"The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, endeavoring
to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could not be bought under
half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff."
"Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an English
paper at all. Hold it up to the light"
I did so, and saw a large _E_ with a small _g_, a _P_ and a large _G_ with
a small _t_ woven into the texture of the paper.
"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes.
"The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather."
"Not all. The _G_ with the small _t_ stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is
the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.'
_P_, of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the _Eg_. Let us glance at
our 'Continental Gazetteer'." He took down a heavy brown volume from his
shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking
country--in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the scene
of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass factories and
paper mills.' Ha! ha! my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyes
sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette.
"The paper was made in Bohemia," I said.
"Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the
peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have from
all quarters received'? A Frenchman or Russian could not have written
that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only
remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes
upon Bohemian paper, and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And
here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."
As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels
against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled.
"A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," he continued, glancing out of the
window. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and
fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is
nothing else."
"I think I had better go, Holmes."
"Not a bit, doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. And
this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it."
"But your client--"
"Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit
down in that armchair, doctor, and give us your best attention."
A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the
passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and
authoritative tap.
"Come in!" said Holmes.
A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in
height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a
richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste.
Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and front of his
double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his
shoulders was lined with flame-colored silk, and secured at the neck with
a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended
halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown
fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by
his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he
wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the
cheek-bones, a black visard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that
very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the
lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a
thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin, suggestive of resolution
pushed to the length of obstinacy.
"You had my note?" he asked, with a deep, harsh voice and a strongly
marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He looked from one
to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address.
"Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, Doctor
Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have
I the honor to address?"
"You may address me as the Count von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I
understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor and
discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme
importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone."
I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my
chair. "It is both, or none," said he. "You may say before this gentleman
anything which you may say to me."
The count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin," said he, "by
binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that
time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to
say that it is of such weight that it may have an influence upon European
history."
"I promise," said Holmes.
"And I."
"You will excuse this mask," continued our strange visitor. "The august
person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may
confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not
exactly my own."
"I was aware of it," said Holmes, dryly.
"The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be
taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal, and seriously
compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the
matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of
Bohemia."
"I was also aware of that," murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his
armchair, and closing his eyes.
Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging
figure of the man who had been, no doubt, depicted to him as the most
incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly
reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client.
"If your majesty would condescend to state your case," he remarked, "I
should be better able to advise you."
The man sprung from his chair, and paced up and down the room in
uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore
the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground.
"You are right," he cried, "I am the king. Why should I attempt to conceal
it?"
"Why, indeed?" murmured Holmes. "Your majesty had not spoken before I was
aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein,
Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia."
"But you can understand," said our strange visitor, sitting down once more
and passing his hand over his high, white forehead, "you can understand
that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet the
matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without
putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the
purpose of consulting you."
"Then, pray consult," said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.
"The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit
to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress Irene
Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you."
"Kindly look her up in my index, doctor," murmured Holmes, without opening
his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system for docketing all
paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a
subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information. In
this case I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew
rabbi and that of a staff commander who had written a monograph upon the
deep-sea fishes.
"Let me see!" said Holmes. "Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858.
Contralto--hum! La Scala--hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw--yes!
Retired from operatic stage--ha! Living in London--quite so! Your majesty,
as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some
compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back."
"Precisely so. But how--"
"Was there a secret marriage?"
"None."
"No legal papers or certificates?"
"None."
"Then I fail to follow your majesty. If this young person should produce
her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their
authenticity?"
"There is the writing."
"Pooh-pooh! Forgery."
"My private note paper."
"Stolen."
"My own seal."
"Imitated."
"My photograph."
"Bought."
"We were both in the photograph."
"Oh, dear! That is very bad. Your majesty has indeed committed an
indiscretion."
"I was mad--insane."
"You have compromised yourself seriously."
"I was only crown prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now."
"It must be recovered."
"We have tried and failed."
"Your majesty must pay. It must be bought."
"She will not sell."
"Stolen, then."
"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her
house. Once we diverted her luggage when she traveled. Twice she has been
waylaid. There has been no result."
"No sign of it?"
"Absolutely none."
Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he.
"But a very serious one to me," returned the king, reproachfully.
"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"
"To ruin me."
"But how?"
"I am about to be married."
"So I have heard."
"To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meiningen, second daughter of the King of
Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is
herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct
would bring the matter to an end."
"And Irene Adler?"
"Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that
she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has
the face of the most beautiful of women and the mind of the most resolute
of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to
which she would not go--none."
"You are sure she has not sent it yet?"
"I am sure."
"And why?"
"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal
was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday."
"Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes, with a yawn. "That is very
fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at
present. Your majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?"
"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham, under the name of the Count
von Kramm."
"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."
"Pray do so; I shall be all anxiety."
"Then, as to money?"
"You have _carte blanche_."
"Absolutely?"
"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have
that photograph."
"And for present expenses?"
The king took a heavy chamois-leather bag from under his cloak, and laid
it on the table.
"There are three hundred pounds in gold, and seven hundred in notes," he
said.
Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his notebook, and handed it to
him.
"And mademoiselle's address?" he asked.
"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood."
Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he, thoughtfully.
"Was the photograph a cabinet?"
"It was."
"Then, good-night, your majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some
good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added, as the wheels of the
royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to call
to-morrow afternoon, at three o'clock, I should like to chat this little
matter over with you."