The Russian’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then I must be blunt with both of you. You, Mrs Fordeland, when a guest in our country, were witness to an unfortunate incident which, upon investigation, turned out to be one of those tragic accidents which sometimes occur in the hunting field. That explanation was given to you, in case you had imagined that something else had occurred. I am fully aware that you have not referred to the matter either in print or in your lectures, but now I see you in London associating with a man who is already known to me. You, Mr Holmes, have been at pains in the past to make my work here in London difficult, at the behest, no doubt, of your brother. When, in addition, I know that you have been visited by a certain army officer, it is abundantly clear to me that a plot has been hatched to discredit a member of the Imperial family. It is my duty to prevent such a plot.’
‘Major Kyriloff,’ said Holmes, ‘you appear to suffer from that distortion of the perceptions that drives people to imagine plots where there are none. Watson will confirm that it is called paranoia. Now, kindly stand aside.’
‘I have five young men at my disposal, Mr Holmes. I do not think you will get very far if you try the issue with them.’
‘I warn you, Kyriloff, I am armed,’ said Holmes.
The major smiled again. ‘So, Mr Holmes, are my companions and I. Now, might I suggest that you stand back and permit me to escort the ladies to our embassy?’
Holmes had stood with one hand clenched behind him. Now Mrs Fordeland took something from her reticule and pressed it into his hand.
Holmes swung his hand from behind his back and lifted it. I saw each of Kyriloff’s bodyguards tense and slip a hand into his coat, then pause as they saw what my friend was holding aloft.
‘This,’ said Holmes, ‘is a whistle of the kind carried by every member of the Metropolitan Police force.
I imagine that, at this time of day, there will be three or four constables within earshot, maybe more.
Would you care to repeat your threats, or to offer violence to my client or myself under the eyes of police officers? You know as well as I do that there are officers at Scotland Yard who would be delighted at an excuse to lock you up or to have you deported. If you make a move against my client and the rest of our party, I shall give them that opportunity.’
Kyriloff’s eyes narrowed and he took a long draw on his cigarette. The pause lengthened, then, without another word, he stepped aside and motioned to his men to do the same. We walked past them in silence, to find our cab waiting on the street.
‘Scotland Yard!’ Holmes told the cabby. ‘I shall double that sovereign if you give us all speed.’
Our driver cracked his whip and we were away. As I fell back in the seat, Holmes said, ‘I thank you for recalling the whistle, Mrs Fordeland. It was precisely what was needed.’
‘It certainly seemed to do the trick,’ she agreed.
‘It served for the moment, but Kyriloff will not leave you alone, nor will he be made any the better by being bested. We must still take strong measures for your safety.’
We rounded a corner and, a few yards further on, our cab came to a sudden halt. Holmes leapt up and thrust his head from a window.
‘What is the trouble, cabby?’
‘The street’s blocked, sir. A couple of brewery drays.’
‘Go back!’ commanded Holmes. ‘Go back at once! Go through Little Ayton Street!’
Our vehicle began the cumbersome process of turning in the street and had almost completed the manoeuvre when the cabby exclaimed, ‘It’s behind us as well, sir! There’s a couple more wagons entangled that way.’
Again Holmes sprang to the window and looked. When he turned back his face was solemn.
‘He has trapped us,’ he said. ‘These are not accidents. We have been bottled in by Kyriloff.’
Twenty-Four
A Royal Refuge
‘Can you not use the whistle again?’ I asked. ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘I grant you that it will be heard by several constables, but the moment they enter this street from either end they will see an entanglement of vehicles. They will assume that they have been summoned for that reason and will attempt to deal with the confusion. Meanwhile, under cover of the mayhem he has created, Kyriloff and his minions will come for us. I do not like it, Watson.’
Holmes thrust his head from the window again, and I heard him instructing the driver. ‘You see that arched gateway, ahead on the left? Take us in there, as fast as you can. Take us right in!’
We started again and soon I saw stone pillars pass the windows as we entered a courtyard of some kind.
At last our vehicle stopped at the far end of the yard and we jumped down.
We were standing in a yard, similar to that of Mrs Fordeland’s hotel. Holmes beckoned us to follow, paid our cabby and strode into a door at the head of the yard. We found ourselves in a dark corridor which smelled of cooking and floor polish, along which Holmes strode with seeming authority.
At last a green baize door opened at Holmes’ hand to reveal a more brightly lit and better-decorated corridor. We followed that until it opened out into a spacious lobby and I realized that we had entered another hotel by its mews entrance.
Holmes stepped immediately to the manager’s desk and presented his card. After a few words he beckoned us to follow him up the staircase that curved out of the lobby. On the first landing, we found the corridor entrance guarded by a desk, at which stood a young man of oriental appearance, though dressed in dark formal clothes. Behind him, on either side of the passage, stood two splendidly costumed guards, each richly caparisoned and each with a sword at his side.
Holmes asked our client for her card and presented it with his to the young man at the desk.
‘You will be pleased to wait here,’ said the young man. ‘I shall have to consult His Majesty’s secretary.’
It was only then that I realized where Holmes’ quick wits and his encyclopaedic knowledge of London had brought us.
In minutes the young man reappeared, accompanied by an older man, whose face was creased into a smile.
‘Mrs Fordeland, Mr Holmes,’ he said, ‘this is an unexpected pleasure, but His Majesty will be happy to see you at once.’
At his gesture we followed him between the guards and along a richly decorated corridor to a pair of double doors at the end. These too were guarded by soldiers. The secretary motioned to them to open the doors and soon we followed him into a large room.
I imagine that, in ordinary circumstances, the room served as a secondary ballroom or reception room for the hotel, but it had now been converted to act as the audience chamber of King Chula of
Mongkuria. Its walls were hung throughout with splendid tapestries in bright colours, great clusters of palms and bright flowers filled each corner and a sumptuous carpet led from the doors to a low dais on which stood a richly carved and gilded chair.
Seated in this chair was a man of middle years with the handsome and even features of the Mongkurian people, and a small oriental moustache. He stood as we approached and I could see that he wore heavily embroidered slippers, trousers of black silk and a resplendent tunic woven with rich and complex designs. As he rose, Mrs Fordeland and her granddaughter curtsied formally and Holmes and I took their lead and bowed deeply. We were evidently in the presence of the King himself.
‘Mrs Fordeland!’ he exclaimed. ‘Such a pleasure to look upon you after so many years.’ He stepped forward from the dais and took both of our client’s hands. ‘I had hoped to see you in two days, but you come by surprise and you bring with you the most eminent detective of the world!’