No one spoke. It was my turn to stare from Holmes to the General and back. How would Yuán react? Could he tell Holmes was bluffing? If so, we should prepare ourselves for death.
The seconds ticked past. Finally, Yuán broke into a smile. With an expansive gesture he said, ‘Gentlemen, we are forgetting our friendship! If not half the wealth of the world, what quid pro quo do you demand for keeping the copies locked away sine die in your Ambassador’s safe, destroying them even?’
After a glance at our door, Holmes went to Yuán’s side and whispered something into his ear. The General placed a hand on the Mutoscope.
‘Understood,’ he returned aloud. ‘With your permission I shall have this magic lantern taken to the Old Buddha at once. I’ll return when we have discussed your request.’
He reached for his long silk coat and with the other hand picked up the Mutoscope with impressive ease. Although it had been modified to sit on a counter by the removal of the original cast iron base, but it was by no means light. I walked alongside him to the door in an uncomfortable silence.
Outside he asked, ‘The samples of our native poisonous plants, who supplied them to you? The Emperor’s eunuch Kou - or Wang Feng?’
‘Not Kou,’ I stonewalled, quickly continuing, ‘General, out of my professional interest as a medical man, what did you plan to say the Emperor died from?’
‘Uraemia of the blood,’ Yuán replied. ‘The symptoms are similar to dying from poisoning by Fool’s Parsley, wouldn’t you agree?’
I had seen this deadly affliction with the progressive loss of kidney function all too often.
‘Combined with the Emperor’s existing ailments, good enough,’ I replied. ‘Diurnal somnolence. Affection of the peripheral nervous system such as restless legs. Memory and concentration disorders. Asthenia. Confusion. Seizures. Coma and...’
‘...death in four or five days. Precisely, Doctor,’ came the reply. ‘On Day One - that would be today - he was to be considered in no danger. The sages would predict it auspicious for you and Sir Sherlock to depart Peking on your journey home. In three or four days’ time His Majesty’s condition would worsen. By Day Five you and Sir Sherlock would be on the High Seas just as the Emperor would mount the Dragon-chariot on the start of his own long journey.
As for you, Doctor, I wanted to make you believe it was the Son of Heaven himself trying to trigger an uprising against the Old Buddha. If you’d become convinced of that, we could have declared the Emperor guilty of treason. The penalty would be the forfeiture of his life. We were convinced Sir Sherlock would fall for it. After all, you are both laowài - outsiders. Who would expect anyone from Europe to make head or tail of anything in our impenetrable and unfathomable Forbidden City? Tell me,’ he continued, ‘who or what was it which gave our plan away?’
‘You did, General. When you and I were talking in the Emperor’s Palace you used the words ‘method’ and ‘madness’. I passed them on verbatim to Sir Sherlock. He recognised Polonius’s words in Hamlet. Holmes was aware that no play with a regicide plot could have been performed in China. Someone must have seen the play performed elsewhere.’
‘On Brighton’s Pavilion Pier, for example,’ the General replied, smiling wryly.
He patted the Mutoscope.
‘Well, I must mount my own chariot to the Summer Palace, Doctor. I don’t look forward to it. Pit me against five divisions of Boxers and their Eight Symbol Religion any time.’
I was about to bid him goodnight when he opened his jacket. From a holster on a heavy leather belt he took out the finest side-arm I had ever seen and said,
‘You know, Doctor, for future reference, I can be dangerous when I’m taken by surprise, especially when my amour propre is compromised, as it was...’ he pointed back to the room, ‘in there.’
‘I understand, General,’ I exclaimed, awed by the pistol’s menace. ‘What make is it?’
He handed it to me.
‘The new Colt. The M1907. Self-loading. One of only sixty-four prototypes.’
‘Muzzle velocity?’
‘830 feet per second. Heavy enough to drop even the most drugged attacker.’
‘Ah,’ I said admiringly.
‘You and Sir Sherlock were lucky,’ he continued. ‘I nearly shot you both. It’s so new that you and he would have been the first humans to die by this weapon. Messy, but preferable to drowning.’
‘I commend your restraint, General,’ I replied with feeling. ‘Was it fear of Great Britain’s retribution? After all, Sir Sher...’
The General burst into laughter.
‘Restraint and Great Britain nothing, Dr. Watson! It was Sir Sherlock’s pipe that held me back. He had it trained rock-steady at me. What calibre was it, .22?’
‘.25 probably,’ I answered. ‘I expect I’ll see a few spent cartridges lying around his bee-farm.’
‘Nasty enough, though!’ the General said. ‘Through the heart!’
He gestured at my waist.
‘And the one tucked under your morning coat?’
‘A top-breaker pistol.’
‘.476 calibre bullet?’
I nodded. Each of us guffawed. I handed back the Colt pistol. We parted with a friendly shake of the hand.
Chapter XIV
Our Time in Peking Comes to its End
I re-entered Holmes’s room to find him looking pleased with himself, thumbing tobacco into the familiar blackened clay pipe. There was no sign of the pipe-pistol.
I hissed, ‘Why in Heaven’s name did you let him take the Mutoscope away? You know it contains our only copy.’
‘My friend, we had no choice. A gun-fight was about to start. Letting him take the Mutoscope was our only option. Refusing his request would expose my bluff.’
‘What if he sees through you, Holmes?’
‘Then we won’t live to see the dawn,’ came the short reply. ‘However it’s a risk he can’t afford to take. The stakes are much too high. Such a blatant attempt on the Emperor’s life could be precisely the excuse the Powers are waiting for. Just like seven years ago they would invade in lock-step, eager for spoils, purporting to safeguard the Emperor’s life while gobbling up every inch of the land. It would mean nothing less than the complete dismemberment of his country.’
‘And what was it you whispered in Yuán’s ear?’ I asked.
‘Our terms.’
‘What terms are those?’
Again he glanced at the door.
‘Anon, Watson, anon. Meantime we can only await the Empress Dowager’s response. I think we can deduce she won’t be pleased.’
My mind flashed to the Queen of Hearts throwing a fit of temper: ‘Off with her head. Off with her head. Off with her head! Off... with... her... head. Off with her head. Off with her head. Off with her head. Off with her head. I rule Wonderland alone. Your interference will not be tolerated.’
‘And the odds on our heads being spared?’ I asked.
He paused.
‘A woman’s mind, Watson. That I can’t foretell.’
Our time in Peking had come to its end. Dogs bark. Caravans move off. Our heads were still on our shoulders. The sages-in-ordinary had fixed the day and even the auspicious hour, 2pm, for our departure. Our luggage was stowed in a large coach. Life in the Forbidden City had proved not only stranger than we supposed but stranger than we could ever suppose. Until we passed out of the territory under Peking’s direct control I decided to keep wearing my hat and lapel displaying the honours which the E-D had insisted on bestowing. Though their plans had gone badly wrong for the General and the Empress, they regrouped with extraordinary resilience. They were back in unassailable command.