The eyes and ears of the Moriartys were everywhere, stretching from London and watching and listening in all corners of the globe. Regular reports came into the professor’s many secret headquarters, and the information was passed through the shadows and alleys, traveling along twisting paths and strands until the news he needed reached the heart of his web.
And such ears and eyes were also present at the docks of Boston Harbor. In a shadowy corner near a weathered-looking sail repair shop, a pair of Professor Moriarty’s ears belonged to a blind beggar named Silas, and a pair of his eyes to the beggar’s monkey, Peanuts.
As the beggar turned the handle on his rusted calliope, he wasn’t listening to the piping music. His task was to identify the comings and goings of everyone on the docks, and because of the absence of sight, he’d developed his hearing to an uncanny ability.
So when Silas Grunge heard the tap-tap-tap of Griffin’s cane, his eyebrows raised in recognition. For Silas knew the exact noise that that particular cane made, having heard it on many other occasions back in London. Its hidden blade had cost him his sight, and he would never forget the particular ringing its tip made as it clinked against the cobblestones, each one sending shudders through his bony frame.
If there had been any doubt that it was the two people whom he’d been instructed to listen for, Peanuts confirmed it for him. The monkey, trained as a pickpocket, slid its dexterous paw into Griffin Sharpe’s jacket as he walked up the gangplank to the ship and withdrew as evidence the pocket watch given to him by Frederick Dent.
Even with his legendary gifts of observation, Griffin Sharpe was completely unaware of the loss of the watch, his attention turned instead to maintaining control of the frenzied Toby, who wanted more than anything else to attack the chattering monkey.
Peanuts gave the timepiece to his master. And after running his gnarled fingers over the surface and recognizing exactly what it was, blind Silas Grunge pocketed the watch and with unexpected speed dashed down a nearby alley to the back door of a nearby telegraph office.
Within moments, the message “BOY AND SNODGRASS ALIVE stop ATRAX PLAN FAILURE stop RETURNING TO LONDON” blazed across electric wires, traveling the long cables to London like vibrations sent down a spider’s web.
And Silas knew that the old, gray spider that waited on the other side would not be pleased by the news that these two juicy flies had escaped his clutches.