THE IRREGULAR CASEBOOK OF SHERLOCK HOLMES Read Free Page B

anyway, though I am the greatest poet since Shelley. No, the manuscripts at Trinity do not interest me in themselves. Oh, I did hope they might reflect his occult researches—so misunderstood by that clod, Casaubon—but as they do not, I have hardly glanced through them.’
    ‘Yet,’ I interrupted, ‘you have requested them on several occasions.’
    Crowley gave me an odd look.
    ‘Yes, but not to study their contents. I see you are puzzled, gentlemen. Let me explain. I have recently discovered that I possess quite ‘remarkable psychic powers. You are probably not aware that we leave subtle impressions upon every object we touch. To hold such an object is to read its history. By holding manuscripts once written by Dr Dee, I seek to identify myself psychically with him.’
    This seemed to me absolute madness, but young Crowley appeared to be completely sincere.
    ‘Though I can tell you little of the actual manuscripts,’ he went on, ‘I can tell you what Dee was wearing when he wrote them, describe the aspect of his library at Mortlake, and what thoughts were passing through his mind on certain days when he referred to them.’ He assumed a dramatic pose and added impressively, ‘I have even seen Queen Elizabeth when she visited him.’
    I was now convinced that we were in the presence of a raving lunatic, but Dr James remained quite calm.
    ‘That is most interesting, but hardly relevant to the matter in hand. One other thing—there was a gentleman at Trinity library today, a man with long side whiskers . . .’
    ‘Mr Eldred? How strange that you should mention him!’
    James shrugged. ‘He gave the impression that he knew you well.’
    ‘That was a little premature, as we did not meet until an hour ago! In fact, he left not long before you came. We played a game of chess. I am the best chess player in Britain, but he gave me quite an interesting contest. It took some little effort on my part to defeat him. In fact he spoke of the Dee manuscripts while we played!’
    Crowley’s eyes narrowed, and his lips hardened into a cruel line. ‘You know, I begin to find this a little strange. One could be forgiven for thinking there is more to your visit than meets the eye.’
    Clearly, Crowley was beginning to see through our little pretence. I rose and fastened my coat.
    ‘Well, we have wasted enough of your time, young man. I am satisfied that David Nutt will not be in competition with any rival publisher on this occasion. My mind has been set at rest. Shall we go, Dr James?’
    Crowley gave me a penetrating look, then said, ‘I am glad I could help. Tell me, Mr—Crossley, did you say?—would you be interested in a volume of poetry? I am, as I told you, the best poet since Shelley.’
    ‘Unfortunately Mr Crossley does not deal with poetry,’ said James smoothly. ‘Another department.’
    ‘That,’ said Edward Crowley in a distinctly menacing tone, ‘is most unfortunate for him.’
    Outside I breathed the clear air with some relief ‘Well!’ exclaimed James. ‘What did you make of that?’
    ‘I didn’t believe a word of it,’ I replied. ‘Psychic powers indeed! He’s hiding something, I’m sure.’
    ‘I thought so, too. He owns a copy of Trithemius, as well as Bacon’s De Augmentis Scientiarum and Selenius’s Cryptographia. Young Mr Crowley is obviously interested in the decipherment of secret documents!’
    We walked back to King’s in a state of high excitement, weighing the possibility of actually solving the case without Holmes. However, a shock awaited us at Dr James’s rooms. For as we approached, it became evident that the door, which had been locked when we left, was now standing open. Creeping forward quietly, we peered in.
    There, bending over the desk, was a hunched figure with long side-whiskers. Adjusting the grip on my stick, I stepped into the room and said, ‘Would you mind telling us what you are doing here?’
    The old man turned slowly and leered at us with a rheumy