• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“But nothing has appeared in The Times.”

Holmes replied sombrely: “How do we know the summons will be in The Times? The original instruction stated merely the daily newspapers. Fortunately Mrs Hudson is under instructions to throw nothing away in any circumstances. Let us trust that two months’ supply of the London newspapers from the Daily Graphic to the Financial Times awaits us in Baker Street. By God, Watson, if I have thrown our chance away – ’ He broke off, rare emotion consuming him.

“Who might such a bidder be?” I asked quietly.

“You will recall the matter of the Bruce Partington Plans in ‘ninety-five; Mycroft informed me there were few who would handle so important an affair. The only contenders worth considering were Adolph Meyer, Louis La Rothière and Hugo Oberstein. The villainous Oberstein now resides in prison, and thus we are left with La Rothière and Adolph Meyer.”

“Meyer must surely be our man,” I exclaimed.

“For once I agree, Watson. He still resides in London at 13 Great George Street, Westminster. La Rothière has been known to me for some years, and I believe we may dismiss him. I have made it my business, however, since ‘ninety-five, to find out what I can of Adolph Meyer. The gentleman is plump, portly, a friendly soul, with a passion for music though his execrable taste runs more to Mr John Philip Sousa than to the classical. He favours the tuba, not the violin. Inside that affable shell, however, beats the heart of as evil a man as ever lived. He is unofficial agent to the Baron von Holbach. The name means nothing to you, Watson? I am hardly surprised. He does not seek the limelight, but his Machiavellian hand was behind Bismarck’s dismissal, the Kruger telegram, and countless other intrigues. He has the ear of the Kaiser, whereas the Chancellor himself remains unheard. He is no friend to England, and Meyer is his tool. Watson, if I could choose my enemy, send me one that wears the face of evil.”

“And you are convinced he is involved in this affair?”

“Yes. He now knows me well enough to fear my powers – though how can I call them powers when my wits have deserted me? Two months in Cornwall, and the Empire at risk!”

He remained plunged in gloom until the train steamed into Paddington station. I shall long remember his long figure hunched at my side as if to spur the cab the faster to Baker Street. On entering the familiar rooms, he did not even wait to remove his ulster (for although it was May, the cool night air had been chilly) and despite the late hour plunged towards the tidy but huge piles of newspaper carefully stacked by Mrs Hudson.

Seldom have I felt more useless. No sooner had I read and absolved a newspaper of containing anything to do with our current problem than Holmes would seize it from me to ensure I had missed nothing. After three hours I could endure no more and retreated to my bed for what remained of the night. I left Holmes surrounded by newspapers, now in untidy heaps all around him, and occasionally scribbling a note on a pad. When I awoke in the morning, he was still where I had last seen him, red-eyed but still alert.

“I have it, Watson.” He pushed the pad towards me.

I stared at his work in horror. It consisted merely of childish doodles; circles, squares, dots, crosses, and pin men and women.

“Holmes, my dear fellow, what is this?”

“Hah!” he cried, as he saw the expression on my face. “You believe I have over-indulged in the syringe! No, my dear fellow. See, this may be the saving of us.” He thrust a copy of the Daily Mail before my eyes, stabbing with his finger at a message on the front page personal column. The issue was dated 9 March.

“The circle contains a stop,” I read. “A cipher, Holmes?” I tried once more.

“You think of nothing save cryptograms, Watson. No, no, this explains why we may yet be in time. There is nothing more until the messages resumed early this month.” He placed a second sheet before me.

“Turpin has a dog,” I read. Against it, in Holmes’s neat handwriting, was written: “issue of 6 May.” Underneath were more