Read Online The Dragon Turn by Shane Peacock - Free Book Online Page A

of such zings. A Jew’s reputation is sullied enough in England by his mere existence.”
    “Sir … I am part Jewish.”
    “You are?”
    “I understand our situation, believe me, but you cannot let an innocent man die.”
    “I am sorry, but I haf told you my reason, and it shall stand. It is my impression zat ze identity of ze tenant vill not swing ze case one vay or ze ozer, my boy. I vould come forth to ze police if it might. What does it matter if Hemsworth was renting it or Nottingham? Ze Vizard is dead and His Highness had good reason to do it. Let ze law take its course. Nottingham vas my tenant and I vant zis dealt vith immediately. Zey have zeir man!”
    Sherlock’s head drops. There is nothing else he can do. He can’t even take the hat.
How could I explain that? I can’t steal evidence in front of the owner
. Since Riyah won’t come forward, Sherlock doesn’t even have proof that the workshop belongs to Nottingham. “I have to get out of here.”
    “So, you are a Jew too, you say?”
    “Part.”
    “And zat vas difficult for you, yes?”
    “Very.”
    “For me too, my son. I even changed my name. Before I came to zis country, I vas known as Abraham Hebrewitz.”
    Sherlock’s head snaps up, but not at Mr. Riyah. He is looking over his shoulder and across the room … in the direction of the hat.

A.H. TO THE RESCUE
    “S ir, have you misplaced your hat?”
    The man’s eyes brighten. “Vhy yes! I haven’t been able to find it for several days. How do you know zis? Are you some sort of magician yourself?”
    Sherlock walks over to the hat and shines his candle on it. It is almost hidden between the tropical plants and pot of mushrooms. Riyah turns around and sees what he is doing.
    “Zat’s it!” cries the Jew. He tucks it under his arm and does a jig. “My hat! My hat! My gloriously expensive old hat!”
    “Sir, we must be quiet!”
    But it is too late. There is a rumbling above, then a thudding coming down the inner stairs from the hotel.
    “I have to go!
Now!
” cries Sherlock.
    “Not so fast!” Riyah reaches out and seizes the boy by the arm. Suddenly, the sixty-year-old man seems much younger and much stronger than before. There is a glint in his eye as he holds Sherlock and twists his arm with great skill, the sort of martial arts hold that Sigerson Bell might apply. The boy feels as though his arm will be pulled from its socket if he attempts to move. Riyah is hiding the hat behind his back.
    The inner door to the hotel slams open.
    “Got you!” cries the keeper, glaring at Sherlock. Then he notices who is holding him. “Mr. Riyah!” The name is spoken with the respect due to one’s economic better, and nothing more. “I haven’t seen you for a while, sir. It’s just as well that it’s you who caught this scamp because we have been trying to find you. Now we have you both. This boy has been here before; last night, in fact. I will send Scuttle to get the police.”
    “No need,” says Riyah in a surprisingly soft voice as he releases Sherlock from his grip. “It vas I who brought zis boy here. I noticed him outside, loitering about, und asked him in. I thought he might like to see ze crime scene. Zere is no harm. You vill recall your own boyhood interest in sensation, no doubt?”
    “Why, yes, sir, I suppose. But you must remove him, now … if you will. And make your own way to police headquarters, sir. They are anxious to speak with you.”
    “I prefer to stay out of zis, Mr. Starr. You vill tell zem zat you have not seen me. Hmm?”
    “But —”
    Riyah reaches into a pocket of his greatcoat, pulls out a few coins and passes them to the keeper.
    “Yes … sir. But … even you cannot come here again, not for the rest of the week. The police are forbidding anyone to be here. I went to their offices earlier today to tell them that I found this boy near the back door last night. They were not pleased. They are worried that word may spread about this location.