The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part XIII

Hemlock the Magician carried Vittoria Donna Gina back to her dressing room on the circus grounds in Stamford's Meadows along the Welland.

He reached into her cabinet and pulled out a huge brown bottle of her medication.

Inside the bottle was an iodine red looking colour that was horrible to the taste.

Nevertheless Vittoria drank.

She then collapsed into a deep sleep.


* * *



Later that afternoon, London's travelling comb and hairbrush salesman Theodore Wilson (who was staying at the George Inn on the other side of the Welland River in Stamford) visited the circus grounds.

He entered the tent of one of the Spanish gypsy dancers- figuring it was the lovely brunette gypsy he had made out with last night when Sherlock Holmes had inadvertently walked in on them.

But no! It was a beautiful blonde Spanish gypsy dancer!

Now it just so happened that Wilson kept a gold sovereign in his pocket for emergencies so he handed the blonde gypsy a gold sovereign and she agreed to make out with him.

When he had finished making out and the blonde had fallen into a deep sleep from exhaustion, he then walked over to the next gypsy dancer's tent.

This wasn't the lovely brunette he had made out with last night either.

It turned out to be a lovely and breathtakingly beautiful redheaded Irish gypsy girl.

But fortunately for Mr. Theodore Wilson he had another gold sovereign in his pocket (after all, this was another emergency!) and he paid her.

She too made out with him.

After she had fallen asleep from exhaustion, Theodore left this tent and walked over to the next gypsy dancer's tent.

This was the tent of the lovely Spanish brunette gypsy dancer whom he had made out with in his room in the George Inn last night.

She was a freebie of course! (which was a good thing because he might need that last gold sovereign for an emergency in York!).

However the brunette was more virile than he was and it was Theodore Wilson who fell asleep exhausted in her tent.

The brunette put on her white top and purple dress and then went outside to give a performance- well another performance that is- one involving a different use for her legs.

When Theodore Wilson woke up, it was early evening.

As he got up to put his clothes on, he noticed a small black cat was staring at him.

The cat was looking at him with pure hatred in its eyes.

What's up with this cat? Theodore wondered.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty," Theodore Wilson called to it.

The cat jumped up and savagely clawed to ribbons a certain part of Mr. Wilson's anatomy despite Wilson's screams for help and his unsuccessful efforts to get the cat off his favourite part of his anatomy.

As the cat jumped off Mr. Wilson's favourite part of his anatomy and ran out the tent door, Mr. Theodore Wilson was beside himself.

"My life is over," Wilson wept, "with my favourite part of my anatomy gone."

Wilson ran out of the tent naked.

He had no clothes, no combs, no brushes, or anything else for that matter that might be considered useful wares.

Wilson ran over to the cage of Krakatoa the Sumatran tiger.

He stuck his head in through a fairly large hole in the cage through which the handlers placed the tiger's food.

"Eat me, eat me, eat me," he begged Krakatoa.

Finally Krakatoa let out a large roar and came over and did just that.

He bit off Wilson's head at the place of the jugular vein in the neck and started chewing on it and eating it.

Later the tiger vomited.

He found Wilson's head to be about as palatable to his stomach as circus performers felt the circus cook's attempt at French onion soup to be as palatable to their stomaches.

As for Theodore Wilson, travelling comb and brush salesman and all round totally obsessed sex maniac, his epitaph might well have been, "He lived for pussy. He died for pussy."


To be continued.

The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part XII

It was the middle of the night. And Hemlock the Magician was walking down the streets of Stamford with the lovely Vittoria Donna Gina by his side.

She was dressed in an exquisite red evening dress with ruffled sleeves and ruffles on the edges of her skirt.

Hemlock the Magician was carrying a large staff with him- the sort of staff that Merlin the Wizard might have carried as he weaved his magic in the days of King Arthur.

As he walked along the street, vigourously pounding his staff atop the cobblestones, he sang to the houses about him,

"Ich kann wohl manchmal singen
Als ob ich frohlich sei."

While touching her breast, Vittoria Donna Gina sang in English,
"Though troubled in my heart I sing
With gladness seeming true..."

Hemlock then stopped by the ancient graveyard of Saint Martin's Church and sang while looking at the gravestones,
"Und keiner kennt mich mehr hier."

Also looking at the gravestones, Vittoria Donna Gina threw back her long luscious dark hair over her shoulders and sang in English,
"Unknown here, no kin shall I find."

They walked a little further up the street coming to stand in front of The George Inn.

Hemlock touched Vittoria Donna Gina by the arm and then started stroking her hair while he sang,
Ja, du weifst es teu're Seele
Dafs ich fern von dir mich quale
Lieb macht die Herzen krank
Habe Dank...

Vittoria Donna Gina sang back in English,
"Yes, dear soul, thou know'st it truly,
Far from thee my heart's unruly
Love inflicts such misery
Grateful be..."

"Spending your night singing Schumann and Strauss to the dead and to ghostly shadows," Holmes approached in the darkness from the darkened doorway of the George Inn.

"Mr. Holmes," Vittoria Donna Gina started adjusting her dress and then fussed with her hair.

Behind the golden mask of Tragedy, the eyes of Hemlock the Magician flickered with hatred at Sherlock Holmes.

"It helps me relax," Hemlock spoke.

"And what does it do for you, Miss Vittoria?" Holmes asked as he lit his pipe.

"Well..." Vittoria stammered, "I'm not sure really..."

"Are you staying at the George Inn, Mr. Holmes?" Hemlock asked.

"No, I'm just visiting the Inn on a matter for the Stamford Police," Holmes replied, "Fred Clegg and I are staying at some lovely rooms in the Lord Burghley Pub up on Broad Street. Make an excellent breakfast I must say- eggs, bacon, black sausage pudding, fried tomatoes. They also make the best steak and kidney pie in all of England in my opinion. Interesting Saint Bernard in the pub called D'urberville who's the owner's dog. He keeps the floor looking spotless. Any ale or cream spilled on the floor. It's gone just like that. The barmaid doesn't even have a chance to get a mop because poof! the mess is gone."

"Oh dear," Miss Vittoria Donna Gina turned a very pale colour all of a sudden, "I feel so faint."

"Miss Vittoria needs to go back to her dressing room and take her medication," Hemlock took her arm, "it will be dawn soon. Miss Vittoria needs to get a little rest this evening."

"Miss Vittoria needs to take medication?" Holmes looked concerned, "what's wrong with her?".

"Naturally doctors and physicians don't know," Hemlock spoke in anger, "the idiots. What's up with medical schools these days?".

"If you're ever in Edinburgh, might I recommend you stop off at the University of Edinburgh Medical School," Holmes suggested, "they have excellent and competent people there."

"If we're ever in Edinburgh, we'll do that Mr. Holmes," Hemlock thanked him, "what was this police matter you were on at the George Inn?".

"A woman from Easton-On-The-Hill named Sonia Henderson was reported missing by her husband," Holmes explained, "apparently First Officer Henderson got home earlier than expected on his shore leave from the Royal Navy and was quite surprised not to see his wife home. But he was told by neighbours that she had come into Stamford to do some shopping. And when it was 11 PM, he decided to come into Stamford to look for her. He apparently passed some distraught gentleman in the garden of the George Inn who was shouting, "Where the Hell is she? Where the Hell is she?". Anyways the Stamford Police are scouring the town looking for her. So I was asked by the Chief Constable to make inquiries at the George Inn. He was wondering if the man shouting, "Where the Hell is she? Where the Hell is she?" knew anything about Mrs. Henderson."

"And did you find him?" Hemlock asked.

"Not sure," Holmes said, "I did have one embarassing moment where I walked in on a man making out with one of the beautiful Spanish gypsy dancing girls who works for your Mr. Steinenfrank's circus. She was dressed in some exquisite lingerie I must say and was flogging his buttocks with a small whip. I remember the man was singing a song that went, "You're simply the best. Better than all the rest. Better than anyone, anyone that I've ever met." Judging from the huge supply of combs and hairbrushes he had in his open briefcase, I gather that he was probably a travelling salesman of some sort."

"Oh God," Vittoria finally fainted.

Standing in the threshold of St. Martin's Church just down the street, the mysterious dark haired dark eyed bearded stranger with the exquisitely tailored suit and walking stick- the man that Hemlock the Magician called "the circus thief" and the man that the town's meat pie maker Alistair Campbell called "Antichrist"- stood there observing the whole scene that had just unfolded.


To be continued.

The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part XI

Theodore Wilson was a hairbrush and comb travelling salesman from London.

He travelled the country selling his wares.

And like a sailor, he had a woman in every port.

Sonia was the name of his woman in Stamford- Theodore reflected as he downed the mug of pale ale in the pub of Stamford's George Inn.

Although technically Sonia wasn't really from Stamford. She lived in Easton-On-The-Hill a village a few miles southwest of Stamford.

But she was the hottest and friskiest of all his women around the country.

She was always willing to have sex.

And Theodore liked that.

He craved sex. It was almost like he was addicted to it.

Tiger in the woods entered his mind.

Strange why that should enter his mind.

For Theodore Wilson had encountered a tiger in the woods earlier in the day while he was walking in the woods near the Burghley House Estate just outside of Stamford.

The Burghley House had been built by William Cecil the First Lord Burghley (1520-1598) who had served as Secretary of State and later Lord High Treasurer for Queen Elizabeth the First. Burghley House was regarded by many as the finest standing Elizabethan House in England.

There were also impressive looking woods on the grounds of the Burghley House Estate so Theodore Wilson was quite surprised to see a tiger standing there.

"Krakatoa! Krakatoa!" a man had shouted at the tiger.

Krakatoa?

Theodore Wilson was stunned.

Was a volcanic eruption about to occur in these woods as well?

The tiger ran towards the man shouting Krakatoa.

Soon a group of men had put a leash and chain on the tiger.

When Wilson had returned to the George Inn, he had heard there was currently a circus in town which would be staying a fortnight.

The circus had set up tents and caravans in the Meadows just across the other side of the River Welland from the George Inn.

That would explain the tiger in the woods Wilson thought.

Now back to sex Wilson thought.

Sex and Sonia.

Those were the two thoughts that occupied Wilson's mind now.

Sonia was a voluptuous redhead with a huge pair of coconuts in front.

He remembered he had almost lost Sonia as a port of entry here in Stamford last year.

Apparently on his visit before that he had promised Sonia a fur coat, a sudden exuberant promise Wilson had made to her in a passionate moment of coitus un-interruptus.

Wilson had of course forgotten all about the promise when he showed up at her doorstep in Easton-On-The-Hill last year.

Sonia had sworn at him and slammed the door in his face.

Never mind coitus un-interruptus or coitus interruptus. This looked to be a case of coitus never get off the ground-us at the moment.

Wilson went back to the George Inn feeling extremely depressed.

Not to mention sexually frustrated.

How the Hell could he afford a fur coat?

Wilson walked through the town of Stamford.

As he walked around town, he noticed there seemed to be a fair amount of cats around Stamford.

Hm, Wilson thought to himself.

Cats have fur.

And he had plenty of experience with skinning and taxidermy.

Hm, Wilson thought to himself.

Why not? Wilson thought.

Desperate times require desperate measures.

As he had once told a young Harrow schoolboy named Winston Churchill.

So Wilson had become a cat killer in Stamford last year.

In fact he gathered that folks this year were still talking about the mysterious Stamford Cat Killer who killed cats and skinned their fur.

Wilson understood that cats were disappearing around Stamford this spring as well. Only this time they were completely disappearing. No skinned bodies left behind.

Wilson went and knocked on the door of Sonia's house in Easton-On-The-Hill last year.

She shrieked with delight when she saw the fur coat that he was giving her.

And he shrieked with delight when he saw the little bit of fur that she was now giving him.



* * *




But that was last year of course.

That was then.

This was now.

And now Sonia would be meeting him here at the George Inn.

For a night of wild passionate and kinky lovemaking.

Williams stood at the entrance to the garden of the George Inn.

It was a warm spring night.

So Williams thought he would wait in the garden and watch his beloved's approach from the southwest- from Easton-On-The-Hill.





* * *



But Sonia wouldn't be approaching from Easton-On-The-Hill.

She was in Stamford's High Street planning a surprise of her own.

She had bought some lovely new lingerie and a lovely blue dress.

She put it on in the women's clothing shop and gave her old dress away to a church bazaar that was raising funds for charity.

She then stopped off in Alistair Campbell's Meat Pie Shop to buy some of his delicious meat pies so she and her Theo could share them together.

Campbell seemed to be hung over which was strange she thought because it was at 8 at night and not at 8 in the day.

He was busy mumbling something about the Antichrist being in town as she bought the pies.

She left the shop and wrapped the fur coat (that Theo had given her last year) tightly around her shoulders even though it was a warm spring night.

She felt a chill for some reason.

She didn't know why.

As she walked down one of the narrow cobbled stone alleyways to get from High Street to St. Mary's Street and then to the intersection of St. Mary's Street and St. John's Street where she would then walk down to the Wharf Road Intersection and then cross the St. Martin's Street bridge across the River Welland to get to the George Inn.

As she walked down the alleyway, groups of cats surrounded her.

They meowed and meowed and tried to jump on the fur of her coat.

What was with these cats? she asked herself.

Every time she wore this fur coat, cats always seemed to be attracted to it.

She ran down the cobble stone in her high-heeled shoes to escape the cats.

She heard meowing and cat calls behind her.

She stopped and leaned against a door in the alley way to catch her breath.

Then suddenly the meowing stopped.

Totally stopped.

No meowing of any sort.

Just a deathly silence.

Sonia looked back down the narrow alley way.

All she seemed to see was black night.

Black night?

t was pitch darkness.

She couldn't see anything down the alley.

It was just a huge pitch blackness.

And the darkness seemed to be moving.

Moving down the alley.

The pitch blackness was moving towards her.

It was as if the darkest of dark nights had descended on this narrow cobble stoned alley on what should be a lovely spring evening and this darkest of dark nights had taken form and was moving towards her.

Soon the darkness was upon her.

And the darkness fed on her fur coat.

And then the darkness decided to eat the rest of her.

And so the darkness did.


To be continued.

The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part X

Vittoria Donna Gina looked into Sherlock Holmes' eyes, "Oh Holmesey dearest, I feel like a naughty schoolgirl standing in your presence. Will you give me a good spanking?".

Holmes fidgeted for a giant hairbrush, "And when would you like this spanking, Miss Vittoria?".

"Well n..." Vittoria was interrupted.

"Another ten minutes," someone banged on the door of her dressing room.

"What?" Vittoria emerged from her daydream to gaze at her red corsetted figure in the mirror.

"Ten minutes to showtime," the little dwarf stage manager called out.

"Thanks," Vittoria stood up and put on her black silk nylon stockings.

Then she put on an exquisitely beautiful green velvet dress and some intensely shiny black spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

"Oh, Holmes, what does your other pipe look like?" Vittoria moaned in ecstasy to herself as she stood there smoothing her dress, "show me."

She looked up at her own reflection in the mirror. And then noticed someone else behind her standing at the open door.

It was the dark haired dark bearded dark eyed man in the tailored suit carrying the fancy walking stick. The one she had last seen standing on the shore near the Liverpool wharf where the Matilda Briggs had docked.

The one that her boss Hemlock the Magician had always referred to as "that thief".

The one that Sherlock Holmes the world's greatest consulting detective had said was "probably Italian in his nationality".

"Miss Vittoria, there's something you need to know..." the man spoke.

Vittoria screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

"It appears someone else doesn't like the cook's disastrous attempt at French onion soup either," one of the clowns on the circus campsite grounds said to the Sumatran orangutan Darwin as he heard the screams.

The clown spit out the onion soup from his mouth and when Darwin reached for the clown's bowl and took a sip, he immediately did the same.

Holmes and Clegg meanwhile upon hearing the screams rushed to Vittoria's dressing room.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes," Vittoria fell into his arms.

Clegg looked around outside and spotted the man that Hemlock had identified back in Liverpool as a circus thief walking stealthily away.

A sourly old Scotsman who was the local maker of meat pies in town stood outside one of the tents drinking from a bottle of William Grant's Scotch Whisky.

The man raised his finger when he saw the dark haired dark bearded dark eyed man in the tailored suit and started shouting, "Antichrist. Antichrist. I renounce you as Christ's Enemy and Antichrist."

The Scotsman tried to hit the tall dark stranger over the head with his still nearly full bottle of Scotch whisky.

Thus one wouldn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that the Scotsman obviously detested the well-groomed dark haired dark bearded dark eyed stranger.


* * *


After a good sound slapping from Holmes that seemed to bring Vittoria Donna Gina back to reality (not to mention a deep blushing rosy red colour to her cheeks as well as a strange passionate glow to her smile and a peculiar gleam in her eyes), she was ready for the show.

The first act involved Hemlock the Magician placing Vittoria in a box and sawing her in half.

As Holmes sat in the audience watching the show, he noticed that Hemlock had changed his mask.

Instead of a golden mask showing the face of Tragedy (from the old style ancient Greek dramas) that Hemlock usually seemed to wear, for these bloodcurdling routines of his magician act, he wore a golden mask showing the face of Comedy from the old ancient Greek dramas.

"There's a time to laugh and a time to mourn," Holmes recalled the words of Solomon in Ecclesiastes, "yet where there is joy, Hemlock shows the face of Aeschylus and Sophocles, and where there is intense pain and suffering, he shows the face of Aristophanes."

The next was a knife throwing act in which Vittoria in her green dress stood against a marked background of the human body while Hemlock threw knives at her.

The knives were as close to the potential victim as Holmes had ever seen in a knife throwing routine.

And as Hemlock threw each knife, Holmes thought he detected in the glowing radiant eyes of Hemlock (which seemed to glow and radiate more and more with each throw of the knife) a smile even wider than the huge smiling face of the mask of Comedy.

The next was the arrow through the apple on the head trick.

As the small circus band started to play Rossini's William Tell Overture, Vittoria Donna Gina was tied to a large prop that resembled a tree in the forest. She was then gagged. As the midget stage manager for the circus then stood on a stool to tie a blindfold around Vittoria's eyes, Hemlock the Magician waved him off.

"She shall see exactly what is coming towards her," Hemlock laughed.


The distance between Hemlock with his arrow and Vittoria with the apple on her head was about 30 feet.

In the middle from the top of the circus big tent, a banana tied to the end of a rope was suddenly lowered from the ceiling.

Darwin the Sumatran orangutan was brought on to the stage where he tried to leap up and grab the banana but it was too high for him.

Hemlock then raised his hand.

The band stopped playing the Overture.

He then waved his hand.

The drummer started playing an intense drum roll.

Hemlock then placed an arrow in his cross-bow.

He then took aim.

The arrow then cut through the rope allowing the banana to fall into the waiting anxious arms of Darwin the orangutan.

It then passed through the apple atop Vittoria's head.

Vittoria squirmed.

Holmes noticed that some lovely black locks of hair fell out from atop her head as she was untied.

He then noticed a man came up out of the audience and grabbed those fallen locks of hair.

Holmes did not get a good look at the man but he knew from the elaborate walking stick and the exquisitely tailored texture of his suit- he knew exactly who the man was.

Outside the big circus tent, a heavy and seemingly drunken thick Scottish brogue could be heard hollering the words, "Antichrist. Antichrist."


To be continued.

The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part VIIIa-IX

"Well, it looks like my work has ended here," Holmes looked up at the night sky.

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Holmes," Magus Steinenfrank handed him a cigar.

Holmes put the cigar in his pocket.

"Really, Mr. Holmes, there are probably better places you can put that cigar," Vittoria Donna Gina adjusted her dress.

"Oh, and would you be willing to show me those places, Vittoria?" Holmes winked at the magician's assistant.

"I think it's time we were on our way," Hemlock the Magician grabbed Vittoria's hand and dragged her to a carriage marked Hemlock's Magic Show where he pushed her inside.

"But you will take our case, won't you, Mr. Holmes?" the lawyers Morrison and Dodd cried simultaneously, "you'll find out who or what destroyed our client's steam engine aboard the Matilda Briggs?".

"Yes, I'll take the case," Holmes took out a pouch of his pipe tobacco.

"Oh joy! Oh joy!" Morrison and Dodd joined arms and did an Irish jig with one another.

"I hope you don't think three's a crowd," Captain Heelander joined in.

Morrison and Dodd stopped dancing.

They turned to Holmes, "Anything you need? Do you need something to inspect the engine on the Matilda Briggs again?".

"My work on the Matilda Briggs is finished," Holmes blew smoke rings, "to find who or what destroyed the Matilda Briggs' yellow and orange painted steam engine, it is necessary to follow the circus."

Holmes looked in the direction of the circus caravan caged coach which was covered with a black cloth.



* * *


Stamford, Lincolnshire is an ancient town located approximately 100 miles to the north of London along the old Great North Road leading to York and Edinburgh.

It is situated on the River Welland in a south-westerly protrusion of Lincolnshire between Rutland to the north and west and Peterborough to the south.

The Steinenfrank Circus was located down in what was called The Meadows- a lovely green area along the River Welland.

The townsfolk of Stamford wandered to and fro between the cages.

Children chased after clowns and jugglers.

And Hemlock the Magician stood guard beside the cage covered in black cloth.

"It seems to me, Mr. Holmes, that Hemlock seems to have an unusual interest in the contents of that cage," Fred Clegg the veterinary surgeon stated to the great Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes had asked Fred Clegg to accompany him as he investigated the Steinenfrank Circus as he was sure that whatever caused the destruction of one of the ship Matilda Briggs' steam engines was a large animal of some sort.

Who better to have on hand than a veterinarian?

"I think there's a cat killer loose in Stamford again," one of the townspeople remarked to another, "remember last year how the cats were found dead with their fur skinned."

"Yes, that's true," another man said, "but the cats' bodies were always found. Albeit with their fur missing. These past few days, the cats have just vanished without a trace. No part of their bodies found."

"I tell you, it's the Devil himself that's eating these cats," said a rather eccentric looking gentleman with a big shiny nose, "he's got big ears and big eyes and big teeth and a big tail and big whiskers..."

"Whiskers? The Devil has whiskers? I heard tell the Devil has got big ears and big eyes and big teeth and a big tail but I ain't heard nothing about him having big whiskers. Ain't in Scripture I tell you," insisted one man.

"I don't think Scripture mentions anything about the Devil having those other things either," said the town's newspaper publisher.

The man with the big shiny nose waved his finger at the publisher of the Stamford Mercury, "I don't know what Scripture says. I know as much about Scripture as does my parish Vicar but I know what my eyes saw. The Devil is big and black. Huge in size. His ears reach the spires of Saint Martin's Church. His teeth are enormous. He could eat the altar of Saint Martin's in one gulp. And his tail is about 30 feet long."

"You've been drinking too much again, Mr. Smith," a woman grabbed hold of his collar and dragged him away from the group.

"But Eliza, I haven't," the man with the big shiny nose protested.

"Better not let him out of the house again tonight, Mrs. Smith," the other men laughed.

"These cat disappearances in town that have happened the past few days," Holmes lit his pipe, "what do you make of them, Clegg?".

"A mystery to me, Mr. Holmes," Clegg replied, "but it sounds from what I've heard from upset pet owners in town, that at least 30 cats have disappeared the past four days. Personally I think it's some sort of animal that's eating them."

"I agree with you, Clegg," Holmes nodded, "And it's rather ironic when one thinks about it."

"Ironic, Mr. Holmes?" Clegg looked quizzically at the consulting detective.

"Yes, given what I think is the animal who's been eating them," Holmes looked in the direction of the enormously large covered cage- the cage with the black cloth- guarded by the Man in the Golden Mask- Hemlock the Magician.

To be continued.

The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part VIII

The Steinenfrank Circus Company's caravan of caged coaches arrived on the street near the end of the dock and large groups of circus workers then loaded the animals off the ship Matilda Briggs and into their appropriate cages.

Some workers had to be treated later for minor hernias after they had to push and drag the Sumatran elephant Lady Godliva and her baby elephant Goliath up to their respective caged coaches.

Still other workers had to be treated for MAJOR hernias when they had to load the cage (even bigger than the cage of Lady Godiva and Goliath) covered in black cloth (with a mysterious unknown unseen gigantic animal inside) up the dock and on to a very long and wide flat trailer.

"Well, I guess my job ends here," Holmes said to the circus owner Magus Steinenfrank who had arrived with the caravan, "the animals are now safely on shore and in their cages."

"Indeed that was your job, Mr. Holmes," the cigar-smoking Magus Steinenfrank shook the consulting detective's hand, "I've arranged for my insurance company Lloyd's of London to send you payment if you don't mind, Mr. Holmes."

"Not at all," Holmes smiled at Magus Steinenfrank.

Magus Steinenfrank was a comical looking man. Messed up black hair, beady black eyes behind large black spectacles, a huge moustache and a huge cigar sticking out of his mouth.

"A real groucho," Vittoria Donna Gina replied in answer to a question Fred Clegg had asked about what manner of man her boss Hemlock the Magician was.

"Marx," Holmes mused aloud.

"I beg your pardon?" Magus Steinenfrank said to Holmes.

"I couldn't help but notice the little booklet with pages ripped out of it that you're holding appears to be The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx," Holmes pointed.

"Oh this, I've used it for toilet paper on this trip," Magus laughed, "one just can't seem to get good toilet paper in this part of the country. I find Marx's writing comfortable to remove what I produce literally in comparison to what Marx's writing was full of metaphorically."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Holmes ever the man of reason noted in a calm methodical fashion.

At that moment the ship's porter could be seen walking down the street with his clothes, jacket, shirt and pants all dishevelled.

"Well, it looks like Mrs. Robinson seduced our young porter after all," Scotty the ship's engineer laughed.

"What's the name of your young porter?" Holmes asked.

Scotty started talking to another passenger who had asked him a question so First Mate Leonard Spock answered, "That's young Roddenberry. He keeps quite a detailed log of what happens on our voyages. He hopes someday he says to be able to recount our adventures. And he hopes that someday one of his nephews or maybe even his own children or grandchildren will write a play based on these voyages."

"I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus' garden in the shade," Captain Heelander sang as he looked down at the water.

"And hopefully," Spock said as young Roddenberry approached the dock, "he'll change some of the names and preferably even the locales of our voyages."

"Well hopefully he won't change my name or the nature of my thoroughly masculine personality," Captain Heelander said as he did an impersonation of a British teapot with both his arms.

"Kirk is actually the Scottish word for church," Scotty could be heard explaining to a passenger, "so the church that you told me you were baptised in- Saint James' Church- in many parts of Scotland, it would be referred to as St. James' Kirk."

Young Roddenberry the porter looked at both the teapot impersonating Captain Heelander and then over at Scotty and walked down the wharf back to the ship.

To be continued.

The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part VII

"Whereabouts did you buy your black silk nylon stockings?" Captain Heelander asked Vittoria Donna Gina as the group now stood aboard the deck of the ship Matilda Briggs looking up at the moonlight, "I'm thinking of buying a pair for ... ahem!... a good friend of mine."

The captain looked down at his own reflection in the moonlit water.

First Mate Leonard Spock buried his head in his hands.

"That man at the end of the dock on shore there," the Man in the Golden Mask seethed, "I know him."

Holmes looked at the man standing on shore at the end of the dock. He had dark hair, dark beard and piercing dark eyes which seemed to pierce the soul even from the distance of shore to the deck of this ship.

"He's a thief," Hemlock the Magician adjusted his golden mask so he could view the man better through the mask's eyeholes, "I encountered him often at circuses over in Germany."

"He stole from circuses?" Holmes looked quizzical.

"That he did, Mr. Holmes," the Man in the Golden Mask spat out the words- not a good thing to do when one is wearing a full faced mask.

"Curious," Holmes blew smoke rings into the night's sea air.

"Bloody Hell," the Man in the Golden Mask tried to wipe off the spit from underneath his mask.

"When I was in Germany with Hemlock's show," Vittoria spoke, "that man was always trying to enter my dressing room." She cast her gaze in the direction of the dark haired dark bearded man with piercing dark eyes.

"Obviously more than just a thief," Holmes stated.

"Indeed," Hemlock having wiped away the spit had re-adjusted his mask.

"He looks Italian," Holmes carefully observed the dark haired dark bearded dark eyed man who stood on the shore well-dressed with top hat and cane.

"Italian?" Captain Heelander laughed, "Well that would explain both his being a thief and his being a touch amourous with the ladies then, wouldn't it?".

"Such prejudicial statements and generalizations are irrational and illogical, Captain," Spock once again buried his head in his hands.

"If he is a thief, he certainly isn't your run of the mill common thief," Holmes even from a distance could tell the man was wearing a high quality tailored suit.

The man noticed that Holmes was staring at him intently.

He then turned...

... and seemingly disappeared into the night.

To be continued.