The Wilhelm Conspiracy (A Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mystery)

by Charles Veley

  “He may have focused only on the inside, not the outside,” said Lansdowne. “He was keen about the inner workings. They were partially his invention.”

  “Or he may have been bribed,” said Arkwright. “You can’t be sure, what with all the other goings-on.”

  The Prince stood up and spoke in his authoritative manner. “Never mind about Tesla. The important thing is it appears the machine may work after all. So let us proceed. Lansdowne. Where is the balloon?”

  “Sir?”

  “The target, man! Kerren had spoken of shooting down a balloon. He told me he would wheel the machine right up to the doorway, fly up a helium balloon from the beach below the cliff, and have at it. That is the test he described to me and that is what I told Wilhelm we would do. If we are going to do the thing now, let us do it properly. Then when Wilhelm comes and we are fretting about whatever trap you think someone is about to spring on us—looking for monsters lurking in every corner, so to speak—we shall at least not have to concern ourselves with whether or not the machine will fail.”

  “Indeed,” said Lansdowne. “I shall arrange to have a balloon brought over from the garrison. However, the sky is growing dark. I suggest we reconvene in the morning.”

  “Meanwhile, we can adjourn to Radnar House,” said the Prince. “After my annual stint of abstinence taking the cure at Bad Homburg, I am ready to do justice to some of Lady Radnar’s hospitality.”

  The group began to disperse. I could see Lansdowne take Arkwright aside as they left the room. The Secretary’s manner was mollified somewhat, no doubt by the brilliance of Arkwright’s observation regarding the rubber pads and the electrical apparatus.

  Lucy and Holmes had lingered behind. Lucy said, “I wish Miss Porter’s School had given us a course in practical electricity.” Looking at Holmes, she went on, “Did you know about electricity going into the ground? Or is that one of the facts that you don’t want to have cluttering up your brain attic?”

  “It does not matter,” said Holmes quietly, giving one of his cryptic little smiles. “Now I must be off. I shall join you both presently at Radnar House.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Lucy.

  “Merely to correct a small oversight on my part. Quite possibly I may revise a conclusion that I drew prematurely. I ask that if you see me again at Radnar House, please do not approach me or point out my presence. I shall be perfectly safe, I assure you.” He paused. “And I have one further task to request of you, Lucy.”

  47. A DISQUIETING DINNER

  Dinner was held in the private dining room of Radnar House. Lady Radnar had arranged the seating positions at the round table. She sat at the Prince’s right, opposite Arkwright. Lucy sat at the Prince’s left, opposite me. The meal was excellent, although there was far too much of everything. The Prince, however, seemed determined to devour as much as he could. He gobbled up lobster bisque, caviar, truffles, quail’s eggs, roast lamb, pork, beef, and turbot, washing each course down with glass after glass of claret. The names of these dishes, indicating how each had been prepared, were printed in French on cards beside each of our places when the meal began, but the cards were taken up before the first course and I do not recall them. I was too much disquieted to enjoy the little I ate. Memories came back to me of the two meals Holmes and I had shared with Mr. Rockefeller less than a year earlier. Rockefeller’s personal fortune, I was certain from reading the newspapers, far exceeded even the Prince’s, yet I knew with certainty that Rockefeller would have been appalled at the profusion of rich dishes arrayed on the table before us. However, it was not my place to comment, either on the economic excess of the meal, or on the deleterious effect it would have on the Prince’s health as his digestive system strained to cope with such a heavy load.

  The conversation centred on Lady Radnar, how kind it was of her to provide such hospitality after the losses she had suffered, and how difficult it was for her to bear up and see to the arrangements for not one but two family funerals when her husband was away. Lord Radnar’s latest communication had indicated he would return as soon as possible from Colorado, where he had been investigating some mining ventures. She had his telegram with her, she said. She had sent him the dates of the funerals and had not yet received his reply. She then attempted to engage the Prince on the subject of the weapon, but the Prince merely shrugged and turned to ask Lucy about her next role with the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company.

  Finally I saw Lucy set down her dessert spoon across her sorbet cup, pointing directly at me. This was the signal that she was about to comply with Holmes’s request, and that I was to pay particular attention to the reactions of Lady Radnar and Mr. Arkwright. Keeping them both within my field of vision was difficult for me due to our respective positions at the table. I drew back slightly as Lucy began to speak, trying to appear as natural as possible.

  “Mr. Arkwright,” she said, “I wonder if you would favour us with a bit of music from your violin. I should particularly enjoy hearing a composition you performed in Bad Homburg.”

  “And what composition might that be?”

  Lucy hesitated, and at that moment my attention was diverted. Out of the corner of my eye, on my left, the door from the private dining room into the hotel lobby was opening. In the doorway stood Holmes. A veiled woman, dressed in black, was at his side, leaning forwards as if attempting to see something or someone at our table.

  “It was a song from a new poem,” Lucy was saying. “I recall you said you had improvised the melody. I believe the first words of the song were, ‘Oh, when I was in love with you.’”

  A fleeting, involuntary smile flickered on Arkwright’s lips but it instantly transformed into an injured look. Across from me, Lady Radnar’s features showed nothing more than polite curiosity.

  Then Lady Radnar appeared astonished as Arkwright turned to the Prince. “Your Majesty, I pray that you will excuse me from your table. I did not realize Miss James had such a cruel streak in her nature.”

  He then pushed back his chair, stood, and walked swiftly to the doorway.

  The door remained open, but the corridor into the hotel lobby was now clear. Holmes and the veiled woman were gone.

  48. A TRAP IS SPRUNG

  I did not see Holmes again until I entered the Radnar House public dining area for breakfast the following morning. Holmes was seated with Lucy at one of the tables. They both sipped from coffee cups, but there was no sign that either of them had eaten or was inclined to do so. Each looked at me expectantly as I joined them. Keeping my voice low to avoid being overheard by the half dozen other hotel guests at the other tables, I reported exactly what I had seen of Arkwright and Lady Radnar the previous evening.

  “Satisfactory” was all Holmes said. In the public circumstances, of course, I felt it would be unwise to press him for an explanation. I looked at Lucy, but she appeared as uninformed as I.

  “We were discussing the poet Keats’s views on the season of autumn,” she said.

  “Miss James is intent on furthering my education,” said Holmes. Then he lowered his voice. “I understand that His Majesty is taking breakfast in his rooms. He will be joining us in Kerren House, I believe, just before noon. Mr. Arkwright and I are to meet in a half hour to make certain that all is prepared for the Prince’s arrival. Would you care to join us?”

  “I’m coming too,” said Lucy. “Whatever Mr. Arkwright may think of my cruel nature.”

  Rather than entering Kerren House by the way we had used on previous occasions, Holmes led us around to the back, following the edge of the cliff. The sky was dark with threatening clouds, and there were whitecaps on the grey waves. The winds from the Channel tore at our coats. I had the foolish foreboding that Nature herself disapproved of the change in the settled order of things that we were about to attempt today. Far below us on the beach, a grey military balloon, of exactly the kind that we had seen disintegrate into fiery fragments less than a week ago, now rose slowly, jerking to and fro in the wind, tethered o
n stout ropes held by several of Lansdowne’s men, as if it were some great elephant being forced to obey the bidding of its handlers.

  “Well, the positioning of the target is proceeding nicely,” said Lucy. “But what of the gypsies? If I remember correctly, their camp was directly below.”

  “I have already warned the gypsies not to come here today,” said Holmes.

  We turned to look at the conservatory. At the centre of its glass facade, the double doors were shut. Inside, we could see the machine. Arkwright was hunched over it. As we drew closer, the four black India rubber pads that we had seen the previous evening were now plainly visible beneath the four metal wheels.

  Arkwright looked up when we opened the doors. “Oh, there you are. I was just going over the settings to be certain nothing had been tampered with overnight. You can see for yourself. They are exactly as I remember. I took the trouble to memorize the placement of the dials and the position of the switches.”

  I noticed that Arkwright did not look directly at Lucy at any time. It was obvious he still felt the embarrassment or shame concerning his callous treatment of Harriet, which Lucy had alluded to in the presence of the Prince. Neither did Lucy look at Arkwright as she and Holmes examined the inner workings of the machine. I did not bother to examine the settings, since I had barely glanced at them during the time that they had been under Tesla’s supervision.

  Finally Holmes nodded.

  Arkwright was putting on his mackintosh. “I’m going to take a look at the generator. We need plenty of fuel, so that we don’t lose power. That would be too much of an embarrassment to suffer in front of the royal personage.”

  We followed him. I recalled the cold Monday morning when we had first walked between the generator building and its companion building, the icehouse. I wondered whether new ice had been delivered. I saw that the door remained unlocked.

  All appeared to be in order within the generator shed. The machine hummed within, then growled and rumbled more noisily once the door was open. We could smell the exhaust fumes of the petrol. Arkwright peered closely at the fuel indicator gauge and then gave the tank itself a rap with his knuckles to be sure. The reverberating sound was tight, rather than hollow, indicating a goodly amount of fuel within.

  Holmes and Arkwright were both satisfied that all was in order with the generator. By the time we returned to the conservatory, we heard the familiar crunch of hooves and carriage wheels on the gravel drive. We walked quickly to the front to greet Lansdowne as he stepped down from the rear of the black army carriage. The Prince, who looked a bit worse for his evening and a bit unsteady, followed Lansdowne, leaning on the other’s proffered hand. The Prince barely took notice of Lucy.

  “Are we ready?” asked Lansdowne. Arkwright and Holmes each nodded. Holmes opened the Kerren House front door for the six of us to enter.

  In the drawing room, we were surprised to find Lady Radnar waiting for us, dressed in black. She raised her tightly clasped hands, holding them up to the Prince in a gesture of supplication. “Adrian thought you would not mind if I watched the demonstration. It is so important to me and to my husband. And my brother’s memory.”

  “No need to beg, Sophie,” said the Prince. “You can watch. But the machine will do whatever it’s going to do. Don’t try to influence my decision on whether we spend any more money on it. Either the damned thing works or it doesn’t.”

  The seven of us entered the conservatory. Against the murky horizon visible through the glass wall, the machine loomed within, like a dark and shadowy sleeping presence.

  “What happened to the lights?” asked Lady Radnar.

  “They were on when we left,” said Arkwright. “We were just looking at the dials.” He went to the switch on the wall and turned it. The lights came on. “There, that’s sorted. Now let’s see about the aim. If the target’s in place, we can fire the machine and put an end to the suspense.”

  Before us, just beyond the edge of the cliff some fifty yards away, the big grey balloon danced in the wind, straining at its ropes.

  “Stable enough, I should think,” said Arkwright, his hand on the switch that would turn on the power to the machine. “Lord Lansdowne?”

  Lansdowne nodded.

  “Then let us have at it,” said the Prince, “and chance the consequences!”

  Arkwright threw the switch. We all held our breath.

  Nothing happened. Within the room the electric lights above us glowed cheerily. Outside, the balloon danced on its ropes over the ocean, as though happy to have had a reprieve from its destruction.

  “What the devil is wrong?” said the Prince.

  “Yesterday, the machine made a loud humming noise,” said Lucy. “Now it is silent.”

  Arkwright crouched beneath the machine. “I don’t see anything different down here. The wires are all connected, just as they were when we left them yesterday. Do you want to take a look, Mr. Holmes?”

  Holmes came over to the machine and crouched beside Arkwright.

  “The lights are still on, so there can’t be anything wrong with the generator,” said Lansdowne. “Electricity is obviously still coming into the conservatory.”

  “I just remembered,” said Lady Radnar. “My brother had the men bring in new wires from the generator just to power the machine. Perhaps something is wrong with the new wires.”

  “Might have blown a fuse or something,” said the Prince.

  Holmes and Arkwright stood up together. Holmes gave a silent shrug to indicate that he had seen nothing beneath the machine that he could act upon. However, I noticed a familiar glitter in his grey eyes.

  “I think the fuse box is right outside the generator shed,” said Arkwright. “Shan’t be a minute.” He took a few steps towards the open double doors.

  “I think not,” said Holmes. His voice was silken.

  Arkwright stopped and turned, eyes widened in puzzlement. “Have you a better idea, Mr. Holmes?”

  “I think we ought to all stay here for the time being.” He gave a nod to Lucy, who edged closer to Arkwright. “We can await developments.”

  “Of what sort?” said Arkwright. “The Prince has more important things to do than wait around here, as far as I can see. We ought to get on with it.”

  “We should indeed,” Holmes said. “And now we shall. Lucy, if you please.”

  At that moment Lucy, now behind Arkwright, drew her derringer from her reticule and clapped it to the back of Arkwright’s neck.

  “Raise your hands, Mr. Arkwright,” she said. “Raise them above your head. Dr. Watson, please remove Mr. Arkwright’s coat. See that his hands go nowhere near his pockets.”

  The Prince gasped in astonishment. Arkwright’s eyes blazed for a moment, but then he drew himself under control as I approached. “Holmes, you are making a complete ass of yourself.”

  I moved beside Lucy and reached for the collar of Arkwright’s coat. I felt him tense as if to spin around, but Lucy kicked hard at the back of the knee of his injured leg. He fell forwards, a hand scrabbling for his coat pocket. I stamped down hard on his wrist, pinning it beneath my foot. Moments later, I had Arkwright’s Webley pistol in my hand.

  “That was a little bit more of my cruel streak,” Lucy said. The Prince continued to stare at her. I believe I saw a shudder pass through his rotund frame.

  Lucy knelt beside Arkwright, the barrel of her derringer now pressing into his left wrist. “I believe your left hand is of particular value to you as a violinist. What a shame if it were to be injured.”

  “This is madness,” said Arkwright. “Lord Lansdowne, call your men. Holmes and Watson and this woman have gone mad!”

  “Once again, I think not,” said Holmes, his voice serene. “Dr. Watson, could you please secure Mr. Arkwright? I believe the belt of his coat will do nicely. Please move him away from the machine. As far away as possible, without giving him the opportunity to obstruct my path to the open doors.”

  “I tell you he is mad,” said Arkwright
, now kneeling, after I had tied his wrists securely to his ankles using the stout fabric of his mackintosh belt. “Holmes, I have been protecting you, helping you, getting injured for you, getting the machine itself properly prepared for you, and this is how you repay me. Lord Lansdowne, Your Majesty, I have endured danger on many occasions in order to serve you both. You must believe me!”

  Holmes advanced towards the machine. His voice was almost kindly. “They very well might have believed you, Arkwright,” he said, “if only you had taken the trouble to wipe your shoes. You failed to notice that the edges of your elegant leather soles picked up particles of sawdust from the floor of the icehouse, when you were there this morning.”

  He reached into the machine. Moments later, moving very slowly, he held up what might have been a small carton of cigarettes, had it not been constructed of shining steel. There was a small black patch on the top of the carton. “This object was affixed by this magnet”—here Holmes pointed to the small black patch—“to one of Mr. Tesla’s coils inside the machine. You will recall that there is no doubt that Mr. Tesla’s coils work, and that they generate and amplify electrical currents to produce a great deal of electrical energy. All that energy generated from those six coils would have passed through this magnet, directly into this steel carton. As you see, particles of sawdust still cling to it, as do droplets of water. It is cool to the touch, so the droplets are likely to be condensation from the moist sea air. That fact is material, since there is no condensation on the remainder of the machine, indicating that its temperature is warmer than the temperature of the steel carton that I now hold so carefully before you.”

  Arkwright’s eyes blazed with hatred. “Aren’t you the scientific expert,” he said.

  “I do claim a modest expertise in the field of chemistry,” Holmes said, now standing at the interior wall of the conservatory and inclining his head towards the shelves. “When I noticed, for example, that there were bottles of sulphuric acid, nitric acid, and glycerine here on these shelves last week, and that the shelves had not been recently dusted, and that marks in the dust indicated those bottles had been recently moved, it occurred to me that a weapon more conventional than this . . . experimental, shall we say, apparatus might be involved in whatever activity we were about to encounter. Sulphuric acid, nitric acid, and glycerine are the ingredients used in the creation of nitroglycerine, which, as you doubtless are aware, is highly explosive.”