The Mycroft Holmes Omnibus by David Dickinson

you gave us.” “Has he got away? Has the house a tunnel, Lestrade? Many of these places have underground passages linking the stable block with the kitchens in the basement so that goods could be brought into the house without the owners seeing what was going on. God help England if Graf von Stoltenburg has got away!” “I shall send men to find out, Mr Holmes!” Lestrade paused to issue instructions to a couple of his officers. “But tell me, Mr Holmes, how did you find out about the location of this house?” “Why, Lestrade, you sent me a note. I have it in my pocket. Let me ask you, pray, how you found about it?” “Why, you sent me a note about it, Mr Holmes.” “I did not send you a note, Lestrade. Certainly not. Do you have it on your person?” Lestrade fiddled about it his pockets. “There we are, Mr Holmes. That is the note you sent me.” Mycroft snorted. “I did not send this. You did not send a message to me. I do not do the typing on these ridiculous machines. Tobias does all that for me. Both notes were written on the same typewriting machine, with a damaged capital ‘r’, a ‘k’ with one leg missing and an irregular return on the space bar. There is only one possible explanation!” Tobias had wandered off, away from the house, and returned with a bundle of crumpled clothes. “Forgive me,” he said, “but surely these are the woollen dress and the innumerable scarves, worn by the old crone who took you to the house? And look!” Tobias pointed dramatically towards the little hill that la