A butler at the duke's residence informed us that His Grace was in a meeting at the moment. Holmes asked that his card be brought in to him at the next opportunity, and asked if we might wait in the meanwhile.
The butler reluctantly assented.
In the event, we did not have to wait long. The butler returned, and asked us to accompany him to a room on the first floor. When we arrived, we saw it was fitted up as a conference room, with a large table in the middle of it. The table was littered with maps and charts and documents, some in English, some in German. Having no wish to surprise my country's secret affairs, I looked no further than that.
The butler began to announce us. but he had barely gotten our names from his mouth before a round, squat little man with an imperial beard and a monocle came forward and pumped my companion's hand vigorously.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, what an honour it is to meet you. Even in the Godforsaken desert, we have of your adventures read, as recorded by the so-good Dr. Watson."
He let go of Holmes's hand to pump mine for a while. "When we send for brandy and soda, and the so-good Perkins bring in to us the card of yours, I am beside myself with joy. I am neglecting my task, which is talking with my new good friend. His Grace, but I claim a guest's indulgence and say meet you I must do. And here you are."
"Here I am, indeed." Holmes turned to the duke, whose youthful face under a crop of snow white hair showed a not-quite-suppressed smile of amusement. "Your Grace, I do not mean to interrupt your work, but I wish to have a few words with you, on something of importance. A matter has come to my attention which concerns you."
"It's quite all right, Mr. Holmes. I believe Herr Geitzling"— here the round man bowed, still beaming—"and Herr Untermeyer, his aide"—and now a handsome, blue-eyed young man with dark curly hair bowed—"were beginning to feel almost as stale as I do myself. That was why I rang for refreshment. May I be excused to talk to Mr. Holmes, Herr Geitzling?"
"You may on one condition be excused, Your Grace."
"Even now, mein Herr, you remain a tough negotiator. What is your condition?"
"That after your talk, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson to this room return and the brandy and soda share with us. Furthermore, we shall talk not about our business while they are here, but about their adventures."
The duke made a conciliatory shrug. "You must appreciate, Herr Geitzling, that Mr. Holmes is a busy man—"
"But not so busy that we cannot spare some time for such a distinguished visitor to our shores, Your Grace. We will be delighted to join you."
We repaired downstairs to the duke's study, a fine, masculine room of leather and books.
He told us to be seated, and took a chair behind a large square desk. "So, Mr. Holmes, what is the matter that needs my attention?"
"I believe your life may be in danger, Your Grace."
His Grace seemed as shocked as I was.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Holmes. My life? In danger? From whom?"
"How important is the matter which you are discussing with Herr Geitzling?"
"Moderately important. I cannot go into details."
"That will not be necessary, for the present. Would events be dire if these talks were to fail?"
"Concealing nothing from you, Mr. Holmes, I don't think so.
Expensive, yes. Inconvenient, certainly. But dire? No. Nothing irrevocable here."
Then His Grace smiled slyly. "If the failure of these talks— which, by the way, I do not anticipate, they are going quite well, thank you—if the theoretical failure of these talks was to have a dire effect on anyone, it is likely to be Stefan Geitzling. His wife is a distant relative of the Kaiser's. It is undoubtedly why he holds the position in Africa that he does. He certainly has no affection for the place, complains about it constantly. Still, he is a typical German, conscientious and painstaking. He knows his business.1'
"How about his aide?"
"Othmar Untermeyer is also painstaking and conscientious. He is a polite and self-effacing young man." Again, we saw the duke smile. "My daughter is quite taken with him. Really, Mr. Holmes. Your brother and I know each other well, and I am both flattered and honoured by your concern, but this particular negotiation is not the sort of thing that leads one to fear for his life."
"Perhaps the danger comes from other quarters. Have you any personal enemies?"
"Only political ones. We don't assassinate each other in the House of Lords, Mr. Holmes. Not for some time, at least. Please, what has happened to cause your concern?"
"Information received. It would be pointless to burden Your Grace with the matter, especially since nothing can be found to substantiate it at this time."
"I'm sure your informant is mistaken," said the duke.
"Still, it is best to be thorough. Have I your permission to question the servants and the other inmates of the house?"
The Duke waved his hand. "You may have carte blanche, if it helps to resolve the matter. But before doing that, you must come and speak with Geitzling. Perhaps this will get a few more tons of magnesium ore per annum from him."
Holmes rarely agreed to socialize, but when he did he could be utterly charming, as he was on this occasion. This was perhaps helped by the fact that Herr Geitzling seemed to know every aspect of the detective's career, and be impressed by all of it.
"It is gratifying to know that my accounts are so well perused in such a faraway place," I said at one juncture to a compliment of Geitzling's about my writing.
"It helps keep me to Europe tied," said he. "I have a duty, and this I do, but I miss home. Even here, I have the things I have not for two years had at Christmas. The snow, the promise of a roast goose, the smell of the tannenbaum. His Grace also the custom follows, and though he tries to keep it from me a secret, I can hardly wait to see it."
"How did you know that, Geitzling?" demanded the duke.
"Because in the nose I can smell it when I come in. It the lower hall pervades, and makes me feel as if I am already home."
"I hope," said His Grace, "you will think of this as your home while you are here."
Geitzling said, "His Grace has been so kind as to invite Herr Untermeyer, and Frau Geitzling and myself, to Christmas Eve keep with him here. It was Lady Caroline's idea."
I gave an involuntary glance at Othmar Untermeyer and saw on his face a young man's pride in his attractiveness.
Holmes took a last sip of his brandy and soda, rose, and announced that we must be off on further business.
Geitzling was crestfallen; His Grace, seeing how upset his counterpart was, had a suggestion. "Mr. Holmes, Doctor, if you've no previous plans, why don't you keep Christmas Eve with us as well? Then you can regale us all even with your adventures. It will be just a small gathering, but I fancy we'll generate some holiday cheer."
"We shall be delighted," said Holmes. "No idea could suit me better." He was, it seemed, giving free rein to his sentimental side.
The butler was summoned to show us out, but Holmes told him we had permission to roam the house and talk to those around. The butler conceded that His Grace had given him some such instructions, and left us to our own devices.
"Holmes, have we nothing to ask the butler?"
"Nothing. Come. Let me first retrieve my parcel in the hallway."
This done, we came to the locked door behind which stood the tree. I could now perceive that Geitzling had been right; there was a strong smell of pine even here, on the other side of a thick oak door. I remarked on this to Holmes.
"Yes, Watson, like the railway, you are frequently late, but you get there. Now, if you will just stand guard ..."
From his pocket, he drew a skeleton key and put it in the lock.
"Holmes!" said I. "You're not—"
"His Grace gave us carte blanche, remember?"
"Yes, but—"
I was talking to the oak panels of the door. Holmes was already inside. The pine scent that had been drawn out of the room with the opening of the door was nearly ov
erpowering. Carefully, I put my ear to the door in an effort to perhaps hear what my friend was up to.
What I did hear was a soft, feminine voice saying, "Dr. Watson?"
I turned to see a lovely young lady of about one-and-twenty. She had a large quantity of blonde curls, and large brown eyes that dominated her rather pleasant face.
"Forgive my forwardness. Father told me you were here. I am Caroline Bentley." She gave me her hand.
"Lady Caroline," I said with a slight bow.
"Are you feeling well, Doctor?"
"I'm quite all right, thank you."
"Forgive me. I only ask because you were leaning against the door, I thought you might feel faint."
"No, Lady Caroline," said I. "Not at all. I was, um, investigating the source of the pine odour that Herr Geitzling was so enthusiastic about."
She laughed like tinkling bells. "Then, Doctor, you have sniffed out the truth, for in that room is the great tree sent down to us from Scotland. I can hardly wait to see it."
"Haven't you?"
"None of us has. It's part of the fun of the holiday—we trust the judgement of our forester implicitly. Othmar—that is, Herr Untermeyer—thinks it a charming custom."
"As do I, Lady Caroline," I said. I spoke, I suppose, louder than need be, for I wanted to make sure that Holmes heard us through the heavy door, and did not create an embarrassing situation by emerging while Lady Caroline was there.
"Father tells me you and Mr. Holmes will be keeping Christmas with us. I am so pleased."
"You and your father are very kind," I said.
"Not at all. We enjoy spreading the spirit of the season.
"Where is Mr. Holmes?" she asked.
"I can hardly say," I told her truthfully. "He stepped away for a few moments, and asked me to remain here."
Lady Caroline said that as much as she'd like to, she could not remain, and that she looked forward to seeing us again tomorrow evening. I watched her safely down the corridor, then knocked on the door to let Holmes know he might emerge if he chose.
He did so in a few moments, bringing with him another strong breath of pine.
"Excellent, Watson," said he. "You are by little and little overcoming your inherent honesty and developing a positive skill for indirection."
I sniffed. "I hardly know if I should thank you for that. Were your efforts successful?"
"Eminently. I have changed the nature of the trap; it remains for tomorrow evening to see who shall fall into it."
After a brief visit with our clients, to tell them the situation was well in hand, we returned to Baker Street.
That evening, Holmes as usual was maddeningly unwilling to discuss the case at hand. Only once did my importuning avail anything. "I'm sorry, Watson, but you know how I dislike to explicate a case before it is completed. I shall only say that you should have sniffed out the solution for yourself."
"Confound it, Holmes. Are you or are you not drawing my attention to the strong pine odour that suffused the lower part of the house?"
"I am, indeed, Watson."
"What can one infer simply from an odour? I am not, after all, a bloodhound."
Holmes pulled his lower lip. "More to the point, you are a city-bred man. My people, as you know, were country squires. I know how a tree is supposed to smell."
I felt some of the old excitement; perhaps we were getting to the meat of the nut at last. "What was wrong with the smell, Holmes?" I asked.
"Nothing, Watson. Absolutely nothing. That was an especially intense whiff of the unmistakable fragrance of Scotch pine."
Before I was done sputtering, Holmes had picked up his violin. "I feel the spirit of the season upon me," said he, and he began playing "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen."
There was but one more allusion to the case before we left Baker Street for His Grace's residence. Just prior to leaving, Holmes said, "It would be as well, Watson, to slip your revolver in your pocket."
"Holmes!" I cried. "On Christmas Eve?"
"Evil takes no holidays, Watson. Therefore, neither can those who would stop it."
We were greeted heartily by His Grace and Lady Caroline upon our arrival. The hall was now open, the tree revealed in all its green magnificence, the Yule log roaring in the fireplace. Holly was hung liberally about, and the tree had already been garlanded and hung with some ornaments. The duke invited us to join in the work of decoration, which, to my surprise, Holmes did.
"It is good, Mr. Holmes, we haff you to help the ornaments hanging, you are tall like Othmar, and can reach up high." Herr Geitzling was in high holiday spirits, frequently remarking that this was just like home, and constant in his attentions to Frau Geitzling, a woman as red and plump as her husband.
"I will get the candles," said Othmar Untermeyer. I had wondered how the candles were fixed to the tree so they wouldn't fall over, and, watching Untermeyer, I learned. He lit one candle and carefully softened the bottoms of the others letting the wax conform to the irregularities in the bark as he put them on. With his reach (he was, in fact, even taller than Holmes) he had little trouble placing the candles at the top of the tree, and he worked his way down, blowing out the softening candle and putting it on a lower branch.
"Lovely," exclaimed the duke. "Just lovely. We will light the candles after a holiday toast."
A servant came in with a tray of hot toddies. These were passed around, and the scent of the warm, buttered rum brought back holiday memories for me. I could see on the faces of the others that I was not alone.
His Grace raised his cup. "To friendship and happiness. To family and memories. To Her Majesty and the Kaiser and all their subjects. To Christmas."
"To Christmas," we echoed, and drank.
Just then, the butler entered. He spoke a word to His Grace, then went to Untermeyer, with whom I was discussing the aseptic theories of Dr. Lister of Vienna. The butler told him there was a German person outside who needed to see him; some sort of emergency. Untermeyer in his turn made his excuses to the duke, and followed the butler.
As soon as they were gone, Holmes materialized at my side. "This is it, Watson. He will return in a moment and say he has to leave the party. Mark what he says, and leave a minute after he does. You have your revolver?"
"At the ready."
"Good man."
With that, Holmes himself slipped out of the room. Typically, he did it unnoticed by all save myself. And true to Holmes's prediction, Untermeyer was back in seconds, making apologies to the duke, then to the party at large. "A family emergency," he said. "I must go."
"Othmar, can I of service be?" asked Mr. Geitzling.
"No, sir, no. I wouldn't dream of spoiling your Christmas. I insist you stay."
He left. Now I was supposed to go. Not being surreptitious, like Holmes, not having a ready-made excuse like Untermeyer, I simply told Lady Caroline that I had to leave the room and would be back in a few moments. She was already missing Untermeyer, and barely heard me.
I headed for the front door and down the steps. Holmes was waiting, not quite invisible in the shrubbery.
"This way, Watson," he whispered. Following his finger with my gaze, I could see that two men were about halfway down the block. "Quickly now," he said.
"Do you recognize them?" he said as we closed the distance between us.
"The tall one is Untermeyer," I ventured.
"Indeed, and the other is Von Tepper, a notorious anarchist. Mycroft has suspected he has been secretly in London. He will be pleased to know we have captured him."
"We haven't done it yet, Holmes."
"Confidence, Watson, confidence."
We had now drawn quietly to within ten yards of our prey. Holmes drew his revolver; I followed his lead.
"Untermeyer! Von Tepper!" he barked. The men turned. "Your plot has failed," he went on. "There will be no explosion. The duke and Geitzling will not die. You will start no war between England and Germany. At least not this Christmas."
"You are wron
g, Mr. Holmes," Untermeyer said. He sneered around a small black cigar. "Even now. His Grace is lighting the candles. When he gets to the last one I placed on the tree, he is doomed. They are all doomed. I am sorry about poor, foolish Lady Caroline. And I am sorry you will not be there to die with them."
"Sorry to disappoint you, mein Herr" said Holmes, reaching under his cape, "but I pulled the teeth of your little monster yesterday. He held up a parcel. "Quite an interesting device, the latest in high explosives."
"Herr von Tepper was responsible for procuring it. Well, you have spoiled our little plan. There will be other occasions."
"Not for you," said I.
"It does not matter. Others will rise until government and privilege have been done away with forever!"
"Indeed," said Holmes. "Your movement will need conspirators more intelligent than yourselves. Why did you select the very tree that Camber had marked for cutting?"
"Our allies in Scotland did that. It was done so that the tree would be acceptable to the duke when it arrived. We didn't know that the fool of a forester would come here to identify the thing." He took a puff of a cigar. "Or that he would consult you. He did consult you, did he not?"
Holmes gave a slight bow. "So you got hold of the tree, bored a hole through the back of the trunk and into a thick lower limb, packed that with explosive, and placed a sharp end of fuse through the remaining shell of wood for a candle to be placed on, a candle you would shorten by using it to soften the bottom of all the other candles. Did you think I wouldn't notice that the last candle stayed erect without having its bottom softened? I wasn't even forced to wait to see who made an excuse to leave the party early; I already knew you for the conspirator."
"How did you come to suspect the bomb?" Untermeyer had no air of a villain thwarted. He seemed honestly to wish to know where his errors had been.
"The tree was already suspect, thanks to Mr. Camber. The pine scent told me the rest. When you cut into a resinous wood like pine, you increase the intensity of the fragrance manyfold. I suspected something implanted in the tree even before I reached the duke's house. A breath of air within it, and the matter was settled. I had stopped at an ironmonger's shop and provided myself with an auger. A few seconds' work was enough to disarm your little toy. Here," Holmes said.
Holmes for the Holidays Page 21
