by Ashton, Hugh
Up to now, Blunt’s demeanour had been one of belligerent bluster. Now he appeared to lose much of his confidence. “I cannot honestly say that was the case,” he replied.
“Pray continue.”
“The sum requested was beyond my immediate abilities,” he explained, now in a markedly more subdued tone. “I was forced to borrow a substantial portion of the total myself. Indeed, I found it expedient at that time to borrow the full amount, and was asked to provide my own security, which I provided in the form of the pearls that had been passed to me in that capacity. When the loan that I had extended was repaid, I was able to repay my own loan, and I received the pearls in return. I passed them straight back to— to the gentleman to whom I had extended the loan.”
“For how much was the loan in total?”
“I really do not see that this is any of your business.”
“I insist on knowing,” I told him, in as firm a tone as I could manage.
“Very well. The loan was for five thousand guineas,” he replied, truculently.
“Did you examine the pearls before passing them back?” I asked.
“No, I did not. They were still in the same sealed package in which I had loaned them.”
“Were you aware that the pearls were not the property of the gentleman to whom you extended the loan?”
“I had guessed it, but felt it impolitic to make enquiries. I can make a shrewd guess as to their origin.” His smile accompanying these words was singularly unpleasant.
“But you examined the pearls when they were returned following your repayment of the loan made to you?”
“What is all this about?” His choler seemed to have returned. “Will you not inform me why you are asking these questions?”
“I am merely attempting to ascertain the time at which the false pearls were substituted for the real ones,” I answered.
The change in Blunt’s countenance was dramatic. From the deep ruddy complexion that had marked him when we first entered, his face had now changed to a ghastly pasty white colour. He seemed to gasp for breath audibly as he sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. At first I believed he had fainted, but it appeared to be simply a strong reaction to the news. “My God!” he exclaimed at length, opening his eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that I returned false gems to—?” He fanned his face. “Am I suspected of having made the substitution?”
“At present, the enquiries are in a very preliminary stage, and I am unable to answer that question,” I replied. “It would be in your interests, however, to inform me of the identity of the person who lent the money to you.”
“It would not be in my interests at all, if you will permit me to correct you on that score, Mr Holmes. The person from whom the money was borrowed has the power to squash you and me as we would crush a beetle, and would do so with as little thought. You must believe me in this.” He was shaking as he spoke, as if in the grip of a fever. “That knowledge has placed me in an intolerable position. You as well, I fear, Mr Holmes. I would beware the danger that awaits you, sir.” He paused for a moment, and then spoke with a renewed vigour. “Be gone from here! If you value your life, you should depart this place. The danger is not from me, understand that. Be gone! Be gone!” His voice rose in a crescendo at these last words, and I feared for his sanity as his eyes bulged in terror.
Holmes gently grasped my arm. “Come, Holmes, let us away,” he remarked to me. We departed, leaving the shaken Blunt a mere shadow of the hectoring bully whom we had first encountered.
-oOo-
“Well, Watson, and what do you make of that?” asked Holmes, as we made our way back to the station.
“For my part, I consider that you played me a foul trick in making the exchange of roles in that way with no warning.” I was angry with Holmes as a result of the position in which he had placed me, and the emotion showed itself in my voice.
“I apologise,” replied my friend. “The notion came to me so rapidly that I had no time to explain it. I have my reasons.”
“I shall be glad to hear them,” I replied, somewhat coldly. The memory of having been thrust into the role of Sherlock Holmes without prior notice still rankled, and the subsequent exchange with Blunt and the man’s arrogant manner had failed to improve my temper.
“I felt it would be advisable, given my original assumption that Blunt was the source of the danger that appears to be surrounding us, that he remained unaware of my identity. I confess, though, that you disappointed me.”
“I can hardly be blamed for that,” I retorted, stung by Holmes’ words, and strode on briskly ahead of Homes, careless of whether he chose to follow or not.
“You misunderstand me completely,” he answered. “Listen, and then judge. It was, I confess, my aim in presenting you as myself, to somewhat lessen the opinion that he might have of my abilities. The scheme failed miserably, due to your skill in questioning him, which followed exactly the lines I would myself have taken. When I said that you disappointed me, I should rather have said that I disappointed myself by underestimating your abilities.”
I digested these words in silence for a minute or more as we continued our journey towards the station. “I do not know,” I replied at length, “whether the implication that I would be incompetent in my impersonation of you is adequately compensated by the praise you have now bestowed on me.”
“I apologise for my recent actions. They were unwarranted, and I must ask your forgiveness. You are naturally free to depart and to cease your association with me,” Holmes remarked, “though I have to say that I would be lost without your support. I can assure you of that fact, and can also state with perfect sincerity that your presence and companionship would be sorely missed, should you decide that you no longer considered me as a friend.”
Despite myself, I was touched by Holmes’ speech. An apology of this sort from him was a relatively rare event, and I swallowed my pride and accepted him at his word. “There is no question of my deserting you,” I declared. “I will accept your apology for this latest incident, on condition that you give me your word that you will never attempt such a thing again.”
“I agree to that,” Holmes replied, “though I fear that you and I are now in some increased danger. I now perceive that I was mistaken in my original assumption. The danger does not come from the source that I originally assumed, that is to say, Blunt, but from another quarter entirely.”
“From where, then, if not his friends?”
“From across the North Sea, and not from the Prince’s friends, but from a relative. A nephew, to be precise.”
“You mean the German Kaiser?”
“None other. The rivalry between him and his uncle, the Prince, is well known. The enmity – there is no other word for it – he expresses in his yachting at Cowes every year – is but one facet of the jealousy he bears. Your conversation with Blunt just now served a purpose in addition to the one I just outlined. While you engaged him in conversation – and I say again that you carried out that role admirably – I was able to look around the room for clues that could aid us in connection with our quest.”
“With what success?”
“I first remarked some envelopes with German postage stamps. These appeared, from what I could make out, to be from business concerns. The science of industrial chemistry is somewhat more advanced in that country than this, and it is more than likely that Blunt does business with such enterprises in order to procure some of the ingredients that go to make up his famous sauces. That gave me the first inkling of the German connection. There was, however, much more.”
“That being?”
“When you informed Blunt of the substitution of the pearls, and he sank into his fit, I was able to glance at the photographs on his desk. Among them was one of the German Emperor, signed, with a personal dedication to Blunt. The socially ambitious Blunt obviously enjoys acquaintanceship with at least two of the royal families of Europe.”
“Do you believe Blunt’s reaction
to the news of the substitution to be genuine?”
“Perfectly genuine. Imagine the reaction of Marlborough House if it were to be discovered that Blunt had substituted counterfeits and returned them to the Prince. I almost begin to feel sorry for his predicament, ground between two powerful jaws, one on each side of the North Sea.”
“For what purpose has this substitution been carried out by the Germans, do you feel?” I asked.
“The humiliation of the heir to the British throne,” replied Holmes. “If it were generally known that the Prince is in the habit of borrowing money secured by collateral that he later appropriates for his own use, the prestige of the British royalty in general, and that of the Prince in particular, would be sadly diminished. Whatever our personal feelings as to the morality of the Prince’s actions, it is incumbent on us to prevent such a scandal.”
“But who would believe such a story?”
“Many would be happy to do so, and even if they were not completely convinced of its veracity, would be only too happy to lend an ear to the tale. There are many who do not wish him well. We must act quickly, Watson, as Blunt is now aware that we know of the substitution. If he imparts this knowledge to those who extended the loan to him, it will force the hand of the perpetrators. We must prevent this, if possible, and at all events, expose these people for what they are.” He spoke resolutely, with his jaw set, and his eyes blazing. Despite myself, I found myself pitying the German Emperor who had dared to set his wits against the greatest detective of the age.
On the train back to London, Holmes was preoccupied with his own thoughts, and I did not dare disturb them as he sat curled in a corner of the compartment, his pipe gripped firmly between his teeth. On our arrival at Liverpool Street station, Holmes turned to me. “I think we will go and visit the estimable Mr Abrahams once more,” he said. “He seems to be well-informed about the doings of the Marlborough House set, and I have no doubt whatsoever as to his ability to keep these matters confidential.”
On arrival at Abrahams’ bank, we found the doors being shut and locked at the close of the day’s business, but after a few words, Holmes persuaded the doorman that we wished to see Abrahams on a private matter, unconnected with the bank.
Abrahams himself welcomed us to his office with a wide smile. “I had not expected to see you gentlemen again so soon,” he said. “I trust this does not mean that I am now a prime suspect.”
“Far from it,” replied Holmes. “I am afraid that we require your assistance once more, however.”
“If you feel I can be of use, I am prepared to assist you,” replied Abrahams. “I enjoy observing a master of his trade at his work, no matter what his trade may be.”
“What I particularly wish to know on this occasion are the names of any members of the German legation who are regular members of the Marlborough House set.”
Abrahams appeared lost in thought for a moment. “There were several – but there are none now – one of the Military Attachés, a Graf Grüning, used to visit. He was particularly friendly with Blunt, but there was some unpleasantness regarding an allegation he made about Lord Abernethy a week or so back. Though nothing was said directly to him, the word was discreetly passed to him that he would no longer be welcome, at least for a short while.”
“You would not happen to know if he is still at the Embassy?” asked Holmes.
“I have certain knowledge that he was there just over a month ago. I had occasion to lend some money to him a few weeks before, and he repaid me then when I visited him at the Embassy. I imagine that he would still be at his post there.”
“The amount of the loan?” demanded Holmes, leaning forward urgently.
“It was quite large. Over five thousand pounds,” replied Abrahams. “Indeed, it was exactly five thousand guineas.”
“And what security did you demand?”
“In his case, none,” replied Abrahams. “He is well aware of my acquaintances in high places in the British government and in society – in some cases, I may even be privileged to call them friends – who would be prepared to expose him at the highest level should he fail to repay the loan. It would, as you can imagine, be the cause of a relatively major diplomatic incident were he to default.”
“Did you ask the purpose of the loan?”
Abrahams shook his head. “That is not my way, Mr Holmes. My clients, like yours, no doubt, are entitled to their secrets.”
“Even so, that is most helpful, Mr Abrahams. I think, Watson,” turning to me, “we have an excellent view of events now, do we not?”
“I confess I am still somewhat in the dark as to the precise details,” I admitted, “but I am certain that you have uncovered the general scheme of things.”
“Let us away. Again, my sincere thanks to you, Mr Abrahams, and I sincerely look forward to our next meeting.”
We walked along the street, Holmes singing softly to himself, a habit which I had not heretofore noticed. I listened carefully, and realised that he was singing the verse of our National Anthem containing the words, “Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks”, and smiled to myself.
-oOo-
On reaching Baker Street, Holmes plunged into activity, surrounding himself with directories and other books, together with the scrapbook in which he maintained records of all that attracted his interest and attention.
“Watson,” he commanded me, imperious as any general commanding an army, “You will go to Lady Enfield’s house, and ask her for the loan of the counterfeit pearls she showed us the other day. For myself, I must consider a course of action that will not only restore the pearls to her, but will also restore honour to those to whom it is due, even if in some cases they are not wholly deserving of it. May I suggest that you take with you the Gladstone bag equipped with the strong lock. The riding-crop may also prove a useful item, I suggest.” The riding-crop to which Holmes alluded had a handle filled with lead, and had the potential to act as a potent life-preserver when reversed. The idea that I might require its use filled me with a sense of anxiety, amounting almost to fear, when I realised the pass to which matters had now come.
I left Baker Street on my errand, and had almost reached the Park, when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Mr Sherlock Holmes,” a rough voice with a distinctly foreign accent came from behind me. “It is the opinion of those who are over you that your meddling must cease.” At this, my right arm was seized above the elbow, and I was held from behind in a grip from which, try as I would, it seemed impossible for me to break free.
“You will come with me,” said my as yet still unseen assailant. A four-wheeler drew up beside us, and I was propelled inside. My attacker followed me into the carriage, and I saw him for the first time. A large brute of a man, strongly built, with close-cropped hair and a bristling moustache, he held himself like a Guardsman, sitting bolt upright while maintaining his painful grip on my arm. I guessed him, from what little I knew of the breed, to be a Prussian Junker.
As we moved off, I became aware of another man in the carriage. Dressed in a somewhat opulent fashion, with an astrakhan coat, and a gaudy silk scarf at his throat, his somewhat soft and feminine face was framed by a light wispy beard.
“May I trouble you, Mr Holmes, to open that bag?” he asked me in a soft voice, almost without a trace of an accent.
“With pleasure,” I replied, forcing a smile. As he peered into the empty bag, I observed a look of anger flash across his face. “Where are you going now?” he demanded of me in a furious tone.
“That is my business,” I replied. “I do not see how this could possibly concern you.” While I was talking, my left arm was seeking the riding-crop in my coat pocket, and as I finished speaking, I withdrew it, and used it to slash my captor across the face. He gave a loud cry, and clapped his hands to his cheek, seemingly overcome by the stinging pain. Reversing the weapon, I brought the heavy lead-weighted handle down on the hand of the other man, still gripping my right ar
m, as hard as I could manage. He howled with pain, and immediately withdrew his grasp, nursing the stricken hand with the other. I struck again, this time at his head, and he slumped away from me, stunned.
I seized the bag, opened the door of the carriage, and though the carriage was still moving, tumbled out into the roadway. By great good fortune, I immediately recognised the place where I had fallen as being close to Lady Enfield’s residence, and I raced towards the house, attracting no little attention from the bystanders as I ran.
I was admitted immediately, much to my relief, and I explained my errand to Lady Enfield without, however, acquainting her of my recent adventure.
“Do you think that Sherlock Holmes will recover the genuine pearls?” she asked me as she handed the counterfeits to me and I placed them in the bag.
“I have every confidence that he will do so,” I replied. “I can tell you now that we are already following the trail. I will say no more at present, but I am sure that all will be revealed by him in the fullness of time. May I ask you for a favour, though, Lady Enfield?”
She smiled winningly and nodded her assent. “I wish to leave the house unremarked,” I continued. “There are those who are following me, and whom I have no wish to meet. Would it be possible for me to be loaned a footman’s livery, and make my way from your house through the servants’ entrance? I will send later for my present garments to be carried to Baker Street.”
“What a strange man you are, Doctor, I must say,” she replied, smiling, and looking me up and down. “Yes, I think there will be a suit of livery that will fit you, if that is what you wish.” She rang a bell and gave instructions to the maid.
About fifteen minutes later, dressed in the Enfield livery, I left the house by the tradesmen’s entrance. I noticed my erstwhile captors waiting near the front door, the one nursing an arm in an impromptu sling, seemingly constructed from a handkerchief, and the other’s face decorated by a livid welt stretching from one ear to his nose. Though both noticed me, neither paid recognised me or paid me any attention as I strolled along the street in my character as a servant.