“I could deceive you by saying so, Mr. Holmes, but it wouldnot be true. De Merville is a broken man. The strong soldierhas been utterly demoralized by this incident. He has lost thenerve which never failed him on the battlefield and has become aweak, doddering old man, utterly incapable of contending with abrilliant, forceful rascal like this Austrian. My client however is anold friend, one who has known the General intimately for manyyears and taken a paternal interest in this young girl since she woreshort frocks. He cannot see this tragedy consummated withoutsome attempt to stop it. There is nothing in which Scotland Yardcan act. It was his own suggestion that you should be called in,but it was, as I have said, on the express stipulation that he shouldnot be personally involved in the matter. I have no doubt, Mr.
Holmes, with your great powers you could easily trace my clientback through me, but I must ask you, as a point of honour, torefrain from doing so, and not to break in upon his incognito.”
Holmes gave a whimsical smile.
“I think I may safely promise that,” said he. “I may add thatyour problem interests me, and that I shall be prepared to lookinto it. How shall I keep in touch with you?”
“The Carlton Club will find me. But in case of emergency, thereis a private telephone call, ‘XX.31.’ ”
Holmes noted it down and sat, still smiling, with the openmemorandum-book upon his knee.
“The Baron’s present address, please?”
“Vernon Lodge, near Kingston. It is a large house. He has beenfortunate in some rather shady speculations and is a rich man,which naturally makes him a more dangerous antagonist.”
“Is he at home at present?”
“Yes.”
“Apart from what you have told me, can you give me any furtherinformation about the man?”
“He has expensive tastes. He is a horse fancier. For a short timehe played polo at Hurlingham, but then this Prague affair gotnoised about and he had to leave. He collects books and pictures.
He is a man with a considerable artistic side to his nature. He is,I believe, a recognized authority upon Chinese pottery and haswritten a book upon the subject.”
“A complex mind,” said Holmes. “All great criminals have that.
My old friend Charlie Peace was a violin virtuoso. Wainwright wasno mean artist. I could quote many more. Well, Sir James, you willinform your client that I am turning my mind upon Baron Gruner.
I can say no more. I have some sources of information of my own,and I dare say we may find some means of opening the matter up.”
When our visitor had left us Holmes sat so long in deep thoughtthat it seemed to me that he had forgotten my presence. At last,however, he came briskly back to earth.
“Well, Watson, any views?” he asked.
“I should think you had better see the young lady herself.”
“My dear Watson, if her poor old broken father cannot moveher, how shall I, a stranger, prevail? And yet there is somethingin the suggestion if all else fails. But I think we must begin froma different angle. I rather fancy that Shinwell Johnson might be ahelp.”
I have not had occasion to mention Shinwell Johnson in thesememoirs because I have seldom drawn my cases from the latterphases of my friend’s career . During the first years of the centuryhe became a valuable assistant. Johnson, I grieve to say, madehis name first as a very dangerous villain and served two termsat Parkhurst. Finally he repented and allied himself to Holmes,acting as his agent in the huge criminal underworld of Londonand obtaining information which often proved to be of vitalimportance. Had Johnson been a “nark” of the police he wouldsoon have been exposed, but as he dealt with cases which nevercame directly into the courts, his activities were never realizedby his companions. With the glamour of his two convictionsupon him, he had the entree of every night-club, doss house, andgambling-den in the town, and his quick observation and activebrain made him an ideal agent for gaining information. It was tohim that Sherlock Holmes now proposed to turn.
It was not possible for me to follow the immediate steps takenby my friend, for I had some pressing professional business of myown, but I met him by appointment that evening at Simpson’s,where, sitting at a small table in the front window and lookingdown at the rushing stream of life in the Strand, he told mesomething of what had passed.
“Johnson is on the prowl,” said he. “He may pick up somegarbage in the darker recesses of the underworld, for it is downthere, amid the black roots of crime, that we must hunt for thisman’s secrets.”
“But if the lady will not accept what is already known, whyshould any fresh discovery of yours turn her from her purpose?”
“Who knows, Watson? Woman’s heart and mind are insolublepuzzles to the male. Murder might be condoned or explained, andyet some smaller offence might rankle. Baron Gruner remarked tome——”
“He remarked to you!”
“Oh, to be sure, I had not told you of my plans. Well, Watson, Ilove to come to close grips with my man. I like to meet him eye toeye and read for myself the stuff that he is made of. When I hadgiven Johnson his instructions I took a cab out to Kingston andfound the Baron in a most affable mood.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“There was no difficulty about that, for I simply sent in mycard. He is an excellent antagonist, cool as ice, silky voiced andsoothing as one of your fashionable consultants, and poisonous asa cobra. He has breeding in him—a real aristocrat of crime witha superficial suggestion of afternoon tea and all the cruelty of thegrave behind it. Yes, I am glad to have had my attention called toBaron Adelbert Gruner.”
“You say he was affable?”
“A purring cat who thinks he sees prospective mice. Somepeople’s affability is more deadly than the violence of coarser souls.
His greeting was characteristic. ‘I rather thought I should see yousooner or later, Mr. Holmes,’ said he. ‘You have been engaged, nodoubt by General de Merville, to endeavour to stop my marriagewith his daughter, Violet. That is so, is it not?’
“I acquiesced.
