Embassy Row

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  Meanwhile I continue my preparations for tomorrow.

  The judge’s housekeeper has been very helpful. After our little drama this afternoon, I had a few words with her, and as a result she and the judge’s manservant will inform Sir Charles that there will be noise in this flat tomorrow, and they will not complain to me, now that I have assured them that the poor, distracted Missus Swindon will not be returning here. I am relieved that there will be no inquiry regarding M H’s activities, for the whole purpose of Sutton being here is to maintain the illusion that M H does not leave his flat but for specific hours and specific destinations. So far this deception has been successful. I must hope it will continue to be.

  MYCROFT HOLMES RETURNED from the banquet at the Swiss embassy at eleven-seventeen that night. He looked tired and exasperated as he shrugged out of his cloak and strode into the study, away from the front of the flat where Edmund Sutton sat in a chair, reading Sir Peter Teazle’s lines over again.

  “That Ambassador Tochigi will be the death of me, metaphorically if not literally,” Holmes exclaimed as he lit a cigar. “I don’t know when I have encountered anyone quite so stubborn. Oh, he is not blatant in his obduracy. Very fastidious about it, he is, as the Japanese always are, but he will not budge. He is determined to have the number of Japanese permitted to attend the Navy College at Dartmouth increased to two hundred, which is patently absurd. The Admiralty is not willing to have so many, for the Japanese would then constitute half the attendees. Nor, I expect, do they want so great a number of their young titled gentlemen away from Japan at the same time and in the same place, be it England or Rio de Janeiro. I have yet to determine why they are seeking so much leeway. When I meet privately with him it will be easier, I hope.”

  I stood aside so that Tyers could present Holmes with a snifter of four-star brandy. “It sounds difficult.”

  “There is a package from Tschersky,” said Tyers as he made his offering. “And one from the Japanese.”

  “Tschersky is being remarkably prompt,” said Holmes. “What have the Japanese sent now?” he asked of the air before he tossed off his brandy. “Guthrie, I could have used you at my side this evening. No matter. Tomorrow I am arranging for you to accompany me. The Admiralty have already said that James Dewar may observe our negotiations; they cannot reasonably object to you. And given that Tochigi is going to have his secretaries with him, he can hardly protest if I bring mine. It is becoming necessary to have another pair of hands. Eyes, as well, and ears. In the morning, I may send you off to the Admiralty or some such thing.” He put the snifter down. “You will, of course, go to the Swiss embassy.”

  “Actually,” I said, taking advantage of the opening he had afforded me, “we have come up with a scheme to deal with that.”

  “Oh?” Holmes swung around to look at me. “What is it?”

  “It is a notion of Sutton’s, and it confirms what Tyers already suspects,” I said, not wanting to have it said I claimed credit where I was not entitled to any. “It seems that someone may be watching the flat, and Sutton was concerned about concealing his arrival.” Quickly I outlined the plan about the carpenter and the doors. “If Sir Charles does not object, I think it would answer handsomely.”

  “Without doubt,” said Holmes. “Quite an excellent idea.” He cleared his throat. “We will be able to remain at the Swiss embassy as long as is necessary tomorrow. My absence, and yours, during the day will not be thought remarkable. Edmund can keep my habitual time at the club and anyone determined to watch me—if that is truly what is happening—will be satisfied as to my actions.” He took a turn about the study, and ended by coming face to face with Edmund Sutton, who had come in from the sitting room, and was now standing just inside the doorway. He put his snifter aside and extended his hand. “I congratulate you, my dear Edmund, for coming up with so suitable a diversion for us tomorrow. It is so utterly mundane that it should provide perfect deceit.”

  Sutton’s face colored in a most un-Holmes-like manner as he returned the grip. “Pleased to be of service, sir.”

  “More than service, if you have saved us from discovery.” He tapped the ash from his cigar. “No one will wonder that I should be away during necessary repairs. I will ask the Admiralty to send their coach for me, to make it the more convincing that I am about my regular business.”

  “Would you not simply retire to your club?” I said, indicating the direction of Pall Mall and his club.

  “That would occasion remark that none of us want,” said Holmes.

  “And it would cause the members to make note of the change in habit, and that would make my work far more difficult.” Sutton cleared his throat. “Not that I want to tell you your business, Mister Holmes.”

  “It isn’t my business that would be at risk,” Holmes pointed out gently. “It’s yours.”

  Sutton nodded his agreement.

  Tyers, who had left the room to put down the tray, now returned bearing the large silk-covered case that had been delivered earlier in the evening. He held it out to Holmes. “The instructions are, sir, that only you are to open it.” He paused. “If you would rather, I will open it.”

  Holmes gave a single crack of mirthless laughter. You mean the Khedive’s . . . em . . . present in Cairo?” He looked at the case and shook his head slowly. “No, I doubt it. Scorpions do not seem the right style for the Japanese. That design is the Imperial Mon, the Kiku, or the chrysanthemum blossom. It would not be honorable for Ambassador Tochigi to do anything so underhanded in the name of his Emperor. In fact, it would bring him total disgrace.” He reached out and, using his penknife, pried open the case, lifting the lid with great care.

  A large sheet of paper with the mon of Count Tochigi pressed into it lay atop a length of the most exquisite brocade I had ever seen. I heard Sutton give a soft exclamation of admiration.

  Only Mycroft Holmes was unimpressed. He swore comprehensively as he lifted the sash—for now that Holmes held it I saw that was what it was—from the case. “I wanted to avoid this,” he declared as he looked at the length of shimmering silk. “The ivy is Tochigi’s mon,” he explained, indicating the design worked in the fabric. “If I refuse his invitation, I insult him personally, and cause him to lose face.”

  “What are you refusing?” I asked, regarding the sash with some surprise that such a thing should evoke so odd a response from my employer.

  He sighed. “The Japanese are to be honored by the Swiss in two nights. There will be a full diplomatic reception. Everyone will be there—French, Italians, Germans, Austrians, Hungarians, Russians, Greeks, the lot of them. Black tie, for Ambassador Tochigi and Prince Jiro, who is currently at Dartmouth.”

  “It still strikes me as odd, sir,” I remarked as I considered what I had heard, “that the Japanese should be so sponsored by the Swiss.”

  “Ah,” said Holmes with a singular smile. “But the Swiss, my dear boy, have no navy, and any arrangements we make with the Japanese cannot possibly encroach on their interests. At the same time, it puts England and Japan in their debt, which serves their purposes very well.” He put the sash back in the case and took out the paper. “My invitation. With the added note,” he said as he read the neat addendum in French, “that my attendance is to be unofficial; I need not make a formal appearance at the reception line. My name will not appear on the guest list.” He tapped the paper reflectively. “Well, that’s something. Hisoka Tochigi has not taken complete leave of his good sense. It is something to be grateful to the ambassador for. He has certainly lived up to his personal name. Hisoka means ‘reserved’ or ‘self-contained,’ I have been told. Now if only the Admiralty and the Prime Minister will show the same good sense.”

  Sutton was staring at the card. “What does that say?” He pointed to the Japanese writing that went along the side of the sheet.

  “I don’t know,” Holmes confessed as if admitting to a terrible fault. “I suspect it is a Japanese version of what is written in French on the back. He apologizes
that the paper is white and not red, but as the invitation is unofficial, red would not be appropriate.” He sighed. “More work for you, Edmund.”

  “How is that?” Sutton inquired, moving to look Holmes directly in the face. Every sinew of his tall frame expressed curiosity.

  It was unnerving to see the two of them standing together this way. With Holmes beside him, the makeup on Sutton’s face, which until then had been fully convincing, now appeared to be nothing more than obvious scratchings. It was as if Holmes stood before a faulty mirror in which his reflection was subtly distorted.

  “More work because I will need you to continue your . . . charade until the negotiations are concluded, including on the night of the reception, as I will not attend it officially. The routine for you will remain the same. You will have to make my usual appearance across the street, and maintain the fiction that I am at my duties here.” He glanced at Tyers. “The driver?”

  “He gave up watching about three hours ago, or was replaced by someone I do not yet recognize,” Tyers reported. “I will continue to watch.”

  “Not too obviously,” Holmes warned him. “I take it we are talking about the fellow with the German buttons on his coat and the Polish boots. If he wishes to go undetected, he must choose less conspicuous clothes.” He accepted Tyers’ nod without comment. “It is more important to know whom they represent than to catch them in the act. Once apprehended, their colleagues will be on the alert, and that might not suit my purposes at all.” He touched the tips of his fingers together. “If there is a way to follow these watchers, try to do it.”

  “Certainly,” said Tyers. “I have a few tricks left in my repertoire.”

  Holmes reached for a cigar, preparing to trim the end. “Well and good. Do not, however, put yourself at risk. It is bad enough that we should be subject to this surveillance. It would be far worse if anything should happen to you. Any of you,” he added with a gesture as he brought his cigar to his mouth.

  I felt a degree of both apprehension and pride—apprehension in that I supposed we were venturing once more into danger; pride in that the trust Mycroft Holmes reposed in the three of us was a compliment of the highest order. “Do you think there is a connection between the Japanese and the fact that you may be being watched?”

  “It would be the circumspect thing to do, for the two things are otherwise a coincidence, and you know my lack of faith in coincidences. However, I admit I can discern no commonality between the two factors. That does not mean one does not exist, only that it is not yet known.” He smiled as he rocked back on his heels and lit his cigar. “Whoever is watching, and to what purpose, we must, I am convinced, be far more cautious than we often are, and at the same time we must avoid the appearance of increased caution, so that our carelessly dressed spy will not be put on his guard.”

  “I can contrive to be seen more easily,” Sutton offered. “Going to and from your club, for instance.”

  “No,” said Holmes decisively. “That might occasion just the notice we do not want. Continue as you have before.” He lowered his eyes and fingered his watchfob. “I wish I knew why we were being watched, for then I would have a fairly good notion of who is doing it.”

  “Not the other way around?” I asked, for it seemed to me that this would be the more direct approach to the problem.

  “Not in this instance, no,” replied Holmes. “In this instance the why comes first.” He cocked his head in Sutton’s direction. “Do you still carry your pistol?”

  Again Sutton colored slightly. “Yes. I take your warning very much to heart.” He indicated his pockets. “Not while playing you, of course.”

  Holmes had more of the rum-flavored smoke. “A pity, but it is the wiser course. See that you keep it by you.”

  “Good gracious, sir,” I exclaimed before I could moderate my tone, “do you expect some attempt at violence?”

  “It is possible.” He gave Sutton a long, thoughtful stare. “I do not want any harm to come to you, Edmund. If you find yourself exposed to danger, I will not expect you to continue with your impersonation of me.”

  Now the color was very high in Sutton’s face, making his makeup appear more than ever like the painted mask it was. “If you think that I would turn from a fight, sir, you are badly mistaken—”

  “You might not,” agreed Holmes with deceptive affability. “But I would,” He had recourse to his cigar again. “Tyers, I want you to be at pains to guard Sutton without being obvious about it.”

  “I will,” said Tyers, his tone revealing that he had already done so and was planning to continue, whatever the circumstances.

  “Good,” Holmes approved, and indicated the wainscoted corridor leading to the rear of the flat. “In what guise do you leave tonight?” he asked Sutton, regarding him with concern.

  “I supposed I might leave by the front carrying a notary’s case,” said Sutton. “In case anyone is watching the back. I will return by nine in the morning with my carpenter’s tools. I have the right gear. You need not worry that I will be recognized.”

  “That did not even occur to me,” said Holmes, and waved Sutton toward the closet near the back of the house where two racks of clothes provided Sutton and his employer with a wide variety of garments. “Guthrie,” he added softly as Tyers escorted Sutton out of the study, “I have need of a little more of your time.”

  “Certainly, sir,” I said at once, recognizing the urgency in his request. That undercurrent of hazard that had marked this venture from the beginning became stronger.

  “I must rely on your absolute discretion. Is that understood?” He looked at me piercingly. “No word, no hint of what I tell you must escape your lips, now or ever.”

  Whatever he had to impart, it was most assuredly grave. I took a swift look over my shoulder, and, satisfied that Tyers and Sutton were beyond hearing, I said, “You may depend upon me, sir.”

  “I know that, Guthrie,” said Holmes with a faint smile. “It comforts me more than I deserve.” He reached out and knocked the last of the ash from his cigar. “This must go no further: I have it on unimpeachable authority that Prince Jiro has become enamored of an Englishwoman.” He shook his head once.

  “Dear Lord,” I said, keeping my voice low with an effort. “Do you know who it is?”

  “No, I do not.” He frowned, his profound grey eyes now like stone. “But I will.”

  “What a terrible scandal there would be,” I said, thinking of the public outcry against such a match.

  “No one thinks so more than Ambassador Tochigi.” He studied his cigar as he stubbed it out. “He has instructions from his Emperor that the liaison is to be ended, no matter what the cost, with total discretion. If one word of this reaches the public, it would end any hope we have of achieving an understanding with the Japanese for the next decade at least.”

  I could not keep myself from agreeing. Few of the noble houses of England or Europe would look on an alliance with a Japanese—Prince or not—with anything less than dismay. “How long has—”

  “—the affaire been going on?” Holmes finished for me. “I have no idea. Tochigi thinks it may be several months.” He let the significance of that sink in. “It is not a matter of entertainment for either party, or so Ambassador Tochigi fears. Its very existence is an affront to him, and he wishes to erase the blot on his escutcheon before the Prince returns home. To accomplish this, he intends to hold the resolution of the relationship over the government’s head. No agreement will be reached with the Japanese until the question of the Prince and his . . . bien amie is resolved. By which, of course, he means ended without a trace of scandal.”

  “Then that’s why there has been a request for so many places at Dartmouth for Japanese.” I saw the tactics fairly well. “You would think, though, that given what has happened with Prince Jiro, they would not want any of their young men in this country.”

  “That would surely put the yellow press on the scent, along with those whose business it is to wa
tch from the shadows,” said Holmes. “Ambassador Tochigi is more clever than that. By demanding places for more young Japanese cadets, it protects them from the suspicion that there are doubts about the propriety of conduct—” He stopped as Sutton came back into the corridor. “Very good,” he approved.

  “Not for daylight, and certainly not up close,” said Sutton. “But well enough for tonight. It will get me home. Luckily the arrival of your cab was late enough that it will be supposed that it brought me and I am now, a short while later, departing.” He bowed. In his dark frock coat and faintly striped trousers, he had some of the look Holmes had coming out of the cab. “I will use the old cloak, with the worn lining. That should be sufficient to conceal the difference in clothing. And I will carry a hat.” He touched his face. “I will remove the paint once I reach home.”

  “Remember not to go there directly,” Holmes said to him. “In case you are followed.”

  Sutton shrugged. “I will tell Hastings to take me to the address we agreed upon. And then I will make my way to the next street and pick up Hastings again for the rest of the way home.” He laughed, and made a sweeping gesture that was almost a bow. I could see he enjoyed the deceptions.

  “Very good,” said Holmes, and offered the actor his hand. “Thank you for all you are doing for me. Surely we are not paying you enough to compensate for the risks you are undertaking.”

  “It’s not the money, sir,” said Sutton with unexpected modesty. “I want to do my bit, you know, and I’m hardly suited to the army or navy.” At that he grinned and touched the brim of his hat.

  Holmes watched him leave, a speculative look in his eyes. “Say what you will, there goes a very brave man.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, and added in what I hoped was a fair impression of Sutton’s manner, “He has told me what it is like to face critics and a bad audience.”

  Fortunately Holmes chuckled. “Terrifying, no doubt,” he said, and signaled me to get my notebook.