terrain.’
‘Oh, quite,’ I agreed, ‘but you must admit that we have landed rather soft, Holmes.’
‘I agree that the accommodation of a royal suite is a far cry from where we might have ended, and His Majesty’s generous offer removes the urgent danger to our client, but the second urgent aspect of the case remains beyond my control or intervention and I admit that it worries me.’
‘You mean Miss Wortley-Swan?’
‘I do, Watson. I am forced, at present, to trust that Colonel Wilmshaw’s reappearance in England will distract the lady sufficiently to delay any plans she has for the count.’
Before I could comment, a tap at the door brought a royal servant who presented the King’s apologies and asked us to join him in the audience chamber in fifteen minutes.
A quarter of an hour later we made our way to the great room and were shown to chairs alongside the dais. Mrs Fordeland and her granddaughter had been summoned as well, though none of us had an inkling of the reason.
Additional uniformed guards were posted to form a corridor from the main doors to the foot of the dais, and it became evident that a formal visitor was to be received. When all was in place, His Majesty’s secretary called for silence and the King swept in. Looking to neither left nor right he mounted the dais and stood before his chair. He had changed into a dazzling white tunic of European cut, heavily braided with gold and displaying a left breast filled with decorations and medals. An expression of stern irritation was stamped upon his previously placid and amiable features. Lifting his head, he snapped his fingers peremptorily.
The main doors opened and a darkly clothed attendant escorted the visitor between the lines of guards.
As he approached the dais it became possible to see that it was none other than our old friend Kyriloff, now elaborately clad in the uniform of his rank. He stopped at the foot of the dais and bowed deeply to the King. His Majesty acknowledged the bow with a curt dipping of his head.
‘Your Majesty,’ began Kyriloff. ‘Let me begin by saying that I and the country which I have the honour of representing are deeply grateful for your patience and consideration in agreeing to this audience at such short notice.’
He was evidently intending to go on, but the King cut him short. ‘You are here, Major Kyriloff, because I wish to know what it is that you have to say. Please say it.’
Kyriloff bowed again, but it was easy to see that he was not pleased at the King’s attitude.
‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘It has always been the practice of my country to extend the hand of friendship to smaller countries and to offer them any assistance within our power. At this time, when the representatives of so many nations are gathered here in London to honour the long reign of our Tzar’s great-aunt, Her Imperial Majesty Queen Victoria, it would be particularly unfortunate if there were to be any untoward incident here that spoiled the harmony of the event and caused ill will between the participants, even more so if such an incident were to involve a nation whose monarch has no interest in the matters involved.’
The King’s fingers drummed on the arm of his chair and his frown deepened, but he said nothing.
‘I regret that I must report to Your Majesty that information has reached my ambassador within the last few hours that a plot is afoot in London, the purpose of which is to sow discord between my country and Britain and to discredit a member of the Tzar’s own family. That plot is the work of an American reporter, Mrs Fordeland, acting in conjunction with the British secret agent Sherlock Holmes. I had been informed that both of them had sought Your Majesty’s protection when their conspiracy was discovered. I now see that my information was correct.’
King Chula leaned forward and, when he spoke, his voice was low and earnest, but audible across the hall.
‘Major Kyriloff,’ he said. ‘The lady of whom you speak is an old friend of my family and of the people of Mongkuria. For that reason alone it pleases me to offer her my protection. Let me explain to you, Major, what that means. It means that any attempt to inconvenience the lady or to harm her or intervene in her affairs will be seen by me as an interference with myself. Wherever and whenever such
interference might occur, I shall make it my business to see that the consequences are visited upon you personally. Now, I suggest that you take my answer back to your ambassador and tell him that you have come close to being flung down the stairs of this hotel by my guards and booted into the street. Good day to you!’
His Majesty snapped his fingers, stood up and swept from the room, while Kyriloff was escorted out. A glimpse of his face showed that he was seething with the blackest rage.
Once the two participants in the little drama were gone, an excited babble of conversation went round among the small number of observers.
‘By Jove!’ I observed to Holmes. ‘That was worth seeing!’
‘A pretty piece of drama,’ agreed Holmes, ‘and evidence of His Majesty’s commitment to our client, but if Kyriloff was an enemy before, he is ten times more so now. He has been bested by me earlier and now publicly insulted by King Chula. He will seek revenge. For that reason it is vitally important that Miss Wortley-Swan makes no foolish move.’
Twenty-Five
An Empty House
Dinner at His Majesty’s table that night was a fascinating event, though once again the King dined abstemiously and revealed in conversation that, as a young man, he had spent five years in a Buddhist monastery before ascending the throne. Holmes reminisced about his stay in Lhasa some years before as a guest of the Head Lama, and soon those of us present were treated to two powerful minds, one eastern and one western, debating the similarities and differences that appear when the Buddhist belief is compared to the religions of the west, though I have to say that Mrs Fordeland made many a telling point in the discussion.
When at last we retired, Holmes was in a good mood, the opportunity to pit his wits against another superior intelligence having made him positively cheerful. Nevertheless, he warned me that we would have to take steps on the following day to try and stay Miss Wortley-Swan’s designs against the count.
At breakfast he broached the problem with the King. We needed to leave the hotel, yet Kyriloff’s men would undoubtedly be keeping watch on all possible exits and entrances.
King Chula looked thoughtful and pondered the situation for a short time. Then he smiled.
‘Was it not you, Mr Holmes, who commented in the past that the more obvious an event the less real attention will be paid to it?’ and he went on to suggest a stratagem that had all of us laughing aloud at its impertinence.
Later in the morning, Holmes and I made our way to the hotel’s luggage room, where a range of large boxes stood, gaudily labelled with Mongkurian symbols and heavy stencilling in English which showed that they were to be consigned to His Majesty’s palace at Mongkur. A royal clerk explained to us that these contained commercial samples supplied by firms anxious to trade with Mongkuria, as well as personal gifts to His Majesty from other crowned heads. They had been packed ready to be shipped home to Mongkuria.
Soon the crates had been manhandled on to the back of a large carter’s dray which was drawn up at the hotel’s loading bay. Soon they had been stacked securely aboard the wagon, so as to present the appearance that the vehicle was fully loaded. In reality the boxes had been piled so as to conceal a space at the heart of the pile. Into this area Holmes and I climbed before the rear crates were placed and our hiding place sealed from prying eyes. Moments later we heard the sound of the drayman’s whip and felt the horses begin to take the strain as our equipage pulled out of the hotel’s yard.
It was a strange experience, riding through the heart of London, completely concealed among the King’s boxes, which creaked and shifted about us with every step of the horses, but I would dearly love to have been able to see our progress as an observer. His Majesty’s inspired idea had been to provide the dray with a foot escort of eight of his resplendent Mongkurian warriors in their colourful dress, who accompanied the vehicle, four on each side, and from time to time we heard the excited cheers of small boys, their imaginations stirred by our colourful escort. The King was, of course, right. No watcher could have imagined that Holmes and I would leave the hotel in such a very public way.
I rapidly lost all sense of where the cart was taking us, but after a while I caught the unmistakable smell of sea coal and the sound of shunting engines and knew that we must be nearing our destination. The dray made a few more complicated movements then halted. The rear crate was pulled away and the royal clerk stood
