Against the Brotherhood (11 page)

But that realization made me cast aside my sock and rend the shirt, making the pad I would need to place over the cut in my side. I went to the washstand and did what I could to examine the damage in the light of the lantern put there.

The cut was about five inches long, generally superficial but deep enough in the central part to be troublesome. I hoped that I could do something that would reduce the risk of infection, but all I had was a small vial of iodine which I carried to treat shaving nicks. I assumed it would be easy to procure a replacement for this, and so, clenching my teeth against the pain of it, I dribbled most of the contents of the vial into my wound, my eyes watering as I did.

It took me nearly an hour to complete these necessary ministrations, and at the end of it, I felt wholly shaken and ill with the experience. My palms were sweating and it required an effort to keep from trembling. As I climbed wearily into my nightshirt, I could not help but review the last few days’ activities in my mind, and thought that it was an astonishing account: I had been taken in by an organization of enemies of the Queen, sent to Europe where in a period of four days I had been drugged, nearly been drowned, and been attacked by armed men, one of whom I had killed, and one of whom had been dispatched by unknown hands for reasons I could not surmise.

Doubtless this was more than I had bargained on when I entered Mister Holmes’ employ, and as I pulled up the covers I pondered what might happen next, and how I should inform Mycroft Holmes about the events of the last four days. After the attack on the edge of the gorge, I suspected that the absence of the packet of materials I was to receive was more than an oversight. This brought more unwelcome speculations, and some distressful notions returned to plague me. If those men at the abyss were mere footpads I could dismiss their attack as the misfortune of a solitary traveler. But suppose they were more than that? I could not persuade myself they were not, not even here in the apparent safety of my room. Their attack once again became more sinister in my perceptions than it had seemed. For what reason had they tried to kill me? And who had killed the second man? Was there any significance to my missing razor? To say nothing of my pistol and knife? How alarmed should I be in that regard? In the midst of such confusion, it might be nothing, but I could not afford to overlook any possibilities. There was also the unaccountable Miss Penelope Gatspy, about whom I had come to no conclusions, for there was always the possibility there was no reason to consider her more than a serendipitous encounter.

But if there had been more to it than that, I wondered what her purpose might have been, and who it was she served. Sleep eluded me as I puzzled over these very strange events and tried to decide what I should do about my current predicament. At last, more from exhaustion and pain than from any calm or resolution, I lapsed into uneasy slumber, filled with images of unknown men plummeting into gulfs so vast that oceans could be contained in them.

FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS:

M.H. has been busy all morning with the Admiralty, who have sent three of their men to wait upon him, and has only just broken off his conference to ask me to send another telegram to the Continent. I am, of course, not permitted to know the particulars of their deliberations, but I am conscious that M.H. is seriously displeased that they have dragged on so long. He is increasingly worried about G., and if only this emergency at the Admiralty were not so ominous at this time, he would have departed for Europe yesterday at the latest. As it is, he is afraid he may have the young man’s life on his conscience for the rest of his days.

“For mark me, Tyers,
”
said he, “the Brotherhood will have him in their clutches by now, and I’m damned if I can be sure of getting him out.”

He has already declared that two of the clerks under suspicion are blameless, for their handwriting is not found in any of the records in question, and their handling of the material occurs at an earlier stage than M.H. is now convinced the mischief is done. He said that had he not been able to review all the pages and entries associated with the matter, he would not have been able to dismiss the two from the pall of doubt. But since he has had all the records, he has discerned the pattern more clearly. Without question he will know which is the culprit before much more time has passed

I must visit Mother this evening, and make the necessary arrangements with the church, for her earthly repose.

BY THE FIRST
light of dawn I rose and began to write an account of all that had happened to me since I left Pierson James’ chambers. I crossed the pages and wrote on both sides of the few sheets of paper provided by the hotel, taking care to be succinct and yet to leave nothing out, and even then, when I had filled the available sheets I had not finished my account of the incident on the edge of the chasm the night before. What I ought to do with this account, I was not entirely certain. Very carefully I folded it in half and tucked it into my carpetbag, trusting I would hit upon some plan. I was not wholly sure it was safe to keep with me, though I had taken care to reveal no names in my writing, with the exception of Miss Penelope Gatspy. More than anything I wanted to find some means of getting this back to Mister Holmes in London, but had no notion how I could accomplish this.

It was tempting to think of turning back, to fly for the Channel and the protection of home, but as I wrote of all that had happened to me, I lost all hope that such an effort would succeed, for I was fully aware I was being observed, and any deviation from the course set down to me would doubtless expose me to more than the censure of my employer: I would not reach Dover alive, of that I was quite certain.

There was also the matter of my ruined coat. I would have to find some means of replacing it before I continued on my journey, for I surely could not present myself to that stickler Scotsman with my garments in tatters with bloodstains upon them. A more liberal man than he was said to be would think twice about engaging a man with so obvious a record of violence about him. I would have to procure another shirt, as well, with the one I had been wearing reduced to scraps. How could I fulfill Mister Holmes’ instructions if I appeared before this MacMillan looking like the scaff and raff of the gutter? I had money, but not enough to allow me any extravagant purchases.

My side ached and my muscles were stiff, and when I pulled on my second shirt, the soft cotton felt like sandpaper on my skin. A look in the mirror for shaving confirmed my worst suspicions regarding my face: there was a great, discolored mass under where I would wear my eyepatch again, as well as puffiness from the nick. It would be useless to deny a mishap of some sort. I was so enervated that I wondered if I would be able to carry my bag to the train, whither I was bound as soon as I broke my fast.

I came down the stairs and made my way into the breakfast room where the host had spread out a variety of cheeses and breads, and an array of preserves and comfits to accompany these. I had little appetite, but I knew it was essential I eat. As I selected two wedges of cheese—one soft with a pungent rind, the other pale and firm—and a soft roll, the host himself came into the chamber, concern on his benign face.

“Ah, Mister Jeffries,” he said, his Luxembourgeois accent making the name sound exotic. “I hope you have not had a misfortune?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” I declared, deciding not to deny the events of the previous evening. “I was set upon by robbers.”

The fellow crossed himself and regarded me with great concern. “You have spoken to the authorities?”

I shrugged. “I must leave today, and, as the blackguards did not get anything from me but the satisfaction of my bruises in exchange for some of their own, I decided I would not bother.”

“It is shocking,” said the host, his hands joined to show his solicitous attitude.

“Very true,” I said. “The worst of it is the fellows ruined my coat, my shirt, and my waistcoat.” Too late I noticed the distress in the host’s face, and did my best to make light of it. “They struck a couple lucky blows before I got away from them.”

“But this is dreadful,” said the host, coming over to me. “That such a thing should happen to you in our little country.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If you will let me have your old coat, I will tend to it. In the meantime,” he said more brightly, “I have in my closet a number of coats left here over the years. You may make a selection of them, choose whichever suits you. I would make the same offer for a shirt, but I suspect you would prefer to purchase one new.” His smile was wide and beneficent.

“That is very kind of you,” I said to him, trying not to question this gesture, for I could not but suppose that he was correct in saying that many items of clothing had been left behind over the years, and if he had not sold them to a dealer in used clothing, he might well still have such a trove. “I fear I will have to avail myself of your offer.”

“When you are finished here, come to the front. If the landlord were here, I would not be able to do this, but as he is away in Berlin, I will take responsibility for this.” He continued his smile. “It is not as if you are seeking to take advantage of our goodwill.”

Remembering that I was August Jeffries, I just nodded once, and said I’d talk to him when I was done eating.

The host was about to leave from the room when he was struck with a new thought. “Is there anything I can do additionally? I believe it is fitting that since my country is responsible for the injuries you have sustained that I should take it upon myself to dispel any ill notions you may have in regard to it.” His sigh was like listening to an actor expressing profound sympathy, and I was unable to determine if this might be the actual temperament of the man, or a pose to convince me of his legitimate concern.

“I’ll give it some thought,” I promised him, and went on with the meal. By the time I was finished, I had decided on a risky course. Taking care to do it while still at the table, I retrieved the report I had written and tucked it into the Luxembourg newspaper left as a courtesy at each table. This was folded securely and I went in search of a postage sleeve for it; I found this at the front desk, where the host declared himself in readiness to see that the thing was sent back to my attorney in London with all due haste. “He has dealings in Europe, don’t you know, and has asked me to procure newspapers for him while I travel, which I have attempted to do,” I temporized as I scrawled James’ address upon it. “What is this likely to cost to post to London?”

He made a gesture of dismissal. “Do not worry about the amount; it is trifling, I assure you. Think of it as a gesture from Luxembourg to compensate, inadequately, for your unfortunate experience.”

I had a moment of wondering if I were wise to trust the man, but decided since it was known that Pierson James was representing my cause it might not be thought too strange that I would send him a newspaper from my travels. If the missive included were discovered, I could claim I wished him to be aware of what I had been forced to undertake as a means of financing my claim on my trust. Satisfied that I had nothing to fear from sending the material to London, I nodded to the host and said, “If your employer gives you any trouble for this, notify my solicitor and he will see you are provided some recompense for your problem.”

“Given what has befallen you, sir, I would venture to say that any troubles the landlord might visit upon me are trifling.” He indicated the way to the closet and took a ring of keys from the loop attached to his belt. “I’ll open the way for you.”

As much for small talk as any other reason, I said, “How is it that the landlord is gone?”

The host shook his head. “A sad business. He was called away two days since; his sister and her family have been stricken with fever and he was summoned to attend them.” He paused. “I must say, he took it badly, complaining that this was the worst possible time for him to be gone from here. But as his sister is a widow and there are no other male relatives, his presence was necessary . . .” He shrugged as he opened the closet. “He said he will return as quickly as possible.”

“I hope his sister recovers quickly and fully,” I said automatically.

“Amen to that, sir,” the host said as he stood aside.

I went in and waited while the host struck a match for the lamp and adjusted the flame. “Gracious,” I said as I looked at the two long racks on which clothes of every description of the last forty years hung. Inconsequently I thought that Edmund Sutton would be delighted to get his hands on half of the garments here. I strolled along the section of the nearer rack which contained gentlemen’s coats, and at last took two from their hangers; one was too long in the sleeve, the other too narrow in the shoulder, but the third was precisely the garment I needed. It was about six years out of fashion, a long frock coat of dark brown broadcloth cut full at the sides in the German manner with a rolled velvet collar. It was in remarkably good condition, and were it not that it was no longer the mode, I would have thought it quite new; surely it could not have been worn many times before it was left here. The fullness of the cut not only gave me the appearance of having lost flesh recently, but provided a little extra room around the improvised dressing over my ribs, which was particularly welcome to me. I let the host help me shrug into it.

“It is a good choice, sir,” said the host, looking pleased. “And perhaps, while you are here, a waistcoat as well?”

I smiled. “Why not?”

The selection was varied and interesting, and I was hard-put not to choose one of those that suited my own rather conservative taste. But that was not the persona of August Jeffries, and so I took one that was a tapestry brocade of leaf-patterns in russet, rust, and dark greens. “Thank you very much, my good man,” I said as I removed the coat in order to don the waistcoat. “It will suit me very well. It’s better quality than the one I lost.” I looked around the room again. “With all this on hand, I doubt your employer will miss these two.”

The host laughed. “I am of the same mind.”

“Well, it is good of you to do this for me,” I said to him, and resisted the urge to give him a few coins for his trouble. “And it is right welcome, too.”

“A pleasure to serve you, Mister Jeffries,” said the host, and ushered me out of the closet, taking care to lock it once again before escorting me to the front of the establishment. “Will you want a cab to the station?”

“No, I think I’ll walk; it isn’t very far,” I said, and picked up my carpetbag. I hoped that the exercise would limber me somewhat. With a jauntiness I did not truly feel I set out toward the long boulevard that led to the station. I made a point of not looking toward the gorge again, for fear of what I would see there.

Upon reaching the station, I was informed that the train to Mannheim was late, and I would have more than an hour before it arrived. I asked again at the telegram desk if any packet had been delivered for me, and was again informed that none had been received. I sent my daily telegram with a sense of fatalistic oppression. The apprehension I had nearly succeeded in shaking off returned threefold. Why would Mister Holmes fail to deliver the material he had promised to have for me at this place? None of the answers that occurred to me lessened my worry. I purchased a two-day-old Munich paper and did my best to ward off my anxiety and hide my battered face by reading of events there, including the arrival of a pair of young giraffes at the zoo, an event that was causing something of a public festival.

When the train finally steamed into the station, there was a general rush toward it, and I found myself in a crowded compartment where each man was hidden behind his paper. I decided to do as the rest did, and returned to my German paper as the train rattled on toward Mannheim.

We arrived there now three hours late; I had missed my train to Wurzburg. I was informed I could take the late train to Nuremberg which was scheduled to leave in forty minutes, and arrive there around midnight. It was not part of my instructions, but if I were going to arrive in Augsburg at roughly the appointed time, I would have to reroute myself. My limited experience of the Brotherhood told me they would more readily forgive a change of travel than an unnecessarily late arrival. I decided it would be better to do this, and went to the telegraph desk to send word back to James:
Will be at Nuremberg late tonight, departing for Augsburg tomorrow morning. No promised material delivered. Lacking information to continue. Need to know what you are doing toward resolving case.
I thought this would not depart from what Mycroft Holmes had instructed me to do beyond the bounds of what he would tolerate. I purchased a new ticket, a second-class one, for Nuremberg and one from Nuremberg to Augsburg for the following day. Then I went to wait for the train.

This ride was as uneventful as it was uncomfortable. The wooden seats in the second-class car were old and prone to leaving splinters in hands and bum as the train jolted and rocked its way to the south-east. By the time it halted in Nuremberg I was as miserable as if I had been taken with the grippe.

Only two hostelries were willing to take in late travelers, and those of us leaving the train had to choose between an ancient, black beamed coaching inn and a tavern attached to an old brewery with a dozen small rooms available to travelers, or those so filled with beer they could not make their way home. While I would have preferred the coaching inn, it was twice the cost of rooms at the tavern, and I knew that Jeffries would far prefer the latter to the former. Reluctantly, I went into the taproom and arranged for a bed for the night and the promise of chocolate and pastry before seven in the morning.