‘I do apologize, Mycroft, that you should be forced to own my kinship in public,’ said Holmes.
‘Not at all, brother, not at all. I was pleased to claim kinship with the man that Dr Watson has made famous. It was his next remark that caused me concern.’
‘And what was that?’ asked Holmes.
‘He said, and I quote him verbatim, “I am familiar with his adventures through the stories in your Strand Magazine. I applaud his intelligence and courage, but unfortunately he sometimes involves himself in things which are not his concern.” “Really?” I said. “Was there something in particular which you had in mind?” He gave me the fishy eye again and then said, “Your brother has chosen to interest himself in a matter which is of no criminal consequence whatsoever. However, it is an affair which touches upon the honour of my country. You would be well advised to suggest that he leaves the matter alone.” With which he tossed off his vodka and marched off. Damned rude, I thought.’
Mycroft delved into a pocket of his coat and extracted a snuffbox and a large silk handkerchief.
‘What do you know about Count Skovinski-Rimkoff?’ asked Holmes.
‘He’s as rich as Croesus. Came into an enormous fortune when he was about twelve. He’s in his late forties now and owns a chunk of Russia about the size of England and Wales. He’s a cousin of the Tzar, but has a thoroughly unwholesome reputation.’
‘Really?’ said Holmes. ‘In what way?’
‘He was over here some years ago, in a private capacity. He got involved in a decidedly unpleasant affair with a gay young woman and almost caused a scandal. It seems that he paid the lady for some specialized service and became rather enthusiastic, so that she was quite severely injured. Everything was all being covered up very nicely by Kyriloff’s agents when the young lady turns up at a police station with a solicitor in tow and demands a prosecution against the count. That was where Her Majesty’s government got drawn into the thing. The Russian ambassador was applying pressure and trying to persuade us to jail the woman. I had to point out to him that this is not Holy Russia, that we do not arbitrarily imprison people who are an embarrassment. I suggested that a deal less threats and a moderately large sum of money might cure the problem.’
‘And did it?’
‘Oh yes. We never heard any more of the matter.’
‘You don’t think his remarks to you might refer to that incident?’
‘I don’t see how they could, unless you are seeking to reopen the whole sordid affair. You’re not, are you?’
Holmes shook his head. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever heard of the count,’ he said.
‘Well, you must let me tell you all of it, Sherlock. It wasn’t just Count Rimkoff. I was still considering the fellow’s rudeness,’ he continued, applying a pinch of snuff to the back of his hand, ‘when Kyriloff spots me and slides over. He came and stood beside me, all smiles, twiddling that little moustache of his, and he says, very quietly, so that no one around would hear, “I see you have been talking to Count Stepan.” “I have been talked at by him,” I said, and Kyriloff smiled that unpleasant and oleaginous smile of his. “Ah, Mycroft,” he said, “Stepan is new to the diplomatic circuit. He does not wish anything to go wrong which might reflect upon Mother Russia. Nevertheless, you would be doing your brother a favour if you suggested to him that he drop the case.” Before I could ask what case, he’d tipped me a nod and vanished into the crowd.’
He took his snuff, sighed luxuriously, then sneezed formidably into the handkerchief.
‘What did you do?’ asked Holmes, once his brother had settled again.
‘What did I do?’ Mycroft repeated. ‘Why, I decided that I was not going to stand about in full diplomatic fig like an ornamental pillar box so that the Russian diplomatic service and its attendant spies could use me to send postcards to you, so I made my excuses and left.’
He was silent for a while, his watery grey eyes resting on his brother.
‘I cannot avoid wondering, Sherlock,’ he said after a while, ‘what it is that you have been doing to upset this wretched Count Stepan and the appalling Kyriloff. It would be awkward if you were to do anything which caused a contretemps with Russia just at the time of Her Majesty’s celebration. After all, she is related to the Romanoffs.’
‘Since Her Majesty,’ said Holmes with a faint smile, ‘is related to almost all of the crowned heads of Europe, I find it difficult to believe that her government guides its foreign policies entirely by a desire not to upset the royal cousins. Why does Count Rimkoff loom so large in matters diplomatic?’
‘Oh, he is hardly a diplomat, Sherlock. No, no, he is one of those invited to the Jubilee ceremony and that gives him diplomatic importance. The process of inviting foreigners to such an event is a delicate one. Where the British colonies and territories are concerned there is no problem. An invitation is issued and the individual concerned brushes down his best uniform, jumps into a canoe, a rickshaw or a palanquin and makes for the nearest port, turning up at Westminster, spick and span, several weeks later. No problem at all. With foreigners it’s a question of which ones we want to invite, who they want us to invite and who we’re prepared to accept. It can be awfully sticky, you know. Now, this fellow’s a cousin of the Tzar, so that makes it worse. You’re not doing anything that might embarrass us, are you, Sherlock?’
‘Really, brother,’ said the younger Holmes, ‘you should know that I am the last man who would willingly embarrass Her Majesty. You do me less than justice - after all, it was Watson and I who averted a serious plot against Her Majesty’s Golden Jubilee, ten years ago, or had you forgotten?’*
‘True, true,’ agreed his brother, ‘but you cannot blame me for worrying. You do have a certain habit of pursuing your enquiries without much consideration of their effects.’
‘It would be of great assistance to me if you could indicate what it is that I am doing that so bothers Major Kyriloff and Count Rimkoff.’
Mycroft shook his head slowly. ‘I have no idea, Sherlock. I have relayed to you faithfully the remarks that they made, but I do not pretend to understand them.’
‘Then I shall have to bear your information in mind in trying to unravel my little problem and make sure that I do not disrupt affairs of state or the splendour of Her Majesty’s ceremony. In the meantime, perhaps you will assist me with the enquiry which brought me here.’
‘Certainly, if I can,’ said Mycroft.
‘I need your assistance in the matter of an unsolved murder,’ said Holmes.
‘An unsolved murder!’ repeated his brother. ‘Hardly my line of country, I think.’
Five
A Minor Incident
The elder Holmes brother extracted his snuffbox from his pocket and went through his previous performance while we waited. When he had replaced his box and the silk hanky in his pockets he looked up again.
‘No, Sherlock,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I do not think that I can help you with an unsolved murder.
Much as I enjoy an intellectual challenge, I find them aplenty in the vagaries of politicians and rulers.
Why you choose to seek yours among the criminal classes I have never understood. Murders are not the affair of this department. Surely your friends at Scotland Yard can assist?’
‘There are no criminal classes, Mycroft. The vagaries, morals, ambitions and behaviour of politicians are precisely comparable with those of the meanest thief in Whitechapel, as no one knows better than you. As to my friends, as you call them, at the Yard, they will have had nothing to do with this matter, which is why I came to you. I am interested in the murder of a British citizen in Paris, some twenty years ago.’