Sherlock Holmes and the Adler Papers

by John Hall

  Mrs Norton nodded. ‘If I might speak as I eat, for I am very hungry?’ And, as she ate the tasty morsels Mrs Hudson had provided, and sipped the beef tea, Mrs Norton went on, ‘I need hardly dwell at length on the old case, as you would call it, but I must tell you something of how matters stood between myself and the King of Bohemia. I was, as you know, born in America, the youngest child of an immigrant family. We were “poor but honest”, as the newspapers put it, and my parents had something of a struggle in their early days in the new country. And by the time I was born, although their circumstances had improved somewhat, they were by no means rich. From being a little girl I enjoyed singing, and as I grew up I found that I had a talent in that direction. I might have stayed in America, but instead I chose to come to Europe, and I found work at La Scala, and later at Warsaw.’

  ‘That much we know.’

  Mrs Norton smiled. ‘I quickly realized that although I was – am – what might charitably be called “competent” or “adequate”, I should never be a singer in the first rank.’

  Holmes made as if to speak, then waved a hand for her to continue.

  ‘Mr Holmes?’

  ‘Forgive me. I had understood you were highly thought of at Warsaw?’

  Mrs Norton smiled. ‘I had some success, it is true. But I had no illusions – other, younger, better, singers were waiting in the wings. Besides, I thought – well! Being of a practical turn of mind, I decided that there were but two choices open to me. I might return to America, to try whether the competition there was as stiff as in Europe; or I might marry for money. I chose the latter course. Quite coldly, quite deliberately. I began to look around for the right man, and I found him, in the shape of the – then – Crown Prince of Bohemia. We met, talked, dined. And – and I found that my grand design had come to nought. For I fell in love with him! And, truth to tell, I cannot believe that any woman alive would not have fallen in love with him.’

  (At this point, I mentally pictured the king as I had known him, six foot odd of self-opinionated sulks, though handsome enough in a coarse sort of fashion; and I reflected sadly that this last remark was probably quite true. I fear that something of Holmes’s cynicism has rubbed off over the years, as indeed it was bound to do.) Mrs Norton was saying, ‘He was generous – in truth, as I began to tell you a moment ago, I fancy that my success was due indirectly to him, for the authorities at Warsaw were anxious to please him, and my rapid promotion could not, by the most charitable, be ascribed to my innate talent. Be that as it may, he promised me marriage, of course. And I am sure that the promise was seriously intended, that he had simply not thought the matter out properly. In his defence, and indeed in my own, I must add that we were very young.’

  ‘You are hardly old now, madam,’ I told her.

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ The smile vanished. ‘Then the world intruded upon us. The king, as he became, was expected to marry for reasons of state, for political expediency, for the good of his country and his people. There was, it is true, the possibility of – of some informal arrangement between us, but you will appreciate that I declined that offer.’

  ‘I should think so, too!’ I said.

  Holmes said, ‘And it was then that you decided to send a compromising photograph to the king’s bride-to-be?’

  Mrs Norton shook her head quickly. ‘Pray hear me out, Mr Holmes, before you judge me. I could, I think, accept that the king must marry as his ministers directed, and as his country’s good demanded. And although I declined it, I was not offended by the suggestion of a continued, illicit liaison after the marriage – truth to tell, the king made the suggestion not in any base spirit, but rather because he was reluctant, just as I was myself, to abandon the happiness we had known. No, I would have burned his letters, and the photograph, had I not met a – a man, I suppose I should say, but “devil” would be nearer the mark!’

  ‘What, Godfrey Norton?’ asked Holmes at once.

  Mrs Norton laughed. ‘Godfrey? No, Mr Holmes, if you knew him, you would know why I laugh. Why, Godfrey is the sweetest, the gentlest, the best of men. No, the man I met was of another sort altogether. His name is Karl-Heinz Siebald, known as Karl, but he sometimes styles himself Karl-Heinz von Ormstein. He is the king’s elder brother.’

  Holmes and I stared at her. ‘But –’

  Mrs Norton raised a hand. ‘The king’s roving eye was evidently inherited,’ she told us drily.

  ‘Ah!’ said Holmes, sinking back in his chair.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Norton with a nod. ‘The old king, that is Wilhelm’s father, whilst still a young man, became enamoured of a Fräulein Siebald, daughter of a wealthy and respectable commoner. There was a child, but there could be no marriage. Then the king was informed that a suitable bride had been found. He married the lady, and in due course of time Wilhelm was born. The old king did what he could for Karl. His name he could not give, nor rank; but he made him a most generous allowance, on condition that Karl should leave Bohemia when he reached fifteen years of age, and never return again to the land of his birth. And in a secret ceremony the old king bestowed on Karl the highest of Bohemia’s honours, the Grand Cordon of the Order of Saint Wenceslas. Karl moved to Paris, to live an aimless life, a life of pleasure. Or so it appeared, though I now suspect that it was a careful act, intended to fool the world.’

  ‘H’mm,’ said Holmes. ‘One might perhaps have expressed the wish that those circumstances had not arisen; but given that they did arise, I think the old king’s actions would be deemed generous by most men.’

  ‘Not by Karl,’ said Mrs Norton.

  ‘Ahah! So, this Karl persuaded you to spoil the new king’s chances of marriage?’

  Mrs Norton nodded. ‘I was a fool ever to listen to him. I know that now. But he was very plausible.’

  ‘It is ever the way with rogues,’ said Holmes, somewhat sententiously.

  ‘It was in Paris that I met him first. After the break with the king I was spending a little time in the city, trying to think matters over, and Karl made himself known to me. Of course I had no idea of his parentage, not at first. He entertained me lavishly, but behaved like a perfect gentleman, quite unlike the man he had the reputation of being. And then one day he mentioned his past. Naturally I was taken aback. I could sympathize with him, and said as much. Before I knew it, I had told him something of my own unhappy experiences. And then Karl said something to the effect that we had both been wronged by the royal house of von Ormstein. I listened to him – would that I had not, that I had never allowed him to set foot in the house! But I did.’ Mrs Norton flushed, and shrugged her shoulders. ‘In truth, I needed but little persuasion. What woman, wronged as I had been wronged, would need over-much convincing that the man who had wronged her should suffer as well?

  ‘I had thought it the merest chance, my meeting Karl as I did, and the fact that we had so much, as it seemed, in common. Now I believe that he had arranged it all, that his spies had somehow discovered about the king and my unhappy self, and that Karl had decided to use me to hurt his half-brother, and sought me out accordingly. Well, the rest you know, I fancy. I came to London, absolutely determined to send the letters and photograph to the old King of Scandinavia, and thereby wreck the King of Bohemia’s marriage.

  ‘Then I met Godfrey, and fell in love with him. I had all but decided to destroy the king’s letters and the photograph, when the king foolishly attempted to take them from me by force! His creatures waylaid me, laid their grimy hands upon me, bullied me, searched me. All my old anger flared up at once, and I made my mind up; I should send the photograph after all! Then you came on the scene, Mr Holmes, and when I talked the matter over one last time with Godfrey, he convinced me that it would be best to leave the country, forget all about the king, and let events in Bohemia turn out as they might. I agreed. After all, I had my happiness; why should I begrudge the king his, though he had wronged me most grievously?’

  ‘And this Karl?’

  ‘Oh, I
never saw him again, or not until two days ago.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Bear with me, Mr Holmes. I had put the matter out of my mind as much as I reasonably could, and Godfrey and I had more or less settled down on the Continent. His family, I may say, are well-to-do, and Godfrey has a substantial private income, so we have no worries on that score. However, a few weeks ago, there was a clumsy burglary, or attempt at burglary, at our house. I knew at once that it was the papers that were the object of the attempt. And I knew also that the king, and you, Mr Holmes, would never try anything of the kind.’

  ‘You might rely on me,’ Holmes interrupted, ‘but how could you be sure that it was not the king?’

  ‘He wrote me a note, when I was settled on the Continent. A formal little note, no seal, signed only with the initial “W”, so that no-one might know who had sent it. But I knew. He told me that he was sorry things had come to the pass that they had come to, and that he trusted me implicitly. He swore there was nothing to fear from him. I believed him, Mr Holmes. And so I knew, you see, that Karl was behind the bungled robbery.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ I put in, ‘but I am confused. If Karl is – from the wrong side of the blanket, as they say – then he cannot gain from the king’s disgrace. Indeed, this Karl could not inherit the throne, even if the king were to die. Or have I missed something?’

  ‘Hate and revenge are powerful motives enough, Doctor,’ said Holmes.

  ‘True,’ added Mrs Norton, ‘but there is yet a third. Karl has an ally. Gottfried Baldur von Ormstein, Duke of Essen-Württemburg, the king’s cousin, and – in the absence of a son, a crown prince – the heir to the throne.’

  ‘I see,’ said Holmes. ‘They hope somehow to get rid of the king, set this Gottfried on the throne, and divide the contents of the treasury – I perhaps put the matter crudely, but I fancy that is what it amounts to – between them?’

  Mrs Norton nodded.

  I said, ‘Again, I am puzzled. The king is crowned, and married. Even though there is, as yet, no son and heir, surely the only way these conspirators could put their own man on the throne is by killing the king? Why, then, do they need letters, a compromising photograph, and the like?’

  Holmes nodded at this. ‘Well put, Doctor.’

  Mrs Norton said, ‘They do not propose to kill the king, but to bring about his disgrace, and thus his abdication. You must understand that the king’s reputation to some extent preceded him in the matter of his marriage. There was to be a treaty, greatly to Bohemia’s commercial advantage, with the family of his bride. But the King of Scandinavia, mindful of the tales he had heard of Wilhelm – the King of Bohemia, that is – would not sign the treaty until two years after the wedding. Ostensibly this was to give everyone “time to think it over, to finalize the details”, as the King of Scandinavia put it; in reality, it was to test the fidelity and probity of the King of Bohemia.’

  ‘Ah!’ said I. ‘So if the King of Bohemia behaves himself for two years – less, now – then the treaty will be signed. If not, then the King of Scandinavia, the other party to the treaty, will simply refuse to sign. That it?’

  ‘You sum it up admirably, Doctor,’ said Mrs Norton. ‘You may know that the politics of Bohemia, like those of many another middle European state, are very unsettled at the moment. There are many factions, some urging closer links with Austria-Hungary, some urging a treaty with France, even England. And there is a strong military faction which would like to see Bohemia expanding in Europe by force of arms, perhaps in an alliance with Prussia. I may add in passing that this military faction, though aggressive in its outlook, is fanatically loyal to the king, and would take a dim view of anyone who aimed to gain the throne by assassination. And besides that, the generals and colonels favour as an heir – in the absence of a crown prince only, of course – a young soldier, one Maurice von Ormstein, a distant relative of the king, loyal like the rest of the army, but still with some claim to the throne. If Wilhelm died by violence or in suspicious circumstances, then the army would support Maurice’s claim; but if Wilhelm abdicated and named Gottfried his successor, the army, loyal to Wilhelm as it is, would transfer that loyalty to Gottfried. For that reason, Gottfried and Karl balk at the notion of killing Wilhelm, and want him to abdicate.

  ‘Very well, to resume my story; two years ago, faced with these various disputing factions, the prime minister, Adolphus von Mitternacht, devised a brilliant scheme – a marriage, and a treaty with Scandinavia, which would fill Bohemia’s coffers whilst not antagonizing any of the conflicting factions. But the treaty is dependent upon the marriage. Had there been a crown prince, of course, then matters might be different. As it is, should there be any scandal, should Karl send the photograph to the King of Scandinavia so that he refuses to sign the treaty, there will undoubtedly be open rebellion. The king will be obliged to abdicate in favour of Gottfried, or see Bohemia plunged into civil war.’

  ‘The king might abdicate and name this Maurice, though?’ said Holmes.

  Mrs Norton shook her head. ‘Not when Gottfried’s claim is the stronger! There would be bloodshed, I assure you. Even if the army prevailed and set Maurice upon the throne, Bohemia would be ruined, half her people dead.’

  ‘That explains a good deal,’ I told her. ‘The King of Bohemia, you know, forbade any publication of my accounts for a period of two years. I wondered why he was so very parti-cular about that length of time, but this makes all clear.’

  Holmes interrupted, ‘Be that as it may, you had not finished your tale, madam?’

  ‘No, but there remains only a little more. I knew, as I say, that Karl was trying to gain possession of the papers. I could not consult His Majesty; so I therefore determined to come here and consult you, Mr Holmes.’

  ‘Which you failed to do?’

  ‘Which I failed to do.’

  ‘Thanks to Karl I take it. Or to one of his agents, perhaps?’

  ‘No, it was Karl himself. He was waiting outside my hotel, and he spoke to me. I told him that I was unhappy with his actions, and he replied that he understood my concerns, but he could explain them away easily enough, if I would accompany him to his lodgings. I hesitated, for I had my suspicions even then, but he was as persuasive as ever. “What could I lose?” was the burden of his song; if he failed to explain matters, I could still take whatever action I might see fit. Foolishly I agreed. We went to that dreadful place, and I must have looked askance at the room. Karl explained that he had just taken the place, and not had time to furnish it. He offered me his flask, and I took a sip – no more, I swear it! At once, I felt myself swooning. The brandy was drugged, of course. Then I knew no more until I woke up, and found myself bound and gagged, much as you discovered me, Karl was there, grinning at me. The papers were all he wanted, he said, if I told him where they were, then I might go free. I was half-conscious, still under the effects of the drug, and so believed him. More, when I managed to pull my scattered wits together slightly, I actually thought that when once I were free, I could come to you, Mr Holmes, and there would be time enough to do something, to take action to recover the papers! I told him where to find the papers, then, and he – he replaced the gag and he left me there!’ She buried her head in her hands.

  ‘The fellow is a pretty hardened villain,’ I said hotly. ‘But why did he not kill you out of hand, make sure you could not tell anyone what had happened?’

  ‘He is what you would call squeamish,’ said Mrs Norton. ‘He dared not trust an agent, but he would keep his own hands clean – if you can call them clean.’

  ‘Still, he could not know that we would find you,’ said Holmes. ‘This Karl is, as Watson says, not a very pleasant fellow.’

  ‘All the more reason why you should not delay!’ said Mrs Norton rather sharply.

  Holmes shook his head quickly. ‘I appreciate your concern for the king’s future,’ he said. ‘But you forget that we have in effect lost two whole days. The photograph might well be on its way to the King o
f Scandinavia now. It might already be on His Majesty’s desk, staring at him whilst he composes a stern formal note to his son-in-law!’

  It was Mrs Norton’s turn to shake her head. ‘That is not how it will be handled, as I have told you.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Holmes. ‘But then a copy of the photograph might have been sent to the King of Bohemia. The instrument of abdication might be drawn up already.’

  Mrs Norton shook her head again. ‘Even if the king has already been threatened, if the very instrument of abdication has indeed been drawn up ready to be signed, by prompt action you might still save the situation. In any event, I think there may yet be time enough. I suspect that Gottfried and Karl will not have acted yet, and for this reason. The first anniversary of the king’s marriage is in the middle of April. The King of Scandinavia will attend the celebrations, to wish the couple success publicly. And in private, to reassure himself that his son-in-law is behaving himself ! That is when Karl and Gottfried will want Wilhelm to abdicate. In public, and whilst the King of Scandinavia is in Bohemia. That way, there will be an independent witness to say that Wilhelm left the throne voluntarily. And I suspect that Gottfried will press the King of Scandinavia to sign the treaty there and then. That will have the effect of confirming Gottfried’s position.’

  ‘And the two years’ delay?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, Gottfried is very different from Wilhelm!’ said Mrs Norton. ‘Gottfried’s life is above reproach; the King of Scandinavia would not hesitate to sign a treaty with him, I assure you.’

  ‘Given that you have read it right,’ said Holmes, ‘what would you have me do?’

  ‘Go to Bohemia, as I said, and take action to save the king! You have some five or six weeks. God grant that it may be sufficient time, even for you, Mr Holmes.’

  Holmes looked doubtful. ‘This precious pair, the Karl who abducted you and left you to live or die as chance should dictate, and this other, Gottfried, they will have servants, allies, I take it?’