The Stone of Destiny

by Richard T Ryan

  “Yes, sir” replied the farmer.

  “Would you like to earn a guinea?”

  “Indeed, I would sir.”

  “Then get your cart and drive us to Cork. I will make it worth your while,” said Holmes.

  Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the back of the cart, headed for Cork. I wasn’t quite certain where we were bound after that, but I knew that Holmes had a plan, and he would put it into motion as soon as we arrived at our destination.

  Several hours later, we reached the outskirts of Cork. Holmes then gave the fellow two guineas and made him promise to say that he had never seen us.

  “Will he keep his word?” I asked.

  “I think he will, Watson. He seemed an honest chap, struggling to get by. Besides, he knows that we can find him again, should we so desire.

  “Now, let us purchase some new clothes, enjoy a fine dinner, cooked by someone else for a change, and sleep in a real bed. I’m done with this hardscrabble life for the foreseeable future,” he said.

  “However, I must admit that I do see some tramping about in our near future, so make certain that you purchase comfortable boots.”

  “I had almost forgotten about that,” I said.

  “I’m rather inclined to think that things won’t be as bad as you anticipate. Tomorrow, after I have contacted Mycroft and received answers to several questions, I think we will know a great deal more about the direction our paths will take.”

  It was odd to see Holmes so optimistic, and I found myself wondering whether he had learned something that he had yet to share with me.

  Chapter 32 – Clonakilty, Feb. 22

  “Go on Michael. Don’t be afraid. Tell Mr. Lyons what you saw,” said Kathleen.

  “After I left you, I ran to Mr. Santry and delivered your message. And as I was walking along, I saw the chimney sweep knock another man down in the street with his cart,” said the boy.

  “That’s no crime,” said Lyons, “he was probably still on edge from the tongue-lashing I gave him.”

  “I rather doubt that your threats scared Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said Kathleen bitterly.

  “What are you saying?” asked Lyons.

  “Let the boy finish,” said Kathleen.

  “After the sweep helped the other man up, I continued following him,” said Michael.

  “Why were you following him?” asked Lyons.

  “Miss Kathleen had told me to,” said the youngster.

  “Will you let the boy finish,” said Kathleen.

  “Go on,” said Lyons.

  “I followed the sweep to a cottage on Ring Road, out off Old Timoleague Road. I was hiding in the woods, watching the place, when all of a sudden the man who got knocked down comes limping along. He knocked on the door and went inside. I wanted to get closer and see what they were doing, but I was afraid they might catch me.”

  “That was very smart,” said Lyons.

  “After a while, the door opens and two proper gentlemen come out, and they start walking north toward Ballinascarty.”

  He continued, “As soon as I thought it was safe, I ran to the cottage, There was no one inside. So the sweep and the other man…”

  “Must have been in disguise,” said Lyons, finishing the sentence for him.

  “Describe the men you saw walking away,” said Kathleen.

  “One was very tall and very thin,” said Michael, “and the other was shorter, a bit stouter and looked like a soldier. I followed them for a while and then I came right back here.”

  “Holmes and Watson,” said Kathleen.

  “How could I have been so stupid?” asked Lyons. “We had them here, and we let them slip right through our clutches.”

  “You can go now, Michael,” said Kathleen.

  “Thank you ma’am.”

  Lyons handed the boy a shilling.

  “You needn’t do that, sir,” said Michael.

  “No, but you have earned it,” said Lyons, “Once again, you have done good work, and such labor should always be rewarded. Now, go along and buy yourself something you will enjoy.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather give it to me Ma,” said the lad.

  “It’s your money, Michael, now off with you.”

  After the boy had left, Lyons looked at Kathleen and said, “Why did you have the lad following the sweep?”

  “There was something wrong about my meeting with him. It kept nagging at me. Finally, I decided that it was the fact that he didn’t react in any way when you called to him. He didn’t turn his head, even slightly. It was as though he forced himself not to react.

  “I know the eyes were the wrong color, and he certainly looked nothing at all like the Holmes I had seen in London. Perhaps now that we know he is also a master of disguise, we can turn that to our advantage at some point.”

  “I hope you are right,” Lyons said. “But I must confess that I am a bit concerned about the stone. If Holmes could track us here, there is always the possibility that something we said or did provided him with a hint as to its hiding place.”

  “Do you think it is well hidden?” asked Kathleen.

  “Yes, I believe that it is.”

  “Then leave it be. From now on, we must act as though we are being watched at all times. Even if there are no strangers in Clonakilty at present, not everyone here is sympathetic to our cause. With the right persuasion, Holmes may have convinced one or two of our neighbors to keep an eye on us.”

  “I’m not certain that I like the path we are treading, Kathleen.”

  “It would not be my choice either,” she replied, “but I think it falls to us to make the best of a bad situation.”

  “I believe then it behooves us to send an ultimatum to King Edward. Either free Ireland or give up any hope of being crowned on the stone.”

  “Haven’t we already done that?” she asked.

  “We have, but this time we are going to give His Highness a very strict deadline. He can either meet it or suffer the consequences. If he makes even the slightest concession at all, we will have scored a victory of sorts.”

  “And if he does not?”

  “Then we leave the stone where it is, and go on about our business as though none of this had ever happened. There are only four people who know exactly where the stone is hidden, and I’m certain that while they would like nothing more than to toast the liberation of Eire, they will not be crushed if we are forced to resume our old lives as though nothing had ever happened.”

  “I suppose you are right,” she said. “I suspect that even if we are not given our freedom, we can still celebrate. After all, how many people can say that they humbled the British monarchy and outwitted the great Sherlock Holmes? All things considered, I think those are two accomplishments that you can be pretty proud of Denis.”

  “Thank you, Kathleen.”

  “Don’t be thanking me just yet,” she cautioned. “Holmes is still out there somewhere, and the sooner we know where he is and what he is up to, the happier I will be.”

  “And how do you propose, we do that?” he asked.

  She then explained her plan to him, and when she had finished, he looked at her and said, “That is absolutely brilliant. I wonder if Mr. Holmes has any inkling of the storm that is headed his way.”

  “I do not know, nor do I care,” she laughed.

  “Now, let us set things in motion, for the sooner we get things started, the sooner we will see results. I shall cable the lads in Dublin, Wexford, Waterford, Cork and Killarney. Something tells me they have headed for a big city.”

  “I agree,” she said, “but I don’t think they have gone too far, so for now, tell the men in Cork, Waterford and Killarney to be especially sharp. And tell them just to watch and report ba
ck to you. We know how slippery and how dangerous Mr. Holmes can be, they do not.”

  “Oh Kathleen, to have another chance at that bounder. I am in your debt.”

  As he moved toward her, she grabbed her shawl and said, “I’ve got to be going. It’s past eight and my Mum will be worried sick.”

  “I’ll walk you home,” he offered.

  “You have better things to do,” she reminded him, and then she was out the door. The only sign that she had been there was a faint scent of lavender lingering in the air.

  “You beat me once, Mr. Holmes, but I can guarantee you that it will not happen a second time,” said Lyons to himself.

  Chapter 33 – Cork, Feb. 23

  The next morning, Holmes knocked on the door of my room. “Come on, Watson! It is nearly ten. If you sleep any later, you are going to miss breakfast entirely.”

  “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you in the dining room,” I replied.

  After a quick wash, I combed my hair and headed downstairs. I found Holmes sitting in a distant corner of the spacious dining room. He was as far from any other patron as possible. What struck me as even more unusual was the fact that he was sitting in shadow, right next to a window that afforded a beautiful view of the city on a lovely, sunny day.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering breakfast for you, Watson. Poached eggs, toast and tea?”

  “Thank you, Holmes,” I said. “You seem very chipper this morning. Have you received some good news?”

  “I have, Watson. I think my inquiry to Mycroft may have reduced the number of graveyards that we must search.”

  “Splendid!” I replied.

  “Yes, it seems that before Mr. Lyons moved to the village of Clonakilty, he was a resident of Killarney.” He continued, “Now, Watson, if you wanted to hide a coffin, and you needed to check on it occasionally, where would you conceal it?”

  I was mulling the question over in my mind when my breakfast arrived. After I had attacked the eggs and toast, I said, “I think I should put it in the most remote cemetery that I could find. One that is seldom visited. Perhaps, one that has been deserted, and then I should check on it only at night, so as not to be seen.”

  “Bravo, Watson. You have done just the opposite of everything that I should do.”

  “Really?”

  “Truly. You see if you put it in a remote cemetery, the chances of your being seen going there, I think, are greatly increased. Anyone, anyone at all, who might spot you, would most certainly wonder why is that man here, and what is he doing. More important, perhaps though, is the fact that as a stranger you would be remembered because you would have drawn attention to yourself.

  “As for visiting only at night, an unknown individual spotted in a cemetery might easily be arrested on suspicion of grave-robbing. No, Watson, I’m afraid that won’t do at all.”

  “Well, what would you do?” I sniffed, “Hide it in plain sight?” Sometimes his condescension can be maddening.

  “Not in plain sight, Watson. But I would conceal it so that I could see it whenever I wanted to. Now, I know that sounds a bit of a contradiction, but I am certain that if you give it some thought, you will certainly tumble to it.”

  “Sounds more like a bit of twaddle to me,” I replied. “Conceal it so that I could see it whenever I wanted to,” I said, repeating Holmes’ phrase word for word. Try as I might, I could not grasp the concept of how something could be concealed and yet visible at the same time.

  “I’ve got it,” I exclaimed after a few minutes.

  “Do tell,” said Holmes.

  “You said the Coronation Stone had a cross inscribed on it, did you not?” I asked, and Holmes nodded in assent. “They stood it up in a graveyard, just like any other tombstone. That way they could see it from a distance and all the while it stood there masquerading as a marker.”

  “Bravo, Watson. There is definitely something to be said for that line of thought. However, it has no name, no dates, no writing of any kind; moreover, it has those iron rings. No, Watson, I’m afraid, the Coronation Stone will never be mistaken for a grave marker. But you have opened up a line of inquiry about the nature of gravestones that I intend to pursue.”

  “Have I?”

  “Indeed, you have pointed me in a direction I had not heretofore considered. Now, not to change the subject, but have you noticed those fellows loitering across the street in front of the tobacconist?” Holmes asked.

  Looking out, I saw two men in their 30s, standing across the street. “Do you mean those two fellows reading newspapers?”

  “Yes. They have been standing there since I came down to breakfast. Neither has moved, and neither seems particularly interested in his paper.”

  “Do you think they are looking for us?”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised if there were two such fellows keeping an eye on every hotel in Cork, and perhaps several other nearby cities.”

  He continued, “It’s quite obvious that the Irish Republican Brotherhood now knows for certain that we are in Ireland. My guess is that having eluded them in Clonakilty, they do not know exactly where we are, so they have assigned lookouts to each hotel in hopes of discovering our location and then, having done that, keeping a close watch on our comings and goings.”

  “To what end?” I asked.

  “Perhaps we are getting close to the stone, or perhaps they just want to know the whereabouts of their enemies at all times.”

  “So what are we do? We certainly cannot move freely if they are following us.”

  “I quite agree, so here is what I want you to do,” said Holmes, who then proceeded to outline his plan to me.

  And so it was that a few minutes later, I found myself approaching our watchers. “Good morning, gentlemen. I am Dr. John Watson, and I am here at the behest of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You are?”

  “I’m Dave,” stammered the taller of the two, quite obviously taken aback by my forwardness.

  “And I’m Jimmy,” replied the other.

  “At any rate, Mister Holmes has been watching you, watching the hotel, and he wonders if you might care to join us for breakfast.”

  To say that they were dumbstruck would not even begin to scratch the surface of their befuddlement.

  They looked at each other, and their indecision was as obvious as their hunger.

  “They serve wonderful poached eggs,” I continued, “and Mr. Holmes would be delighted if you would be his guests.”

  “You mean he wants to buy us breakfast?” said the one who had called himself Dave.

  “Indeed, he does,” I replied.

  “Whaddaya think Jimmy?” he said.

  His companion replied, “Nobody said we couldn’t eat if we found them, and nobody said we couldn’t enjoy ourselves a bit.”

  “Should we report in first?” said Dave.

  “You can send a cable from the hotel.” I interjected, “and they will be clearing the dining room fairly soon to prepare for lunch.”

  I think the thought of a free meal and possibly a free cable proved too much.

  “Lead on, Dr. Watson,” said Jimmy.

  So we walked across the street and entered the hotel. As we neared the dining room, I pointed to a solitary figure sitting in the far corner with his back to us and said, “That is Mr. Holmes.”

  Just as we were about to enter the dining room, the hotel manager approached and said, “Dr. Watson, a word please.”

  “Gentlemen, you go ahead. I shall join you presently.”

  As they entered the room, I turned and sprinted through the lobby and out a side entrance where I found Holmes waiting for me in a cab.

  “Bravo, Watson. Now we can be on our way – without fear of interruption.”

  “Who was that in the corner?” I asked.


  “The house detective,” replied Holmes.

  “And where are we headed?”

  “Come Watson, where has this case been leading us ever since we arrived in the Emerald Isle?”

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  “We are going to Killarney, the ancestral home of one Mr. Denis Lyons, and unless I miss my guess completely, the current resting place of the Coronation Stone.”

  Chapter 34 – Clonakilty, Feb. 26

  For obvious reasons, it took two days for word of what had become known as the “Cork Catastrophe” to make its way back to Denis Lyons.

  No one wanted to break the news, but finally James Santry agreed to do it. After he had explained what had happened, Lyons’ reaction was rather predictable.

  “Mother of God! You cannot be serious,” thundered Lyons.

  “I’m afraid I am,” said Santry.

  “Let me see if I follow you,” said Lyons. “This Dr. Watson walks up to our watchers, introduces himself and then invites them to join Holmes and himself for breakfast? And after they accept, but before you can say ‘gone,’ they discover that they are actually dining with the hotel detective?”

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” said Santry.

  “Oh, we really must stiffen the requirements for membership in the Brotherhood. Numbers are one thing, but if you have an army of idiots, it doesn’t much matter how many men you have.”

  Having seen Lyons angry before, Santry knew that arguing would be pointless, so he remained silent.

  “Do we have any idea where Holmes and Watson are now?”

  “No. They appear to have vanished.”

  “He is not a magician,” said Lyons. “He cannot make himself disappear. I’m willing to bet that he is still in the country, and if he is, we must find him as quickly as possible. Tell the boys they have to be on their toes. One more slip-up like that and it could be our last.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Santry.

  “I’m going to do Holmes one better,” said Lyons. And then he explained to Santry what he had planned, and how Santry could reach him if he were needed.