“That is what happened,” said I. “And with the death of Moriarty, so came the fall of his criminal empire.”
“Ah, if that were only true,” said the old man. “You know firsthand that there have been serious attacks on the credibility of M. Holmes since his death, just as I presume you are aware that these attacks have been made by friends and—some say—relatives of the late professor.”
“Impugning a dead man’s good name is the act of a coward,” I said, “but that hardly suggests that Moriarty’s confederates are behind it.”
“You’re saying they’re not?”
“Oh, they are, but it is not because they want to defend the memory of a man they claim was cruelly wronged by M. Holmes. No, hardly that. By deflating the importance of what Holmes achieved, they reduce the veracity of his claim that Moriarty was anything more than an eccentric academic. I believe you suspected this, which is why, after two years of silence, you chose to publish an account of the last battle between your friend and his great enemy.”
I nodded. “As you say. But to my point about Moriarty being—as Holmes put it—the Napoleon of crime, has not criminal behavior dropped significantly since Moriarty’s fall?”
“In England? Mm, perhaps it would appear so, from a certain distance. Arrests have, to be sure. Obvious crime has changed in frequency. But, Doctor, the death of Professor Moriarty has not resulted in the destruction of his empire.”
“It has.”
“It could not have,” insisted Dupin, “because Moriarty was not the emperor of crime that your late friend suggested. He was formidable, make no mistake, and had he lived he might well have risen to become the true king of kings to the world of crime. A strong case can be made for that, though not an unbreakable one. After all, Moriarty became known, did he not? M. Holmes discovered his name and was able to provoke him so thoroughly that in the end, the professor was trapped into believing that there was nowhere left to turn except direct physical attack. Alas, M. Holmes rose to this challenge and they fought like animals on a cliff, and in their folly plunged to their deaths.”
We sat for a moment with the heaviness of his words weighing upon us. I wanted to argue, to defend Holmes’s rash action in descending to barbarity when his intellect had always been his keenest weapon. Even now, three years since that horrible moment, I could not understand why he did it in that way. He robbed the world of himself and of all the good he could do.
Finally, I cleared my throat and said, “Holmes sacrificed his life to protect the world from Moriarty.”
“He did,” agreed Dupin, “but the matter has greatly disturbed me, for the way in which it played out offends logic. Having read your account I know that it offends you, too.”
“For someone who has never met Sherlock Holmes or Professor Moriarty you profess to know much about them and their motives.”
Dupin nodded. “It is my particular, ah, method to try and open a door into the head of a person in order to try and think as they think. It is a kind of subjective analysis overseen by logical process, do you follow?”
“I believe so.” And I did, because I had read about it in Poe’s stories—and seen examples of it with Holmes. To understand a criminal, or at times a victim, he needed to tune his thoughts to what he supposed theirs must have been. I said as much to Dupin and he nodded.
“Very good, Doctor, and well put. You are a remarkable fellow and perhaps do not give yourself enough credit in your accounts of M. Holmes’s investigations.” He patted his thighs with his palms. “As for Messieurs Holmes and Moriarty . . . their actions trouble me because they are out of keeping with who they were. Moriarty was, at least in terms of his dominance of crime here in England, a Napoleon of sorts. Holmes was, inarguably, an intellect of the first order. If you have not exaggerated his powers—and I believe the contrary to be the case—one might say he was a Da Vinci. Ahead of his time, and energetic enough to make sure that he did not squander his gifts. For my part, Doctor, I confess that I have been content to allow the police to consult occasionally with me, but I seldom went in active pursuit of a case. My family was once wealthy and we fell upon hard times, and perhaps I suffer from a kind of familial ennui. I have my skills, but I have always lacked the energy to find new battles in which to test them.”