Sherlock Holmes and The Nine-Dragon Sigil

by Tim Symonds

  Holmes closed the book.

  ‘And death. Irreversible and inevitable.’

  ‘Even so,’ Yuán replied, with a low guttural sound of hostility, ‘there’s no way I could have got hold of this plant which you say...’

  His right hand had fallen to waist level.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not true, General,’ Holmes interrupted. ‘Where is Fool’s Parsley plentiful? Watson, would you be kind enough to remind the General.’

  ‘The New Forest,’ I replied.

  ‘Just so,’ Holmes exclaimed heartily. ‘Where our friend here stretched his legs on his way to Sherborne.’

  Holmes turned back to the General.

  ‘Equipped with ‘Britain’s Most Poisonous Plants’ you would easily have found the Dropwort around Buckley’s Hard. It thrives in every ditch and damp meadow and on every riverbank.’

  As he spoke, I sensed something had changed about Holmes. I looked carefully. There was nothing unusual about his dress. It was not his clothing, but what?

  Suddenly it came to me - the pipe clutched in his right hand. I had never seen Holmes smoking a briar with an aluminium magnesium alloy stem, though without doubt the harsh tobaccos he enjoyed called for almost super-human cooling. The pipe was new, judging by the sheen. And he was holding it with the bowl facing downwards, the stem pointed unwaveringly at the man before us.

  The General’s face had convulsed into a wrathful scowl. He pulled out a large handkerchief and mopped his forehead. He blustered, ‘If someone wanted to poison His Majesty he wouldn’t have to go to the far reaches of the earth. Why not dose his food with arsenic or prussic acid? Or a local plant? We have monkshood here. Four-hundredths of a grain of aconitine in a bowl of yoghurt would have done it.’

  ‘Except that within the hour the victim’s skin, lungs, kidneys, and liver would immediately point to murder,’ Holmes responded. ‘Too soon for the plotters to disperse into their customary world. No, General. I congratulate you on your impressive knowledge of pharmacology but aconitine is best employed to achieve an instant death, as in a man likely to struggle and raise the alarm. This murder required a plant of similar extreme toxicity - after all, death was the goal - but whose deadly effects would take time, and above all be quite unknown in China. Fool’s Parsley served your needs to a tee.’

  ‘Sir Sherlock,’ Yuán hissed, ‘you come here as our guest and...’ he crashed a hand down on the Mutoscope ‘... yet you return our hospitality with this gross intrusion on our internal affairs! My instincts should have warned me–you have formed a secret alliance with the Emperor to trap me! He has always wanted me to mount the Dragon-chariot. I took you for a junzi - a gentleman - but I now see you are nothing of the sort.

  Enough of this! Take my offer! I mean it. You have my word. Accept it. Become richer than ever your Empress Queen Victoria was. Hand over the flicker-book without further ado or...’ at which he broke into a smile more threatening than any dark look I had ever observed, ‘... there could be a most unfortunate accident. Two foreigners, two Englishmen, drowned at a water picnic on the K’un Ming Lake.

  The question would then arise,’ he added slyly, ‘what would these Englishmen want me to do with their corpses? Burial together with full honours in the vicinity of the Eastern Ch’ing Tombs, overlooking the graves of our great Ancestral Emperors? What a setting! The Changrui Mountain, Jinxing Mountain, Huanghua Mountain, and Yingfei Daoyang Mountain. In the fullness of time the people would revere them as gods. Like your fellow Englishman, the famed explorer of Africa, Dr. David Livingstone.’

  ‘Scotsman!’ I corrected hotly.

  The General looked puzzled.

  ‘Scotsman,’ I repeated. ‘Dr. David Livingstone was Scottish, not English.’

  ‘Scotsman it is,’ the general replied evenly. ‘What do you say? Hand this evidence over now and we’ll say nothing further, indeed we have costly goods to heap upon you, or ...’

  He drew a hand swiftly across his throat.

  ‘...would you prefer to become a couple of Shui gui.’

  The Empress Dowager had described such spirits at the jade cistern, the unhappy water-ghosts of those who drown.

  It was a display of pitiless power. I would recall to the end of my days the ruthless look, the set of the shoulders. Yuán was reputed to be the finest exponent of the Eighteen Arms of Wushu in the whole of China, with particular expertise in three of the weapons - the double-edged sword, the axe, the dagger halberd. Except for the presence of the pistol under my coat he could kill us with his bare hands.

  Staring mesmerized at the General I was transported thirteen years into the past, to when Holmes and I last encountered the odious Sebastian Moran. I described the Colonel in The Adventure of the Empty House. The scene was a dark empty property in London. A captive stood before us. He was firmly held by two Scotland Yard police officers:

  ‘It was a tremendously virile and yet sinister face which was turned towards us. With the brow of a philosopher above and the jaw of a sensualist below, the man must have started with great capacities for good or for evil. But one could not look upon his cruel blue eyes, with their drooping, cynical lids, or upon the fierce, aggressive nose and the threatening, deep-lined brow, without reading Nature’s plainest danger-signals. He took no heed of any of us, but his eyes were fixed upon Holmes’s face with an expression in which hatred and amazement were equally blended.

  ‘You fiend!’ he kept on muttering. ‘You clever, clever fiend!’’

  I returned abruptly to the present. I was about to grab for my pistol and blurt out ‘Do your worst, General!’ when Holmes intervened. The unruffled manner and stony calm of his face were vastly more impressive, more fateful, than the most passionate denunciation.

  ‘General,’ he began with a most pleasant expression, ‘burial among the Ch’ing emperors with the prospect of becoming gods is an attractive and generous thought. It is an offer Dr. Watson and I may take up one day, but not yet.’

  He pointed at the Mutoscope.

  ‘You may most certainly take the reel. Please do! I am sure Her Imperial Majesty will find it of the utmost...’

  ‘Holmes!’ I blurted out vehemently, ‘if you...’

  Swiftly my comrade broke back in.

  ‘My dear Watson, where is your courtesy? The General is our host! Who are we to begrudge him a copy? After all, he is a principal actor alongside Her Imperial Majesty and the Chief Eunuch. Of course the starring part was Li’s, dripping the poison into the Emperor’s ear not knowing it was the good ear - but did you observe the General’s performance clapping Li on the back as they tiptoed away through the fig-trees? Masterly! General, certainly you may take the Mutoscope to show Her Majesty.’

  Our guest moved to pick up the machine. Holmes’s hand holding the upside-down pipe shot forward.

  ‘But not for the moment. First let me divert a little. Remind me, please, your meeting in London with Sir Edward Grey and our War Minister - I believe you put them fully into the picture regarding China’s enemies, isn’t that so?’

  ‘I did, yes,’ came the General’s puzzled reply. ‘After all, at your recommendation Dr. Watson would soon...’

  ‘...be in the very thick of it,’ Holmes interrupted. ‘Quite right of you to do so. I believe you mentioned eight Great Powers in particular? Predatory Powers, you dubbed them.’

  In a theatrical aside Holmes asked, ‘Isn’t that so, Watson?’

  ‘That’s true,’ I replied, as baffled as the General by the line of questioning.

  ‘And,’ Holmes continued, ‘didn’t our guest here describe his country as a hay cart, with everyone eager to take what they want from it?’

  ‘He did,’ I agreed.

  Holmes turned back to the General.

  ‘You even described which particular mouthfuls of hay these Predatory Powers want
ed, I believe?’

  ‘Look, Sir Sherlock,’ Yuán responded uncomfortably, gesturing at the Mutoscope, ‘what’s all this talk to do with our present situation?’

  ‘Everything,’ Holmes said. ‘Everything, my dear General. I believe you said the Germans hold Kiaochow region and have their eye on Shantung?’

  ‘I did mention that, yes,’ the General replied. ‘But again, I don’t see...’

  Holmes continued, ‘The French want Yunnan? And the Belgians Tianjin?’

  A further ‘Yes’ seeped from the General’s lips.

  ‘You also disclosed the Russian Bear has a force of 150,000 troops ready to occupy Manchuria. Within days their brigades could march towards Peking from Khiva, Bukhara and Kok. Nor can we overlook Japan, ‘The Land of Dwarfs’, I believe you called them. Was it Fuhkien they hanker after? Wouldn’t the death of the Emperor from other than natural causes spur an invasion - he and the Modernists are vastly preferable to the outside world than the Empress Dowager and the Obstructionists. A smash-and-grab raid by the Great Powers wouldn’t leave much for Her Imperial Majesty, would it? It wouldn’t be our corpses interred overlooking the tomb of the Emperor Shunzhi. It would be hers, together with yours - or at least the trunk of your corpse. Your head might be left behind on a spike on the walls of Peking. I believe any such posthumous decapitation is a grievous disgrace.’

  The General’s tongue swept across his lips like a rattlesnake snake tasting the breeze. The air of menace which had radiated from him, at first terrifying, was slipping away into confusion and bewilderment.

  Holmes pressed on.

  ‘Am I also right in saying every one of these tigers, dwarfs and vultures have embassies here in Peking?’

  Yuán’s eyes darted swiftly from Holmes’s to mine and back.

  ‘And your point, Sir Sherlock? It is well known many Powers have representatives here in Peking.’

  I too remained in the dark on where my comrade was taking us. I could only hope it was further and further from the prospect of being held down in a canal in an hour or two, after opting to have my heart buried in the Hindu Kush.

  ‘Well, Watson,’ my companion said, ‘tell the General - how many other reels did you make before your chemicals ran out?’

  Alarmed, I croaked, ‘Holmes, you know perfectly well we...’

  ‘...made eight, you confirm!’ Holmes returned loudly, as though repeating my words. ‘Yes, a lucky nine in total, General,’ he went on. ‘Dr. Watson has lodged the original and eight copies with His Britannic Majesty’s Ambassador. The container can only be destroyed on my authority. Inside it each copy has been labelled ‘For The Immediate Attention Of...’ the various legates and Ambassadors. I’m sure they too would find the Orchard scene of immense interest! It’s they who press reforms on your country. It’s they who most wish the Emperor to survive. His Excellency the Ambassador’s instructions are to keep the package sealed and under armed guard until further notice. As a safeguard the seal can be broken and the package opened in the event of Dr. Watson’s and my untimely death. An accidental drowning in the canal would most definitely trigger the release of the pictures.’

  No one spoke. It was my turn to stare from Holmes to the General and back. How would Yuán react? Could he tell Holmes was bluffing? If so, we should prepare ourselves for death.

  The seconds ticked past. Finally, Yuán broke into a smile. With an expansive gesture he said, ‘Gentlemen, we are forgetting our friendship! If not half the wealth of the world, what quid pro quo do you demand for keeping the copies locked away sine die in your Ambassador’s safe, destroying them even?’

  After a glance at our door, Holmes went to Yuán’s side and whispered something into his ear. The General placed a hand on the Mutoscope.

  ‘Understood,’ he returned aloud. ‘With your permission I shall have this magic lantern taken to the Old Buddha at once. I’ll return when we have discussed your request.’

  He reached for his long silk coat and with the other hand picked up the Mutoscope with impressive ease. Although it had been modified to sit on a counter by the removal of the original cast iron base, but it was by no means light. I walked alongside him to the door in an uncomfortable silence.

  Outside he asked, ‘The samples of our native poisonous plants, who supplied them to you? The Emperor’s eunuch Kou - or Wang Feng?’

  ‘Not Kou,’ I stonewalled, quickly continuing, ‘General, out of my professional interest as a medical man, what did you plan to say the Emperor died from?’

  ‘Uraemia of the blood,’ Yuán replied. ‘The symptoms are similar to dying from poisoning by Fool’s Parsley, wouldn’t you agree?’

  I had seen this deadly affliction with the progressive loss of kidney function all too often.

  ‘Combined with the Emperor’s existing ailments, good enough,’ I replied. ‘Diurnal somnolence. Affection of the peripheral nervous system such as restless legs. Memory and concentration disorders. Asthenia. Confusion. Seizures. Coma and...’

  ‘...death in four or five days. Precisely, Doctor,’ came the reply. ‘On Day One - that would be today - he was to be considered in no danger. The sages would predict it auspicious for you and Sir Sherlock to depart Peking on your journey home. In three or four days’ time His Majesty’s condition would worsen. By Day Five you and Sir Sherlock would be on the High Seas just as the Emperor would mount the Dragon-chariot on the start of his own long journey.

  As for you, Doctor, I wanted to make you believe it was the Son of Heaven himself trying to trigger an uprising against the Old Buddha. If you’d become convinced of that, we could have declared the Emperor guilty of treason. The penalty would be the forfeiture of his life. We were convinced Sir Sherlock would fall for it. After all, you are both laowài - outsiders. Who would expect anyone from Europe to make head or tail of anything in our impenetrable and unfathomable Forbidden City? Tell me,’ he continued, ‘who or what was it which gave our plan away?’

  ‘You did, General. When you and I were talking in the Emperor’s Palace you used the words ‘method’ and ‘madness’. I passed them on verbatim to Sir Sherlock. He recognised Polonius’s words in Hamlet. Holmes was aware that no play with a regicide plot could have been performed in China. Someone must have seen the play performed elsewhere.’

  ‘On Brighton’s Pavilion Pier, for example,’ the General replied, smiling wryly.

  He patted the Mutoscope.

  ‘Well, I must mount my own chariot to the Summer Palace, Doctor. I don’t look forward to it. Pit me against five divisions of Boxers and their Eight Symbol Religion any time.’

  I was about to bid him goodnight when he opened his jacket. From a holster on a heavy leather belt he took out the finest side-arm I had ever seen and said,

  ‘You know, Doctor, for future reference, I can be dangerous when I’m taken by surprise, especially when my amour propre is compromised, as it was...’ he pointed back to the room, ‘in there.’

  ‘I understand, General,’ I exclaimed, awed by the pistol’s menace. ‘What make is it?’

  He handed it to me.

  ‘The new Colt. The M1907. Self-loading. One of only sixty-four prototypes.’

  ‘Muzzle velocity?’

  ‘830 feet per second. Heavy enough to drop even the most drugged attacker.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said admiringly.

  ‘You and Sir Sherlock were lucky,’ he continued. ‘I nearly shot you both. It’s so new that you and he would have been the first humans to die by this weapon. Messy, but preferable to drowning.’

  ‘I commend your restraint, General,’ I replied with feeling. ‘Was it fear of Great Britain’s retribution? After all, Sir Sher...’

  The General burst into laughter.

  ‘Restraint and Great Britain nothing, Dr. Watson! It was Sir Sherlock’s pipe that held me back. He had it tra
ined rock-steady at me. What calibre was it, .22?’

  ‘.25 probably,’ I answered. ‘I expect I’ll see a few spent cartridges lying around his bee-farm.’

  ‘Nasty enough, though!’ the General said. ‘Through the heart!’

  He gestured at my waist.

  ‘And the one tucked under your morning coat?’

  ‘A top-breaker pistol.’

  ‘.476 calibre bullet?’

  I nodded. Each of us guffawed. I handed back the Colt pistol. We parted with a friendly shake of the hand.

  Chapter XIV

  Our Time in Peking Comes to its End

  I re-entered Holmes’s room to find him looking pleased with himself, thumbing tobacco into the familiar blackened clay pipe. There was no sign of the pipe-pistol.

  I hissed, ‘Why in Heaven’s name did you let him take the Mutoscope away? You know it contains our only copy.’

  ‘My friend, we had no choice. A gun-fight was about to start. Letting him take the Mutoscope was our only option. Refusing his request would expose my bluff.’

  ‘What if he sees through you, Holmes?’

  ‘Then we won’t live to see the dawn,’ came the short reply. ‘However it’s a risk he can’t afford to take. The stakes are much too high. Such a blatant attempt on the Emperor’s life could be precisely the excuse the Powers are waiting for. Just like seven years ago they would invade in lock-step, eager for spoils, purporting to safeguard the Emperor’s life while gobbling up every inch of the land. It would mean nothing less than the complete dismemberment of his country.’

  ‘And what was it you whispered in Yuán’s ear?’ I asked.

  ‘Our terms.’

  ‘What terms are those?’

  Again he glanced at the door.

  ‘Anon, Watson, anon. Meantime we can only await the Empress Dowager’s response. I think we can deduce she won’t be pleased.’