Chapter one: 16.15 from Euston Station
During my intimate acquaintance with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, it stroke me that while he kept his personal affairs strictly to himself as another man would a shameful secret, he did not have the least scruples to invade my privacy or intrude upon my domestic peace. It was not an uncommon occurrence that he should stride into my professional consulting room or parlour unannounced, scaring the maids with imperative cries aimed at my person.
Still, as years passed by and we both advanced from the sprightliness of youth to the more sedate age of mature men, even my active, commanding friend became somewhat quieter and the visits I described less frequent. Thus it was a bit of a surprise for me when he was ushered into the withdrawing room on a fine day in September 1913.
"My dear Holmes!"
I choked on my tea and was seized by a coughing fit. Dabbing my mouth with the table napkin, I allowed him to explain the cause of his visit, which he rapidly did in his high, strident voice.
"My good doctor, it is a relief to see you well and unoccupied, for I shall need your assistance during the next hour or two."
"What is it?" I managed through the napkin. "A case?"
"A client", Holmes returned with subdued exhilaration. "She announced herself for two o'clock, and the telegram she sent indicates her being a foreigner, possibly from the Continent."
"Two o' clock?" I glanced at the grandfather clock. "That is fife minutes from now!"
"And yet I have good hopes for our punctuality, that is, if you don't detain us any longer with tea and obvious remarks", he retorted. "I have a cab waiting."
oooOOOooo
I did not need to be told twice, and we arrived at Baker Street in due time to see Mrs. Hudson conduct a tall, womanly lady into the house. A concern for the condition of Holmes' rooms flashed my mind, but I did not dare to ask him a question to this effect. Instead, we simply hurried upstairs where the landlady left us with our visitor in the reasonably presentable apartment.
Mr. Holmes grasped the proffered hand of the lady and slightly bowed over it.
"I hope you will excuse our delay, madam", he said courteously. "I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague Dr. Watson."
"How do you do." I took the hand of the stately woman, whose raven hair had been arranged into an intricate, wavy coiffure, and attempted to lead her towards a seat, but she shook her head, signifying that she preferred to remain where she was. Nervously she fiddled with her gloves, she glanced from myself to my celebrated friend.
Her face was vacuous but handsome, with warm dark eyes and a crimson mouth. She must have been beautiful in her first youth, but the years had left their traces on her countenance, and the beauty was in the process of waning. Her age I judged to be between late fourties and late fifties. When she spoke, her timbre was pleasantly deep and low.
"Mr. Holmes", she commenced, "I have come to consult you over an event zat has happened in my immediate environment, and zat is likely to affect ze happiness of my family. My name is Margarete Mahler, and I am remotely related wiz Friedrich, Markgraf of Baden in Germany."
Holmes listened to her attentively, smoking a cigarette as he did, and leaning on the mantelpiece. He betrayed no signs of peevedness, as he usually did when he sensed somebody desired to impress him with rank or connections. Frau Mahler, who in her uncertainty had dropped one of her gloves, proceeded:
"Ze Markgraf and his family are residing at Schwetzingen Castle during ze summer months, and I and my own family have been invited down to stay, amongst other guests.
My husband is Direktor Mahler, a commoner who has come to considerable honours in the army during ze Franco-Prussian war. He was born in the Alsace, but is german by nationality, and nowadays presides over ze local civil administration in Saverne. We – zat is, my my brother-in-law Johann and I – have been anticipating his coming to join us at Schwetzingen in a couple of days….but after what has happened, we rather apprehend his visit zan look forward to it."
Frau Mahler looked at my friend as if searching guidance, but when he remained silent, she went on:
"Ze incident I am referring to, gentlemen, was a theft. From my guest room in the castle, a very valuable old snuff-box of my husbands has been abstracted, as well as the greater part of his Krupp-AG shares, which represent a considerable part of our fortune. Ze theft in and on itself was perhaps not so very extraordinary, except for ze fact zat it was committed at a time when none of ze servants could possibly have been involved, zey having long retired to zeir rooms in another wing of ze castle zat very evening."
"So…possibly one of the other guests?" I suggested.
Our visitor nodded vigorously.
"At least, zat is what my cousin, ze Markgraf, zought. He prohibited everyone to leave ze castle until ze affair was cleared up."
"Except yourself, madam", Mr. Holmes interjected, scrutinizing her askance.
The lady frowned, as if the thought had not as yet presented itself to her.
"Zat is true. I suppose he let me depart because I am ze bereaved…and something had to be done about it. Ze theft occurred on Thursday last. I took ze first convenient train and ship to London and persuade you to accept the case. Today is Saturday, and I daresay if you are quick in making up your mind to come wiz me, we should be at Schwetzingen in less zan twenty-four hours."
Silence. I bent down in order to pick up the glove Frau Mahler had dropped in her excitement.
"What do you say, Mr. Holmes?" she finally asked anxiously.
"Frau Mahler." My colleague inhaled a cloud of tobacco and blew a ring which lingered in the air quizzically. "I can fairly comprehend the diversion of the shares leaves a considerable gap in your finance. I cannot, however, understand why you took the trouble of consulting me when you could have put your local forces to the test. Not that I myself place a great amount of faith in the ability of police officers, but a profane theft…"
"I need to have the stolen items back, Mr. Holmes. I did not wait for anybody to fail before getting the best man I could."
"Hum." He eyed her suspiciously. "Then why not asking me down by mail? It would have saved you time and the inconveniences of crossing the Channel."
"I know. I was afraid you might decline if I didn't make a personal appearance."
Holmes tossed the cigarette end into the fire place.
"What is it about the stolen goods that make them so valuable to you? Do you need the money so badly?"
"Not desperately."
"Still…?"
"M-my husband", she suddenly stammered, and her accent worsened by degrees when her tears began to flow. "I am afraid my husband might zink it was I who took the things away!"
"Why would he do that?" Sherlock Holmes enquired unmoved, while I finally succeeded in settling the drenched Frau Mahler on the sofa, offering one of my handkerchiefs.
"M-my marriage is problematic, Mr. Holmes", she hiccoughed, struggling for composure in vain, "and while my affection for my husband has remained unaltered since the day of our betrothal, I fear his feelings have cooled to a certain extent. He was glad when ze army offered him zis post at Saverne – thus he was excused from spending a lot of time wiz me.
I have but one cause to worry in zis life, gentlemen: Zat ze little love he retained for me should die away. Now, if he learns about ze incident, he may take me for ze thief, but I could not stand it – my heart would break asunder."
Assuring her that everything would be perfectly alright, I patted her hand and tried to soothe her, yet the only thing she seemed to take an interest in was whether my friend would or would not consent to investigate the crime. For my own part, I was absolutely prepared to assist the unhappy lady, and the prospect of an adventurous journey was not disagreeable to me. Thus we both sat on the sofa, our eyes directed at Holmes, who appeared to be absorbed in thought. At last he raised his head and met the glance of our client with some sternness.
"Frau Mahler", he said again, "I presume you are as well aware of the political situation as and I. Certain tensions between our nations render the visit of an Englishman to the Germany inadvisable. In case there might be war…"
"War, what war! Zere'll be no war, Mr. Holmes!" Frau Mahler declared with persuasion.
I was rather astonished. Familiar as I was with the "political situation", I had not considered it in relation to our proposed voyage. Holmes was right, a stay in Germany might be perilous.
"Kindly leave that for me to judge, madam", the detective pronounced gently, but firmly. "I must ask you to cast your memory back to the instances during the preceding years, where the government of your country aggravated the government of mine.
Do I need to cite the Kruger-dispatch in 1895? Our late queen Victoria and Lord Rosebery weren't best pleased to hear of his Majesty Wilhelm II congratulate the Boer king on his victory over British troops. Or the construction of the Bhagdad-Railway through British and French territory, ten years ago? Not to mention a swiftly growing armada literally at the doorstep of Great Britain."
Frau Mahler shrugged her shoulders. "I can't answer to zat, Mr. Holmes. I am not a politician. In case zere be war, I would naturally use all my influence to grant you a safe transport to England. Zat is all security I can give. Will you accept?"
My boswell hesitated for a moment, and I was almost certain he would say no, when he suddenly turned to me.
"Watson?"
"Eh? Oh, of course…well, I assume there might be an element of danger in our pursuit, but that's the way it usually is, isn't it?"
"Steady old Watson. Your opinion reflects mine to perfection. My dear Frau Mahler, I think I may consider myself employed."
"Oh, zat is a relief!" The shy lady smiled so broadly the case might as well have been concluded already. "You take a burden from my mind. Concerning your salary…"
Mr. Holmes stopped her with an impatient gesture. "I f you please, we will discuss that at a later moment. Presuming that I understand you correctly, you would like us to be at Schwetzingen tomorrow, which means we would be well advised to look up the next convenient train."
"I already saw to zat, Mr. Holmes. Ze four fifteen from Euston will bring us to Dover, in time for ze boat we have to take if we want to catch ze night express from Calais."
"Ah, I perceive we are travelling according to a neat plan, which is just as well. Now, Watson, if you will return home and get a few things packed, we shall meet madam on the platform in say – " he consulted the clock on the mantle, " – three quarters of an hour. MRS. HUDSON!" he screamed, causing Mrs. Mahler to jump on her seat in shock.
"What's the matter, Mr. Holmes? I was doing the laundry!"
His landlady appeared in the door frame, a wee bit irritated.
"Mrs. Hudson! I absolutely refuse to have the laundry stand between me and the solution of a case! I do hope you have some shirts and gaiters left for me, won't you?" he added, l little more amiable, cocking his head questioningly.
"Why, where are you going?"
"That, Mrs. Hudson, is top secret. Just get me my suitcase and a cab for Watson. Shoo, shoo! Begone!"
The old lady gave him a look as if uncertain whether he was serious or not, then she decided he was and hurried to carry out his orders.
oooOOOooo
we reached the Continent by ten p.m., as scheduled by our client, and mounted the night express aimed for Germany. As soon as we were seated in our gas-lit first class compartment, Holmes said:
"You mentioned yourself being a guest at Schwetzingen Castle among others. Would you mind telling us about them?"
"Not in the least", Mrs. Mahler replied. "Besides myself, there is, of course, my brother-in-law Johann. My husband's junior, he is – a nice young man. He's a sub-officer of the navy, and usually garrisoned at Wilhelmshaven, but got leave to stay with us for about a month."
"I presume you spend a lot of time with him?"
"Why, what do you mean?" Frau Mahler asked cautiously.
"I can gather it from the affectionate tone of your description. Plus, when you extracted the boat tickets from your porte-monnaie, I caught a glimpse of a young man's photograph you are carrying with you."
"Indeed, we are very close," Frau Mahler replied tersely. "Do you find a fault with that?"
"Not at all. I just found it suggestive."
"Suggestive?" the voluminous woman seemed to prance even more at his words. "In what way suggestive?"
"You haven't considerer him as a suspect, I take it?" Mr. Holmes asked equanimously, looking out of the window, where a foreign landscape rushed past us in the dark.
"As a suspect? Johann?" the woman I had previously considered as shy and self-conscious now seemed to boil with rage. "If you please would elaborate how you come to rank my most confidential relative among ze suspects?"
She had swelled to what seemed twice her size, and I quivered on my seat, anticipating her to burst every moment. Sherlock Holmes suppressed a yawn.
"Well, I thought the fact that he spends most of his time with you would afford him the best opportunity to…"
"Mr. Holmes! I must ask you to drop zis suspicion from the beginning. I asked you to clear myself of the guilt, not to transfer it to my brother-in-law!", Frau Mahler blustered. "I wouldn't want to exchange one trouble for another, would I? Please just do what you are supposed to do and confine your suspicions to the abundance of other possibilities. I would really appreciate if you did. Or better, just find ze items and return zem to my keeping. We do not wish for a scandal, as I'm sure you can understand. And please refrain from mentioning Johann again in zis context, as it is impossible he has something to do wiz ze…"
A gentle snore interrupted her raving. The head of my friend, which had been turned to the window, lolled to the other side and softly fell against my shoulder.
Halloa! What do you say up to now? Liked it? Disliked it? Next chapter will see us plunge ourselves into belle époche society. Hope you are well up in your turn-of –the-century history! He who knows most will solve the case first!
