PETER CONAN KRANZ
HOLMES, WATSON AND SALOME climbed steadily, but gasping for breath as the poisonous sulphur seeped into their lungs.
“Holmes. I can go no further!” Watson cried.
“Watson, Salome, grab your kerchiefs, soak them in water from your canteens and tie them to your faces. That will give us some more minutes.”
So painfully they made their way forward, until finding themselves at the entrance of a tunnel.
They groped their way inside and paused to take breath. Holmes produced a lantern.
Cautiously they made their down a precipitous slope and came across a huge cavern.
A shadowy figure emerged and a hundred frightening warriors jumped from the darkness, menacing Holmes and his little party with deadly spears.
“Holmes, how good of you to drop in,” said a voice marinated in viper venom.
"Moriarty! You have caught us at a disadvantage. What do you expect now?"
"Why Holmes," murmured Moriarty stroking a tame cuscus cradled in his arm, "I expect you to die!"
With the speed of a lightning bolt, Salome grabbed a hanging vine, swinging behind Moriarty while drawing from her belt a razor sharp bushknife.
“Unga, ungera, wailo wei! Yu noken bagarapim wantok bilon me!" she shrieked with a voice full of menace.
Salome drew the knife across Moriarty’s throat. "Rausim ol dispela raskol kwiktaim!"
Moriarty shivered in fear. Holmes, command that dreadful creature to unhand me!”
“Not so fast, Moriarty, first I have some questions. And be careful, your life may depend upon the answers.”
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