The question would then arise,’ he added slyly, ‘what would these Englishmen want me to do with their corpses? Burial together with full honours in the vicinity of the Eastern Ch’ing Tombs, overlooking the graves of our great Ancestral Emperors? What a setting! The Changrui Mountain, Jinxing Mountain, Huanghua Mountain, and Yingfei Daoyang Mountain. In the fullness of time the people would revere them as gods. Like your fellow Englishman, the famed explorer of Africa, Dr. David Livingstone.’
‘Scotsman!’ I corrected hotly.
The General looked puzzled.
‘Scotsman,’ I repeated. ‘Dr. David Livingstone was Scottish, not English.’
‘Scotsman it is,’ the general replied evenly. ‘What do you say? Hand this evidence over now and we’ll say nothing further, indeed we have costly goods to heap upon you, or ...’
He drew a hand swiftly across his throat.
‘...would you prefer to become a couple of Shui gui.’
The Empress Dowager had described such spirits at the jade cistern, the unhappy water-ghosts of those who drown.
It was a display of pitiless power. I would recall to the end of my days the ruthless look, the set of the shoulders. Yuán was reputed to be the finest exponent of the Eighteen Arms of Wushu in the whole of China, with particular expertise in three of the weapons - the double-edged sword, the axe, the dagger halberd. Except for the presence of the pistol under my coat he could kill us with his bare hands.
Staring mesmerized at the General I was transported thirteen years into the past, to when Holmes and I last encountered the odious Sebastian Moran. I described the Colonel in The Adventure of the Empty House. The scene was a dark empty property in London. A captive stood before us. He was firmly held by two Scotland Yard police officers:
‘It was a tremendously virile and yet sinister face which was turned towards us. With the brow of a philosopher above and the jaw of a sensualist below, the man must have started with great capacities for good or for evil. But one could not look upon his cruel blue eyes, with their drooping, cynical lids, or upon the fierce, aggressive nose and the threatening, deep-lined brow, without reading Nature’s plainest danger-signals. He took no heed of any of us, but his eyes were fixed upon Holmes’s face with an expression in which hatred and amazement were equally blended.
‘You fiend!’ he kept on muttering. ‘You clever, clever fiend!’’
I returned abruptly to the present. I was about to grab for my pistol and blurt out ‘Do your worst, General!’ when Holmes intervened. The unruffled manner and stony calm of his face were vastly more impressive, more fateful, than the most passionate denunciation.
‘General,’ he began with a most pleasant expression, ‘burial among the Ch’ing emperors with the prospect of becoming gods is an attractive and generous thought. It is an offer Dr. Watson and I may take up one day, but not yet.’
He pointed at the Mutoscope.
‘You may most certainly take the reel. Please do! I am sure Her Imperial Majesty will find it of the utmost...’
‘Holmes!’ I blurted out vehemently, ‘if you...’
Swiftly my comrade broke back in.
‘My dear Watson, where is your courtesy? The General is our host! Who are we to begrudge him a copy? After all, he is a principal actor alongside Her Imperial Majesty and the Chief Eunuch. Of course the starring part was Li’s, dripping the poison into the Emperor’s ear not knowing it was the good ear - but did you observe the General’s performance clapping Li on the back as they tiptoed away through the fig-trees? Masterly! General, certainly you may take the Mutoscope to show Her Majesty.’
Our guest moved to pick up the machine. Holmes’s hand holding the upside-down pipe shot forward.
‘But not for the moment. First let me divert a little. Remind me, please, your meeting in London with Sir Edward Grey and our War Minister - I believe you put them fully into the picture regarding China’s enemies, isn’t that so?’
‘I did, yes,’ came the General’s puzzled reply. ‘After all, at your recommendation Dr. Watson would soon...’
‘...be in the very thick of it,’ Holmes interrupted. ‘Quite right of you to do so. I believe you mentioned eight Great Powers in particular? Predatory Powers, you dubbed them.’
In a theatrical aside Holmes asked, ‘Isn’t that so, Watson?’
‘That’s true,’ I replied, as baffled as the General by the line of questioning.
‘And,’ Holmes continued, ‘didn’t our guest here describe his country as a hay cart, with everyone eager to take what they want from it?’
‘He did,’ I agreed.
Holmes turned back to the General.
‘You even described which particular mouthfuls of hay these Predatory Powers wanted, I believe?’
‘Look, Sir Sherlock,’ Yuán responded uncomfortably, gesturing at the Mutoscope, ‘what’s all this talk to do with our present situation?’
‘Everything,’ Holmes said. ‘Everything, my dear General. I believe you said the Germans hold Kiaochow region and have their eye on Shantung?’
‘I did mention that, yes,’ the General replied. ‘But again, I don’t see...’
Holmes continued, ‘The French want Yunnan? And the Belgians Tianjin?’
A further ‘Yes’ seeped from the General’s lips.
‘You also disclosed the Russian Bear has a force of 150,000 troops ready to occupy Manchuria. Within days their brigades could march towards Peking from Khiva, Bukhara and Kok. Nor can we overlook Japan, ‘The Land of Dwarfs’, I believe you called them. Was it Fuhkien they hanker after? Wouldn’t the death of the Emperor from other than natural causes spur an invasion - he and the Modernists are vastly preferable to the outside world than the Empress Dowager and the Obstructionists. A smash-and-grab raid by the Great Powers wouldn’t leave much for Her Imperial Majesty, would it? It wouldn’t be our corpses interred overlooking the tomb of the Emperor Shunzhi. It would be hers, together with yours - or at least the trunk of your corpse. Your head might be left behind on a spike on the walls of Peking. I believe any such posthumous decapitation is a grievous disgrace.’
The General’s tongue swept across his lips like a rattlesnake snake tasting the breeze. The air of menace which had radiated from him, at first terrifying, was slipping away into confusion and bewilderment.
Holmes pressed on.
‘Am I also right in saying every one of these tigers, dwarfs and vultures have embassies here in Peking?’
Yuán’s eyes darted swiftly from Holmes’s to mine and back.
‘And your point, Sir Sherlock? It is well known many Powers have representatives here in Peking.’
I too remained in the dark on where my comrade was taking us. I could only hope it was further and further from the prospect of being held down in a canal in an hour or two, after opting to have my heart buried in the Hindu Kush.
‘Well, Watson,’ my companion said, ‘tell the General - how many other reels did you make before your chemicals ran out?’
Alarmed, I croaked, ‘Holmes, you know perfectly well we...’
‘...made eight, you confirm!’ Holmes returned loudly, as though repeating my words. ‘Yes, a lucky nine in total, General,’ he went on. ‘Dr. Watson has lodged the original and eight copies with His Britannic Majesty’s Ambassador. The container can only be destroyed on my authority. Inside it each copy has been labelled ‘For The Immediate Attention Of...’ the various legates and Ambassadors. I’m sure they too would find the Orchard scene of immense interest! It’s they who press reforms on your country. It’s they who most wish the Emperor to survive. His Excellency the Ambassador’s instructions are to keep the package sealed and under armed guard until further notice. As a safeguard the seal can be broken and the package opened in the event of Dr. Watson’s and my untimely death. An accidental drowning in the canal would most definitely trigger the release of the pictures.’