The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [258]
“You are the agent of the Turk, are you not?” he said coldly.
“I have been requested to look into the mystery of the late Mr Anton Simeonov’s murder by His Excellency Orman Pasha,” replied Holmes.
“And you come to me for help?” he asked in tones of great astonishment.
“I came to ask whether you can shed any light on this tragic affair,” said Holmes.
“I can shed a great deal of light, Mr Holmes,” replied the Count, menacingly, “That Turkish colonel did it. I told him so quite openly in everyone’s presence.”
“What evidence do you have for this?” asked Holmes.
“Evidence?” asked the Count, with an expression of bitter amusement on his face, as though the request for evidence was of questionable taste. “Who else had a motive? Why should any of the other guests, other than the Sultan’s envoy, have wished to kill Simeonov? Orman Pasha was with Lord Eversden when the murder was committed, so that leaves Yusufoglu.”
“Someone else could have murdered him in order to incriminate Yusufoglu,” said Holmes, quietly, looking straight into the Count’s eyes, “It is even possible that Simeonov was murdered in order to foment trouble between your country and Turkey.”
The Count’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Suddenly, he stood up. “Thank you, Mr Holmes,” he said, in a white rage, “This interview is concluded.”
After our unceremonious ejection from the Russian Embassy, we took another cab, this time to the embassy of Austria-Hungary. When we arrived there, we received a totally different kind of reception, for Baron Nopchka was very much a gentleman. He was of medium height and robust build and had fair hair, paling into silver at the temples. His patient expression, good-humoured eyes and elegant blond moustache all combined to give the impression of an honest middle-European nobleman; it was not difficult to imagine him wearing his Tyrolean hat and shooting wild boar at a hunting lodge in the Vienna woods. He rose as we entered his room and shook hands with us, saying how pleased he was to learn that my able friend had agreed to investigate the tragedy.
“Baron Nopchka,” began Holmes, after we sat down, “it is my desire to arrive at a conclusion about this tragedy without delay. You will forgive me, therefore, if I ask you whether you have any suspicions as to who committed the murder.”
The Baron’s eyebrows rose. “That is not a very diplomatic question,” he replied, with a wry smile, “but, under the extraordinary circumstances in which we find ourselves, I must admit that it is a fair one. Nevertheless, I cannot say that I have any ideas on the matter, but I can only express my devout hope that Colonel Yusufoglu is not the murderer, since the consequences are unthinkable. And yet Balinsky is convinced that it is he.”
“Where were you and Count Balinsky when you heard the shot that killed Simeonov?”
“I was in the smoking room and Balinsky, I believe, was in the library. At least, when I rushed out into the hall, I saw Balinsky outside the library door. We then ran up the stairs together.”
“You say that Count Balinsky was outside the library door; was he standing there, or did he appear to be running out of the library?”
“No, he was just standing there,” said the Baron, with a frown, as if some new thought had just struck him.
“Was there any indication of the direction in which he was walking before you rushed out of the smoking room?”
“No,” said the Baron again, still frowning, “he was standing still, with his back to the library door.”
“Was the library door open or closed?”
“Closed.”
There was a silence, then Holmes spoke. “Do you know where Mr George Leonticles was when the shot was fired?”
“No, I only saw him when I reached the upper landing. He was standing a few feet beyond where Simeonov lay, looking quite white.”
“In your opinion, would you say that he was capable of murder?”
“It is possible, of course, but he is such a mild-mannered man that I