“No. Just as there are most assuredly those in Japan who do not regard this agreement with favor, as you have so eloquently illustrated.” I realized he would find my manner offensive, which was my intention. “As we have men who seek to keep England from adapting to the changes in the world, so must you have the same in Japan. It cannot be avoided. Those who have done well in the past are less eager for the risks of the future than those who seek improvement in their lot. I will allow that the society of Japan is not the same on many points, but on this one, I reckon we have more in common than is outwardly manifest.”
He seemed to realize he had made a mistake, and resumed a more correct demeanor. “So neither the English nor the Japanese are free of nationalism. Each of us will act honorably, I hope. And because of that, I must consider all the aspects. As I suppose you must, too.” He lifted his hands slightly and shrugged. “What has this to do with the events of Lord Brackenheath’s death?”
“If he was killed to stop the agreement from being put into effect, then it may have a great deal to do with it,” I reminded him. “And the police are eager to ascertain the whereabouts of all those who had dealings with Lord Brackenheath last night.”
He muttered something in Japanese I could not make out, then said, “I have been told to help the police if it is possible.”
“Yes. We appreciate your predicament, and we will do all that we can to minimize the imposition the investigation necessitates.” I poured more tea for myself and used the time it took to do this to observe him narrowly.
“This is the same ground we have gone over before,” he complained, and I realized that some portion of his sullenness was an act, and that he was taking my measure as closely as I was taking his.
“Yes. I want to be certain I have it right.” I paused as if to order my thoughts more carefully. “You’ve stated you saw Lord Brackenheath talking to Mister Hackett. How long afterwards was the body discovered, do you know?”
“Perhaps ten minutes, perhaps a few minutes more, taking the time from when you went to the exterior door of the Terrace Suite and were admitted by Sir George Tyrell.” He considered his answer again. “I think it must be more than ten minutes, now I think about it. It could be a quarter of an hour.”
“I made the discovery a few minutes before,” I admitted, not wanting to recall the moment again. I sipped tea again, this time to give me time to banish the image of the dead man from my mind. “Well, then, shall we say you saw Lord Brackenheath a short while before he was killed.”
“That would be accurate,” said Mister Minato.
“With a cigar in his hand,” I added. “You said you saw him holding a cigar, didn’t you?”
“He had not lit it yet. I gathered it was his intention to smoke it while he was on the terrace.” He did his best to avoid my eyes. “It is a terrible thing to have such a man come to that end, and in this place. The Swiss cannot be pleased.”
“No more than any of the rest of us,” I said pointedly. “It is our agreement that may suffer the consequences of his death.”
He nodded, making it pass for a bow.
I asked my few remaining questions, then went in search of my employer. I found him outside the library door deep in conversation with Inspector FitzGerald and Ambassador Tochigi—the ambassador, once again dressed in a swallowtail coat and striped trousers, was shaking his head vigorously.
“But we must talk to Prince Jiro,” Inspector FitzGerald declared. “He is a part of our investigation, and his information may be crucial to our work.”
“It cannot be permitted,” said Ambassador Tochigi with heavy emphasis on the not. “He is the son of the Emperor,and—”
Inspector FitzGerald cut him off. “Begging your pardon, Ambassador, but he is also a Dartmouth cadet, and that means he is expected to follow the orders of the—”
“Both of you,” said Mycroft Holmes, making a gesture calculated to calm. “It is necessary that we have the Prince’s information. I think each of you can see the need of it. But it is also necessary to make certain the Prince’s dignity is not slighted. He has come to help us, not hinder us in this investigation, and he has as much reason as you do to want the criminal or criminals brought to justice.” The two men with him now listened closely to him. “Would it satisfy you both if I spoke to him? I give you both my personal assurance I will conduct the inquiry in such a way that both of you are satisfied with the results. I will be careful not to embarrass him, and at the same time I will avail myself of the opportunity to learn all that I can from him that may have bearing on the case. I give you my pledge that my account will be accurate in any regard that has bearing on the death of Lord Brackenheath. I will reserve the right to withhold any information that does not.”
“It would be all right with me,” Inspector FitzGerald said sullenly; this was the best he could expect to achieve, and he knew it, “providing we could review in advance all the things I would need to know.”
Ambassador Tochigi was more recalcitrant. “It is not right that you should question the Emperor’s son. The dead man may be tided, but he is English. What can he know of the death of this man? To speak to him at all in this regard slights him.” Watching the ambassador, I realized suddenly that he knew of—or guessed—Prince Jiro’s relationship with Lady Brackenheath. I determined to impart my supposition to Holmes as soon as we were private.
“I will be careful not to put him at a disadvantage,” Holmes assured Ambassador Tochigi. “Only tell me that I may interview him, and I will give you my word that he will be treated with full respect.”
“All right,” said Ambassador Tochigi grudgingly. I was certain he sensed that to continue adamant in his refusal would only draw unwelcome attention to the Prince. “But you are to hold in confidence all his answers except those he himself permits you to reveal to the police. A failure to do this will bring about a serious breach in the relations of our two countries.”
“You may rely on my discretion,” said Holmes at his most soothing.
“Ambassador Tochigi,” said the unpersuaded Inspector FitzGerald, becoming bellicose, “that’s not right. How can we do our job if the Prince forbids Mister Holmes to tell us something that may be, as I have said before, crucial to our inquiries? If you have some notion as to how we might get around this predicament, I would like to know of it.”
“FitzGerald,” said Holmes patiently before the Inspector and the ambassador could lock horns again. “I think I am capable of persuading the Prince when there is an issue that bears on your investigation.”
“Very well, if that is how you wish to manage it,” snapped Inspector FitzGerald, standing very straight, his face flushed. “I will perforce accept your terms.” He glared at Holmes and shot a look of intense suspicion at Ambassador Tochigi. “I have other interviews to conduct, gentlemen. If you will excuse me?”
“A dogged man,” remarked Ambassador Tochigi as the Inspector went away down the corridor.
“Doggedness is an asset in his work. Without it, he would never accomplish his purpose,” said Holmes, then signaled to me to approach. “There you are, Guthrie. All through with Messers. Banadaichi and Minato, I trust?”
“Yes, sir,” I said at once as I came up to him. I was leaning more heavily on my cane than I would ordinarily like, but my ankle was beginning to swell again, and it hampered my movements.
“I hope they gave you all the cooperation you sought,” said Ambassador Tochigi with the slightest of bows.
“They were most informative,” I said loudly enough that Ambassador Tochigi could hear me clearly. “I thank you for making these arrangements so that we are able to conduct our interviews with discretion. Any additional attention would not be useful at this juncture.”
“Certainly,” said Ambassador Tochigi, and once again addressed Holmes. “I will explain your offer to Prince Jiro at once, and will send you word on his response immediately.”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” said Holmes, taking care to exchan
ge bows in the proper form before signaling to me to follow him into the library. “Now then, Guthrie, what has you so exercised?”
I had not been aware of any change in my outward manner, but clearly Holmes had detected something. I made certain the door was closed behind us, and then held out the note I had received as I said, “I am convinced that Mister Minato is a spy.”
Holmes stared at me for a second or two, then lapsed into a chuckle. “Good Lord, that knock on the head has muddled your brain—you mean you’ve only just noticed?”
FROM THE JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS
We have come across something, Sutton and I, that must be put into the hands of M H at once. The various records of banking transactions have at last revealed something of interest that may well indicate the reason for Lord Brackenheath’s death, or an essential part of the puzzle, in any case.
Sutton has also noted that there is some question about a Russian officer who attended the gala, whose accounts have received monies from Buda-Pest as well as from Grodno. Whether this has any bearing on the events surrounding the murder I doubt, but as M H seeks to know of any and all irregularities we find, I will include it with the less pressing cases we are assembling against his return. It may be that this information may be useful when we have to deal with Austro-Hungary next February.
I will prepare a memorandum for M H on our discoveries regarding Lord Brackenheath and have Mister Coldene carry it to the Swiss embassy, as M H has informed me he will remain there through the evening. He said he will return here no later than nine, for he wishes all of us to have a good night’s sleep, not only to clear our thoughts, but to prepare us for what he anticipates will be a most demanding day. I have made the appropriate arrangements with Sutton, and will send a message round to G’s landlady so that she will not think anything dreadful has befallen him.
The watchers are still in place, and I have noticed that they carry sidearms, which serves to heighten my apprehension in regard to their purpose here. The man in the service yard half an hour ago had a pistol under his jacket: I saw him pat it once, which alerted me to its presence and gave me impetus to look at the others more closely with the glass, the better to discover what weapons they might have secreted about their persons. It would be very dangerous to make an attempt on M H in such a street as Pall Mall, but I cannot suppose it is impossible. I must warn Sid Hastings to have extra care when he brings M H back from the Swiss embassy tonight, for who knows what mischief these watchers intend.
Another day of it, and I shall know the role of Ferdinand as well as Sutton does.
THERE WAS NONE of the hauteur Prince Jiro had displayed on his previous encounters with Mycroft Holmes. He came into the library quietly, and offered Holmes a proper salute before bowing to him in the Japanese manner.
“I am grateful to you, Prince, for making yourself available to me.” Holmes nodded in my direction. “I think you’ve met my secretary, Guthrie?”
Prince Jiro stared at me. “I understood we would be alone,” he said to Holmes, stiffening. “Ambassador Tochigi assured me that what we discuss will be wholly private.”
“You may repose full confidence in Guthrie’s discretion—I do,” said Holmes placidly as he indicated one of the overstuffed chairs flanking the hearth. “Do be seated, and we can get this done as quickly as possible.”
“All right,” said Prince Jiro carefully. “Count Tochigi tells me that I may decide which of my answers you may release to Scotland Yard and which are to remain private.” He moved as gingerly as he spoke, settling himself in the chair as if he might break a bone if he were not cautious.
“That is my understanding as well, your Highness. And you may be certain I will abide by it.” Holmes sank down comfortably at once. He signaled me to remain where I was. “It is a most unfortunate thing for all of us that Lord Brackenheath’s murder should take place concurrent with the publication of our agreement. And I fear we must view it as something other than a lamentable coincidence. The murder was as much a warning as a crime.”
“I agree.” Prince Jiro regarded Holmes with the aspect of one preparing to escape.
“And therefore,” said Holmes at his blandest, “there is really no reason to entertain you as a suspect.”
The Prince sat bolt upright, pride and anger warring for mastery of his countenance. “Suspect? I a suspect? How could I be a suspect?”
Holmes paid no attention to the Prince’s consternation. “I will admit that for a while you did seem a possibility, but in a way your very obviousness bothered me,” he went on as if nothing untoward had happened. “Upon reflection, however, I realized that you had nothing to gain and a great deal to lose if you were the one who killed Lord Brackenheath. I also could not entertain the notion that you would use that dagger for the weapon, even if you had been so reckless as to kill the man. No matter how deep your . . . involvement, you would not want to subject Lady Brackenheath to the notoriety her husband’s murder must surely bring.” He sat calmly and let Prince Jiro regain his composure.
“How did you know?” the young man asked nervously.
“About the murder, or about you and Lady Brackenheath?” Holmes asked him. He showed no outward sign of discomfort, though I did notice he was fingering his watchfob.
“Either! Both,” said Prince Jiro, now attempting to show the same sangfroid as Holmes, though in his case it was only a façade.
“Well,” said Holmes quietly, “your ambassador was aware you were romantically entangled with a married Englishwoman, though he claimed not to know her identity, which may or may not be the case.” He drew out his cigar case and offered one to Prince Jiro, who accepted after an instant’s hesitation. “Any doubts he might have had were banished when Ambassador Tochigi saw your handkerchief with the Imperial mon on it in her hand last night. I paid little heed to it at the time, for there is nothing remarkable in an Englishman offering a lady his handkerchief at such a coil. It was only later that I recalled your society conducts itself along other lines, and that what might be commonplace in England would be shocking in Japan.” He lit the Prince’s cigar, then his own. “Guthrie reminded me today that Lady Brackenheath had called you by your personal name. I will not do so, because I do not wish to offend you, your Highness.” He blew out a fragrant cloud of smoke. “But that ended any doubts I might have had. It also convinced me utterly of your innocence in regard to Lord Brackenheath’s death.”
“It did? How did you arrive at that conclusion?” asked the Prince. I could see that his hands shook ever so slightly.
“Simple logic, your Highness. What benefit would it be to you if Lady Brackenheath were widowed? You would not be able to marry under any circumstances, so disposing of her husband would not remove an obstacle from your path, nor would it create approbation in either of your families. In fact, as matters stand now, you cannot continue your . . . association with the full glare of public attention upon the Japanese and Lady Brackenheath. Therefore you did not kill him to achieve her freedom to marry again, that being out of the question. And what had she to gain from her husband’s death, had you wanted to do her a service through ridding her of an odious spouse? He rarely beat her, and they had no children he could mistreat. She is the one with a fortune, and it is wholly in her control, so gain for her played no part in his murder. As I see it, any trace of scandal—which Lord Brackenheath’s murder surely creates—works, as I have remarked, against your liaison, for it draws attention to your conduct, and scrutiny to your motives, which neither of you could want. It is possible you might kill him in jealous rage, but I do not reckon you would be willing to entertain such a confrontation at an occasion when your country is being honored.” He tapped a bit of the ash off the end of the cigar.
“She is not a light woman. We are not . . . amusing ourselves,” said Prince Jiro with strong emotion in his voice. “She did not intend to become my mistress, nor did she ever conduct herself in such a way that I feared she was attempting to dishonor her husband, much
as he might deserve it for the many slights he visited upon her.” He looked directly at Holmes, and said with simplicity, “She is the greatest treasure I have ever known.”
“And I will respect your regard for your alliance,” said Holmes somberly. “Your privacy will be maintained.”
“And what of the police?” asked Prince Jiro.
“They do not need to know of your dealings.” Holmes contemplated the low fire in the hearth. “In general, I find the clandestine distressing in domestic circumstances, but given the nature of the marriage of Lord and Lady Brackenheath, I cannot suppose their vows had not been flouted many times by Lord Brackenheath, and in a manner less chary of his reputation and hers.” He sighed once. “It isn’t fitting to seduce a married woman, but in this instance, I do not suppose seduction was the object.”
“No, it was not,” said Prince Jiro. “I am not so foolish that I sought a dalliance with a married woman of quality as nothing more than a cocksman’s challenge. By the time I was aware of the nature of my feelings for her, I was unable to banish them, though I tried.”
“I have witnessed such affiliations in the past, and I am aware that in a man of true character, no matter how stern the will, the best-trained mind can be overset by a whim of the heart. When it is more than a whim . . .” He made a gesture to finish his thoughts.
Prince Jiro wore an expression now of frank and profound admiration. “I am in your debt.”
“No debt that I am aware of.” Holmes inclined his head. “I must first disabuse Inspector FitzGerald of his suspicions in your regard before I will have accomplished much to your benefit. Make no mistake about it, he is willing to believe you would stab the man with that ritual dagger because of his disparaging remarks about your country. He confuses you with the medieval nobles of Europe.”
“How could he make such an error?” asked Prince Jiro, baffled now.
“Because he has not thought the matter through. Which is hardly surprising, given the length of time we have had to conduct our inquiries.” He glanced at the clock on the mantle. “It is five-ten now, not yet a full twenty-four hours since the man died. Hardly time for the Inspector to assemble all the facts.”
Embassy Row Page 25
