Sherlock Holmes and the Adler Papers

by John Hall

  ‘More or less par for the course, there. And the castle itself ?’

  ‘The castle itself is situated close to the village of Kleinwald. The hamlet, rather, for the place is, as its name might suggest, tiny, and set among the forests. The castle is set on a rocky outcrop with only one practicable approach, that which leads from the village up a fairly steep slope to the main gate.’

  ‘No possibility of entering by a back window or anything of the kind?’ asked Holmes.

  Von Gratz shook his head. ‘The cliffs might be negotiated by a chamois or ibex,’ he told us, ‘or indeed by a determined and expert climber, though I should not care to make the experiment myself. But then the windows are generally of that very traditional type depicted in children’s picture books, that is they are no more than slits high up in the walls. Later occupants have, it is true, added more modern windows here and there, but they have stout shutters, besides being inaccessible.’

  ‘H’mm. No possibility of there being a secret passage, I suppose?’ asked Holmes with a smile and a glance at the secret panel by which we had entered this very room.

  ‘An ancient place like that, I dare say there are a dozen,’ answered von Gratz carelessly. ‘But if so, then they are so secret that I do not know them!’

  ‘Any sign on the door, “No hawkers, no circulars”, though?’ I asked.

  Von Gratz stared at me.

  I went on, ‘There must be visitors, tradesmen, calling at the castle, surely? Could we not pose as itinerant onion sellers or something of the sort?’

  Von Gratz laughed, then nodded. ‘Not exactly onion sellers, perhaps,’ he said, ‘but, yes. On my own visits to Schloss Württemburg, when I was a very small boy, I recollect seeing the tradesmen’s carts toiling up the ramp to the main gate, and the butler and cooks turning out to greet them. The place is so isolated, you understand, that any human contact is welcomed by the staff there.’

  Holmes sat up. ‘Ah, so you have been inside the castle itself, then?’

  Von Gratz nodded. ‘The old duke had no children of his own, and the king and myself used to visit him frequently in the school holidays.’

  ‘That may prove useful,’ said Holmes. ‘Are you also acquainted with Gottfried?’

  Von Gratz shook his head. ‘When the old duke died, the title and lands passed to his nearest relative, a distant cousin of the duke. That was Gottfried’s father, and when he died in turn, a year or so after coming into the title, then Gottfried became duke. Up until then, I had never met Gottfried. And frankly, from what I have seen of him since he inherited, I was not missing much. I have not visited the castle since the old duke died, which would be ten – no, twelve – years ago.’

  ‘H’mm. But the plans of the castle will not have changed since then, I expect, so it will still be useful. And the tradesmen of whom you spoke, they come from the village?’

  ‘Hardly. It is too small a place to boast anything but a small and rather grimy beer house. The farmers and so on grow their own vegetables, of course, but the other necessities come from the town of Marienburg, three miles or so to the south. The country folk in these outlying provinces seldom visit a town, much less a city. The farmers, perhaps, go to a fair once a month or so, and the others, if they can walk or borrow a horse, might visit the town on a great feast day, but the older folk, and the women and children, seldom stir far from where they were born. The tradesmen tour the villages and hamlets, you understand, two or three times each week, taking their wares to the people, and not the other way round. Yes, and once or twice each week, they would visit the schloss.’ Von Gratz looked eagerly at Holmes. ‘You think there may be possibilities there?’

  ‘It seems that Watson’s suggestion is the only one likely to have the remotest chance of success.’

  I basked for a brief moment in the unaccustomed luxury of the praise, but frankly the more I thought about the scheme, the more madcap it seemed to me. ‘Granted that we might gain entry to the castle courtyard,’ I said, ‘we are unlikely to get further than the kitchens without being challenged.’

  Holmes waved this aside. ‘We must take one step at a time,’ he said. ‘Our first task is to gain entry, if only to the courtyard as you put it.’

  We arranged that Holmes and I should remain at the Hotel Albion that night, and that von Gratz would collect us early next morning, and then we should all travel together to Marienburg, there to develop our scheme as much as we might after first-hand observation of the practical aspects.

  Von Gratz took us to one of the reception rooms, then called a footman to see us out, saying that it would be as well if we were not seen together too much, as even now we could not be certain that Gottfried and Karl did not have their spies within the court itself. ‘Indeed,’ said von Gratz carelessly, ‘I should be most surprised if they did not, for it is a logical course of action.’ Which may have been perfectly true, but it did little to cheer me up.

  Holmes spent most of the evening smoking in silence, and I must confess that I too had some hard thinking to do. Not for the first time, my association with Holmes was leading me from my safe harbour into waters that were not merely deep and murky but positively dangerous to boot. True, I was a willing volunteer, not a reluctant conscript; but even so, it behoved me, if only for the sake of my dear wife, to minimize the risks if I could. In particular, it seemed to me that however difficult it might prove to enter our enemies’ lair, it would probably prove a jolly sight more difficult to get out again! I have already noted that when we first came into the ancient forest lands I found myself recalling the old fairy tales, myths and legends. The fable that now came irresistibly to my mind was that of Rapunzel, sitting in her high tower, with a window opening to the outside world, but no means of using that window, for either ingress or egress. Such was the unenviable position that we should find ourselves in, were we to find the great gate of the castle closed against us, and ourselves on the inside. I came to a couple of conclusions, both fairly obvious; one of them was to write to Mary, to assure her that I was thinking of her, and was in no sort of danger – I hoped that would not prove to have been wishful thinking! – and I accordingly found pen and paper and composed a few sentences along those lines, before turning in and spending a very restless night.

  Von Gratz arrived promptly next morning as we were finishing breakfast. He had changed his army uniform for a suit of that dull green woollen cloth called ‘loden’, which is much favoured by huntsmen and country folk in Germany and the surrounding lands, with a cloak of the same material. Holmes and I had our tweed suits, respectable enough for company, but not so stylish as to attract too much attention in rustic parts. All in all, we looked like three men of the middle class who had decided to take a walking holiday in the forest, and that would be sufficient disguise for the present.

  We caught a train, no express this, but a little train that took folk from the capital to the spa and hotel towns in the north of Bohemia, and I think made its way slowly across country to Danzig, in due course. An hour or so later, and we were in the old town of Marienburg, which bears an air of faded grandeur. Once a fashionable watering place – there is still a hint of sulphur in the air when the wind is in a certain direction – it has been overtaken by Baden-Baden and the Swiss resorts, but still attracts a considerable number of visitors, largely from within Bohemia itself.

  Von Gratz allowed us no time for sightseeing, though, leading us away from the once-fashionable squares near the railway station, and into streets that had pretty clearly never held any great attraction for the visitor, even when the town was in its heyday. He led us to a tiny hotel with a grandiose name, the Grand-Hôtel Royal St Georges, painted in faded gold over the narrow door.

  ‘It is a touch run-down,’ von Gratz admitted, pausing outside the door, ‘but it will serve us as a temporary headquarters. I know the place, for I had some interesting times here when I was a young man. Interesting times and interesting companions,’ and he coughed ostentatiously and coloured sl
ightly, as a man in his thirties does when he thinks of the follies of his twenties. Without further reminiscence he led us inside, and booked a suite of rooms without difficulty, for the place was empty save for a couple of commercial travellers. The proprietor was a young man whom von Gratz did not recognize – it transpired that the hotel had changed hands more than once in the last couple of years as its fortunes declined – but he knew the town well, and when von Gratz enquired ‘Was Signor Tommaso Valentini still in business selling Italian specialities?’ the proprietor nodded, but without enthusiasm.

  ‘His shop is still in the centre of town,’ he told us, ‘but his prices are a trifle steep for the likes of me. I buy just as good in the old market, when it gets near to closing and they are desperate to get rid of their surplus. Will the gentlemen be taking dinner here?’

  We declined the offer, and took our own bags up to our rooms. Holmes asked, ‘Surely an exclusive purveyor of imported delicacies cannot expect to sell any great quantity to the ordinary country folk?’

  Von Gratz shook his head with a smile. ‘No, that is true. But old Tommaso used to deliver to the castle two or three times a week. I am hoping he still does so. Or, if not, that he can tell us who does still deliver out that way. Besides, it is as well that this fellow downstairs thinks we are looking to buy pasta or Parmesan cheese, rather than that he suspects our true purpose.’

  Holmes nodded. ‘If you are not too fatigued by the journey, we might make some preliminary enquiry now,’ said he. He glanced at me and smiled. ‘If nothing else, we might make a respectable luncheon with some bread, cheese, olives and Italian country wine.’

  ‘I must say, Holmes, I don’t know why you look at me when you say that!’ I told him. ‘Still, it is almost the hour when one starts to think of luncheon, now that you mention it.’

  Von Gratz took us back into the more fashionable part of the town, past little jewellers’ and furriers’ shops, their windows set out neatly enough, but all bearing that same air of faded glory that characterized the whole town; the displays were not dusty, exactly, but they all looked as if they had last been rearranged twenty years or so ago. We stopped before a little shop, which bore the name ‘Valentini’, and a legend which advertised all manner of imported merchandise, sweet and savoury.

  We went inside, and a young man of distinctly Mediterranean aspect came forward and bowed. ‘Sirs?’

  ‘Your pardon, sir,’ said von Gratz, ‘it was Signor Valentini that I sought.’

  Another bow. ‘At your service, sir.’

  ‘Ah, it was Signor Tommaso Valentini.’

  The young man smiled. ‘My uncle, sir. He is in the back room.’ He turned and looked back at von Gratz. ‘Begging the gentleman’s pardon, but I have the feeling that we have met?’

  ‘We have indeed,’ said von Gratz. ‘I am Bertram von Gratz, and you are Luigi, are you not? I last saw you twenty years back, when we were about fifteen years old. We wrestled for the hand of a young lady – Emmelina, was it?’

  ‘Esmeralda,’ said the young man with a broad grin. ‘I won, I recall!’

  ‘True,’ said von Gratz. ‘What happened to Esmeralda, do you know?’

  ‘I married her! One moment, and I shall call my uncle,’ and off he went, to return a very short time later with a little old man, who grinned broadly as he saw von Gratz.

  There were the usual reminiscences and handshakes, the inevitable photographs of the wife and of three fine children, before we got down to business. ‘Tell me,’ said von Gratz, ‘do you still deal with the folk at the Schloss Württemburg?’

  The old man nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, we have an order from the kitchens now,’ he said. ‘To be delivered the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah! In that case,’ said von Gratz, ‘I should like to beg a favour – no, two favours. One, that the delivery might be advanced by a day, to tomorrow; and two, that we three might take charge of it. How would that suit you, old friend?’

  Old Tommaso frowned, then smiled. ‘Ah, I have it! A prank, a joke, is that is, young sir?’

  ‘Just so,’ said von Gratz carelessly. ‘A practical joke, and if anyone asks, you will tell them as much. Well, how say you?’

  ‘Well, the delivery might be made a day early, and nobody will complain. If it were a day late, of course, that would have been different! And I know you well enough to trust you, sir, and these two gentlemen. Only, I have a couple of other orders to deliver out that way – could I rely on you for that?’

  ‘My word on it,’ said von Gratz. ‘And, to make the jest better, we shall need to borrow aprons, or whatever you call them.’

  Old Tommaso, entering into the spirit of the thing, took us into the storeroom behind the shop, and outfitted us each with a brown dustcoat. I took special care to ensure that mine was a good deal too big, and when Holmes looked askance I told him, ‘Nobody expects a carter’s coat to fit, Holmes!’ with which he had to be satisfied.

  After a further half hour or so of recollecting the old days, in which Holmes and I could take no part, von Gratz took his leave of the uncle and nephew, saying that we should return early the next day to receive our instructions and collect the cart. Luncheon was now very definitely indicated, and we set off for an unpretentious restaurant away from the main thoroughfare. We still wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, for there was always a chance that someone might remember von Gratz, just as the Valentinis had done, and whilst we had every right to be there, we thought it as well that as few people as possible knew of our presence.

  Our way took us through the poorer quarters of the town, and I noticed a shop catering for walkers and climbers, with a window full of rock-axes, boots and the like. Atop these was a range of those little green hats, each with what looked like a garishly coloured shaving brush in the side of it, that you see in those parts. Now, I had always had a secret fancy to have one of those hats, but never dared to indulge my fancy in London. But here it was a different matter, I should not be looking at all out of place, but merely blending in, following the local customs. I said as much to Holmes and von Gratz; I think von Gratz understood, or perhaps he had just seen enough men wearing these hats that it was no great matter to him, and Holmes merely looked very superior and said he preferred to wait outside. I went in alone, and bought the hat and a few other bits and pieces.

  When I returned to the street, Holmes and von Gratz were looking in the window of a second-hand clothing shop a few doors along. I joined them, and followed Holmes’s gaze to see a display of clothing that might suit a farmer’s wife in the forest regions. Holmes labours under the ridiculous misapprehension that women’s clothing makes an effective disguise – ridiculous because frankly he has neither the face nor the figure to carry it off – and I asked, ‘Thinking of a more elaborate costume, perhaps, Holmes?’

  He laughed. ‘Not for myself, Watson. But it occurs to me that someone at the castle may possibly recognize our friend von Gratz.’ And to von Gratz he said, ‘How would you feel about dressing as a country woman?’

  Von Gratz tersely indicated that he found the very notion offensive, but agreed that there was an outside chance that he might happen on someone who remembered him. After some discussion he allowed Holmes to furnish him with a broad-brimmed straw hat and a grubby scarf.

  ‘That should suffice,’ said Holmes. ‘That, and Watson’s new hat – which, by the way, we have not yet seen,’ and he looked pointedly at my brown paper parcels.

  I took out the hat and clapped it on my head. Holmes said nothing, but merely turned and walked off at a great pace. To punish this incivility I caught up with him, linked my arm in his, and kept the hat on until we reached the restaurant, bowing as I went to the mystified passers-by. Holmes sometimes has to be put in his place.

  When we had eaten, we returned to our hotel, and in our little sitting room Holmes asked von Gratz to draw a rough plan of the castle, and tell us what he recalled of it. From what I gathered, it was pretty much like the ordinary run of ca
stles, massive, draughty and the devil’s own job to keep warm. The only piece of information that seemed likely to prove at all useful was the arrangement of the old duke’s own rooms, bedroom, sitting room, a small library and an even smaller ‘cabinet of curiosities’, a kind of miniature museum which some old duke had begun a century or more ago. These, said von Gratz, were the best rooms in the entire castle, and it seemed likely both that Gottfried would have retained them for his own use, and that the papers which we sought would be hidden in one of these rooms. Holmes concurred, and took careful note of the plans of this part of the castle, as drawn by von Gratz.

  I tried to sound out Holmes as to his plan of campaign, but he only shook his head. ‘Until we can see the inside of the place for ourselves, we can make no plan,’ he said, and I knew from his tone that he was as dissatisfied as I was myself. The only suggestion he could advance was that once we were inside, von Gratz and I should unload the cart, whilst Holmes himself discarded his dustcoat and tried to make a search. Von Gratz pointed out that he, and not Holmes, had actually seen the inside of the castle, and that it should logically be von Gratz who left Holmes and me in the courtyard. The discussion of this point continued throughout dinner, for Holmes and von Gratz were equally stubborn. We eventually decided that we should all three stick together, sinking or swimming as we might.

  We rose early next day, and made our way to the Valentinis’ shop, where we collected our dustcoats. Holmes stared at my own generously tailored garment, saying, ‘Much too large!’

  ‘It won’t be when I’ve done,’ I assured him, and took myself off into a back room to change, emerging a trifle self-consciously five minutes later.

  Holmes stared again. ‘Watson, I congratulate you! You look two stones heavier.’

  ‘Merely a little padding,’ I told him. ‘An elementary disguise, Holmes. I never yet saw a skinny carter!’ and I patted my stomach like an incompetent amateur actor playing Falstaff.