We had little trouble hailing a carriage and I was surprised when Holmes did not direct the vehicle to our hotel but rather to the Alexanderplatz.
'We are under surveillance, my dear Watson,' said Holmes, by way of explanation. 'Our movements should not be so obvious that the two Chinese gentlemen become bored. Therefore, some official assistance will prove advantageous.'
In previous cases, I had been made conscious of the efficient workings of the machinelike Berlin police department with its brain core of the Meldwesen located in Alexanderplatz. Holmes maintained a friendly association with Wolfgang Von Shalloway, the chief of the German police, and I deduced that he intended to involve his friend in our proposed trip to Constantinople. I was right.
Progressing through busy streets, the detective explained that the Orientals, having lost us, would doubtless return to the Bristol Kempinsky to pick up our trail when we returned. What surprises he had in mind for the Chinese, he did not go into.
A presentation of the simple card with the name of Sherlock Holmes transformed a stiff, formal sergeant of police into a somewhat flustered and excited servant of the people.
'Herr Holmes . . . but, of course, sir. Would you kindly be seated. Hein! Hein!' he almost shouted to a passing policeman.
Crossing, he whispered to the surprised man, fiercely and with effect since the policeman hastened from the main reception room towards the lift.
Somewhat recovered, the sergeant resumed his post behind his desk. 'It will be but a moment, Herr Holmes,' he explained, with rare deference. The great detective nodded calmly and, turning to me, the sergeant said, with a stiff smile, 'Doctor Vatson, I presume?'
Never having received attention like this at Scotland Yard, it crossed my mind that Holmes and I should travel abroad more often. But the sergeant, whose name proved to be Dienstag, was not finished. Obviously, he felt that a heaven-sent opportunity for criminal research had presented itself and was loath to let the great moment slip away.
'Doctor Vatson,' he continued, 'in your masterly account of the case of 'The Speckled Band' . . .'
'Another of those overly melodramatic titles,' interjected Holmes with disdain.
'Der speckled band vas from India und a swamp adder. But der is no svamp adders in India, vich has puzzled me greatly, Herr Doctor.'
Since Sergeant Dienstag was, to my delight, directing his question in my direction, I hastened to clear the matter up. 'Your confusion is understandable, Sergeant. However, when I first made that adventure available to the reading public . . .'
Alas, my explanation could not be completed since Wolfgang Von Shalloway appeared and advanced upon Holmes with his hands outstretched.
'Ach, Holmes! And Doctor Watson? Such a happy surprise. Come . . . come, my office is yours.'
Murmuring greetings, we were escorted to the lift with much pomp and Sergeant Dienstag remained confused since more important matters had to be dealt with.*
* The loathsome serpent in
In but a short time we were in the office of the chief of the Berlin police. Von Shalloway shooed out members of his staff and ordered a cessation of all other business during the visit of his illustrious friend.
Holmes protested that he did not wish to intrude on official matters but Von Shalloway waved his objections aside. I did not take my friend's disclaimers at face value and was quite certain that the sleuth was secretly delighted at the furor that his appearance had caused. Now Von Shalloway exhibited the sagacity that had made him one of the most famous man-hunters in the world.
'To see you out of your beloved London, Holmes— that is rare indeed. So something has taken the British lion from his lair and it could only be a case.'
'We are involved in a trifling matter,' admitted Baker Street's most famous resident. 'A theft which did not occur within the borders of Germany. In connection with the matter, I had reasons for coming here to Berlin and, in the process, seem to have acquired some unwelcome company.'
Von Shalloway regarded him blankly and then his large head shifted to me. 'Surely, not the good Doctor Watson?' he said, attempting a joke.
'We are being shadowed by a couple of Chinamen,' I said instinctively and, perhaps, defensively, then wondered if I had said too much.
'You are now leaving Berlin?' questioned the police chief. When Holmes nodded, Von Shalloway smiled, like a Cheshire cat. 'Well, we shall arrange for some difficulties with these Orientals' passports.'
'No! No!' protested Holmes. 'Actually, we have no proof about the two Chinamen. However, they do know we are staying at the Bristol Kempinsky. Doctor Watson and I wish to proceed with all possible speed to Constantinople and, as a precaution, would prefer to leave the Chinese in the dark as to our plans and destination.'
'Ah, Holmes, it is so simple. You give me no problem whatsoever. I will have some of my men remove your baggage from the hotel. The Chinamen will be awaiting you and Watson and will be sadly disappointed. Now, let us consider your fastest route to Turkey.'
Von Shalloway took railway schedules from his desk and, with them in hand, consulted a large-scale wall map.
'Fortunately, there is a fast train to Stuttgart which leaves in an hour. There, you can board the Orient Express. Sometimes, the Stuttgart Special is a little late but I shall make sure that the Express does not leave until you are aboard. Now let us see—we can get you to the Friedrichstrasse Station . . . No. Let us put you on the Special at the Zoological Gardens.'
Holmes, whose knowledge of trains was positively uncanny, interrupted his friend's precise planning.
'The Stuttgart train does not stop at the Zoological Gardens station.'
'It will this trip,' said Von Shalloway, significantly. 'But a moment, my friends,' he added, crossing to the door of his well-appointed office. Opening it, he barked some staccato orders, which I could not decipher at all.
'Wolfie believes in quick action,' said Holmes, laconically. 'Our luggage will be retrieved from the Bristol Kempinsky in short order. This is being carried off in such a grand manner that I begin to feel like the King of Bohemia incognito.'
'And enjoying it to the hilt,' I muttered, drily.
'What was that?' said Holmes, sharply.
'Don't deny the good man his delight in exhibiting German efficiency. You have made him most happy.'
While Holmes was considering this thought, Von Shalloway's short legs returned him to the wall map. 'The Orient Express is by far your most rapid connection, gentlemen. But let us see. There are two possible routes available. One section runs to Friedrichshafen, crosses Austria and, with stops at Zagreb, Belgrade, Nis, then Sofia, Bulgaria and then into Constantinople. The other route goes to Vienna and on to Constanza, Romania where a boat train takes you to Constantinople. You have a choice.'
It crossed my mind that the Orient Express had become most prestigious since its first trip from Paris to Vienna in 1883.
'By all means, let us go by land,' I said, firmly, remembering our stormy channel-crossing to Calais with regrets.
'It is the fastest route,' admitted the German policeman. Since Holmes made no comment, Von Shalloway continued. 'So it shall be. Your tickets will be available at the stations.'
Holmes was extracting his billfold, a gesture which provoked an expression of horror on Von Shalloway's face.
'Old friend, surely you would not insult me. Your hotel accommodations and transportation comes courtesy of the German government as a mere gesture of services past rendered.' Sensing that Holmes would protest further, Von Shalloway overrode him. 'From long experience we both know that sometimes crime does pay. Those of us dedicated to curtail it must stick together,
Holmes had said we wished to proceed to Constantinople with all possible speed and Von Shalloway had
