Sherlock Holmes and the King of Clubs (8 page)

CHAPTER TEN

A Desperate Request …

A
S USUAL
, Holmes slept late the following morning. Watson, rising early, went down to the dining room and ate breakfast alone, then retired to the lobby, there to peruse the day's papers as best he could.

The
Frankfurter Kurier, Berliner Sonntagszeitung
and
Kölner Bote
all mentioned Houdini's opening night cancellation, blaming unspecified personal problems, “possibly linked to the American entertainer's health”.

This, Watson decided, was entirely possible. If rumour was to be believed, Houdini had spared no effort in his own physical development over the years, working diligently to unhinge and then reseat his joints when required, and increase his lung capacity by deliberately submerging himself underwater for long periods at a time. It was certainly not beyond the realms of possibility that such a gruelling regime might eventually place undue strain upon certain of his vital organs.

Still, the escapologist had appeared in robust health when they met him at the station barely two days earlier, and according to the papers, Houdini's manager – ‘the charming Frau Frances Lane,' to quote one beguiled reporter – had refused to issue any statements relating to the showman's health, or the reasons for his opening night cancellation.

In any case, the papers were more concerned with the violent confrontation he, Holmes and Freud had witnessed the day before.
The
Kurier
blamed the riot on ‘ill-informed hot-heads whose emotions are inflamed by the scaremongering of the enemies of our country'. The
Sonntagszeitung
took the opposite view, its reporter writing that, ‘the greatest injustice is that the ordinary man and woman on the street are villified, both physically and emotionally, for trying to defend themselves against the enemy within.' It seemed that everyone was keen to blame someone else for the country's problems.

With a pot of coffee and a selection of sugar-dusted pastries at his side, Watson had virtually exhausted his knowledge of German and was idly flicking through his ever-present copy of
Bradshaw's
when Holmes made an appearance.

‘Ah, you have finally decided to rise, I see,' Watson remarked, closing the guide.

‘I was not aware that we were keeping to a timetable.'

‘We aren't, of course. But since we last lodged together, I had forgotten some of your more lamentable habits. The day is almost over, Holmes. It'll be time for lunch shortly!'

Unconcerned, Holmes sat opposite his old friend in a large, button-studded leather armchair. ‘Your use of sarcasm,' he said mildly, ‘reveals a
super-ego
of a somewhat harsh nature, Watson.'

‘Oh, very droll.'

‘But if lunch is so high on your agenda, we shall dine at Karl Gustav's, on the Heldenplatz … unless you object?'

‘Not at all. Do you know the place? Is it any good?'

‘I have no idea. But its proximity to our destination for today is enough to recommend it.'

‘Oh? And what
is
our destination for today? Bearing in mind that not two minutes ago you were quick to remind me that we had no particular schedule.'

‘The very seat of the Habsburg Empire,' said Holmes. ‘The Imperial Palace.'

‘I say!' Watson exclaimed. ‘That should certainly be something to see.'

Holmes caught the eye of an attentive waiter. ‘In that case, my friend, we shall fortify ourselves with fresh coffee – and one of these fine Austrian pastries for which you are developing such
a taste – and then we will be on our way.'

They began their tour at the Heldenplatz, or Heroes' Square – an enormous plaza, at the far end of which stood the resplendent Imperial Palace. Reading from his guidebook, Watson explained that the square was so-called because of the two enormous statues that dominated it, one depicting Prince Eugene of Savoy, who had defended Austria from an Ottoman invasion in 1683, the other Archduke Karl, who had defeated Napoleon's troops at the Battle of Aspern-Essling in 1809.

Holmes, however, seemed more interested in the palace itself.

It resembled a miniature city more than a royal residence. Originally constructed in the thirteenth century at the behest of Ottakar II of Bohemia, the oldest section now formed a square around the Schweizerhof, the Swiss Court, named after the Swiss Guard, who had been hired in the eighteenth century to protect the monarchy.

Their next stop was the Imperial Stables, which were separate from the main complex. According to Watson's copy of
Bradshaw's
, this was because the building had originally started life as a residence for Crown Prince Maximilian II, whose father, the Catholic Ferdinand I, did not want to live under the same roof as his Protestant son.

Presently they reached the Burggarten where a beautiful Art Nouveau building towered over the gardens of the Imperial Palace. This, said Watson, was the Palm House. Built some eight years earlier, it now housed a large collection of live tropical butterflies. These permanent residents of the Palm House were allowed to fly unhindered throughout an artful recreation of their original environment which included a waterfall, a pond and a number of ornate bridges. For the further comfort of the
Lepidoptera
, the building was also kept comfortably warm, and on such a chilly day Watson was reluctant to leave its confines when the time came.

Outside, the afternoon had turned distinctly colder and low grey clouds scudded overhead, propelled by a biting wind. Holmes, seemingly unaware of the inclement weather, suggested they walk
the circumference of the Palace before calling it a day.

By this time Watson's gammy leg was starting to play up – as it always did in damp weather – but Holmes seemed so energized by their surroundings that Watson didn't have the heart to destroy the mood, and so agreed without demur.

For all his aches and pains, Watson couldn't deny that it was wonderful to be back in Holmes's company. And, though it had been hard to accept the truth about Irene Hastings, he appreciated that Holmes had not only saved him from being gypped out of his money, but had also managed to lift him out of the dark mood which had threatened to crush him.

‘I must confess,' he remarked wearily as they continued their stroll around the palace grounds, ‘I never knew you had such an interest in architecture.'

‘It is something I have begun to cultivate in my twilight years,' Holmes said, studying his surroundings with such intensity he seemed to be trying to commit them to memory.

As they walked on it began to sleet. Holmes showed no awareness of the foul conditions, or that Watson's limp was increasing. Instead he became more and more withdrawn until Watson finally asked him if anything was wrong.

Holmes shook his head. ‘Why do you ask?'

‘You seem unusually preoccupied.'

‘Not a bit of it.'

‘Come now,' Watsin said, exasperated. ‘You forget – I know you of old. There is something going on in that all-seeing, all-reasoning mind of yours. What is it?'

Holmes started to reply, then stopped as he noticed how difficult Watson was finding the going.

‘My dear fellow, forgive me,' he said. ‘You are favouring your leg more than usual. And small wonder. It has been a long day and this wet weather certainly cannot do an old war wound much good.'

‘That's all right,' Watson said, trying to make light of it. ‘I'm fine.'

‘No – it was thoughtless of me to drag you along on this interminable circuit – and typical that you should acquiesce without
complaint.' Holmes stopped and clapped his companion on the arm. ‘Come along – we shall return to our hotel and seek to restore you with a pot of tea, a slice of
Marmor Schnitte
and a short rest.'

‘Well … if you insist.'

They returned to the Heldenplatz, where Holmes bought an evening newspaper and then flagged down what they still called in England a Forder cab. As they rode back to the Grand, he scanned the paper, found what he was looking for, then folded it and tucked it into his overcoat pocket.

‘It appears we shall have to wait another day before we can see Houdini at work,' he announced. ‘The show has been cancelled for the second night running, and though the management is hopeful that the curtain will go up tomorrow night, they are by no means sure.'

‘What a dashed shame,' said Watson.

Winter darkness stole across the city. By the time they reached their hotel the streetlamps had been lit and Vienna again resembled a scene from a Christmas card of old. As Watson climbed down from the cab, he stifled a yawn and wearily suggested that an early night was in order.

Holmes paid the cab driver and then turned to him. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Watson, for I regret to say that an early night will not be possible.'

‘No? Why?'

‘Because I suspect we are about to receive a visitor. And quite possibly the answer to a mystery.'

Watson stiffened. ‘What—?'

‘Have a care, old friend. No need to tip our hand.' Grasping Watson's arm, Holmes guided him toward the hotel's revolving door. ‘Let us get in out of the cold.'

As they entered the lobby, Watson demanded to know what was going on.

‘As we alighted from the cab a moment ago,' Holmes explained, ‘I spotted a familiar figure across the road attempting, somewhat unsuccessfully, to remain hidden in the shadows of the alleyway there. As soon as this person spotted us, they started forward,
then hesitated. I can think of no other reason for such reticence besides a wish to avoid being seen with us on the street. But we shall see soon enough, for here comes our visitor now.'

The revolving doors began to turn. A moment later Frances Lane entered, a check motoring wrap buttoned about her throat and a small handbag clutched in her gloved hand. She hesitated when she noticed Holmes and Watson awaiting her arrival and stared at them.

Watson could not believe his eyes. The woman seemed to have aged noticeably since their last meeting.

‘Ah … Mr Holmes…!' she began.

‘You have been awaiting our arrival, I presume?'

She blinked her distinctive green eyes in dismay. She looked so cold and desperate that Watson quickly moved to take her by one arm, saying gently, ‘Come, Miss Lane. You are frozen to the bone.'

She started to protest, but Watson would have none of it. He led her across the lobby toward a corner table that was shielded from the entrance by some artfully arranged potted palms, leaving Holmes to order tea from a passing waiter.

By the time Holmes had rejoined his companion, Watson had seated Miss Lane at a small round table and was studying her with concern. She was close to tears and until this moment had not seemed the crying type. ‘There, there,' said Watson, patting one of her hands. ‘Don't take on so. You are among friends now.'

‘I'm sorry,' she said, drying her eyes. ‘I shouldn't—'

‘My dear lady,' said Holmes, sitting opposite her, ‘if you are, as I suspect, in some sort of difficulty, coming to us is
precisely
what you should have done. Now what, pray, is the nature of your problem?'

‘It's not me,' she said softly. ‘It's Mr Houdini. But I fear he will be furious when he finds that I've enlisted your aid.'

‘And yet you have enlisted it nonetheless.'

She looked absolutely wretched. ‘Gentlemen, I can't discuss Mr Houdini's personal business. It's just something I find impossible to do. When he first hired me it was upon the strictest understanding that I employ discretion at all times. I am privy
to a great many of his secrets – not personal matters, you understand, but the means by which he is able to perform the feats he does. Many times I've been approached by rival acts, offering large sums of money to make me break that confidence. I would never do that, and Mr Houdini knows it. And that's why I'm so upset to have betrayed him as I've done tonight. But he can't resolve this matter alone, I
know
he can't.'

‘Very well,' Holmes said. ‘We will come and see him to discuss it, and if he is of a mind to do so, he may give us all the details himself.'

Relief flooded across her tear-stained face. ‘Oh, thank you, Mr Holmes—' She broke off as their tea was delivered and didn't speak again until the waiter had left. ‘We had better not go together,' she then added.

‘In case we are seen by the press, you mean?' Watson said, pouring tea.

‘Not just the press.'

‘You believe you are being watched?' asked Holmes.

‘I'm convinced of it.'

‘And perhaps followed here?'

‘Possibly – though I made every effort to evade any follower.'

‘Whom do you suspect of following you?'

‘I'm not sure. I It could as easily have been a reporter after the real reason behind the show's cancellation as … as someone else.'