The Scottish Ploy

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  I did as he told me, taking the copies of the memoranda and slipping them into my portfolio as I followed him out of the study. In the sitting room, Mycroft Holmes drew up one of the chairs toward the hearth, calling out to Tyers for more wood.

  “Shortly, sir,” Tyers replied. “I have one thing to do for Sutton before he departs.”

  “Fine,” said Holmes, putting down the sheets of paper and clapping his hands for warmth. “The cold gets into everything,” he complained. “We should make the room a bit more inviting before the Chief Inspector arrives.”

  “No doubt,” I agreed, opening my portfolio and pulling out the sheets I had put there.

  “A bit of a puzzle, isn’t he?” said Mycroft Holmes.

  “Who? Sutton?” I asked, being mildly distracted by my preparations.

  “No. Chief Inspector Pryce. For a man who endured so much notoriety a decade ago, he has weathered the storm remarkably well, don’t you think?” His tone of mild interest persuaded me that my answer was of importance to him.

  “It certainly appears so,” I answered.

  “Exactly, Guthrie. It does appear so.” He sat down and took his notes in hand. “We might as well use our waiting time to advantage.” With that, he put his full attention to the information contained in his notes; nothing short of an explosion would have pierced his concentration. Taking this for an example, I began my review of the notes, hunching my shoulders in an effort to stay warm.

  FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS

  Sutton has just left, looking like a chimney-weep. I reminded him to be on guard, not only for the Golden Lodge guards, but any other person who seems unduly interested in this flat or in him. I have stiff to take wood into the sitting room so that it may be warm by the time Chief Inspector Pryce arrives. No doubt there will be a message for me to take to Inspector Strange when this meeting is done.

  This morning’s sermon was taken from the Book of Job, where God speaks to Job out of the whirlwind, which cautions us not to speak without knowledge, or to question God’s creation. I admit I have always found Job problematical, for if scripture is accurate, God had not yet created Adam when He laid the foundations of the earth. Indeed, if Mister Darwin is correct, the foundations of the earth were laid long before Man stepped onto it. How are we to encompass the whole of it? And should we repent if we cannot comprehend the whole?

  I expect the afternoon to be uneventful, but this may prove to be famous last words ...

  IT WAS twenty minutes past twelve when Chief Inspector Pryce knocked on the door; Tyers admitted him at once and showed him into the sitting room, offering to bring tea or brandy.

  “Tea, if you would. I am technically on duty, and should not drink, though many of my colleagues would accept such an offer.” Chief Inspector Pryce said nothing more until Tyers had left for the kitchen. “I spent last night reviewing the reports you had the presence of mind to get yesterday. They make most interesting reading.”

  “Do they?” Mycroft Holmes asked politely; he had risen to greet the Chief Inspector and now sketched a bow in the direction of the chair nearest the window. “In what way?”

  “Most significantly, I noticed that only you and your secretary mention that the victim was nervous at the onset of the meeting. None of the Germans remarked upon that.” He looked directly at Holmes. “I find that curious.”

  “Why?” countered Mycroft Holmes. “Why should this strike you as strange?”

  “The Germans said nothing of it,” Chief Inspector Pryce restated.

  “Perhaps they knew the reason for his apprehension, and did not think it was solely connected to the events of the afternoon,” Holmes suggested smoothly. “Or perhaps they knew his character to be of a nervous disposition, and so put no stock in his behavior. Guthrie and I, not familiar with the man, paid attention to what his associates did not.”

  “Very credible notions,” said Chief Inspector Pryce, going toward the proffered chair at last, and sitting down. “And yet it does not wholly satisfy me. Why should the Baron choose this man to taste the tea, and why have it tasted at all? It strikes me as odd.” He let the implicit challenge hang between them.

  “ ‘Riddle me this’?” Mycroft Holmes responded. “I am afraid I cannot tell you anything much, my dear Chief Inspector.”

  “Your report says that Sir Cameron was of an unquiet state of mind,” Pryce went on.

  “He had been shot at not ten minutes since,” Holmes reminded him. “He was somewhat testy because of it.”

  “As you would be; as we all would,” said Chief Inspector Pryce. “My point precisely,” Holmes agreed. “And because of the delicacy of our discussion, the Baron undertook to reassure Sir Cameron that he was in no danger in Herr Amsel’s house.”

  “Still, it is an odd sort of courtesy, and what a result to have,” said the Chief Inspector; I saw that he was trying to lead the conversation toward a specific goal, but I did not know what that goal might be. I listened more closely to the interchange between the Chief Inspector and my employer, paying close attention to the nuances of their discussion.

  “Yes; I would think that it is most unlikely that the Baron planned anything so disruptive to our occasion. He lost one of his men and all but guaranteed that Sir Cameron would reject any solution he might offer to their current impasse. With the efforts that were being put forth, one might almost suppose that there was a deliberate effort being made to sabotage our discussions.” Holmes returned to his preferred chair and sank into it; the warmth of the built-up fire made the room quite cozy, although rain rattled on the windows and wind moaned along the river, heralds of another full-blown storm preparing to descend upon London.

  “Which, I gather, has something to do with the coming visit of Lady MacMillian,” said Pryce in a methodical manner. “I did not realize Sir Cameron was estranged from his wife.” He let his remark dangle, tantalizing bait.

  “For several years, yes. It was thought for some time that any rapprochement was unlikely. Lady Cameron is German, as you must surmise. She has recently expressed a desire for a reconciliation, and her visit is intended to be the first step in that process,” Holmes said.

  “Why so much negotiation? Why does not Lady MacMillian simply arrange to visit Sir Cameron at his home in Scotland and discover for herself if she wishes to renew her association with her husband?” It was a reasonable question, but Mycroft Holmes became wary at once.

  “If only it could be so uncomplicated,” he said, and I was aware by his manner that he had planned for this question. “But Lady MacMillian is a noblewoman in her own right and has recently inherited considerable wealth and estates in Germany. This makes her married state more than a matter of inclination and the heart: property and money are involved. Her family fear that if she should visit Scotland, Sir Cameron might—as German law provides—lay claim to all her fortune and her lands by right as her husband. In that event, there would be no legal recourse to deny him what he claimed so long as he did not formally separate from his wife. The family don’t want this, nor do the Kaiser’s government. So if there is to be any reconciliation, it cannot happen in Scotland, where Sir Cameron’s authority over his Lady would be unalloyed. Here, in London, there is room for negotiation.” He shrugged. “You, Chief Inspector, of all men, should be aware of how zealous families can be in regard to property and riches.”

  Chief Inspector Pryce pursed his lips. “I have had some experience of it,” he said drily.

  “Lady Cameron wishes to be accompanied by her uncles, an arrangement that is not satisfactory to Sir Cameron,” Holmes went on, leaving out his own objections to the proposed arrangement. “So it has fallen to Baron von Schattenberg and me to work out a solution to the problem that is acceptable to all parties, in order to have the reunion a success.”

  “Sounds like a thankless task to me,” said Chief Inspecto
r Pryce in a tone of voice that suggested he was keenly aware of the difficulties this could bring.

  “It has not improved with Herr Kriede’s death.” Holmes glanced up as Tyers brought the tea-tray into the sitting room. “Thank you, Tyers. Did the sweep get off betimes?”

  “That he did. He will return tomorrow or Tuesday,” said Tyers as he departed.

  “Very good,” Holmes said without any show of interest; I knew he had asked the question to account for Sutton’s departure should Chief Inspector Pryce make inquiries regarding this flat during his investigation of Herr Kriede’s death. “Assam, Chief Inspector, or Lapsang?” He indicated the two pots of tea on the tray.

  “Lapsang, I think,” said Pryce, pleased at the choice. “Sugar, no milk.” He paused and added, “You are most fortunate to have a sweep work on Sunday.”

  “That I am. I did him a service once, and he is willing to extend himself on my behalf because of it,” said Holmes smoothly.

  “It must have been a most worthy service,” said Pryce, encouraging Holmes to enlarge upon it.

  “That it was.” Mycroft Holmes leaned forward and poured a cup for the Chief Inspector, then rose. “I must excuse myself a moment. Guthrie, do you take over the work as host and answer what questions you can while I am out of the room.”

  “Of course,” I said, wondering why Holmes was departing so rapidly. I went to pour a cup of the Assam for myself, with sugar and milk. I realized that I, too, would have to excuse myself in a short while. The amount of tea we had consumed this morning was prodigious. “What may I do to help you, Chief Inspector?” I asked, giving him my full attention.

  “I would like to know what your first impressions of the death were. I have read your account, of course, but if anything now stands out in your memory, I should like to hear it.” He tasted his tea and waited for me to answer.

  “Well,” I said, thinking over the events of the previous evening, “I was aware that as courteous as the Germans were being, they were under some pressure to resolve our shared problem with dispatch. Lady MacMillian has already left Germany and is probably in Holland, or so the Baron said. That alone added to the urgency of our negotiations.”

  “You do not want the woman to show up in London before the terms of her visit are approved,” said the Chief Inspector.

  “It is not so much the woman as her uncles who accompany her. They have certain connections that the Admiralty do not want to have turned loose in the city. It is lamentable that this is the case, but I cannot ignore the danger these men might represent.” I assumed it was all right to say so much, for this had been mentioned in three of the reports Mycroft Holmes had provided yesterday.

  “It is certain, is it, that these associations pose a real danger to Britain?” Pryce regarded me with polite curiosity.

  “Yes, it is certain,” I said. “We would not undertake this business if it were not.” I put down my cup and leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “It may be that the shot fired at Sir Cameron before he arrived in Berkeley Mews is part of the puzzle. It served to put in motion the events that led to Herr Kriede’s death.”

  “So I am informed,” said Chief Inspector Pryce. “Which is what I find puzzling, for if the Baron did not know such an attempt would be made on Sir Cameron, how could he have anticipated that Herr Kriede would drink poison from the cup?”

  “Exactly,” said Mycroft Holmes from the doorway. “That cup could have been given to anyone. I assume the poison was in the cup and not the tea?”

  “It was, though why you should think so escapes me,” said the Chief Inspector. He swung around to look at Mycroft Holmes as he went back to his chair and sat down.

  “Merely the observation of the event. My notes on the death make mention of this: the tea had no detectable odor, and the spout was not discolored by anything more than tea. The cup, however, had a distinctly bluish cast to its interior after it fell onto the carpet. That was why I was most particular in making sure no one changed the scene of the crime. I made mention of that as well in my account, for it suggested to me that the cup had been the instrument of conveying the poison, and if the room were not guarded, another cup might be substituted for the fatal one.” He paused. “I understand that the Baron would probably pour out the tea and have his assistants hand it round. In which case, it is likely that Sir Cameron or I would have been given the deadly cup.”

  Chief Inspector Pryce nodded. “Indeed. It seems very much that way to me. I am astonished that you should be willing to consider such a possibility with such sangfroid.” He scrutinized Mycroft Holmes from beneath puckered brows. “Most men, contemplating their murder by poison would be in something of a dither.”

  “But I was not the victim, nor was Sir Cameron, as it turned out,” said Mycroft Holmes. “The unfortunate Herr Kriede had the sad problem of drinking from the cup. I doubt he was aware of its contents.”

  “In spite of his nervousness?” Pryce inquired. “Any man facing such a possibility might well betray himself with a fit of nerves.”

  “But that was not the case with Herr Kriede, as I have said already. Whatever made him uneasy, it was not the prospect of dying by poison. I do not think anyone would take so great a chance as the Baron did to deliver a deadly draught to his aide in that haphazard fashion. Who is to say whether or not it would succeed? If it failed, then accounting for the death would be more trouble than the elimination of the man would be. As a German citizen, Herr Kriede would not have to be killed in London, but might have been sent home for more discreet disposal. So I do not consider Herr Kriede to be the intended victim.” Mycroft Holmes folded his arms. “No, as regards Herr Kriede, I rather thought that he suspected something was amiss but did not dare to reveal it to anyone. I am in no position to surmise the cause of his response, or what triggered it: what that might be, I must point out that any guess I venture would be purely conjecture on my part.”

  “All right. I will not assume you to have discovered the truth. Have you any notion of what that disturbing information might be?” Chief Inspector Pryce asked.

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, Chief Inspector, but prescience is not among my accomplishments,” said Mycroft Holmes. “I have any number of guesses, but that is all they are, and as such they can do nothing to aid your investigation. In fact, they might cloud the very issues you seek to clarify.” He poured Assam for himself. “If you are to find your way through this very confusing case, you will not want to load yourself with speculation on all fronts.”

  “Perhaps not,” the Chief Inspector agreed. “Although I would reckon your suppositions would be nearer the mark than many another’s would be.” He finished his Lapsang. “Still, your point is well-taken. I will not ask you to venture your opinion yet. I may return to ask you more at a later time, if I may.”

  “I am always delighted to help the police in their inquiries,” said

  Mycroft Holmes with the utmost cordiality. “I do think I should point out that neither I, nor Guthrie, had any opportunity to touch the tray or any of the objects on it.”

  Chief Inspector Pryce laughed. “You will have your joke, Mister Holmes. I would never consider you a suspect in such a case.”

  “Then you would not be doing your work well,” said Mycroft Holmes sharply. “Everyone in that room, and the butler as well, should be considered possible killers until you prove they could not have done it. That must include Guthrie and me. And Sir Cameron, for all he arrived late and was still feeling the effects of having been shot at.”

  “If you insist,” Chief Inspector Pryce said, his manner suddenly much more formal. “I will, of course, seek for confirmation of your statement.”

  “Very good,” Mycroft Holmes approved. “If it should appear to anyone—the press, the Germans, or Sir Cameron—that you do not view all of us equally suspect, then there will be cries of bias and favoritism. This is n
ot an accusation the police want to bring upon themselves.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Pryce, glowering down at his cup.

  Mycroft Holmes made a gesture of encouragement. “There is trouble enough already in regard to Lady MacMillian. Her visit is most inopportune for reasons that are too complex to go into just now. I would advise you to keep in mind that the police will be closely watched during this inquiry, and that Sir Cameron is something of a darling to the press.”

  “That has not escaped me,” said Chief Inspector Pryce with a wry smile. “When I called at his hotel this morning, there were half-a-dozen journalists waiting just outside the door.”

  “Not entirely surprising. Sir Cameron is a prime favorite of theirs,” said Holmes with the patience of a much-tried parent.

  Chief Inspector Pryce made a gesture of resignation. “I would prefer it if he did not feel compelled to tell them the whole of the story. But short of putting a guard on him in a sequestered place, there is not much I can do to stop him.”

  Holmes held up his hand, considering his next remark. “To that end, Chief Inspector, I may have a recommendation to make: I understand that Sir Cameron has taken a lease on a house in Deanery Mews,” he said at last. “He himself confirmed that he had. You might want to suggest to him that he would be safer in that establishment than in an hotel, for the public may come and go in the hotel, but his leased house would be his castle. Lady MacMillian might not like it, but it would simplify the problem of guarding Sir Cameron. If someone wishes to try to shoot him again, it would be more easily accomplished at an hotel than in a private house. It would also be less expensive to stay at the house than to pay for both house and hotel.” Again he waited to let the Chief Inspector deliberate on what he had just heard. “You might also remind him that it is safer to have his own servants about him than men he does not know who might be more venal than he would like.”