‘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.’
Mycroft Holmes nodded slowly. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I see. Yes, such a matter might become the business of this department if there were no speedy resolution by the French authorities. You say that the matter remains unresolved after twenty years?’
‘That is my understanding,’ said Holmes. ‘I believe that the French police attributed the crime to the action of street robbers and have made no serious effort to close the case. Does your office have a file on the affair?’
‘Sadly there are often occasions when our citizens become the victims of murderers overseas, but it is rarely that such incidents fall within the responsibilities of this department. Have you any details?’
‘I know only what appeared in the English press at the time,’ said Holmes. ‘The victim was a British Army officer, one Captain Parkes. It seems that he had attended some public function with his fiancee, Miss Agatha Wortley-Swan, and escorted her home afterwards. At some time after delivering the lady to her abode, Captain Parkes disappeared. His body was taken from the Seine some days later and the French police expressed the view that he had been set upon by street bandits.’
Mycroft pursed his lips reflectively. ‘Agatha Wortley-Swan,’ he said. ‘I recall that young lady, and now that you mention her, I do recollect that we were involved in dealings with the French. The lady’s father was a wealthy manufacturer and he brought a deal of pressure to bear when the case was not solved.
What is it that you require, Sherlock?’
‘If a file still exists,’ said Holmes, ‘I would welcome a sight of it.’
Mycroft Holmes pursed his lips again. ‘I am sure that a file still exists,’ he said. ‘We seem to have an inflexible rule against throwing away any piece of paper, which makes it all the more important that we guard carefully the documents which we accumulate. I am not at all sure that even I have the authority to let you see such a file.’
‘Tush, Mycroft,’ ejaculated Holmes. ‘If you are worried that I may come to learn the lengths to which Her Majesty’s government will go when pressed by a wealthy manufacturer, you need not be alarmed. I am solely concerned with learning whatever I can about the circumstances of Captain Parkes’ death and the investigation.’
‘Perhaps it would help,’ suggested his brother, ‘if you were to explain your interest in the affair.’
With his customary succinctness, Holmes told the story, omitting no consequential detail from the moment when Mrs Fordeland first appeared at Baker Street. Mycroft heard him out in silence.
‘What do you make,’ he asked, after Holmes’ narrative ended, ‘of the personal involvement of Major Kyriloff?’
‘For Kyriloff to give this matter his personal attention and involvement indicates to me that the presence of Mrs Fordeland in London is perceived by him, or by someone who can order his actions, as in some way a threat to Russian interests. What you tell me of the remarks by Kyriloff and Count Rimkoff merely strengthens that belief.’
‘And what,’ asked Mycroft, ‘do you believe is their interest in the lady?’
‘They follow her about openly, as though they wish her to be aware of them, yet they take no step to interfere with her movements. It would appear that they suspect or fear some action that she may take or some person she may contact, but they are not sufficiently sure of themselves to move to prevent her.’
‘Have you any idea what that action or contact may be, Sherlock?’
