The Stone of Destiny

by Richard T Ryan

  With his improved point of view, he could see that there was something hanging from the cross. It was white and occasionally a breeze would lift it from the stone.

  Moving ever closer, he came to realize that it was an envelope that had been secured to the cross by a piece of string.

  Now that he was only 20 feet or so from the stone, he could also see that the sod in front of the cross had been greatly disturbed. It was obvious that someone had been digging.

  Sprinting to the cross, he grasped the envelope and turning it over, he was stunned to discover that it was addressed to him.

  At that point, Kathleen caught up to him and said, “What is that?”

  “It appears to be a letter addressed to me. I am afraid we are undone.”

  “Open it,” she said, “See what it says.”

  Peeling back the flap, Lyons extracted a single piece of paper that had been folded in half. After unfolding it, he read aloud:

  “Dear Mr. Lyons,

  I hope that you and Miss Donnelly will be able to join Dr. Watson and me for dinner tonight at 7. I have reserved the small private dining room in the Railway Hotel. We have much to discuss.

  Sincerely yours,

  Sherlock Holmes”

  Chapter 39 – Killarney, Feb. 27

  When I met Holmes at about a quarter to seven, I was immediately struck by the fact that he seemed in a peculiar mood.

  It was difficult to tell whether he was more apprehensive or jubilant.

  He would glance at his watch frequently, and as the appointed hour neared, he said more to himself than to me, “I have baited the trap – and quite carefully. Could I have made a misstep?”

  Throwing himself into a chair, he sat there in silence. As he steepled his hands in front of him, I could see him reviewing each step of his plan in his mind.

  A few minutes later, I heard a familiar woman’s voice say, “We are looking for the private dining room. I believe we are expected.”

  Turning to my friend, I saw him rise to his feet, struggling to conceal a smile.

  Less than a minute later, Kathleen Donnelly and Denis Lyons were ushered into the room.

  “Ah, Miss Donnelly, it is so nice to see you again! I believe you remember my friend, Dr. Watson?”

  “Indeed, I do,” she said smiling at me.

  She continued, “It is nice to see you again, Doctor. I could only wish the circumstances were different.”

  “And Mr. Lyons, you are looking well,” said Holmes.

  “Well you look quite different from the last time, I saw you, Paul,” replied Lyons, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Yes, I suppose I do,” said Holmes.

  “At least this time around, I can shake your hand,” said my friend, extending his hand toward Lyons.

  Ignoring it, Lyons said, “Have you invited us here to gloat?”

  “What did my letter say?” asked Holmes.

  “You know damn well what it said,” replied Lyons.

  “Humor me please, and read it aloud,” said Holmes.

  Pulling it from his pocket, Lyons read:

  “Dear Mr. Lyons,

  I hope that you and Miss Donnelly will be able to join Dr. Watson and me for dinner tonight at 7. I have reserved the small private dining room in the Railway Hotel. We have much to discuss.

  Sincerely yours,

  Sherlock Holmes”

  “And so we do,” said my friend genially. “I feel compelled to warn you before we proceed, your futures may well depend upon your actions and your answers here tonight. Now, let us eat, shall we?”

  As we sat at the table, there was an incredibly awkward silence. Finally, Lyons looked at Holmes and said, “I can only assume from the way the grave was dug up that you have recovered the Stone of Destiny.”

  “Yes,” said Holmes imperturbably. “It is on its way back to Westminster Abbey as we speak.”

  At that point, the soup arrived, and Holmes informed us, “I have taken the liberty of ordering for everyone. If you should object to anything, including the mulligatawny soup, please feel free to order something else. I certainly will not take it amiss, and neither will the kitchen, I can assure you.”

  “What is this? A condemned man’s last meal?” asked Lyons.

  “Not at all,” replied Holmes. “It is a chance for you to tell me why you did what you did.”

  Over the next hour, Lyons made the case for Irish freedom. He was an eloquent spokesman, and his words were imbued with the passion of a true believer.

  Finally he concluded, “So I devised this scheme because we needed to get the monarchy to listen to us, to really hear us.”

  “Just how far were you prepared to go?” asked Holmes.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” replied Lyons. “I will admit that violence against you crossed my mind.”

  “I’m afraid it did more than cross your mind,” my friend said. “I haven’t forgotten those two toughs waiting for me outside my lodgings.”

  “They were told only to scare you,” said Lyons, “Still, I think you had the better of both of them that day.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did.”

  “Would you have killed me?” my friend asked suddenly.

  Without hesitating Lyons replied, “Again, I must admit that the thought crossed my mind on more than one occasion, but I will tell you quite honestly that I do not know.”

  “Mr. Holmes,” said Miss Donnelly, who had been silent for a long time. “Denis is a good man. He is loyal to his friends and his cause, but there are lines that I do not believe he would cross, and murder is certainly one of them.”

  “Thank you, Miss Donnelly,” said Holmes chivalrously. “Again, your honesty impresses me.”

  As the waiter poured coffee, Holmes asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  “Not at all,” replied Lyons.

  After a prolonged silence, during which Holmes lit a second cigarette, Lyons finally said, “Mr. Holmes, I am ready to accept whatever punishment you may have in store for me, but can you find it in your heart to spare Kathleen? She has the soul of a warrior, and prison would kill her.”

  “Prison,” laughed Holmes. “Who said anything about prison?”

  “Then what is to become of us?” asked Lyons.

  “That sir is entirely up to you and Miss Donnelly.”

  “You’re not arresting us?”

  “Mr. Lyons, I was employed to recover the Coronation Stone. Nothing in my instructions included apprehending those who made off with it. I am not a policeman. I do not arrest people. However, I feel compelled to tell you that earlier in the evening, I believe I did see two inspectors from Scotland Yard sitting at a table by the window in the main dining room.”

  “We are free to go?” asked Lyons incredulously.

  “You are,” replied Holmes.

  “I do not know what to say.”

  “I do,” interjected Miss Donnelly. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes – and Dr. Watson. Thank you both very much.”

  “May I offer one bit of advice?” asked Holmes.

  “Of course,” said Miss Donnelly.

  “I have scant interest in politics. However, after listening to Mr. Lyons, I am certain that there is merit to your cause. Continue the good fight. Everyone deserves to be free. So I encourage you to stick to your principles, but you must oblige me in one small area.”

  “Anything, Mr. Holmes,” said Lyons.

  “I beg of you, please try to refrain from stealing any more English relics.”

  At that we all laughed, and then we shook hands all around, and Lyons and Miss Donnelly departed.

  “Well that was quite magnanimous of you, Holmes.”

  “Not at all, Watson. I think it was fair
ly pragmatic.”

  “In what respect?”

  “If you take two attractive young people and imprison them for fighting for their freedom, you’ve not only created two martyrs, but you have put a face on the cause of Irish liberty – and a very attractive face, I might add. Better, they should return home and continue their struggle from the obscurity of Clonakilty.”

  “They do make a handsome couple,” I observed.

  Holmes looked at me and then laughed heartily, “She is not for him. I can assure you of that, Watson.”

  Before I could press the issue, he continued, “I do not know how the strained relations between England and Ireland may be improved or even if they can be. That’s a job better suited for Mycroft.”

  “Now, old friend, let us get a good night’s sleep. We have a great many things to do in the morning.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Well, the first thing we have to do is get a crew of men together and then go and dig up the Coronation Stone.”

  Chapter 40 – Clonakilty, Feb. 27–28

  The train ride from Killarney to Clonakilty was spent largely in silence.

  Finally, at one point, Lyons asked, “Where did we go wrong? How could he have located the only grave in a country filled with churchyards?”

  “I am sure I do not know, but at least we now understand why the Crown hired him to recover the stone. He may be the only one who could have solved the puzzle that you presented him.”

  “Yes. I suppose you’re right. Reluctantly, we must tip our hat to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and should we decide to essay a similar undertaking, we must pray that he remains on the sidelines rather than entering the fray.”

  ***

  The next morning, I awoke at eight and after dressing. I lightly knocked on Holmes’ door. When there was no answer, I descended and found him sitting in the dining room, perusing the morning paper.

  “There you are,” he greeted me. “Another 10 minutes, and I was coming up to wake you.”

  “What time did you get up?”

  “I arose at 6, dressed and then set about sending a series of telegrams.”

  “Before we go any further, I want to know how you discovered where the Coronation Stone was being concealed.”

  “Well, as I told you earlier, I wasn’t exactly certain where it was hidden until Mr. Lyons told me.”

  “He told you!” I exclaimed. “When?”

  “Do you remember when I asked Mr. Lyons to read my letter?”

  “Of course.”

  “When he was reading, he told me exactly where he had concealed the stone.”

  “I heard him say nothing of the kind!”

  “I’m sorry, old man. I am pulling your leg a bit. Let me backtrack a bit.”

  “I had narrowed the possible hiding place to either Killegy Cemetery or Muckross Abbey. I was inclined to think it was the latter, but Lyons is so clever that I couldn’t totally discount the former either.

  “After thoroughly examining the tombstones in both, I had reduced the possibilities to five – three in Killegy and two at Muckross. Had Mr. Lyons surveyed the entire cemetery – and it is a good thing he did not – he would have come across a similar note hanging from another tombstone.

  “I say similar because the wording in each was almost identical. But each missive was just slightly different from the others. Do you remember the last sentence of the letter Lyons read?”

  Thinking back, I said, “I believe it was ‘We have much to discuss’.”

  “That’s it exactly,” said Holmes. “That it was not a P.S. or that I didn’t use the phrase ‘a great deal’ told me it was the grave marker to which we will we make our way shortly.”

  After breakfast, we took a carriage to Muckross Abbey where we found six men and a wagon waiting for us at the gate, along with the gravedigger, Edgar, whom Holmes had befriended.

  The men were dressed as workers, but one stepped forward. “Mr. Holmes?” he inquired.

  “I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my good friend, Dr. John Watson.”

  Saluting, he said, “I am Captain Wayne Miller of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, and these men are all officers from my crew.”

  “A bit inland aren’t you captain?” I asked.

  “The only response I can make to that, doctor, is that we were sent here because our ship was anchored in Cobh, and we are not known to the locals. I was told there was the possibility of an ‘incident,’ which is why we are dressed as laborers, and not in our uniforms.”

  “Very good, captain,” said Holmes. “Now if you will follow me.”

  Turning to Edgar, Holmes asked, “No one has been here this morning?”

  “No sir,” he replied.

  “And the shovels?”

  “They are in the wagon,” said Edgar.

  “You have done well, my friend,” said Holmes, pressing some notes into the man’s hand.

  “Now, gentlemen. It’s this way.”

  Holmes led us to a remote corner of the cemetery and pointing to a grave, marked by a Celtic cross, said, “I believe that is the one we want.”

  The men set about digging, and I said to Holmes, “I pray that you are right.”

  A few minutes later, I heard the sound of a shovel striking wood.

  “Easy now,” said Holmes, “We don’t want to damage it.”

  After another 15 minutes, the men were able to slide ropes under the coffin.

  As they started to lift, one of them said, “By God, this is heavy. What’s in here?”

  When they had extricated it from the grave and lowered it to the ground, Holmes took a crowbar from the wagon and began to ease the lid off.

  After he had lifted the top a few inches, he peered inside, looked at me and smiled.

  After re-securing the lid, he turned to the captain and said. “Take this to railway station. We will meet you there shortly. I just have two more bits of business to which I must attend.”

  “As you wish Mr. Holmes,” said Captain Miller.

  Looking at me, Holmes said, “On second thought, Watson, why don’t you accompany them? I’ll retrieve your belongings from the hotel and meet you forthwith. Having come this far, I am loath to let it out of my sight, so you must be my eyes.”

  And so it was that I accompanied Captain Miller and his crew to the Killarney station where we were joined by Holmes about 25 minutes later.

  “I settled our bill, and then I had to wire Mycroft,” he said.

  About 30 minutes later, we boarded the Cork, Brandon and South Coast Railway, and just over three hours after that we disembarked in Cork, made our way to Cobh and boarded the HMS Diadem.

  The next day we were back in Britain, landing at London.

  An armed contingent of 10 men met us after we disembarked, and the leader told Holmes that a private carriage was waiting to take us and our cargo to Westminster Abbey.

  We watched as the men loaded the coffin on a wagon and then escorted it to the abbey.

  When we arrived at the church, we drove up the same path to the side entrance that we had taken a few weeks earlier.

  George Bradley was waiting for us at the door.

  “It is so good to see you, Mr. Holmes,” he said. “Mr. Dodge and I brought the Coronation Chair back into the chapel this morning after closing the church, and I have a carpenter waiting inside.”

  “Splendid,” said my friend.

  The men then lowered the coffin to the ground and opened it.

  For the first time, I saw the Coronation Stone in its entirety.

  Using the embedded rings, the men then lifted it on two pipes and carried it inside the church.

  Holmes followed them as far as the door. He paused there to examine something and when he retur
ned, he said, “They have installed new locks that might even give me pause, Watson. Also, they have hired a night watchman. I think we can go home now.”

  As we rode to Baker Street, Holmes penned a quick note.

  “This is to Mycroft. I told him we would meet him at the Diogenes Club tomorrow evening. I don’t know about you, old man, but I am exhausted and anxious to sleep in my own bed.”

  That was a sentiment that I heartily shared.

  Chapter 41 – London, March 1

  The next evening Holmes and I took a cab to the Diogenes Club. After a few moments, we were joined in the Stranger’s Room by Mycroft.

  “Well done,” he said to us as he entered. “Both His Majesty and the Home Office have asked me to extend their congratulations as well.”

  After settling himself into a chair, he looked at Holmes and said, “Now, please tell me how you managed to locate the one grave in an entire country that had served as the hiding place for the Coronation Stone.”

  “I’ve been rather curious about that myself,” I added.

  Smiling, Holmes began to relate the tale, occasionally omitting a fact here or there and at times filling in parts that were unknown to me.

  “What puzzles me,” I interrupted at one point, “is how you managed to narrow it down to just those two cemeteries.”

  “I must confess, I owe that bit of intelligence to Mycroft, at least indirectly. We knew that Lyons had resided in Killarney before he moved to Clonakilty. I was inclined to think that he might conceal the stone in a cemetery in that area. I wired Mycroft and asked him to find out where Lyons’ parents had been buried.

  “When I received the wire that said his parents’ graves were in Muckross Abbey, that became the focal point of my investigation. However, I couldn’t dismiss Killegy entirely, both because Lyons was certainly crafty enough to conceal it in a nearby graveyard and because Mycroft also informed me that his maternal grandparents had been buried there.

  “In the end, however, he decided to conceal it within sight of his parents’ grave, so while it was hidden, it was also in plain sight,” said Holmes, casting a sideways glance at me.

  Continuing, he said, “I thought it would be fairly close by, and I surmised that it would be in front of and possibly off to the side of his parents’ grave, rather than behind it. Now that I was able to confine my search to specific areas of the graveyards at Killegy and Muckross, it only remained for me to find the gravestone that didn’t belong.