The Future Door Read Online Free Page A
die.
Suddenly, there was a sharp snapping noise. Griffin felt something attach itself to his coat. Then, without warning, he found himself jerked upward like a marionette on a string.
As a volley of bullets sparked off of the cobblestones where his head had been only seconds earlier, he saw his uncle standing before him with a strange contraption on his wrist. Rupertâs legs were braced against the carriage wall for support as a cable spun on a large pulley, reeling Griffin in like a freshly caught fish.
âGot you, boy!â Rupert shouted as he yanked Griffin back into the cab.
Griffinâs relief was only momentary. He was just about to warn his uncle to get down, for the woman in the next cab was sure to have reloaded. But the words never left his mouth. The next thing he knew, the cab that they were riding in gave a sudden, tremendous lurch.
There was a terrific BOOM!
And as his head collided against something solid, everything went black.
3
THE MORIARTYS
T he beefy man hesitated before knocking on the carved wooden door. His tiny eyes were glazed over in concentration, and his big jaw worked up and down, chewing a piece of stale licorice.
Chester Drummond was not an intelligent man; anybody could tell that by looking at him. But he was good at following orders . . . when he could remember them.
And as Chester stood outside the door of the most feared man in London, he desperately tried to remember what he had wanted to say.
Chester twisted his floppy cap in his meaty hands. He knew he shouldnât have stopped to talk to Sweet Katie at the fish market. Every time he talked to a pretty girl, his mind went completely blank. He should have come straightaway after getting the papers from the lamp on Baker Street.
Then suddenly it hit him. With a big smile on his dopey face, he pounded on the door, nearly breaking the brass knocker with his effort.
After a series of shuffling footsteps, the door swung open to reveal a greasy-looking manservant. The lank-haired butler didnât say a word, but stared at Chester with a pair of baleful eyes.
âI . . . Iâve come to see Mister Moriarty,â Chester stammered.
â Professor Moriarty,â the butler corrected. Then, after grimacing up at him, the butler stepped aside. Chester ducked his head beneath the door frame and entered the elegantly furnished apartment.
The place was dark, possessed by a gloom that no gaslight or kerosene lamp could penetrate. On the opposite wall from where Chester stood were countless trophies, the stuffed heads of ferocious beasts of one kind or another.
Chester stared at a huge rhinoceros head with a fang-like horn. The beady glass eyes looked so real that it was hard to believe the thing was actually dead. He shivered and took in the other creatures: the snarling mountain lion, several kinds of bear, and something else so strange and alien, with a tentacle mouth and large, insect-like eyes, that Chester couldnât tell what it was. The whole effect was terrifying, with each of the creatures forever frozen in an attitude of vicious attack or terror.
His eyes traveled down the rows of creepy-looking predators, finally settling on a shadowy figure that crouched beneath them. He couldnât quite determine whatâor who âit was.
There was a hiss of steam. Then the shadow inched forward, rolling toward him on a pair of mechanical wheels. As it drew closer, Chester realized that it was Professor Moriarty. The sight of him couldnât help reminding Chester of an old spider, slowly emerging from its web.
âYou were supposed to be here over two hours ago,â the professor croaked.
Suddenly, Chester had no words. He stared at the man in the chair as his mouth moved up and down with nothing coming out.
He was terrified.
âThe photographs, you dolt. Did you bring the photographs or not?â
Chester felt his hand move automatically to his jacket pocket. He removed the small papers
Suddenly, there was a sharp snapping noise. Griffin felt something attach itself to his coat. Then, without warning, he found himself jerked upward like a marionette on a string.
As a volley of bullets sparked off of the cobblestones where his head had been only seconds earlier, he saw his uncle standing before him with a strange contraption on his wrist. Rupertâs legs were braced against the carriage wall for support as a cable spun on a large pulley, reeling Griffin in like a freshly caught fish.
âGot you, boy!â Rupert shouted as he yanked Griffin back into the cab.
Griffinâs relief was only momentary. He was just about to warn his uncle to get down, for the woman in the next cab was sure to have reloaded. But the words never left his mouth. The next thing he knew, the cab that they were riding in gave a sudden, tremendous lurch.
There was a terrific BOOM!
And as his head collided against something solid, everything went black.
3
THE MORIARTYS
T he beefy man hesitated before knocking on the carved wooden door. His tiny eyes were glazed over in concentration, and his big jaw worked up and down, chewing a piece of stale licorice.
Chester Drummond was not an intelligent man; anybody could tell that by looking at him. But he was good at following orders . . . when he could remember them.
And as Chester stood outside the door of the most feared man in London, he desperately tried to remember what he had wanted to say.
Chester twisted his floppy cap in his meaty hands. He knew he shouldnât have stopped to talk to Sweet Katie at the fish market. Every time he talked to a pretty girl, his mind went completely blank. He should have come straightaway after getting the papers from the lamp on Baker Street.
Then suddenly it hit him. With a big smile on his dopey face, he pounded on the door, nearly breaking the brass knocker with his effort.
After a series of shuffling footsteps, the door swung open to reveal a greasy-looking manservant. The lank-haired butler didnât say a word, but stared at Chester with a pair of baleful eyes.
âI . . . Iâve come to see Mister Moriarty,â Chester stammered.
â Professor Moriarty,â the butler corrected. Then, after grimacing up at him, the butler stepped aside. Chester ducked his head beneath the door frame and entered the elegantly furnished apartment.
The place was dark, possessed by a gloom that no gaslight or kerosene lamp could penetrate. On the opposite wall from where Chester stood were countless trophies, the stuffed heads of ferocious beasts of one kind or another.
Chester stared at a huge rhinoceros head with a fang-like horn. The beady glass eyes looked so real that it was hard to believe the thing was actually dead. He shivered and took in the other creatures: the snarling mountain lion, several kinds of bear, and something else so strange and alien, with a tentacle mouth and large, insect-like eyes, that Chester couldnât tell what it was. The whole effect was terrifying, with each of the creatures forever frozen in an attitude of vicious attack or terror.
His eyes traveled down the rows of creepy-looking predators, finally settling on a shadowy figure that crouched beneath them. He couldnât quite determine whatâor who âit was.
There was a hiss of steam. Then the shadow inched forward, rolling toward him on a pair of mechanical wheels. As it drew closer, Chester realized that it was Professor Moriarty. The sight of him couldnât help reminding Chester of an old spider, slowly emerging from its web.
âYou were supposed to be here over two hours ago,â the professor croaked.
Suddenly, Chester had no words. He stared at the man in the chair as his mouth moved up and down with nothing coming out.
He was terrified.
âThe photographs, you dolt. Did you bring the photographs or not?â
Chester felt his hand move automatically to his jacket pocket. He removed the small papers
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