"Not at all, my lord," Holmes said. "It is, after all, my profession to deduce hard facts from what would seem to others to be scanty evidence."
Lord Arundale sipped his tea thoughtfully. "What other deductions have you already made?" he asked.
Holmes leaned back in his armchair, his thin, sensitive fingers laced together under his chin. "Only the rather obvious facts that you've come from one or more officials of high government rank, probably cabinet ministers, to request that I take over the investigation; that you've been to Scotland Yard already and received the approval of the Commissioner of Police, although the detective inspector in charge of the case feels that I'll only get in the way."
"Astounding!" Lord Arundale said. "You must have agents in the police."
"I assure your lordship—"
Lord Arundale put his teacup on the tray and shook his head. "No need," he said. "Is there anything else?"
"Only that there is some fact or clue of major importance which has been withheld from the public that you have come to acquaint me with."
"By God, sir!" Lord Arundale said. "You must explain to me how you deduced all of that from the mere presence in your sitting room of a middle-aged peer in a morning coat."
"Every trade must have its secrets, my lord," Holmes said, rubbing his hands together. "I learned from my friend Dr. Watson, who shared these rooms with me before his marriage, not to reveal too easily how I attain these effects. The explanation moves them from the miraculous to the mundane. I would draw your attention, however, to the few additional facts that I noted."
"And they are?"
"First, I happened to notice the carriage in which you arrived; not your own, but one of those at the service of Scotland Yard. Next I observed the distinctive red-brown clay adhering to the instep of your right shoe. Surely acquired earlier today, since it seems unlikely that your valet would not see to it that your shoes are polished every night. There are several places around London where you might have picked it up, but the most likely is the east end of St. James's Park, across from the government offices."
"I begin to see," Lord Arundale said. "But I still think it's deucedly clever. Fancy knowing every bit of mud in London."
"In perpetrating a crime, the astute criminal strives to eliminate or disguise the facts surrounding his act," Holmes said. "Where he is most likely to go astray is in the small details, like the dirt on his shoes or the dust on his clothing. Therefore, my lord, you can see that the professional investigator must make a study of such details."
"Fantastic," Lord Arundale said. He picked up the small leather case that he had brought in with him and extracted an envelope from it. "How much do you know of the murder of Lord Walbine?"
"No more than what was in the morning papers, my lord."
"Here then is a précis of all the relevant facts," Lord Arundale said, handing the envelope to Holmes, "as prepared by the inspector in charge of the police investigation. Also included are accounts of the murders of the Honorable George Venn and of Isadore Stanhope."
"I shall read it immediately, your lordship," said Holmes. "I should also like to examine the rooms in which the three crimes were committed."
"Arrangements have been made," Lord Arundale said. "Inspector Lestrade said you'd want to, as he put it, 'crawl around the rooms on hands and knees with a reading glass.' "
"Ah, so it's Lestrade, is it?" cried Holmes. "That is somewhat helpful."
"You know Inspector Lestrade, then. I was favorably impressed with him. He seems to have a good command of his job. Claimed to be running down several promising leads, although he was rather vague as to what they were. Said that he thought arresting the butlers would produce results."
"What sort of results?" Holmes inquired.
"He didn't say. He did say that he thought that bringing you in on the case was quite unnecessary, although he admitted that you've been of some help to the regular force in the past. 'Special circumstances,' he put it. If it weren't that the P.M. feels that a quite out of the ordinary finesse is required in this instance, the Home Secretary and I would feel quite sanguine in leaving the case in his hands."
"Normally he is quite adequate," Holmes agreed. "But then the usual case is just that — usual. A crime of brute force committed without forethought, requiring neither specialized knowledge nor ratiocination to solve."
"Faint praise indeed," Lord Arundale said. "Don't you think Lestrade is capable?"
"As a bulldog, yes. The man is tenacious, unrelenting, brave, honest, and loyal. But as a bloodhound, I'm afraid the more subtle odors of crime escape his nose."
Lord Arundale held out his teacup to be refilled. "That is basically what the Prime Minister said," he told Holmes. "The Home Secretary is convinced that the Metropolitan Police can, and should, handle the problem, but the P.M. felt that it might be too sensitive for the bulldog approach. And you came highly recommended by, if you will excuse my being vague, a member of the Royal Household."
Holmes nodded. "Please thank her majesty for me," he said. "I gather that it is this 'special circumstance,' of which I am as yet unaware, that makes these crimes sensitive and commends me to the attention of Lord Salisbury, the Prime Minister."
"True," Lord Arundale said. "The Marquess of Salisbury is indeed concerned over these murders. He is concerned, to be more precise, with whether or not he has cause to be concerned."
"I see." Holmes looked thoughtful for a moment. "Am I to understand that the crimes may have some political significance, but it is not known at present whether they actually do or not?"
"Yes," Lord Arundale said. "That, concisely, is it. The crimes may, indeed, be the work of a madman, or someone with a long-festering hatred for the four murdered men because of some secret grievance. But they may also be part of an intricate plot by any of three great European powers against her majesty's government. And we must learn which of these possibilities is the truth. And we must know as soon as we can; every day's delay could be disastrous."
"Four men?" Holmes asked. "I know of but three."
"Lord John Darby was found dead about three weeks ago," Lord Arundale said. He stared down at his teacup for a moment, and then drained it and returned it to the tray. "Lord John was the younger brother of the Earl of Moncreith."
"I remember noting it at the time," Holmes said. "But it was reported as a natural death. Heart attack, I believe the newspaper report said."
"Lord John was found on the dining-room table in his flat in Tattersham Court. His throat had been cut. A silver serving platter had been placed on the floor by the table to catch the blood."
"Come now, that is a fascinating detail!" Holmes said, stretching a lean arm out for the cigarette box on the mantel. "May I offer you a cigarette, my lord? They are of a Virginia tobacco, made for me by K. K. Tamourlane & Sons. The weed is noxious, but I find it sharpens the mental processes."
"No, thank you," Lord Arundale said. "But if you wouldn't object to the smell of a cigar—"
"Not at all." Holmes lit a taper from the gas mantle and applied it to the tip of his cigarette while Lord Arundale took a long dun-colored cigar from a tooled-leather case and went through the ritual of preparing it for the match. "Pray continue with your recitation of the strange death of Lord John Darby," Holmes said, lighting Lord Arundale's cigar before tossing the taper into the fireplace.
Lord Arundale took a deep puff. "I usually reserve these for after meals," he said. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Lord John was lying on the table — a great big thing, could easily seat twelve. French, I believe. Turn-of-the-century piece. His arms were spread out to the sides, but his fists were clenched. Interesting how one remembers all the small details."