeler sped towards the Savoy, and Lestrade, to his credit, knew better than to probe for the source of the detective’s sudden agitation. For my part, I had observed these fits of pique on several previous occasions, and I knew them to be grounded in a personal, rather than professional, vexation. As Holmes now seemed to have regained his composure, I