G
riffin had just counted his two hundred and thirty-seventh stair and was beginning to wonder if the winding staircase would ever come to a stop, when he finally set foot on a flat surface. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. With the exception of the pale beam cast by the Snodgrass Candleless Lantern, everything around them was dark. Griffin sniffed, noticing that the air was dank and smelled faintly of mold. He pushed away images of dead things and creepy tombs from his mind, trying desperately to keep himself calm.
“Where do we go next?” Griffin whispered.
“Not sure,” Rupert admitted. The lantern beam only illuminated a path about ten feet ahead. Rupert raised the light and shone it upward, and Griffin could just make out the ceiling of the tunnel. Tiny eyes glittered in the darkness.
Bats
, Griffin thought as goose bumps erupted on his arms and neck.
The passageway ahead was very straight, and the paving stones had been very carefully cut, each one measuring twenty by twenty inches across. Griffin anxiously continued his counting, keeping track of each one as they went.
They'd traveled for about five minutes when a noise ahead made them stop. It sounded to Griffin like two pieces of metal banging together.
“What was that?” Griffin whispered, his voice sounding overly loud in the still air.
“Against the wall!” Rupert hissed. Griffin scrambled to the side of the tunnel and, following his uncle's example, pressed himself against it.
With a click, Rupert doused his lantern. The entire tunnel was plunged into pitch darkness. The sound they'd heard before split the air again, this time much closer. Griffin's heart thudded in his chest, wondering what in the world could have made such a sound. He suddenly wished he could be anywhere else.
There was a rustle next to him as Rupert felt around in his pack. Then Griffin's uncle pushed something down over his eyes. To his amazement, he found that he could see in the dark.
“Snodgrass All-Seeing Spectacles,” Rupert hissed in his ear.
“The charge only lasts about thirty seconds. Get your Scorpion ready, boy. When it comes near, fire!”
“B-but what am I firing at?” Griffin stammered.
“A deadly machine,” Rupert said. “I caught a glimpse of it at the end of the tunnel.”
“How did youâ?” Griffin began. But then he saw his uncle indicate a strange-looking telescope that was mounted on his rifle.
“No time to explain. Here it comes!”
Griffin looked up, and through the remarkable lenses of the All-Seeing Spectacles, he spotted the machine his uncle had mentioned.
It was black and reminded him of a giant crab or, worse still, an immense spider. Big, deadly-looking pincers snapped together, making the metal clanking sound that Griffin had heard earlier. Like a crab, the machine moved on multiple legs, but whether it had a pilot concealed beneath the tinted dome on top of it, Griffin couldn't tell.
It moved down the tunnel toward them. Griffin didn't know whether it could see them or not, but it marched steadily forward, directly to the spot where they were trying to hide, with its dangerous-looking claws extended as if with deadly purpose.
Griffin reached for his pistol, his hands nervously fumbling with the holster snap.
Stay calm
, he warned himself. But it was hard to keep his hands from shaking with the
thing
approaching.
The machine was just thirty feet away when Griffin raised his weapon and pointed directly at it.
“Now, boy! Now!” Rupert shouted.
Griffin aimed, steadying his hands as best as he could, and squeezed the trigger.
FLASH!
The same blinding light as before exploded in his vision. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, the dancing orbs were imprinted on his retinas. When he opened them again, he saw, with the aid of the spectacles, that the place where the machine had been just moments before was empty. Even with the spots still dancing in his vision, he could clearly see that all that remained was a slightly smoking patch of paving stones.
The thirty-second charge on his spectacles expired, and everything went dark again. As his uncle reignited his lantern, Griffin couldn't help glancing skyward, hoping that the gigantic machine had been transported to somewhere other than above them, unlike his uncle's oilcan.
In the eerie glow Griffin saw the satisfied expression on his uncle's face. He was evidently happy with the way his invention had performed.
“W-where did it go?” Griffin asked.
“Don't know,” came his uncle's reply. “But it's no longer our problem. Come on,” he said as he moved forward down the tunnel.
Griffin, his heart still racing, followed once more. He didn't particularly like his new weapon and missed his old Stinger. To have been saved from immediate danger was a relief, but Griffin couldn't shake his guilt. He wondered where the terrible machine had gone, and what unsuspecting victim it might prey upon next!
He told himself that he wouldn't use the gun again unless he absolutely had to, and maybe not even then.
Thankfully, they didn't run into any more of the deadly mechanical monsters. The tunnel twisted and turned for many hundreds of paces, but Griffin couldn't see any sign of habitation. If it wasn't for the fact that the spider-like machine had borne the unmistakable design and craftsmanship of Nigel Moriarty, Griffin would have wondered if they had perhaps stumbled upon the wrong place.
“Where is everybody?” Griffin asked.
“Hmm?” replied Snodgrass.
“Isn't it strange that we haven't run into more machines or any guards?” Griffin remarked. “It seems too easy.”
“Well, I wouldn't call that thing we just defeated âeasy,' ” Snodgrass said with a sniff. “Besides, from the look of things, they weren't expecting visitors. In my opinion, the mechanical device we just ran into was probably instructed to patrol the area as a precaution. I believe we have the entire place to ourselves.”
But in spite of his uncle's confidence, Griffin wasn't sure. It just didn't make sense to him that any hideout of the Moriartys' would be so empty. Back in the tunnels beneath the Thames River, the last place that the Moriartys had been hiding out, the place had been swarming with guards.
A thought suddenly occurred to Griffin. Turning to his uncle, he said, “Did you happen to keep the paper we looked at on the train?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Rupert said, withdrawing the front page from his coat pocket. “I hoped to peruse it later for any additional clues.”
Griffin took the paper from his uncle and studied the headline. His face paled as he read the time and date of the ceremony to make Nigel Moriarty England's new prime minister.
“It's today,” he said. “No wonder we haven't run into more guards. Everyone must be in London for the ceremony.”
“Hmmm,” Snodgrass said. “If that's the case, then we need to keep our guard up. They may have left some other safeguards in place to protect against prying eyes. Vigilance!”
But after about an hour of wandering down the tunnel, even Griffin had to admit that it seemed as if they were in no immediate danger. They didn't run into any guardsâmechanical or humanâand there weren't any hidden traps.
When the light from his uncle's lantern fell on an elegant wooden door at the end of the long, winding passageway, Griffin had let his guard down so much that he nearly opened the door without thinking.
“Wait!” his uncle warned. Then, after rummaging through his pack, he removed what looked like a doctor's stethoscope. Attached to the bell-shaped part at the bottom was a complicated mass of wires and clockwork gears.
After motioning for silence, Rupert pressed the device to the door and put the listening parts in his ears. After a few moments he nodded, looking satisfied.
“I heard someone breathing,” he whispered. “There's definitely someone on the other side of this door.”
Griffin's hand went automatically to his Scorpion. It made sense that the Moriartys had left someone behind to guard the premises.
Rupert removed his lock picks and set to work on the door's lock, moving the picks with expertise. Soon after, there was a small but definite
click
.
Griffin tried to keep his breathing calm and steady as his uncle counted down with his fingers from three to one. Then, with a sudden twist of the knob, Rupert threw open the door and the two of them rushed inside.
G
riffin didn't blink an eye when they entered the sumptuous quarters behind the door. He knew from being around his enemies before that they were individuals who craved elegance and fine furnishings. And the fact that such a beautiful place existed beneath an ancient British monument was of no surprise to him either. It was in keeping with the modus operandi of the Moriartys and what he would have expected. As he scanned the room, he saw no one. But something that didn't quite fit did catch his attention.
On the cushion of a chair in the corner of the room was a small bag made of a material he'd never seen before. Without a second thought, he limped directly to the chair to inspect it.
He stared at what seemed to be the name of a bookseller, printed in outlandish, gaudy colors. He felt the bag, which was made of some kind of artificial material, and tried to assess what it was. Rubber? No. But it was made from something like it.
He opened it and found inside a small rectangular piece of paper. He deduced that it was some sort of receipt. Printed upon it, along with the name of the bookseller, were numbers and possibly codes, and the price of an unspecified book purchased for . . .
twelve pounds sixpence
! It was a huge amount of money. It must be a very valuable book, indeed.
He folded the bag and placed it and the piece of paper in his pocket. He didn't know exactly what he'd found, but felt certain that it was a clue of some kind.
Then he noticed a door at one end of the room that was slightly ajar. He moved toward it, his cane tapping lightly on the stone floor. Rupert, who had spotted the door and was already moving toward it himself, had his rifle drawn. Griffin took note and paused long enough to draw his Scorpion.
But when they opened the door, neither of them was prepared for the extraordinary sight that met their eyes.
“Miss Pepper!” Griffin said.
He looked around the prison cell in which Charlotte Pepper was being kept, noting the heavy iron bars, the long chains that were on her wrists and legs, and worst of all, the black and blue bruises that covered her hands and cheeks. She was dirty and looked as if she hadn't been eating very much. In spite of his anger at her betrayal, Griffin couldn't help feeling sorry for her.
To their surprise, Miss Pepper looked excited to see them. “You came!” she exclaimed, rushing forward as much as her chains would allow.
“Well, well, a bird in a cage,” Rupert quipped through gritted teeth. “A criminal of your caliber,
Miss
Pepper, deserves nothing less. In fact, were it up to me, I think a hanging would be more in order.”
Charlotte did not meet Rupert's gaze. She stared down at the stone floor of her cell, looking remorseful. It was then that Griffin noticed the glittering spider ring on the third finger of her left hand, the same exact design as the one they'd found clenched in Sherlock Holmes's hand in Sussex. It also matched the size and shape of the lump he'd noticed underneath her silk gloves when she had been at their apartment earlier.
“She's a thief,” Griffin said quietly. “But I doubt that she knew that stealing the time machine would lead to the death of Sherlock Holmes. That wasn't your plan, was it, Miss Pepper?”
“What?” said Snodgrass.
“She is wearing a spider-shaped ring,” Griffin explained. “But it's not the same one we found on Sherlock Holmes's body. Do you know who was behind the murder, Miss Pepper?”
Charlotte's head snapped up at the mention of the great detective.
“Sherlock Holmes is dead?” Charlotte asked. Griffin read the expression of surprise and horror on her face, and it only confirmed his suspicion that she was innocent of that particular crime.
“He died yesterday,” Griffin explained gently. “He'd been poisoned by a ring that looks very much like the one you're wearing now.”
Charlotte gazed down at her own ring and frowned. “My ring contains a hypnotic agent, not poison . . .” Then a look of realization crossed her face.
“Atrax,” was all she said.
Griffin wasn't sure, but he assumed that Atrax was probably the name of the ring's owner.
Then Charlotte Pepper looked at Rupert and said urgently, “Nigel Moriarty killed Atrax, one of the most dangerous of the Black Widow assassins. He must have taken her ring and used it to murder Sherlock Holmes.” Charlotte groaned. “I know the ring you describe, and it's filled with deadly venom from a particular Australian spider.”
She gazed up at them, her face twisted with fear. “You must use the time machine to stop Moriarty. He and the professor have done so much damage already. I know where they keep the machine. He recently returned from a trip to the future. He and the professor are both in London now, but I'm certain that they'll be back soon, after the ceremony to make Nigelâ”