Sherlock Holmes (15 page)

Just as we reached the table there was a
shout from somewhere to the side of us. A masked figure lunged
forward with his arm raised holding a stiletto and crying, "Fasci
Siciliani!" A flash of steel from behind him cut him short as a
blade penetrated and skewered him through the heart. The man fell
as a slaughtered beast. Behind him stood the Jester with the sword
in one hand and its scabbard, a cane, in the other.

The King looked pale. I held his elbow and,
in a quiet voice, said, "Your Majesty, let me introduce Sherlock
Holmes."

Holmes pulled the mask from his face. He
looked grim and, on sheathing his blade, he then bowed towards the
King, saying, simply, "Your Majesty."

The King recovered swiftly. With a broad
smile, he looked from one of us to the other saying, “Gentlemen!
Allow me to offer you both a glass of champagne.” We accepted
gracefully and, when our glasses were empty, a word was sent to the
ambassador and our coats and mufflers were fetched. With little
formality we took our leave of the King and his guests and left the
embassy.

The following morning in our rooms I was
eager to question Holmes regarding his 'performance' as the Jester.
I have to record that Holmes was not his usual self. Killing a man
in cold blood, though justified, weighed heavily upon him. However,
he recounted how he had used the persona of the Jester to examine
all the shoes. “It was inspired!” I cried.

Holmes stroked his chin. “It was more a
calculated risk, Watson. If the King had refused to allow me to
examine his shoes, all would have been lost. I had banked on the
fact that the King is a game fellow and his curiosity would get the
better of him. He would want to see what I would do next.”

I smiled saying, “I still believe it was
inspired.”

Holmes seemed to cheer a little and continued
his tale. “After I had examined about a dozen shoes I found the
second fellow. His instep still had blood upon it. Of course, I had
to continue with my rouse by examining more shoes otherwise it
would have raised his suspicions. I must congratulate the
ambassador's wife, she played her part well too.

Once I had identified the fellow, I retrieved
my cane and waited." Holmes reached for his pipe, saying, "Anyway,
enough of me. You had a fine evening, saving the life of a King!” I
mumbled something of it being nothing and then asked him to recount
the moment the second anarchist struck.

Holmes sat back in his chair. “I could see
that he was a nervous fellow and, when you detained your man, the
desperation within mine began to rise. He moved with stealth
amongst the guests with me keeping a discreet distance between us.
When the King escorted you towards the table of refreshments, it
brought his target within range.”

I thought for a moment, asking, “What was
that he cried as he lunged towards the King?”

 Holmes’ face was grim. “He shouted
'Fasci Siciliani'. It is the shortened version of Fasci Siciliani
dei Lavoratori, the Sicilian Workers League. If you recall, Watson.
There were violent uprisings in Sicily this last month which were,
indeed, harshly dealt with by the authorities. Scores died and
hundreds wounded.”

I was bemused. “This is not the King's doing,
Holmes. Surely they can see that?”

Holmes nodded. “Perhaps so, but,
unfortunately, they see him as the head of the snake. A great pity
as Umberto is a good man and has done many good works. He wants to
see his people thrive and his nickname of 'Il Buono' is well
deserved.”

In the days that followed we heard little
further from the embassy. Mycroft had sent Holmes a telegram of
congratulation and appreciation from Her Majesty's government. We
also learned that the assassin who survived had turned Queen's
evidence. He named a trusted clerk at the embassy as being a member
of 'Solidarieta'. However, a ring at the door made us reflect once
more upon our adventure.

Mrs Hudson appeared in a great commotion. “Mr
Holmes, I wish you would tell me when you are expecting deliveries
so that I can make room in the pantry and cellar.”

Holmes looked up, somewhat puzzled. “But I
have ordered nothing, Mrs Hudson.”

Mrs Hudson was not to be denied. “Well sir,
there is a Palma ham and five cases of franky...franca...oh, I
don't know! It looks like champagne to me and it's downstairs! Oh,
and there was this note and this package with it.”

Holmes laughed loudly. “Franciacorta, Mrs
Hudson” said Holmes, taking both the note and package from her.

Holmes first opened the small package. There,
wrapped within a piece of fine Italian silk was a stiletto. Using
it, he slit the top of the envelope and read aloud the contents of
the note within. 'Dear Mr Holmes and Dr Watson, I am greatly
indebted to you both for saving my life and I trust you will accept
this small token of my gratitude. The stiletto is a memento of the
evening, I have its brother on my desk and I find it makes a fine
paper knife'. It is signed, with the cipher, UR.”

Holmes smiled, weighed the stiletto in the
palm of his hand, saying, “Yes, it will indeed make a fine paper
knife, don't you think, Watson?”

We were reminded little of this adventure
over the next few years save for Holmes using the stiletto to open
his letters. It was with great sadness that, at the beginning of
August 1900, we were made aware of the assassination of King
Umberto on the evening of the 29th of July in Monza, Italy. We read
of this in ‘The Times’ where it was reported that four shots had
been fired, three of them fatally wounding the King. The assassin,
an Italian-American anarchist named Gaetano Bresci, had travelled
from America to Monza to carry out the attack. He claimed it was in
revenge for the brutal suppression of a food riot in Milan. With
Umberto's assassination, Italy lost a good king and this wicked act
had far reaching implications. Indeed, a year later we learned that
Leon Czolgosz claimed that Umberto's assassination was his
inspiration to kill William McKinley, the U.S. President, in
September, 1901.

It was on a cold day in mid-November, 1894
when we first became aware of the curious case of The Bishop's Tie
Pin. Holmes had been busy with the small matter of retrieving a
‘misplaced’ item for a certain Lady M. and was now keen for
something new to challenge his huge intellect. We had breakfasted
and were now working our way through the morning’s papers. Whilst
Holmes read, I was busy with a pair of scissors cutting out items
of interest for our ever growing encyclopaedic collection of
scrapbooks.

Holmes became immediately alert when the bell
in the hall below announced a visitor. As Mrs Hudson brought him
upstairs, Holmes slipped off his old dressing gown and waited
eagerly for the knock at the door of our rooms. On cue, Mrs Hudson
knocked and brought in our guest. I noticed that, for once, she
seemed a little flustered. "A gentleman to see you, Mr Holmes. He
declined to give his name."

The briefest of glances and a nod from Holmes
was sufficient to both acknowledge our guest and also to dismiss
Mrs Hudson. Once the door had closed, Holmes stood and greeted the
gentleman in question.

"Good morning, my Lord Bishop. Please, sit
down."

I scrambled to my feet and almost forgot that
I was holding the scissors as I hurried to greet him also.

With a wry smile, our guest waited until I
had deposited the scissors before shaking my hand, saying, "I did
not expect to be skewered on my visit here this morning, sir."

I stammered a brief apology before sitting
and then taking stock of our guest. It was clear that Holmes knew
this gentleman. The face was familiar but I could not quite place
it.

Our guest removed his coat, sat down and,
turning towards me, smiled broadly, saying, "Please forgive me for
teasing you so, Dr Watson, but I could not resist."

Again I was puzzled. I was sure that I had
not met this gentleman before. Holmes saw my disquiet and, with a
wry smile, said, "Watson. Allow me to introduce a friend of mine.
This is the Bishop of Westfield, John Knowles." The Bishop nodded
towards me again, smiling.

The Bishop was a tall man with a florid face
and a mass of grey curls. Apart from his dog collar, his clothes
suggested him to be a gentleman who worked in an office in the
City. Holmes and the Bishop clearly had some catching up to do so I
rang the bell for some tea. It was during this brief exchange
between them that I noticed that the Bishop's demeanour had changed
slightly from being jovial, to one with a hint of concern. Holmes,
I saw, had also sensed this and had already moved a little further
forward in his chair and was fully alert. We were both keenly
waiting to hear the reason for the visit.

The Bishop was, I believe, on the verge of
revealing it when tea arrived. Mrs Hudson placed a large tray in
front of us and poured us each a cup. We sat back and sipped the
tea for a few moments and then the Bishop appeared to become, once
more, business-like.

 Seeing this, Holmes took his cue. "Come
John, you haven't travelled up to London simply to reacquaint
yourself with an old university friend. How may I be of
service?"

The Bishop seemed a little uncomfortable and
shuffled slightly in his chair. Putting his cup down, he leant
forwards towards Holmes and clasped his hands together. "It is
quite a delicate matter, Holmes. I am afraid that there may be a
scandal unless you can discover some way to prevent it. One of my
parishioners came to me this week with some disturbing information
regarding a fellow bishop, the Bishop of Sandbury. He is well known
to me, a sound man… but I fear easily led.”

Bishop Knowles paused briefly to take another
sip of tea. “My informant tells me that the Bishop of Sandbury has
been seen several times entering an establishment in the West End
which has, I believe, a questionable reputation. Ordinarily, I
would have dismissed this out of hand but my informant is a person
with impeccable credentials and has the highest moral intentions. I
took it upon myself to enquire further and, in truth, Holmes, I
fear the worst.”

Holmes was silent for a few seconds. He
pursed his lips and then, in a quiet voice, said, “This is not the
true reason for your visit, John. You could have gently and
discreetly taken the Bishop of Sandbury to one side, countenanced
him, and all would have been well. Tell me all.”

Bishop Knowles had turned a little pale and
was loosening his collar. “You are right, of course, Holmes. Your
brother, Mycroft, has been to visit me to enquire about the
character of the Bishop of Sandbury. He informed me, in the
strictest of confidence, that copies of certain government naval
papers have appeared in the German embassy. How he knows this, I
did not ask. He also informed me that the brother of the Bishop of
Sandbury is a figure of some note in the Admiralty, here in London.
On questioning me further, I had to tell him that Sandbury had some
failings and it was then that Mycroft directed me to see you.”

Holmes was silent for a moment. “You think,
then, that these naval papers in foreign hands and Sandbury's
inappropriate visits are linked?”

The Bishop shook his head. “I don't know,
Holmes, but I am extraordinarily concerned. A scandal must not
envelop the church.”

Holmes held up his index finger. “Tell me,
John, what is the name of this Bishop of Sandbury?”

“Why, it's Clive Mapleton.” replied the
Bishop.

Holmes nodded and then smiled. “Fear not, my
Lord. We will do our upmost to avoid such an occurrence! Do you
have an address for the establishment that the Bishop
frequents?”

Bishop Knowles put his hand into his
waistcoat pocket and from it he withdrew a slip of paper. Attached
was a small cutting from a newspaper and these he passed to Holmes.
Holmes smiled, saying, “Splendid! Then we will detain you no
further.”

With that Holmes rose to his feet, a clear
indication that the visit was at an end. It was plain that Bishop
Knowles was more than a little taken aback by this rather curt
dismissal but accepted it with all the grace that he could muster,
saying, “Ah, yes, well... I look forward to hearing from you,
Holmes.” Putting on his coat he shook hands with us both and left
looking slightly bewildered.

Once the Bishop had gone, I felt the need to
say something to Holmes. “I thought that a rather brusque ending to
our meeting with the Bishop, Holmes!”

Holmes was not at all perturbed. He was
already thumbing through his copy of the Admiralty list. “I think
this is a matter that requires our immediate attention, Watson. Let
us consider the information we have. Firstly, the Bishop of
Westfield is concerned by the possibly scandalous behaviour of
Clive Mapleton, the Bishop of Sandbury. Secondly, Mycroft has
intelligence that British naval documents have somehow made their
way to the German embassy and thirdly, he has linked these papers
to Captain George Mapleton, RN, at the Admiralty.”

I reflected on this for a moment. “Do you
think that this Captain Mapleton is a spy in the pay of the
Germans?”

Holmes frowned. “Unlikely, Watson. From what
I have read, Captain Mapleton served with some distinction in the
Far East at our China Station. I think we may have to look for a
rather more domestic solution.”

Holmes sat down and opened the slip of paper
with the attached newspaper clipping. He read them both and with a
slight chuckle said, “Ha! I think this may be more in your field of
expertise than mine, Watson. Listen to this, '...at the
aforementioned establishment in Old Burlington Street, W1, under
the able and caring direction of Mrs Henrietta Withers, Electric
and Lemon baths known for their curative properties are given in
such perfection, both as to their luxurious and prestigious
surroundings and the attention of the skilled attendants. These
baths rival those of any other establishment either in England or
on the Continent. The staff of enthusiastic assistants is as
cosmopolitan as the patronage with almost all European languages
being spoken'. ”