‘Incidentally, Major, I wonder if you might clear something up for my own satisfaction? You never attempted to rob a family by the name of Rudge recently, did you? And your current “gang” contains no one of Oriental extraction, does it? And has at no point recently contained such a person? No? I thought not.’ He turned to me, shaking his head. ‘You see, Watson, the Chinese who committed suicide while returning the second forgery to the National Portrait Gallery was no traitor to the Lord, after all. That villain murdered the man’s family simply to further incriminate the Albino. That is a particularly advanced form of evil, indeed.’
‘And the Rudges?’ I asked curiously.
‘Again, the behaviour of those involved was of a piece with the murders of the two ladies. Men already tied up badly beaten by the intruders, a policeman nearly killed by one of the gang – and a single hair left behind. Not the white hair of the Albino, either, or the brown of Mrs Rudge, but a long, jet-black one, such as you may recall is common amongst the Chinese population of Limehouse.’
Conway had pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and was busily taking notes as Holmes spoke. Holmes politely waited for him to finish before he continued. ‘And then there was the second attempt on my own life. Someone used a crossbow against me, firing through the window of my rooms in Baker Street. I briefly considered that the choice of weapon was predicated upon a preference for silence. But why should a gang otherwise willing to snatch their prey from within the Old Bailey itself and then execute him on the premises, care a jot for a little sound and fury? It made no sense. Far more likely that there was another explanation.
‘The simplest solution was that there was another group with an interest in my investigation into England’s Treasure. The leap from there to the realisation that the Lord of Strange Deaths was the mastermind was a lengthy one, admittedly, hence my failure to mention it to my friend Watson here. I was not absolutely certain until you appeared in the doorway just now, but I began to suspect a second hand at play after the discovery of Mrs Boggs’s body.’
He turned his full attention on Conway. ‘Perhaps we could dispense with the gun, Major? I give you my word that we will make no attempt to escape before we meet your employer, though given that he is standing outside that door, the length of time involved is likely to be short.’
Conway looked from Holmes to the gun he held and to the closed door, then, with a smile, placed it on a table.
‘A wavering shadow at the base of the door, combined with the firm belief that he would want to know what was said at first hand,’ Holmes said, though Conway had asked no question. ‘Perhaps you should invite him in?’
There was no need, however. The door creaked open, framing the Albino in the dying light coming through the low windows in the entrance hall.
He was certainly a distinctive figure, now that we could see him in a clearer light than that beneath the Bailey. His hair was cut just above his shoulders and was of the purest white, and his eyes, which he blinked somewhat more than the average man, were a pale pink colour. He stood around six foot tall, with broad shoulders and strong legs, the whole perfectly contained in immaculate evening dress, which, it seemed, he habitually wore. In his hands he held a freshly brushed top hat and a gold-topped cane, both of which he now laid down upon a nearby shelf.
‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said. His soft tone reminded me again of our previous meeting, when he had quietly ordered Boggs thrown to a terrible and squalid death. I took a step in front of Miss Rhodes, and slipped my hand into my jacket pocket again. Holmes might be willing to negotiate with the man, but I was less trusting.
‘Good evening, Mr—?’ Holmes replied on our behalf, but the Albino ignored the question as though it had never been asked.
‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Holmes. And you, Dr Watson – and the lovely Miss Rhodes, of course. Please make yourselves comfortable while we talk.’
If Conway was the bluff, honest American to the life, then the Albino was the epitome of the decadent European nobleman, then prevalent in the society columns of the popular press. Even allowing for his lack of pigment he exuded an air of artificial weariness and a contrived sensuality, which his soft, almost feminine speech did nothing to improve.
‘Major Conway,’ he murmured, ‘would you be so kind as to obtain refreshments for us all? It has been a busy day and I would appreciate a little tea.’
He pressed his head close to Conway’s as he passed, and the two men exchanged whispered words that we could not make out.
Finally the Major left to make arrangements, and the Albino seated himself, pulled out the golden cigarette case we had seen at the Bailey, and lit one of his small cigarettes. I recognised the scent of opium immediately and so, I was sure, would Holmes. Perhaps it would give us an advantage.
Once he had the cigarette lit, the Albino continued. ‘I have long been an admirer of the manner in which you have winnowed out the lesser lights amongst the English criminal fraternity, Mr Holmes. Your removal of that vicious madman, Moran, was particularly welcome, I must say, as his attempts on my own life, while fruitless, had begun to prove… irritating. And I do so hate irritation.’
While the man spoke, I looked over at Holmes. He sat unblinking in his chair, with his chin resting lightly on his hand and his eyes never once leaving the Albino. What thoughts were going through his head at that moment I could not have said, but the sense of a hunter finally scenting his prey was unmistakable. The Albino for his part seemed entirely at ease. His courtesy and affability were not what I had expected, but I knew enough about criminals as a class to know that appearances could be deceiving.
I felt Miss Rhodes slip her hand into mine as I observed my friend, and reminded myself that while Holmes might revel in such confrontations, at least one person in this room was terrified. I squeezed her hand quickly, for comfort, and resumed my study of the Albino.
His eyes were half closed as he went on, in a voice that at times fell so quiet as to verge on the inaudible. That aside, there was no sign that the drug had any effect on him. A habitual user, then. ‘I wonder, Mr Holmes,’ he said, ‘how much you have managed to discover. Has that huge mind of yours worked everything out yet? I do hope that it has. You see, I know everything but the solution – and while I flatter myself that I am no idiot, it would be ridiculous to imagine that I am as capable of problem-solving as the great Sherlock Holmes. Major Conway says that you were willing to exchange our information for your own, but that you hesitated to be the first to speak? Quite understandable. You had no reason to trust me, after all.
‘I would like to change that, if possible, Mr Holmes. I would like to gain your trust, if I can.’
Holmes’s tone was doubtful. ‘How do you intend to do that, Mr… I’m sorry, how should we address you? It seems absurd to refer to you as Mr Albino.’
The Albino smiled in acknowledgement. ‘Zenith will suffice. It is a name I have used before.’
‘Very well then. How do you intend to do that, Mr Zenith?’
‘Just Zenith,’ said the Albino. ‘And I hope to gain your trust by demonstrating that I am not the bogeyman of this tale, and never have been. You are perhaps aware of something of my alleged past? Amongst the police forces of six countries it is rumoured that I am a disgraced prince, the reprobate scion of a minor European royal family.’ He raised his hand to his brow in mock salute. ‘I am guilty as charged, Mr Holmes. A very minor royal family, it is true, but even so…’
His voice trailed off into silence. I wondered if it were the effect of the drug, but the pause was brief and he quickly resumed his tale.
‘In any case, I am no longer recognised by my family, who are ashamed of the life I have chosen, and of the type of man I am. They are within their rights, by their lights. I am a thief and a killer, after all, a drug user and a sybarite. But still, I retain many of my old allegiances. I am no Fabian, no friend to the working man. No “Robin Hood”. I find the poor rather tiresome, if truth
be told. I find most things tiresome, in the end. But I have always believed in loyalty.’
He shrugged. ‘You will appreciate, then, that when I was made aware of a certain rumour – one which made mention of another Royal family, a family to whom I am distantly related – I felt it my duty to act, even though my own family had rejected me.’
‘England’s Treasure,’ said Holmes quietly. It was not a question.
‘Yes, England’s Treasure. Once I was made aware of its existence, if not its substance, I investigated more fully, and discovered a link to a group of obscure paintings. Unfortunately, other parties also became interested, and there has been some recent unpleasantness as a result of our mutual interest.’
‘The headless and limbless corpse in Brook Street,’ Holmes muttered to himself.
‘Amongst others,’ Zenith agreed. ‘I have been working for the last few months to stay ahead of these other parties, and to make sense of a most intriguing puzzle.’
‘One you have been unable to crack. The fact that you have not killed us already would argue not.’
Zenith’s heavy-lidded eyes flickered once at that, then were still again. ‘I’m pleased to see that you have not mistaken any previous mercy on my part for weakness, Mr Holmes. I do not destroy without cause, and I endeavour never to kill the innocent or the defenceless. But I consider you neither of those things, and I will not hesitate to kill you if that action would serve my needs best.’ He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his immaculate trousers, and continued with a new hint of steel in his voice. ‘I had hoped to come to bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion without your assistance… but I am a realist above all, and now I am delighted that I had Conway keep you alive. I would like you to consult for me, Mr Holmes.’
Eighteen
The room fell completely silent as we each considered Zenith’s request. For myself, I knew that Holmes would never agree to work for the Albino.
I was not wrong.
‘That is unfortunate,’ said Holmes, finally. ‘I am not in the habit of working for criminals, no matter how charming they may be. Besides, it would be folly on my part to give anyone access to an object about which I know so little.’
Zenith took Holmes’s rejection calmly enough. ‘That is your final word, Mr Holmes?’ he asked.
Holmes nodded.
‘We are at an impasse then. I am unable to discover England’s Treasure without your help, and if you will not help then you are of no use to me, and potentially could identify me to the police. I fear that your removal will be the only option left open to me if I cannot persuade you to co-operate.’
‘I assure you that there is nothing you can say or do which would make me help you,’ said Holmes.
Zenith’s response was as short and direct as it was repulsive. ‘What if I were to threaten to kill Miss Rhodes?’
‘How dare you suggest—’ I ignored both Miss Rhodes’s gentle tug on my arm, and Holmes’s more robust attempts to quieten me, as I leapt to my feet. ‘Is this the way a prince of royal blood behaves? Like a coward who would threaten a lady!’
I pride myself that I am not a slave to my emotions, whatever Holmes may occasionally claim, but Zenith’s words had sickened me to the core. I took a step forward, reaching into my coat pocket as I did so. But my fingers had no more than brushed the metal of my revolver, when Zenith brought me up short.
‘Please do not do anything unfortunate, Dr Watson. I hope to form a temporary alliance with Mr Holmes, and your death at my hand would render that prospect remote.’
From nowhere he had conjured a small but deadly-looking pistol, which he held pointed directly at my heart. The languidly complacent drug fiend of a moment before had been replaced with an active intellect and a steady hand, and I was in no doubt that he would kill me if he had to.
As I stood there indecisively, Holmes’s voice cut in from behind me. ‘Sit down, Watson, there’s a good chap,’ he said. ‘Zenith will do nothing to harm Miss Rhodes.’
Major Conway chose that moment to re-enter the room, bearing a tray that he laid down beside us. Holmes grimaced at the interruption, but waited with reasonably good grace while drinks were poured by Zenith and handed round by his lieutenant. If anyone else was conscious of the incongruity of such civilised activities in so tense a situation, they did not mention it.
Zenith broke the silence after a minute or so. ‘Mr Holmes is correct. Of course I would never harm the lady. But I might well hurt you a good deal if needs be, Dr Watson.’
Now it was Holmes’s turn to leap to remonstrate with our captor. ‘Enough of this, Zenith. I do not believe a civilised man such as you claim to be would ever resort to torture.’
Zenith looked at each of us, then gave a nod to Conway, who came round behind me and, slipping his hand into my pocket, extracted my revolver. ‘Sit down, please,’ he said.
I sat, but Holmes remained standing. ‘Sit down, Mr Holmes,’ Zenith repeated, but more forcefully, with none of the languid air, which I suspected he exaggerated for effect. Holmes did not move, but continued to stare down at him.
‘Very well,’ Zenith said, shaking his head as though disappointed in Holmes’s reaction. ‘Major Conway, please be so good as to shoot Dr Watson through one kneecap.’
I had no time to react. Conway quickly grabbed the back of my head and pushed me forward so that I stumbled and fell to my knees. I had just enough time to look up and see Zenith covering Holmes and Miss Rhodes with his pistol before I felt the hard metal of my own confiscated revolver pressed down against the back of my left knee. In the instant before Conway pulled the trigger I tensed my muscles and resolved not to give Zenith the satisfaction of crying out.
‘Stop!’ Holmes’s shout echoed off the walls of the library. ‘Let me see the letter from Horace Hamblin and it may be that I can point you in the direction of the Treasure.’
I felt rather than saw Conway look up at Zenith, then heard the soft click as he eased the hammer back on the revolver and replaced it in his pocket.
‘Nothing personal, Doctor,’ he said, as he helped me to my feet. I sat down heavily, doing my level best to control a slight tremor in my hands. I have faced battle before, but the speed of execution and the business-like manner of Conway’s actions had left me quite shaken. Miss Rhodes again took my hand. It was enough that she did so. I sat up straighter and glanced up at Holmes, who remained standing before us.
Zenith, meanwhile, was also staring at Holmes. ‘Letter?’ he asked. ‘What makes you think that the information I have was received in the form of a letter?’
Holmes’s impatience was palpable. ‘While we have been speaking, you have three times moved your hand towards your pocket as though to retrieve some item, then stopped. A letter is the most likely such item.
‘Additionally, how else would you know of the Treasure at all? A “rumour” that has survived the centuries intact, and which details six specific paintings that might lead to great wealth, but no other criminal has heard of or thought to come after in all that time? Do not insult my intelligence, Zenith.
‘There is obviously a letter, from Hamblin himself, I’d wager, which has remained hidden these many years, until you laid your hands on it. It provides a starting point for any search for England’s Treasure, at least, and possibly more. If you allow me to examine it, I will share any deductions I make. In return, and before I do anything, you will set Dr Watson and Miss Rhodes at liberty.’
Part of Holmes’s genius, as I have remarked elsewhere, lay in his ability to act a part with utter conviction. Where I could see the concern in his eyes and the fear in the way his shoulders sagged as he awaited Zenith’s reply, to the rest of the room he gave every sign of barely repressed annoyance, as of a man holding a winning hand at cards baulked in his desire to lay them down.
He did not have long to wait. ‘Miss Rhodes certainly may go, for she is of no use to me as leverage for your continued co-operation. Dr Watson must stay, however.’
&nbs
p; Holmes nodded once, briskly. ‘That will have to do, I suppose,’ he said, in as offhand a tone as he could manage.
Miss Rhodes made some sounds of disagreement, but I took her two hands and reminded her quietly that Holmes and I could not act with full freedom while she was present and in danger. She swallowed hard, and seemed on the verge of tears, but eventually assented, if unhappily, to be escorted to the village by two of Zenith’s men. Such was the degree of sudden emotion in the air that even Holmes was affected and briefly allowed Miss Rhodes to kiss him on the cheek as she departed.
As soon as she was safely on her way, Zenith reached into his inner pocket and pulled out an envelope from which he extracted a sheet of folded foolscap, offering it silently to Holmes.
‘This is obviously not the original,’ Holmes said as he unfolded the paper. ‘Both paper and ink are new. But the scrawled handwriting indicates that your agent copied directly from the original, and without removing it from its location.’ He looked up quickly. ‘There are Chinese characters in the margins. Have they been accurately copied?’
Zenith slowly crossed his legs before he replied. ‘Major Conway was impressed to find you had already concluded that the Oriental savage had been searching for England’s Treasure. For myself, I was slightly disappointed that it took you so long.’
‘Had I known that England’s Treasure had a political element, I would have deduced the Lord of Strange Deaths involvement much earlier,’ Holmes responded, obviously stung by the criticism. ‘As it was, I ruled him out on the basis that mere financial gain would not interest him. Another mistake, but an understandable one, I think.’
He resumed his perusal until, eager to know the letter’s contents, I asked him to read it aloud.
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