The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

regrettable severing of friendly relations between his nation and ours at Cowes in 'ninety-five means that not only can he not cross the Channel, but his eminence grise is not officially welcomed here either.'

'Then when Meyer goes to deliver the letter, we have him.'

'He would be arrested before he pulled the bellrope. No, he will seek some other means.' Holmes picked up his violin and I knew we were in for another long spell of waiting, though the sands of time were running out fast.

My friend's violin droned on that evening and again on the Sunday morning, the usual sign of great pressure bearing upon him. The hot, stifling air around us in the darkened rooms bore insupportably in upon me. 'Holmes,' I cried, 'at least play some recognizable tune.'

A screech from the fiddle. 'Tune,Watson?' my friend replied icily. 'What could my poor violin choose to please you? 'God save the Queen' might be appropriate. Or a Sousa march? The Ride of the -Watson!' he exclaimed, 'I have not been using the wits God granted me.' In a moment, the violin lay disregarded on the table as his eyes took on the gleam with which I was so familiar.

'I grow dangerously near that practice of which our friend Mr Didier might approve, but I have always distrusted, that of assuming an end as yet unsupported entirely by fact. We have very little time left to us. Logical deduction is our only hope. The Times of yesterday, if you please, Watson, and the Jubilee programme you so kindly purchased for Mrs Hudson.'

When I returned from my errand, having promised to return the booklet to her possession, he snatched the programme from my grasp, and after a few moments' perusal cried: 'Come Watson, you will need your best straw hat, your smartest cane, and that unfortunate blazer you purchased for boating.'

'Where are we bound, Holmes?' I asked eagerly, relieved beyond measure that at last we were taking action. 'Shall I have need of my pistol?'

'To take a solitary turn round St James' Park, Watson?' he jested. 'I trust not. Though you go alone, the ducks are not thought to be a hazard.'

My hopes fell. I was in no need of a constitutional walk, but of a resolution of this affair. However, he was in no mood to bandy words; he was set upon my taking this walk.

'Very well, Holmes,' I agreed, albeit reluctantly.

'Good old Watson. And after your stroll, I recommend to your earnest attention the concert advertised to begin at the St James's Park bandstand at noon.'

'Concert, Holmes? Good heavens, how can I think of music at such a time as this?'

'What more obvious place for us to meet, my dear fellow?'

Relieved that Sherlock Holmes had indeed some plan in mind, I took a cab to the Birdcage Walk entrance to the park and had it not been for the urgency of the dark situation in which we were placed, would have enjoyed my stroll in this delightful park, now crowded with Jubilee visitors. Children bowled hoops in and out of the promenaders round the lake, sweethearts floated in a blissful world of their own, flowers spread a carpet of colour before my eyes, and as I crossed the bridge the sun chose to appear. The weather had been capricious for some time, but nothing could dim the enthusiasm of these crowds.

I obediently took my seat at the bandstand, towards the back of the rows of seats as befitted my cavalier holiday appearance. A travelling ice-cream vendor wheeling his bicycle passed by, as I looked anxiously for Sherlock Holmes. There was no sign of him. The front rows were filled with those of high social standing, amongst whom the ticket-seller was now moving, a rough-looking fellow despite his peaked cap and crumpled navy uniform. The German band, usually resident in Broadstairs in Kent, was already preparing to play by the time the ticket collector reached me; I handed over the sixpence demanded of me, my thoughts elsewhere.

'The game is afoot, Watson.'

The hoarse whisper as the ticket collector bent down to retrieve a fallen coin startled me. But why should I have been surprised to see Sherlock Holmes himself, presently the most unremarkable ticket collector the Royal Parks had ever boasted? He passed on, exchanging a few gallant remarks with the young lady next to me, which made me wonder if my friend had not courted more young ladies than he acknowledged, whether in pursuance of his profession or otherwise.

Of course. A brass band concert. Holmes was expecting Meyer himself to be in the audience, and for von Holbach to join him. But when? The concert proceeded without incident, though I was scarcely in a mood now to appreciate it. A rousing selection of Gilbert and Sullivan choruses concluded the concert, and the audience rose for the National Anthem, sung with deep feeling and solemnity on this opening day to the week's festivities. I was in great anxiety. Holmes had vanished, the band was packing its instruments, and the audience was drifting away. Now was the time and yet I could see no one amongst the groups of lingering spectators to answer Holmes's description of Meyer.

At last I spotted Holmes, on the platform, and hurried as unobtrusively as I could to be at hand. He was busy helping the band with their instruments and the music stands, no doubt to gain a vantage point over the audience. A few people had mounted the bandstand to congratulate the players, and I watched an insignificant man in mackintosh and Homburg hat approach the tuba player to shake his hand, though a less musical instrument I have yet to hear.

'Watson!'

Holmes's shout sent me running for the steps to his aid, as unbelievably he hurled himself between the two men. Amid the general alarm, the tuba player recovered his balance and aimed a vicious blow to Holmes's body sending him staggering back. I caught a glimpse of the most malevolent eyes I have ever seen, and then he was pinioned, by myself and, I recognized with relief, Lestrade. I had not recognized him, in his guise as ice-cream vendor. His whistle was even now summoning his constables.

'Herr Meyer, we meet again. I trust you enjoyed the sea air at Broadstairs.' Holmes addressed the handcuffed Meyer. 'And now the letter, if you please.'

'Too late,' he cried in triumph.

Horrified, I remembered the other man. There was no sign of him.

'Holmes, von Holbach has gone,' I groaned, blaming myself.

'That is only to be expected, Watson. He is a diplomat.' 'You are remarkably cool, Mr Holmes,' Lestrade said. 'I take it this letter is of little importance then?'

'On the contrary, it is perhaps the most vital instrument for the maintenance of peace in Europe since the Treaty of London guaranteeing Belgium's neutrality in 'thirty-nine.'

An evil smile came to Meyer's lips as he saw Holmes examining the music stand. 'The peace is lost, Holmes,' he chuckled, as Lestrade finished a fruitless search of his pockets, hat and shoes.

'Do not be so sure, Meyer,' my friend said quietly, his lean figure bending down to pick up Meyer's tuba.

It was from there, deep and safe within the confines of the bell, that he plucked a sheet of paper. I caught a brief glimpse of a familiar and illustrious crest before Holmes whisked it from our sight. 'It is Sunday, Watson. But somehow I think Sir George will forgive us if two informally dressed visitors call upon him at his home.'

Jubilee Day promised little sunshine as Holmes and I took our places in the seats reserved for us at a window in Whitehall. The grey old road, however, was ablaze with colour, both from the decorations and the scarlet coats of the soldiers lining the route.

'You have not explained, Holmes, how it was you picked upon the very place where the fateful meeting was to take place.'

'A matter of deduction, my dear fellow. Meyer could not be found in London. Constabularies the country over had been instructed to watch for him. Useless. He could not appear there or in London in his own guise.'

'But he made no attempt to disguise his heavy beard and figure.'

'The best disguise is in the eye of the observer, not the face of the quarry. You saw a tuba player; I saw what I expected. Meyer simply absorbed himself into the part of the bandsman.'

'Excellent, Holmes.'

'Not at all. Once one recalled the man's passion, it was merely a question of scanning the programme for suitable venues. I have listened to many execrable brass bands in the course of the last week. For a violin player it was torment.'

Fortunately the sudden noise from the crowd distracted his attention from my involuntary smile.

As the Colonial troops began to pass the sun shone out at last, and 'Queen's weather' blessed us for the rest of that memorable day. After the Colonial contingent came the advance guard of the Royal procession. The mass of