Sherlock Holmes and The Mystery Of Einstein's Daughter

by Tim Symonds

  Angrily I continued, ‘He may not be Lucifer himself but he is at least the equal of any of the Four Horsemen! Regardless of whatever astounding scientific theory he has just propounded, one word from you to the Rector at this or any other university and his career in physics would be at an end. For reasons far beyond my comprehension you failed to report the truth!’

  ‘My dear friend,’ came the reply, ‘whoever sent those notes had sufficient knowledge to ruin Einstein’s career without our investigation. Why then were we needed? When the Professor handed us the first scrap of paper I concluded - wrongly - that someone was intent on preventing Einstein’s career from taking off. Perhaps a wronged woman, a jilted lover.’

  He frowned. ‘Now I realise Zorka’s objective lies elsewhere but where and how we are to proceed - that is the question. And as yet - ’

  His voice tailed away. The tangle of small streets brought us unexpectedly to the square containing the Café Bollwerk. The tables were refilling with the gaggles of students we had unconsciously been following.

  ‘Then what do we do?’ I asked.

  ‘We wait, Watson. We wait.’

  We seated ourselves at a table. ‘Holmes,’ I accosted crossly, ‘what have we accomplished? Nothing!’

  I repeated, ‘We have accomplished nothing. We criss-cross the Danube. We face a host of diseases any of which would have been fatal to men of our middling age. We rattle around on the worst of cart-tracks, stay in hostelries more run down than any in England since Chaucer’s time, and brave a haunted house. Despite all this, the Rector and Professor Sobel know nothing about Lieserl, under what circumstances and to whom she was born, let alone her desperate fate.’

  ‘Patience, my dear Watson,’ came Holmes’s laconic words. ‘We must- ’He broke off, glancing sharply over my shoulder.

  ‘I see we are about to have an interesting encounter with an old friend.’

  The now-familiar figure of Professor Sobel was approaching the café at a brisk pace. On catching sight of us he came to an abrupt stop, then waved energetically and hurried towards our table.

  ‘Mr. Holmes, I must thank you from the depths of my heart. Discovering nothing was the finest outcome we could have wished. Dr. Watson, I was on my way to your hotel to deliver this.’

  He withdrew an envelope from a pocket. ‘I believe this should cover your expenses.’

  I reached out a hand to receive the envelope.

  As I did so I heard Holmes say, ‘You knew the truth all along, didn’t you, Professor Sobel?’

  Holmes’s eyes were fixed on Professor Sobel’s as though reading his very soul. Both the Professor and I froze.

  ‘What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?’ he asked, a hint of anxiety in his tone.

  ‘Our hotel lies in a quite different direction - you were not on your way there,’ came the reply. ‘You had no idea Watson and I would be here, at the Café Bollwerk. You expected instead to meet your future Assistent, to tell him the good news, that we had discovered nothing. I am certain young Albert is hot-footing here even as we speak. We told the Rector there were no skeletons in Einstein’s cupboard, but you and I know that was not true.’

  ‘What did you find out?’ the Professor asked.

  ‘It will only confirm what I believe you yourself already know,’ Holmes replied.

  ‘Namely?’

  ‘That the Lieserl referred to in the first note was Einstein’s illegitimate daughter,’ Holmes continued. ‘That she died a violent death in Serbia aged around twenty-one months.’

  The Professor stayed silent for a moment. Finally he asked, ‘Why did you choose not to disclose this to the Rector?’

  Holmes seemed to reflect for a moment.

  Finally he answered, ‘On balance, I felt Mileva’s well-being and her love for Einstein and their son Hans Albert obliged us to let sleeping dogs lie.’

  The Professor broke into a relieved laugh. ‘I admit I did know more than I revealed,’ he exclaimed. ‘Even the Holy Patriarch when hungry will steal a piece of bread. When that first note arrived I confronted Einstein just as I described to you. I said the note had raised serious concern in the Rector’s mind and I insisted on knowing who Lieserl might be. I told Albert his entire career was teetering on the edge of the precipice and that my concern had not been quelled by his vehement response to the simple query, Do you know anyone called Lieserl? A mild “no”, with a polite “I’m afraid not” would have sufficed.’

  ‘Then the second note came,’ Holmes prompted.

  ‘Yes. I brought it with me to the Bollwerk and told Einstein of its content.’

  ‘How did he respond?’ I enquired.

  ‘The word “Titel” jolted him badly. He promised to take me into his confidence on the condition I would do everything to keep the matter from the Rector’s ears.’

  ‘I presume you agreed?’ I said.

  ‘I gave him my word.’

  ‘Continue please, Professor,’ Holmes ordered.

  ‘Einstein pleaded his case. He told me how hard he had fought to leave home and get into the Zurich Polytechnikum, about his struggle with the mathematics. How he wandered into a seminar and saw Mileva, a dark-haired Slav, sitting there, the only female student in the class. How she offered to help him. How they spent more and more time together until he forgot she had a limp and wore an orthopaedic shoe. And how they went secretly to Como in the spring of 1899 and there on the banks of the lake they made love.’

  He went on, ‘When she realised she was pregnant Mileva begged Albert to let her stay with him here in Berne. He refused. Against her will he sent her back to Novi-Sad to have the child. He said he never saw it before it died.’

  ‘Did he say how the child died?’ Holmes asked.

  ‘He swore it was from Scarlet Fever.’

  I intervened. ‘And you believed him?’

  Professor Sobel shrugged and stayed silent.

  ‘Professor,’ I asked, my gorge rising, ‘if you knew all this, why - ?’

  Holmes interrupted: ‘You mean, why did he send us galloping off to Serbia?’

  ‘That’s precisely what I mean.’

  Holmes glanced at Professor Sobel.

  ‘Our Professor knows the world of Academe only too well. The smears, the jostling, the smouldering ambitions, the perpetual hatreds and jealousies. Desperately - more than anything in the world - our friend wanted Einstein in his Department. He already knew Einstein was an analytical genius in the making, an Isaac Newton, a Kepler. Professor - am I correct in believing Mileva gave you prior knowledge of the equivalence theory Einstein was about to launch on an astounded world?’

  The Professor nodded. Holmes looked back to me.

  ‘Professor Sobel also knew from the minute the Rector sanctioned young Einstein’s employment in the Physics Department jealousies would erupt. Rumour-mongering would become rampant. A shadow of distrust would endanger Einstein’s position at the University. It could even wreck his career. The Department’s reputation would be sullied, the Rector humiliated. Pressed almost beyond endurance, the Professor cast around for a solution. And it was you, Watson, who gave him an opportunity he seized upon with alacrity.’

  Before I could make an indignant protest, Holmes continued. ‘Professor, Watson’s ruse commending me for an Honoris causa landed on your desk. Astutely you realised all rumours about Einstein could be scotched before they arose if the great Sherlock Holmes investigated and found nothing. You were certain the Balkans would defeat us. Einstein’s reputation - and your Department’s-would be safe for ever.’

  Holmes gave a grim smile. ‘It was a grave risk you took. It very nearly succeeded. I have said that if I had not become a Consulting Detective, I would have become a scientist. May I say that had you not become a scientist you would have made an excellent Sherlock Holmes.’

 
‘Or a second Moriarty!’ I exclaimed, seething with indignation.

  ‘Or a second Moriarty!’ Holmes agreed.

  Both he and Professor Sobel burst into a roar of laughter at my hot displeasure.

  Chapter XIII

  Zorka Provides A Weapon Of Exemplary Power

  Holmes and I sat together on the balcony of his room at the Hotel Sternen Muri. He was on his third (or was it fourth?) cigar of the morning, blowing little wavering rings of smoke up to the sky. I was ready for our return to England. My luggage contained a Brienz chalet cuckoo-clock with animated woodcutter figurines for Mrs. Hudson’s hallway. It would go well with the Aneroid Enamel Face Banjo barometer. Holmes had his Honorary Doctorate certificate. I could see no point in remaining in Switzerland a minute longer.

  Finally I burst out, ‘Holmes, three days! You have kept us here, waiting, for three whole days! And for what?’

  ‘Patience, my dear Watson,’ came the exasperating reply. ‘We needed time to let her think it over - ’

  From the room behind us we heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

  ‘But I believe the wait is over.’

  I stood up. An envelope slithered under the door. It contained two letters. Holmes studied the first and moved on to the second. He read it through twice before returning to the first.

  ‘As your German is shaky, Watson, I’ll translate. Both these letters were posted from Mileva in Novi-Sad to Albert nearly two years ago. In this one she calls Albert “Johnnie” and signs herself Dollie. She indicates she is enceinte - with her son Hans Albert as it turned out. Not feeling well ‘just like the first time’ confirms she had been so before.

  Friday 19 June 1903

  My Dearest Little Johnnie,

  Your poor Dollie misses you terribly. I’m not feeling at all well, just like the first time. It’s so hot even the quail are hiding in the tall grass. Here I am, stuck in stinky Novi-Sad dreaming I am walking in the cool Bernese Alps in the arms of my beloved sweetheart, amid the Asters and Rock Jasmine. It’s getting very humid. My mother has just evicted our cat. To avoid bad luck, a black cat must be ejected from the house whenever there’s thunder in the air.

  So many superstitions rule our lives in Serbia. Whether the cocks crow in unison, the dogs bark much (or not at all), the frogs croak. Sorceries are practiced when a woman has no children. People with blue eyes are more likely to have the Evil Eye. The American painter Holman Hunt had difficulty in getting Serbs to sit for him, despite the offer of a most handsome fee. On Judgement Day they feared their portrait might arrive at the Gates of Heaven before them. When the Holy Archangel arrived with the sitter’s soul, Saint Peter would wave the soul away as an imposter. I really do laugh internally but I don’t want to offend my dear family by giggling out loud at their backward beliefs. As to burial customs among our mountain brethren - my supply of writing-paper is running too low to go into those.

  There is a superstition I hold to because it is beautiful. Each person is assigned a star which appears in the sky at the exact moment of his birth and will snuff out for ever when he dies. On our birth certificates even today we put the hour as well as the day. My sweet little treasure, when I am back in Switzerland we must buy a good telescope and take it up the Gurten and search out your star. I know you were born on the 14th of March 1879. Can you discover from your mother the exact hour, even the minute?

  I am doing as you ordered, fattening up so that I will rest against you once more, plump as a dumpling and healthy and cheerful. My ‘peasant’ diet consists largely of wheat bread and pasulj, a thick gruel made of beans boiled in water until pulpy, and potato and pepper stews. Sometimes we have gibanica which one day I shall bake for you.

  How my heart will pound when I next see your open arms! I’ll be so proud and happy when we are together again and can bring our work on relative motion to a successful conclusion.

  We have a saying, “Life gives to every slave an empty glass to fill either with tears or with hope”. Mine is a quarter full (of tears).

  My mother is calling to me. Please write very soon.

  Think a bit about your little one, and be hugged and kissed by your

  Dollie.’

  ‘What a truly affectionate letter, Holmes,’ I cried.

  ‘As you say, Watson, a truly affectionate letter, but it gives us no clue as to what Zorka requires of us. However, I believe we shall find our answer in this second letter.’

  He added, ‘This time Mileva signs herself Doxerl. ’He unfolded the single page.

  ‘Friday 26th June 1903 Novi-Sad

  My dearest little sweetheart,

  Your letters from Schaffhausen told me you doubted the correctness of our ideas about relative motion. Your reservations are due to a simple mistake in the numerical calculation. The value for the mass of the sun is off by a factor of 10.

  You told me of your struggles with the mass-energy equivalence problem. I locked myself up and I believe I have found the answer. I’ve come to the conclusion that mass is a direct measure for the energy contained in bodies, so light transfers mass. If a body releases the rest mass energy L in the form of radiation, its mass is diminished by L/V², thereby we come to the formula L=mV².

  I hope you have had time to do more work on frames of reference in uniform relative motion with respect to each other. Shall we call it Special Theory? I am certain it will make you world famous. How all the universities will clamour to employ you, even stuffy Berne.

  When you are famous, I shall look forward to lying in your arms once more on a little holiday. I have often heard the adage “I was so happy I wish I’d died”. Those were my feelings when we were on our first holiday together in Como and made love on the banks. Do you remember when we boarded that bright white steamer and heard the sound of church bells across the water? The Italians told us the peals were for the fishermen pulling black eels and grey herrings from the lake but I know they were not. The bells were for us.

  A Fijaker is stationed outside our front door all day, ready for a quick departure. My father is thinking to remove the family to the mountains to escape the scarlet fever. Now that he understands how much I love you, I am sure he has forgiven you for being a Swab. A Jew is fine with him. Our family Saint, Stefan the Martyr, was born a Jew. We are in it together. Everyone looks down on Jews and everyone looks down on us Serbs too.

  A thousand kissies from your poor lonely Doxerl.

  Ps. Later we must formulate equations of the gravitational field.’

  ‘Holmes,’ I exclaimed, ‘I fail to see how these letters add to our knowledge. The one is a letter from a woman deeply in love with a husband many hundreds of miles away. The second talks about a scientific theory they’ve clearly been discussing for quite some time. And now Einstein has published that formula in the Annalen der Physik.’

  Holmes threw the letters towards me with a triumphant gesture. ‘The first letter confirms her sister’s love for Einstein. At the very least Zorka is warning us not to do anything which destroys the lad’s career or shatters the marriage. That was never her intent. But this second letter - why do you suppose Zorka has sent it to us?’

  ‘As I say, I presume she - ’

  ‘Presume nothing, Watson- think! We come back to the question I asked myself time and again, what was it Zorka really wants - why did she lead us to the grave-pit? I believe I have the answer. It was you, Watson, who gave me the clue. Do you recall making use of your compass at the burial site? What was it you discovered?’

  ‘That the skeleton lay roughly on a north-east axis?’

  ‘And therefore?’

  ‘It was not a Christian burial.’

  ‘So let me recapitulate. By leading us to the grave, Zorka believed she was handing us a sword of Damocles, though for what purpose we had no idea. The moment we entered Professor Sobel’s office
on our return from Titel I realised-just in time- there was an insuperable flaw. Revealing the circumstances of Lieserl’s life and especially her death would lead where? Einstein would hotly refute any knowledge whatsoever of the matter. Who would contradict him? Miloš Marić? He will say nothing - he could be found guilty of murder and shot in open ground. Zorka? That mirna ludakinja? Mileva? It could wreck her husband’s career and Steinli’s future. Professor Sobel and the Rector? Absolutely not - they are beside themselves with glee at the prospect of clasping this genius to their bosom.’

  Holmes tapped the second letter.

  ‘Whatever her plan, if we were to carry it out Zorka had to provide us with a weapon of exemplary power - and she has. This letter proves that two years ago Mileva - not Albert - arrived at the mass-energy relation. We only have to release the letter to the Annalen der Physik and the world will rank Mileva alongside Newton in the pantheon of science, far above Einstein. Do you think for one instant the young man’s monumental ego will permit this?’

  ‘Holmes,’ I replied, ‘not for the first time in our adventures together I struggle in your wake. Zorka may have handed us a weapon of great power but if it isn’t to expose Einstein for the rogue he patently is - why did she make us ride the whirlwind?’

  ‘I shall reveal all, Watson. Take down the following:

  ‘Herrn Albert Einstein, 3rd Floor Swiss Patents Office, corner of Speichergasse and Genfergasse, Berne. Personal.

  Dear Sir, the mass-energy equivalence formulation L=mV² merits the applause of the scientific world. The clockwork tapestry put together by the physicists of the enlightenment will unravel at the claim that Gravity and acceleration are essentially one, that a time-piece located at the Equator must run slower than one at the poles. The creator of such a far-reaching formulation truly deserves a place in the pantheon of science. History will credit your name unless evidence comes to light to challenge your possession of that accolade.’