‘That’s it!’ exclaimed the colonel. ‘That’s the man!’
Twenty-Two
Danger Threatens
‘How do you know, Mr Holmes? Is his name in the file?’ asked Wilmshaw.
Holmes shook his head. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘There is no mention of the count in the official file, nor is there any mention of the incident in the buffet.’
‘I told them, Mr Holmes! I told the French police all about it!’ Wilmshaw burst out.
‘I’m sure you did,’ said Holmes, ‘but all they recorded was the time at which you saw Captain Parkes leave the ball with his fiancee and her mother and the fact that he failed to come home that night.’
The colonel snorted. ‘I knew it!’ he exclaimed. ‘Because the scoundrel’s a Russian nobleman, they covered it up, but you mark my words, Mr Holmes, after his row with Johnny, that man arranged for Johnny to be waylaid and beaten. Whether he intended him to be killed I don’t know, but I’m sure he arranged it.’
‘I am very largely in agreement with you,’ said Holmes, ‘but there are two matters to be considered.
Firstly, Count Skovinski-Rimkoff is presently in London as an official guest at the Jubilee. I suggest that you are at pains to avoid him. Secondly, and more to the point, the man’s presence here poses a danger to Miss Wortley-Swan.’
‘To Agatha!’ exclaimed the colonel. ‘How?’
Holmes raised a hand. ‘I am not, at present, at liberty to reveal the reasons for my fears, but believe me, Colonel, they are genuine. Now, would it be in order for you to visit the lady to apprise her of your return from Egypt?’
‘Well, of course,’ said Wilmshaw. ‘I was intending to do so in any case.’
‘Then do so this afternoon, Colonel. It is most important. See Miss Wortley-Swan and contrive, if you can, to spend as much time in her company as possible over the next few days. Do not, I enjoin you, tell her that you have seen me or my brother, but stay as close to her as you may.’
The colonel cast a puzzled eye on Holmes. ‘Sealed orders, eh? Very well then. If Agatha’s in any kind of danger, you can count on me, Mr Holmes.’
When the door closed behind our visitor I chuckled.
‘I do not know, Watson, what you find amusing in all this,’ said Holmes. ‘This affair becomes darker and more dangerous with every passing day.’
‘I was merely considering,’ I said, ‘that you seem to have turned this agency into a matchmaking business.’
Holmes smiled thinly. ‘I sent the colonel post-haste to the lady’s door in the slender hope that his appearance may distract her from her dangerous purpose.’
‘Which is?’ I asked.
‘Oh, Watson! Colonel Wilmshaw’s narrative has only served to confirm what I have suspected for a long time. Whether the count was really responsible for Captain Parkes’ death, Miss Wortley-Swan believes so. That explains her curious connection with Professor Gregorieff. Both of them believe that they have suffered grievous wrong at the man’s hands and they propose to murder him.’
‘Holmes!’ I exclaimed. ‘You are surely not serious!’
‘I was never more so, Watson. The evidence stares us in the face. Captain Parkes was involved in a public exchange of insults with the count on the night he died. Shortly thereafter he is beaten and stabbed, ostensibly by street banditti who are so inept that, having killed their quarry, they fail to take his watch and pocketbook. Colonel Wilmshaw and Miss Wortley-Swan attempt to press an
investigation into the matter, but no progress is made and the matter is pushed aside, indubitably for diplomatic reasons. The colonel is sent off abroad, but Miss Wortley-Swan has considerable finances available to her, so she bides her time and lays her plans, part of which is the creation of a charity which concerns itself with Russian emigres in London, which enables her to seek out a Russian confederate. Perhaps it was her intention to pursue the count in Russia, but now she is presented with an opportunity - he has returned to London. I have no doubt that she is preparing - in the very near future - to avenge the murder of her fiancé.’
I had to agree with his analysis of the situation, but one point puzzled me.
‘But how did she come into contact with Professor Gregorieff?’ I asked. ‘There are so many refugees from the Tzar in London.’
‘So there are, Watson, and among their own kind they discuss the wrongs that have been done to them.
Gregori Gregorieff speaks at the Workingmen’s Club and is, it seems, well known in his community.
Old Goldstein knew that the professor had some connection with the count. Miss Wortley-Swan would not have had much difficulty in identifying a possible fellow conspirator, and what more natural than her employment of a skilled interpreter?’
I nodded. ‘So what are you going to do to prevent it? You are intending to prevent it, aren’t you?’
‘If I believed that any plot against the count would succeed, Watson, I might well be tempted to ignore what I know about the matter and let it proceed, but it will not. The killing, or attempted killing, of the Tzar’s cousin in Britain will lead Scotland Yard to employ every method to uncover the criminals. They have almost as many spies in the East End as Kyriloff, and it will not take them long to uncover Gregorieff and his lady employer. It must be prevented for their sake, but I confess that I do not know how.’
If I had hoped that the appearance of Colonel Wilmshaw would encourage my friend in his attempts to unravel the matter, I was to be disappointed. Faced with the problem which he had set out, he slumped in an armchair for much of the day, smoking continuously. In the evening he took his violin and began a series of harsh and discordant improvisations which drove me, fairly rapidly, to an early bed.
The following morning was similar to its predecessor, with Holmes breakfasting on toast alone, while answering my pleasantries with monosyllables or not at all. It was plain that he had failed to resolve the conundrum.
Mrs Hudson had cleared our table and we sat sipping tea when we heard some kind of disturbance below. Voices, one of which was our landlady’s, were being raised at the foot of our stairs. Mrs Hudson had long learned to maintain an admirably impassive response to both Holmes and the sometimes unusual characters who visited him, so that she rarely found it necessary to raise her voice.
‘It sounds,’ I observed, ‘as though Mrs Hudson has run into difficulties.’
Before Holmes could respond, we heard a short cry from Mrs Hudson, followed by heavy feet
pounding up the seventeen stairs which led to our door.
‘I hope,’ said Holmes, rising and taking a poker from the fireside, ‘that no lout has been stupid enough to do harm to our landlady,’ and he moved towards the door.
He had barely reached it and was stretching out his hand when the door was flung open from outside, to reveal the enormous figure of Nikolai Poliakoff, dishevelled and breathing heavily. An irate Mrs Hudson rapidly appeared behind him.
‘It is alright, Mrs Hudson,’ said Holmes. ‘This man is known to me.’
Our landlady made an expression of unspoken anger and withdrew. Holmes showed our visitor to the basket chair, which creaked loudly under the Russian’s great weight.
‘You would do well,’ remarked Holmes, ‘not to make an enemy of Mrs Hudson.’
‘I am sorry, Mr Holmes,’ panted the Russian, ‘but Gregori told me to bring you this as quickly as possible.’ He thrust an envelope into Holmes’ hand.
Quickly my friend tore open the envelope and examined the single sheet of paper which it held. As I watched I saw him transformed. The lethargy which had consumed him throughout the previous
evening and at our breakfast disappeared in an instant. His eyes flashed.