The Devonshire Epicurean Society

Lestrade replied, "Yes, they were trying to make a fast getaway through the kitchen, along with that Clemstra woman and some of the kitchen staff, as well! Good thing we'd brought as many men as you'd suggested, Mr. Holmes. Looks like you were spot-on about this one! I'd never have believed all this if I hadn't a' seen it with me own eyes! Cannibals - in British high society!"

Holmes nodded gravely. "Good work, Inspector - you're nearing retirement, I believe, so I'm sure you'll get a promotion at the Yard when your time comes!"

"It looks like you deserve all the credit, Mr. Holmes - you and the Doctor, here! And here we was, just thinking all these poor young things was runaways, and such. We never should'a doubted you, it pains me somewhat to admit!"

Holmes patted him on the arm reassuringly.

"Not to worry, Lestrade - nobody thinks ill of you for it!"

"And - it was a good thing we spotted your red silk square, tied to your carriage-lamp, as a signal, as we'd arranged! That's how we knew for sure that this was the place."

I stared at Holmes in wonder.

"So - that's where you'd disappeared to, when this whole perverse dinner began! And, that's what I'd noticed different about you when you'd returned - it was missing from your breast pocket!"

Holmes only smiled. "Oh, come now, Watson! You didn't suspect when you came back from the haberdashery this afternoon? One never, ever wears 'red' with formalwear for evening - unless it's a carnation!"

We enjoyed a laugh at this, and then were preparing to leave, when suddenly another young policeman came running up to us, with a small envelope in his hand.

"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes - this was dropped off for you just now, by a messenger boy at the front gate - said it was urgent for you to receive it right quick!"

Holmes took it from him and thanked him, slit the flap open with a penknife, read it, and his face went ashen again! Then, flushed crimson, though with anger or excitement, it was difficult to tell. Just as quickly, he resumed his usual composure, but threw his arms up in the air, and laughed loudly, heartily, and knowingly!

"I knew it - I knew IT - I KNEW IT!! It HAD to be him! This endeavor has all the hallmarks of one of his evil schemes!!"

Holmes turned to me again with a triumphant gleam in his keen eyes that I'd seen many a time before in our long career together. He then thrust the message towards me, which I eagerly wished to read also.

"It has to be him, Watson! Nobodyelsecould conceive of something so fiendishly clever!"

I proceeded to read the missive, while Holmes raved on. It was an engraved invitation of yet another sort, on extremely fine card stock, which the envelope matched.

It read, in an elegant, elongated cursive script:

Mr. Holmes,

Would you and the good Doctor Watson do me

the rare honour of joining me in a "late evening supper",

At precisely Ten O'clock, at the address listed on the opposite?

I can promise you a "very special dish",

As well as a special "dinner guest".

I await your pleasure,

"M"

I looked at Holmes in absolute disbelief, though the events of the evening so far had already tested my credulity beyond its normal limits!

"Holmes," I stuttered, "it can't be - it couldn't be - you said he was DEAD! You said you saw him fall to his death!"

"He's found a way to return somehow, Watson - it's HIM, alright, I'd recognize that handwriting anywhere!"

"You mean...?"

"Yes, Watson - I mean the most dangerous man in all of Western Europe! The most evil criminal genius in the annals of infamy! I'm talking about the 'Napoleon of Crime' -

PROFESSOR JAMES MORIARTY!!"

He glanced again at the indicated address, then at his pocket watch.

"This is somewhere on the lower dockside of the east London waterfront! It's eight-twenty now, if we push the carriage driver for break-neck speed, we can make it to Princetown Station at eight-forty, then return to Victoria at ten minutes of, we'll have to find it fast - come, Watson, no time to lose! Lestrade," he fairly shouted at the man, "finish up here as fast as possible, and then follow us back to London on the nine-thirty train! Quickly, everyone!"

And with that, he fairly flew towards the entry hallway of the house, with myself in tow!

* * *

Holmes and I just barely made the eight-forty train returning to London from Princetown - Lestrade had to wire ahead to both the stationmaster and engineer to hold it until we'd boarded, promising to follow on the very next one. As we sat together in the nearly empty car, Holmes - minus his earlier disguise - leaned slightly forward, keen eyes fixed on his goal, his aquiline profile lending him the appearance of a bloodhound on the scent, silently "sniffing" the air ahead. The tranquil late spring evening was now tinged with an air of menace.

"I tell you, Watson," he declared, "I've felt his evil presence ever since this night began! Even now, I can feel him getting closer, stronger..."

"But surely, Holmes, you must detect a trap in his cryptic message!" I replied. "And this nonsense about a 'special dish, and dinner guest,' in light of all that's happened so far, I have the gravest misgivings about this! You can't just go blindly walking in!"

"Ofcourseit's a trap!" Holmes fairly snapped at me. "What other reason would he have for luring us back to London? That's why we've taken the extra precautions of wiring for back-up once again! The villain is never without his own confederates about, as reinforcements!"

"Well, then - as long as you're sure...?"

"As certain as I've ever been about anything in my life, Watson." he countered. "I just cannot pass up this opportunity once again, to finally bring the blackguard to justice!"

And with that, we once again resumed our silence for the rest of the journey.

* * *

At Victoria Station, we hailed a hansom cab, and after entering, Holmes fairly tongue-lashed the driver like he did his own horse, ever onward.

"Faster, man, FASTER!" he implored, consulting his trusty pocket watch. "Hold the beast to a gallop! This may be a matter of 'life or death'!"

The man, fearful of my friend's wrath, did as told, and we practically careened down the streets of the city, oblivious to the late-evening pedestrians, some of who were heard to loudly object to almost being run down by us! And always, Holmes' stare never wavered, always fixed into the distance.

* * *

At last we arrived on the lower wharf side docks on the Thames, all but deserted at this late hour. It was a particularly seedy area, consisting mainly of darkened, empty shops and warehouses, giving the impression of both solitude and hidden danger. Holmes jumped down from the cab, paid the harried driver hurriedly, and as he galloped off - obviously with no desire to stay around to observe - my friend consulted his watch one last time.

"Five minutes of, Watson", he proclaimed. "We made very good time!" He then intently looked around for the specific address indicated in Moriarty's note, and pointed out in triumph.

"Aha - there!" he said, as I followed his direction. It was a seemingly deserted, nondescript storefront, dark and empty. I had a renewed sense of dire foreboding!

"Here, Watson - take one of these!"

Holmes then produced one of two small electric "pocket-torches" that provided illumination from storage batteries, from out of his dress coat, and handed it to me. We ignited them both, approached the front doorway under the flickering light of one of the old gas lamps still left, and he tried the door handle. It was locked. Undeterred, he next produced a small leather pouch which held a variety of tiny "lock-picks", inserted one of them into the lock, and after a few deft twists and turns - it came open. Holmes looked at me with an air of caution, gloved index finger to his lips.

"Careful, old friend! He's probably hiding inside, listening and waiting! Draw your revolver, please!"

And, as silently as we could, we entered the building, torches poking holes into the darkness.

Once inside, we could barely make out that it was, indeed, a store of some kind - a bakery, most likely - as evidenced by the glass shelves and counters containing some left-over loaves of bread, rolls, tea-cakes, and the like, from the day's sales. There was also the unmistakable, residual aroma of baking still present. We proceeded slowly, floorboards occasionally creaking and groaning beneath our footsteps.

"Holmes," I whispered, "what the deuce would a criminal like Moriarty be doing holed up in a bakery, of all the..."

"SSSHH!!" He implored me, then - sniffed at the air again. "Listen!"

Somewhere towards the rear of the shop, we could hear the certain sounds of crackling flames, as if from an open fire - or, a very large oven! Holmes indicated a dark entryway to the source of the sounds, and then motioned me to follow close behind him. I did as requested.

As we entered the darkness, our torches could only make out a few, brief glimpses of objects in their beams before we suddenly heard - the sounds of music, a familiar orchestral piece, presumably coming from a record played on a gramophone or Victrola, in the near distance.

"Mendelssohn - The Fifth Symphony, 'allegro vivace'!" Holmes whispered. Then, a loud "click" as the place was abruptly flooded with light!

We were in a large, high ceilinged, red-bricked room, and the sudden illumination came from a single electric chandelier of some design, obviously newer than its surroundings. A voice - dark menace in its tone – spoke, "Good evening, gentlemen - so kind of you to accept my last-minute invitation."

It was then we finally saw him. There was no mistaking, from Holmes' frequent descriptions of him to me, the tall, thin figure, the pale ascetic face with the high-domed forehead, the deeply set eyes glittering malevolently, wearing both a mocking smile, and - in place of his usual mourning coat and formal top hat - a white chef's tunic and cap. We were gazing upon the formerly late Professor James Moriarty, alive and in the flesh! What's more, despite the passing of the years, he seemed to be in rather robust health. I felt an involuntary chill run down my spine.

"Moriarty!" Holmes hissed.

"Ah,MisterHolmes, sogoodto see you alive again after all these years! And the good Doctor Watson,n'est pas...? I've become quite the fan of your writings on your mutual exploits with Mr. Holmes here. Especially, the one's whereI'mmentioned, of course!" He allowed himself a mild chuckle at this.

We were now able to view the rest of the room - it was windowless, and sparsely furnished, save for a dining room table and three chairs, laid out for "dinner" with a white damask tablecloth and elegant place-settings for three. On a nearby stand sat a record player, from where the music had obviously originated. Our eyes were drawn, however, to the center-rear, where a massive, gas-fired oven - apparently, the original bakery oven - sat, large cast-iron door open, and hot crackling flames visible within. There was a long, conveyor-belt apparatus leading to the oven's mouth, and on the very far end, nearest us, was a very large, covered roasting pan, contents yet unknown. Given the preceding evening's horrors, this produced a grave premonition indeed!

"Well, Professor," began Holmes, "you're a regular Lazarus! I simplymustknow how you managed your escape from Reichenbach Falls!"

"A very interesting explanation, Mr. Holmes! One that, indeed, brings us about, 'full-circle,' as it were, to our all being present here tonight!" Moriarty replied.

"So - it was you behind this entire scheme all along; the employment agency; the abductions of all those young women; those ghastly dinner parties?"

"Some of my best work I'll have you know! Very efficient methods, for supplying a growing market. But, all in due time, gentlemen. We have the rest of the night all to ourselves!"

"I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, Professor," Holmes informed him, "but even as we speak, there's a contingent of both city police, and officers from the Yard, on their way here any minute now, as I'd cabled them ahead from Devonshire. This building will soon be surrounded, and both you and any of your confederates present will soon be brought to heel!"

"And," returned Moriarty, "I sincerely regret having to inform you, Mr. Holmes, that I'd anticipated such plans, and had that cable intercepted - it was never received! I also had one of my men overpower the switchman at Waterloo Station, thereby diverting the late evening train from Princetown, carrying your Inspector Lestrade and his men, onto another track. It'll be some time before they make it back to London -muchtoo late to help either of you! 'Check' and 'mate' it would seem!" the scoundrel gloated!

Holmes and I exchanged glances - this might be a bluff, or, very well, the exact case!

"Tell us, then," my colleague continued, "about Reichenbach!"

"Very well! When you left me there to die, at the falls..."

"It was my recollection, Professor," countered Holmes, "that you'd originally lured me there, under the most devious of pretexts, to cold-bloodedly murderme!"

"As I was saying," he continued, "I miraculously survived both the plunge, and the immersion, into the icy depths of the pools just beneath the falling waters. I surfaced into a neighboring eddy, where I gradually washed up onto the shore. I must've lain there for the better part of two whole days before my associates finally found me! By that time, I was mortally weakened, both by my 'accident,' and by gnawing hunger. There was no time available to travel to the nearest Alpine town or village for a doctor's care - I wouldn't have lasted the journey! But then, one of my men, who'd spent some time in the deepest unknown of central Africa, overseeing one of my 'enterprises,' came up with the most successful of remedies! He'd had encounters with various native tribes, the particular 'diet' of some - as you might be aware of by now - consisted mainly of what is commonly known in such remote, untamed regions as..."

"Long-pig!" I volunteered with an uncontrolled shudder!

"Exactly, Doctor," the fiend confirmed, "He also remembered the supposed 'life-affirming qualities' of such an exotic 'meat!' With nothing left to lose, we were soon supplied, by providence above, it seemed, with a passing comely young shepherd girl, in her mid-to-late teen years, I'd ascertained by her appearance. We..." he leered at us "...took her, for our 'meal!' Though armed with only pocketknives besides guns, in lieu of proper 'cooking utensils' we managed a fair job of 'field-dressing' the pretty young doe, and roasted her on an oak tree branch, over an open fire. Within a day or so, after resting, we'd all regained enough strength - with the help of some 'left-overs' - to safely make our trek back to civilization. What's more -" he paused for emphasis, "I'd struck upon an entirely new and profitable business venture, the results of which you've already seen tonight!"

Holmes and I had listened to this horrific account with a most dread fascination! I could not contain my revulsion!

"MyGOD, Moriarty!" I spat out, "you are a MONSTER!"

"Thisthingyou've done, Professor, surpasses ALL your previous villainy!" Holmes opined.

"Come, come, now, gentlemen, please spare me your outdated Victorian morality!" Moriarty scoffed. "We've entered a new century - the twentieth - and many things will be ever-rapidly changing! What were once vices are now 'habits,' or at least, the leisure pastimes of the wealthy elite! Surely you've been aware that the practice of cannibalism was never limited only to 'primitive savages' - it's been done in most countries the entire world over, for centuries now, even by many civilized peoples. And - the 'choicest meats' have almost always come from tender, attractive, sexually nubile females, solely by virtue of their youth and gender! I've simply found a way to make a healthy profit from same, like any other business venture. I'm only supplying a demand, like any 'good businessman!'" He stared at us intently. "We've expanded our franchise into most Western European capitols, and eyeing Mother Russia next! Do you know what such meals take in, in pounds sterling, francs, deutschemarks, and lire? There are waiting lists for entry into such exclusive dinners, among those who can afford them!" He practically rejoiced at the thought of such!

"Nodecent, sane,God-fearing individuals would ever consent to such monstrousness!" I exclaimed. "It's tantamount to wholesale butchery, and murder!"

"And what of it? Hasn't that always been the very hallmark of human history, from earliest times?" He regarded us with a new perspective. "Aren't you the least curious to know more of the meaning of my message? About our special dish - and, missing dinner guest?"

Both Holmes and I stayed silent. I knew he must've been frantically searching for an answer to these vexing questions, even a guess, but for once, was drawing a blank!

"It's a veryspecial recipe that I've prepared especially for you, Mr. Holmes - one that I'mcertainthat you'll appreciate! For you see - they are one and the same! You may have heard the ancient aphorism, 'revenge is a dish best served cold?' Then, voila!" He reached out to lift off the cover of the oven pan, to reveal -

"Oh - myGOD!!" I cried.

"Good LORD!!" Holmes exclaimed.

"Perhaps you'd preferyoursserved – piping hot?"

For inside the roasting tray, bound and secured, was -

"MISS ADLER!!" we both cried out.

For indeed, it was her - Miss Irene Norton,nee'Adler, herself - both "The Woman", and "the daintiest little thing under a bonnet", as Holmes himself had described her some time ago now, during their first meeting, whose picture he'd saved all these years later - the very same! She was as utterly naked, and shaved-privately as the other, younger girls at the nightmarish "cattle-barn," garnished all around with various fresh garden vegetables, trussed-up lying on her back, wrists and ankles tied together above her, lewdly exposing her sex, appearing for all the world as - a Christmas goose ready for oven-roasting! She was obviously still alive - thank heavens - for her terrified screams and cries were all but muffled by a sizeable, cored apple gagging her mouth with assist from a wired loop. As her horrified eyes frantically glanced back and forth at the three of us - opening widely in recognition at Holmes - I suddenly recalled the rumor that she'd eventually divorced her husband, Godfrey Norton, before she'd left the United States, then returned to England. Moriarty, or one of his cohorts, must've located and kidnapped her, then brought her to this dire place! I noticed that Holmes was obviously spellbound by this outrageous spectacle.

"Isn't she magnificent, Holmes?" Moriarty offered. "Have you ever seen a tastier, morealluringdish? Wouldn't you justloveto have her, both this way, as well as by the more...'traditional' methods? Now's the time! Remember how shebested you, all those years ago? The only woman ever to have matched wits with 'the great Sherlock Holmes!' You can have your revenge, finally! I offer her up to you, 'served up on a silver platter,' for your personal satisfaction and enjoyment - if only you'll join me in this new undertaking of mine! Think, man, THINK! How well we could work together - the two greatest intellects of our time! We could both become as wealthy as Solomon, and have our pick of the Continent's loveliest, most desirable young women-flesh, at the same time! What say you now, Holmes?"