The Scottish Ploy

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  Steady applause came from the door. “Brava, Miss Gatspy,” said Edmund Sutton as he strolled into the study, dressed simply but elegantly in dark wool trousers and a tweed hacking jacket over a roll-neck pull-over. “Quite a stirring delivery. I wish Beatrice Motherwell would do half as much with Lady MacBeth. It would be the crowning achievement of our production.” He sighed. “Tyers said to tell you he will have tea ready shortly, and a light nuncheon-cum-breakfast.”

  “Good,” said Mycroft Holmes. “I am getting hungry.” He signaled to me. “Guthrie, as soon as we have eaten, if you will tend to the memoranda, I would very much appreciate it.”

  I felt as if I were a child being banished from adult conversation, and I knew that was an unworthy sentiment. “Of course, sir,” I said.

  “Until Chief Inspector Pryce arrives,” added Holmes, and I had the oddest sensation that he had been aware of my thoughts.

  “Yes. Until then,” I said, and did my best not to look at Miss Gatspy.

  FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS

  It is as Miss Gatspy said; there are two men on horseback watching this flat. They circle the block, always opposite one another so that they are not completely obvious. They do not keep a regular schedule of circuits, for that might alert those they seek to stop. It is reassuring that the Golden Lodge is willing to aid in stopping Vickers and Braaten from arriving in London. I concur with MH, G, Miss Gatspy, and the Golden Lodge that no good may be had from allowing those fill men into the country. They must be stopped now, before they can make a foothold for their despicable cohorts. It is a most clever device, trying to bring a few of their most successful agents to this country as escorts for Lady MacMillian. Who would want to offend Sir Cameron by refusing his Lady the right to company of her choice. Is she just a pawn, I wonder, or is she part of the plot they have concocted?

  The luncheon I have put together is not as substantial as a proper luncheon would be, but it is a bit too early for such fare. I will set out a dish of hard-boiled eggs for those who want them, but I will serve more toast, scones, and hot-cross buns for usual fare. That and tea should do them until one in the afternoon, when I will be sure there is a proper Sunday dinner laid out for them, with a standing rack of lamb in the Greek style with fruit jelly and a mustard sauce for a garnish. Then potatoes and onions roasted, and a ginger-cream sauce for the kale. That, with new bread and a ripe Stilton and port should satisfy them. And if all goes well, they will be able to dine without the interruption of a crisis. Or so I hope.

  However, I may have to shuffle my plans a bit. It may become a busy afternoon, in spite of MH’s assurances to the contrary. For a Sunday, the world is most restless. If Sir Cameron insists that he be given the opportunity to join in our discussion with CI Pryce, which a note from his hotel suggests is the case, then it becomes a more confusing day than what we have anticipated. Sutton will have to be absent during Sir Cameron’s visit, of course. MH already expects Mister Kerem to arrive with his latest complaint; he has informed MH of his intention to do so.

  There is also an invitation from Sir Marmion delivered not twenty minutes ago that I must present to MH when I take in tea and nuncheon. Barring any sudden decisions MH might make in that regard, I have no reason to assume that this summons will tend to interfere with what we have already set up for the afternoon. I shall hope that Miss Gatspy’s colleagues will provide all necessary protection so that we need not expect our day to be enlivened by more shots fired. To that end, I will remember this in my prayers at Saint James’ Church in Jermyn Street. I shall have time to attend services myself once I am done with those duties.

  ALL BUT one scone was gone from the tray, and two pieces of toast stood untouched; other than that, breakfast had disappeared in an enthusiastic frenzy of a meal. Miss Gatspy had refilled her teacup three times, and so had I; Sutton and Mycroft Holmes had done so twice, and were having the lasts of the meal, taking their time about it in order to encourage Miss Gatspy to talk as much as she wished to do about the intelligence that had fallen into the hands of the Golden Lodge.

  “They are most dangerous men, those who are part of the Brotherhood. I thought I understood the extent of their intended destruction, but I did not. I could not credit their malice, not really.” She smiled, her limpid eyes now filled with the burning blue fury at the heart of a flame.

  “You have found something out?” Mycroft Holmes inquired as he helped himself to a half a bun.

  “Indeed I have, and it is most troublesome,” she replied promptly.

  “My dear Miss Gatspy, when you say troublesome you strike terror into my heart,” said Mycroft Holmes lightly enough but with genuine purpose in his voice. “Are we speaking of deadly?”

  “We are,” she said; I could not help but regard her with concern, for it would be like her to put herself at risk in such a situation.

  Holmes studied her for a moment, then spoke. “Perhaps you would elaborate.”

  She nodded. “Certainly. You are aware of the precarious state of Turkey, I must assume? A man in your position must be informed of developments there.”

  “The remnants of the Ottoman Empire are rotten to the core. Nothing can be done to change that. Corruption is a way of life there. The steady decline in their fortunes has provided opportunities for every minor despot and each ambitious Prince to exploit the regions in which they are situated, all without any fear of repercussions from their various heads of state. The problems confronting the governments in that part of the world are many and significant and are not, generally, being addressed, for those with power are more inclined to want to use it to enhance themselves and their families; they neglect the very people they claim to guard.”

  “That is part of it,” said Miss Gatspy, and paid no heed to the shocked expressions that greeted her remark. “The worst of it is subtle, not easily recognized by anyone, even those who might have cause to know a great deal about it, as you do. We of the Golden Lodge made a long study of the situation, and lost seven of our men before we happened upon the heart of the problem, if heart is a word that can be used for anything so atrocious as the activities of the Brotherhood in regions formerly controlled by the Turks.”

  “That sounds as if you are entirely satisfied with what you have discovered. You are certain you have hit upon the truth.” Holmes scrutinized her face as she answered.

  “I am. And you will be when I bring you a copy of the file we have prepared.” She smirked at his shock. “Oh, yes. I am willing to show you the extent of our information, and to discuss it with you, if you should want elaboration on any point.”

  “But, naturally, you want something in exchange,” said Mycroft Holmes when she fell silent.

  “Yes. It seems only fair, does it not?” She drank down her tea.

  “You may not share our interpretations of the facts, but you will surely recognize the information we have to offer as being most valuable. And I know that you have access to intelligence reports that could serve the Golden Lodge well, if you would accept a trade.” She put the cup-and-saucer back on the tray. “I must know if you are willing to respect what I impart to you.”

  “Of course, Miss Gatspy,” said Mycroft Holmes at his most civil. “Or you would not still be here, no matter what good you have done Guthrie.”

  I had to resist the impulse to protest such uncharitable observations; undoubtedly Mycroft Holmes would respond with an inappropriate comment on his assumption that I had an attachment to Miss Gatspy—and while I was fully conscious of the debt I owed her, I did not consider this as being indicative of an attachment. Fine sort of man I should be, I thought, to have so little mastery of my emotions.

  “Thank you for your candor. I hope you will understand why I have considered it necessary to exceed the mandate of the leaders of the Golden Lodge in these events.” She smiled slightly. “I would not be a truly dedicated agent if I d
id not, from time to time, question the decisions of those who, unlike yourself, confine their activities to research and analysis of gathered information.”

  “Miss Gatspy, you will destroy my carefully cultivated reputation if you should say such things outside of this room.” Holmes’ voice was still unfailingly polite, but his intent was steely.

  “Which I have no wish to do, as your capacity to spring into action without being seen to do so is one of the things I most admire in you.” Her smile this time made it perfectly clear that she was almost flirting with him.

  “Miss Gatspy, you quite unman me with such praise,” said Mycroft Holmes as Sutton silently rolled his eyes.

  “Mister Holmes, I am delighted to hear it.” She settled back in her chair. “I cannot remain much longer, but I would like to establish a time tomorrow when I might find you in. I do want to place this information in your hands as soon as possible.”

  “Would ten in the morning be a suitable hour?” Mycroft Holmes asked. “If you are willing to leave the file with me, I need not detain you any longer than it takes you to drink a cup or two of tea.”

  “That will be satisfactory. I will send word to you by nine if I must change the time of our meeting,” she told him. “With Vickers and Braaten coming, you cannot let them become part of Lady MacMillian’s suite, for then any attempts to dislodge them could cause just the sort of incident we wish most to avoid. I say we because I think you want to keep this from public attention as much as we of the Golden Lodge do. For once, we are in accord with the Brotherhood.”

  “On that point, at least,” said Mycroft Holmes as Miss Gatspy rose. “I do appreciate the care you have taken of Guthrie. I trust he will not need such ... intervention in future.”

  “Don’t blame him, Mister Holmes. He did nothing foolish. In fact, he was most resourceful, and kept his head commendably. If I were you, I should be proud of him.” She turned to give me a look of encouragement.

  I did not know what to say. “Most kind,” I stammered out, and tried to think of a more cogent remark. Nothing came to mind as I watched Miss Gatspy take her leave, saying she would see us tomorrow before Tyers came to escort her to the door.

  “A most perplexing addition to our case,” said Mycroft Holmes when the door was closed. “I wish I could persuade myself that your Miss Gatspy is as altruistic as she claims to be.”

  “Do you doubt her motives?” I asked, a bit hotly, for I could not think ill of someone who had preserved me from danger.

  “Perhaps not hers as much as the Golden Lodge’s.” He looked down into his empty teacup as if to divine the information he sought there. “I wish I could credit that shadowy organization with sterling intentions, but I would be a fool if I did.”

  Sutton spoke up. “Do you think this is another attempt to throw you off the scent?”

  Holmes considered his answer carefully. “Not as such, no. I think it may be another layer to the puzzle.” He scowled. “If only Lady MacMillian had not chosen this time to reconcile with Sir Cameron.”

  “But that is the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” I said. “She is making it possible for the Brotherhood to reestablish itself in Britain, and unless we wish to offend both the Germans and the Scots, we cannot do anything without presenting convincing evidence.” I shook my head, thinking of how much we would have to have in the way of proof before an official action could be taken.

  “Yes. That is what is so disheartening.” He rose and began to pace, a sure sign of dismay. “I have sufficient authority to order that Lady MacMillian’s escort be refused entry to England. But if I do that, I embarrass the government and the Admiralty if I cannot also demonstrate why I have done so.”

  Sutton, who had been watching Holmes with some apprehension, said, “Do you suppose that is part of the ploy—to make you over-play your hand and discredit yourself so that the Brotherhood can resume operations here without hindrance?”

  Holmes stopped where he stood and swung around to look at Sutton. “Of course! Of course!” he cried. “You have hit it. Why did I not see it?”

  “You have been trying to deal with three confusing and diplomatically delicate crises,” said Sutton. “I have been watching the drama, and it has made it easier for me to assess the ... structure, you might say.”

  “However you designate it, I must tell you, you put me to shame,” said Holmes, his countenance lightening for the first time in two days. “I had a sense that there was some underlying common purpose to all that has been happening since the question of Lady MacMillian’s visit began; I was searching for a common thread in the nature of the events. Now I see that it was aimed at compromising me. Sutton, you are a prince among men.”

  Sutton blushed, and smiled at this praise. “This is the sort of thing actors look for,” he said diffidently.

  “And good thing that you did.” Mycroft Holmes now rounded on me. “Guthrie. I need all my notes of the last three days. I want to review them from this perspective. If Sutton’s thesis holds up, you and I must work quickly to keep the Brotherhood from having its way.” He was filled with renewed energy, making his way about the room with vigor.

  “I will do it,” I said, and prepared to review the files in his antique French secretary. “What about Chief Inspector Pryce? He should be calling soon.”

  Holmes stopped still. “Ah, yes. Chief Inspector Pryce. I should have sent a note round to Strange, to get an assessment of him. With his history, he might be—shall we say malleable—in terms of loyalty.”

  “Because his father’s family opposed his mother?” I asked, recalling the great uproar in the press at the time of Pryce’s father’s death, when his sisters had attempted to deny Pryce’s mother any portion of her inheritance. I had been in school then; I and my schoolmates had followed the battle in the papers. How we had battened on any bit of scandal and relished the acrimony. The memory was now tainted by chagrin. “Would that be enough to make him support such villains as the Brotherhood?”

  “Men have done so for less,” said Mycroft Holmes.

  I could not deny that. “Shall I prepare a message to be sent round now?” I asked.

  “Wait until after our interview. Then I may have a better sense of the man.” He glanced at Sutton. “Are you planning to go out this afternoon?”

  Sutton nodded. “I have an appointment with a theatre manager at two. I should meet with him. I want to begin a new role as soon as possible.”

  “I’d recommend leaving out the back, and in disguise,” said Holmes. “With half the world watching this flat, we want to minimize any attention you may be given.”

  “Don’t fash yourself,” Sutton said. “I will leave as inconspicuously as a spider.”

  “An interesting prospect,” said Mycroft Holmes with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I will not see you until tomorrow, I suppose.”

  “Correct,” Sutton told him, and went to the door. “You are going to go to the club tomorrow?”

  “I will try. Unless something arises, I will make the crossing myself. Why?” He was mildly curious, and listened as much from courtesy than from need for information.

  “I may have an audition tomorrow, if things go well today.” He set down his teacup and made a sweeping gesture. “It is a small company, and they are planning a revival of Volpone. If the manager is satisfied with our meeting today, I will read Mosca for him tomorrow.” His blue eyes brightened at the prospect. “It is a wicked part, not at all like MacBeth.”

  “MacBeth isn’t wicked?” I asked. “What else would you call him?”

  “Tragic,” said Sutton as if this were obvious. “Mosca is wily, sly, and mischievous. Altogether a different sort of fellow.”

  “If it is to your liking, I will hope you get the part,” said Mycroft Holmes. “You say it is a smaller company?”

  “Yes, and not as well-ho
used. That does not bother me,” Sutton said quickly. “I know it is wiser to be less visible than I am in MacBeth. The Bridge Street theatre is small—it seats only four hundred—and it is not as well-known as Drury Lane or Duke of York’s, but it has a good reputation in theatrical circles.”

  “How large is the company?” I asked, recalling some of Sutton’s earlier observations on the advantage of larger troupes of players.

  “Just at present there are seven regular members,” he said. “They plan to expand to ten.”

  “Good enough for many plays,” said Holmes, and added, “I do appreciate what you have done, Sutton, and I want you to know how much I value your devotion.”

  “Well, you’d do as much for me, if our situations were reversed,” Sutton responded.

  I was not entirely sure this was so, but I held my tongue; Sutton would not like my observation and Mycroft Holmes would be insulted by it. “I’ll wish you good luck,” I said at last.

  “Thank you, Guthrie,” said Sutton, and turned away. “I will change now. If you have any need of me between now and tomorrow afternoon, send word to my rooms and I will come as quickly as I am able.”

  “Thank you, Sutton. You are very good.” Holmes cleared his throat. “If talent and skills are of any value, the part is yours already.”

  Sutton bowed as if taking a curtain-call, and then went out of the study, whistling as he hastened down the hall to the rear of the flat.

  Mycroft Holmes said nothing for the better part of a minute and then said, “As soon as Chief Inspector Pryce arrives, we should go into the sitting room. I would rather he not see some of the material we have in here.”

  “Why not remove there now?” I suggested, reaching for my portfolio. “I can as easily review your notes in the sitting room as I can here.” I prepared to gather up the papers. “You can keep this room closed during his visit.”

  “A most useful notion, Guthrie. Most clever of you.” Holmes signaled his approval by taking half the stack of papers in his hands and going to the door. “Well, come along. There is work to do.”