Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

His Last Bow HIS LAST BOW

An Epilogue of Sherlock HolmesIT WAS nine o'clock at night upon the second of August-the most terribleAugust in the history of the world. One might have thought already thatGod's curse hung heavy over a degenerate world, for there was anawesome hush and a feeling of vague expectancy in the sultry andstagnant air. The sun had long set, but one blood-red gash like an openwound lay low in the distant west. Above, the stars [971] were shiningbrightly, and below, the lights of the shipping glimmered in the bay. Thetwo famous Germans stood beside the stone parapet of the garden walk,with the long, low, heavily gabled house behind them, and they lookeddown upon the broad sweep of the beach at the foot of the great chalkcliff on which Von Bork, like some wandering eagle, had perched himselffour years before. They stood with their heads close together, talking inlow, confidential tones. From below the two glowing ends of their cigarsmight have been the smouldering eyes of some malignant fiend lookingdown in the darkness.A remarkable man this Von Bork-a man who could hardly be matchedamong all the devoted agents of the Kaiser. It was his talents which hadfirst recommended him for the English mission, the most importantmission of all, but since he had taken it over those talents had becomemore and more manifest to the half-dozen people in the world who werereally in touch with the truth. One of these was his present companion,Baron Von Herling, the chief secretary of the legation, whose huge 100-horse-power Benz car was blocking the country lane as it waited to waftits owner back to London."So far as I can judge the trend of events, you will probably be back inBerlin within the week," the secretary was saying. "When you get there,my dear Von Bork, I think you will be surprised at the welcome you willreceive. I happen to know what is thought in the highest quarters of yourwork in this country." He was a huge man, the secretary, deep, broad, andtall, with a slow, heavy fashion of speech which had been his main assetin his political career.Von Bork laughed."They are not very hard to deceive," he remarked. "A more docile,simple folk could not be imagined.""I don't know about that," said the other thoughtfully. "They havestrange limits and one must learn to observe them. It is that surfacesimplicity of theirs which makes a trap for the stranger. One's firstimpression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly uponsomething very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact. They have, for example, their insularconventions which simply must be observed.""Meaning, 'good form' and that sort of thing?" Von Bork sighed as onewho had suffered much."Meaning British prejudice in all its queer manifestations. As anexample I may quote one of my own worst blunders-I can afford to talkof my blunders, for you know my work well enough to be aware of mysuccesses. It was on my first arrival. I was invited to a week-endgathering at the country house of a cabinet minister. The conversationwas amazingly indiscreet."Von Bork nodded. "I've been there," said he dryly."Exactly. Well, I naturally sent a résumé of the information to Berlin.Unfortunately our good chancellor is a little heavy-handed in thesematters, and he transmitted a remark which showed that he was aware ofwhat had been said. This, of course, took the trail straight up to me.You've no idea the harm that it did me. There was nothing soft about ourBritish hosts on that occasion, I can assure you. I was two years living itdown. Now you, with this sporting pose of yours- -""No, no, don't call it a pose. A pose is an artificial thing. This is quitenatural. I am a born sportsman. I enjoy it.""Well, that makes it the more effective. You yacht against them, youhunt with them, you play polo, you match them in every game, your fourin-hand takes the [972] prize at Olympia. I have even heard that you go thelength of boxing with the young officers. What is the result? Nobodytakes you seriously. You are a 'good old sport,' 'quite a decent fellow fora German,' a hard-drinking, night-club, knock-about-town, devil-maycare young fellow. And all the time this quiet country house of yours isthe centre of half the mischief in England, and the sporting squire themost astute secret-service man in Europe. Genius, my dear VonBork-genius!""You flatter me, Baron. But certainly I may claim that my four years inthis country have not been unproductive. I've never shown you my littlestore. Would you mind stepping in for a moment?"The door of the study opened straight on to the terrace. Von Borkpushed it back, and, leading the way, he clicked the switch of the electriclight. He then closed the door behind the bulky form which followed himand carefully adjusted the heavy curtain over the latticed window. Onlywhen all these precautions had been taken and tested did he turn hissunburned aquiline face to his guest."Some of my papers have gone," said he. "When my wife and thehousehold left yesterday for Flushing they took the less important withthem. I must, of course, claim the protection of the embassy for theothers.""Your name has already been filed as one of the personal suite. Therewill be no difficulties for you or your baggage. Of course, it is justpossible that we may not have to go. England may leave France to herfate. We are sure that there is no binding treaty between them.""And Belgium?""Yes, and Belgium, too." Von Bork shook his head. "I don't see how that could be. There is adefinite treaty there. She could never recover from such a humiliation.""She would at least have peace for the moment.""But her honour?""Tut, my dear sir, we live in a utilitarian age. Honour is a mediaevalconception. Besides England is not ready. It is an inconceivable thing, buteven our special war tax of fifty million, which one would think made ourpurpose as clear as if we had advertised it on the front page of the Times,has not roused these people from their slumbers. Here and there one hearsa question. It is my business to find an answer. Here and there also thereis an irritation. It is my business to soothe it. But I can assure you that sofar as the essentials go-the storage of munitions, the preparation forsubmarine attack, the arrangements for making high explosives-nothingis prepared. How, then, can England come in, especially when we havestirred her up such a devil's brew of Irish civil war, window-breakingFuries, and God knows what to keep her thoughts at home.""She must think of her future.""Ah, that is another matter. I fancy that in the future we have our ownvery definite plans about England, and that your information will be veryvital to us. It is to-day or to-morrow with Mr. John Bull. If he prefers today we are perfectly ready. If it is to-morrow we shall be more ready still.I should think they would be wiser to fight with allies than without them,but that is their own affair. This week is their week of destiny. But youwere speaking of your papers." He sat in the armchair with the lightshining upon his broad bald head, while he puffed sedately at his cigar.The large oak-panelled, book-lined room had a curtain hung in thefurther corner. When this was drawn it disclosed a large, brass-boundsafe. Von Bork [973] detached a small key from his watch chain, and aftersome considerable manipulation of the lock he swung open the heavydoor."Look!" said he, standing clear, with a wave of his hand.The light shone vividly into the opened safe, and the secretary of theembassy gazed with an absorbed interest at the rows of stuffed pigeonholes with which it was furnished. Each pigeon-hole had its label, and hiseyes as he glanced along them read a long series of such titles as "Fords,""Harbour-defences," "Aeroplanes," "Ireland," "Egypt," "Portsmouthforts," "The Channel," "Rosythe," and a score of others. Eachcompartment was bristling with papers and plans."Colossal!" said the secretary. Putting down his cigar he softly clappedhis fat hands."And all in four years, Baron. Not such a bad show for the harddrinking, hard-riding country squire. But the gem of my collection iscoming and there is the setting all ready for it." He pointed to a spaceover which "Naval Signals" was printed."But you have a good dossier there already.""Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got thealarm and every code has been changed. It was a blow, Baron-the worstsetback in my whole campaign. But thanks to my check-book and thegood Altamont all will be well to-night." The Baron looked at his watch and gave a guttural exclamation ofdisappointment."Well, I really can wait no longer. You can imagine that things aremoving at present in Carlton Terrace and that we have all to be at ourposts. I had hoped to be able to bring news of your great coup. DidAltamont name no hour?"Von Bork pushed over a telegram.Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs.ALTAMONT."Sparking plugs, eh?""You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In ourcode everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If hetalks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser, and so on.Sparking plugs are naval signals.""From Portsmouth at midday," said the secretary, examining thesuperscription. "By the way, what do you give him?""Five hundred pounds for this particular job. Of course he has a salaryas well.""The greedy rogue. They are useful, these traitors, but I grudge themtheir blood money.""I grudge Altamont nothing. He is a wonderful worker. If I pay himwell, at least he delivers the goods, to use his own phrase. Besides he isnot a traitor. I assure you that our most pan-Germanic Junker is a suckingdove in his feelings towards England as compared with a real bitter IrishAmerican.""Oh, an Irish-American?""If you heard him talk you would not doubt it. Sometimes I assure youI can hardly understand him. He seems to have declared war on theKing's English as well as on the English king. Must you really go? Hemay be here any moment.""No. I'm sorry, but I have already overstayed my time. We shall expectyou early to-morrow, and when you get that signal book through the littledoor on [974] the Duke of York's steps you can put a triumphant finis toyour record in England. What! Tokay!" He indicated a heavily sealeddust-covered bottle which stood with two high glasses upon a salver."May I offer you a glass before your journey?""No, thanks. But it looks like revelry.""Altamont has a nice taste in wines, and he took a fancy to my Tokay.He is a touchy fellow and needs humouring in small things. I have tostudy him, I assure you." They had strolled out on to the terrace again,and along it to the further end where at a touch from the Baron'schauffeur the great car shivered and chuckled. "Those are the lights ofHarwich, I suppose," said the secretary, pulling on his dust coat. "Howstill and peaceful it all seems. There may be other lights within the week,and the English coast a less tranquil place! The heavens, too, may not bequite so peaceful if all that the good Zeppelin promises us comes true. Bythe way, who is that?" Only one window showed a light behind them; in it there stood a lamp,and beside it, seated at a table, was a dear old ruddy-faced woman in acountry cap. She was bending over her knitting and stopping occasionallyto stroke a large black cat upon a stool beside her."That is Martha, the only servant I have left."The secretary chuckled."She might almost personify Britannia," said he, "with her completeself-absorption and general air of comfortable somnolence. Well, aurevoir, Von Bork!" With a final wave of his hand he sprang into the car,and a moment later the two golden cones from the headlights shotforward through the darkness. The secretary lay back in the cushions ofthe luxurious limousine, with his thoughts so full of the impendingEuropean tragedy that he hardly observed that as his car swung round thevillage street it nearly passed over a little Ford coming in the oppositedirection.Von Bork walked slowly back to the study when the last gleams of themotor lamps had faded into the distance. As he passed he observed thathis old housekeeper had put out her lamp and retired. It was a newexperience to him, the silence and darkness of his widespread house, forhis family and household had been a large one. It was a relief to him,however, to think that they were all in safety and that, but for that one oldwoman who had lingered in the kitchen, he had the whole place tohimself. There was a good deal of tidying up to do inside his study and heset himself to do it until his keen, handsome face was flushed with theheat of the burning papers. A leather valise stood beside his table, andinto this he began to pack very neatly and systematically the preciouscontents of his safe. He had hardly got started with the work, however,when his quick ears caught the sound of a distant car. Instantly he gave anexclamation of satisfaction, strapped up the valise, shut the safe, locked it,and hurried out on to the terrace. He was just in time to see the lights of asmall car come to a halt at the gate. A passenger sprang out of it andadvanced swiftly towards him, while the chauffeur, a heavily built,elderly man with a gray moustache, settled down like one who resignshimself to a long vigil."Well?" asked Von Bork eagerly, running forward to meet his visitor.For answer the man waved a small brown-paper parcel triumphantlyabove his head.[975] "You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister," he cried. "I'mbringing home the bacon at last.""The signals?""Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lampcode, Marconi-a copy, mind you, not the original. That was toodangerous. But it's the real goods, and you can lay to that." He slappedthe German upon the shoulder with a rough familiarity from which theother winced."Come in," he said. "I'm all alone in the house. I was only waiting forthis. Of course a copy is better than the original. If an original weremissing they would change the whole thing. You think it's all safe aboutthe copy?" The Irish-American had entered the study and stretched his long limbsfrom the armchair. He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with clear-cutfeatures and a small goatee beard which gave him a general resemblanceto the caricatures of Uncle Sam. A half-smoked, sodden cigar hung fromthe corner of his mouth, and as he sat down he struck a match and relit it."Making ready for a move?" he remarked as he looked round him. "Say,mister," he added, as his eyes fell upon the safe from which the curtainwas now removed, "you don't tell me you keep your papers in that?""Why not?""Gosh, in a wide-open contraption like that! And they reckon you to besome spy. Why, a Yankee crook would be into that with a can-opener. IfI'd known that any letter of mine was goin' to lie loose in a thing like thatI'd have been a mug to write to you at all.""It would puzzle any crook to force that safe," Von Bork answered."You won't cut that metal with any tool.""But the lock?""No, it's a double combination lock. You know what that is?""Search me," said the American."Well, you need a word as well as a set of figures before you can getthe lock to work." He rose and showed a double-radiating disc round thekeyhole. "This outer one is for the letters, the inner one for the figures.""Well, well, that's fine.""So it's not quite as simple as you thought. It was four years ago that Ihad it made, and what do you think I chose for the word and figures?""It's beyond me.""Well, I chose August for the word, and 1914 for the figures, and herewe are."The American's face showed his surprise and admiration."My, but that was smart! You had it down to a fine thing.""Yes, a few of us even then could have guessed the date. Here it is, andI'm shutting down to-morrow morning.""Well, I guess you'll have to fix me up also. I'm not staying in this goldarned country all on my lonesome. In a week or less, from what I see,John Bull will be on his hind legs and fair ramping. I'd rather watch himfrom over the water.""But you're an American citizen?""Well, so was Jack James an American citizen, but he's doing time inPortland all the same. It cuts no ice with a British copper to tell himyou're an American citizen. 'It's British law and order over here,' sayshe. By the way, mister, talking of Jack James, it seems to me you don't domuch to cover your men.""What do you mean?" Von Bork asked sharply.[976] "Well, you are their employer, ain't you? It's up to you to see thatthey don't fall down. But they do fall down, and when did you ever pickthem up? There's James- -""It was James's own fault. You know that yourself. He was too selfwilled for the job.""James was a bonehead-I give you that. Then there was Hollis.""The man was mad." "Well, he went a bit woozy towards the end. It's enough to make a manbughouse when he has to play a part from morning to night with ahundred guys all ready to set the coppers wise to him. But now there isSteiner- -"Von Bork started violently, and his ruddy face turned a shade paler."What about Steiner?""Well, they've got him, that's all. They raided his store last night, andhe and his papers are all in Portsmouth jail. You'll go off and he, poordevil, will have to stand the racket, and lucky if he gets off with his life.That's why I want to get over the water as soon as you do."Von Bork was a strong, self-contained man, but it was easy to see thatthe news had shaken him."How could they have got on to Steiner?" he muttered. "That's theworst blow yet.""Well, you nearly had a worse one, for I believe they are not far offme.""You don't mean that!""Sure thing. My landlady down Fratton way had some inquiries, andwhen I heard of it I guessed it was time for me to hustle. But what I wantto know, mister, is how the coppers know these things? Steiner is the fifthman you've lost since I signed on with you, and I know the name of thesixth if I don't get a move on. How do you explain it, and ain't youashamed to see your men go down like this?"Von Bork flushed crimson."How dare you speak in such a way!""If I didn't dare things, mister, I wouldn't be in your service. But I'lltell you straight what is in my mind. I've heard that with you Germanpoliticians when an agent has done his work you are not sorry to see himput away."Von Bork sprang to his feet."Do you dare to suggest that I have given away my own agents!""I don't stand for that, mister, but there's a stool pigeon or a crosssomewhere, and it's up to you to find out where it is. Anyhow I am takingno more chances. It's me for little Holland, and the sooner the better."Von Bork had mastered his anger."We have been allies too long to quarrel now at the very hour ofvictory," he said. "You've done splendid work and taken risks, and I can'tforget it. By all means go to Holland, and you can get a boat fromRotterdam to New York. No other line will be safe a week from now. I'lltake that book and pack it with the rest."The American held the small parcel in his hand, but made no motion togive it up."What about the dough?" he asked."The what?""The boodle. The reward. The £500. The gunner turned damned nastyat the last, and I had to square him with an extra hundred dollars or itwould have been nitsky for you and me. 'Nothin' doin'!' says he, and hemeant it, too, but the last [977] hundred did it. It's cost me two hundredpound from first to last, so it isn't likely I'd give it up without gettin' my wad."Von Bork smiled with some bitterness. "You don't seem to have a veryhigh opinion of my honour," said he, "you want the money before yougive up the book.""Well, mister, it is a business proposition.""All right. Have your way." He sat down at the table and scribbled acheck, which he tore from the book, but he refrained from handing it tohis companion. "After all, since we are to be on such terms, Mr.Altamont," said he, "I don't see why I should trust you any more than youtrust me. Do you understand?" he added, looking back over his shoulderat the American. "There's the check upon the table. I claim the right toexamine that parcel before you pick the money up."The American passed it over without a word. Von Bork undid awinding of string and two wrappers of paper. Then he sat gazing for amoment in silent amazement at a small blue book which lay before him.Across the cover was printed in golden letters Practical Handbook of BeeCulture. Only for one instant did the master spy glare at this strangelyirrelevant inscription. The next he was gripped at the back of his neck bya grasp of iron, and a chloroformed sponge was held in front of hiswrithing face."Another glass, Watson!" said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended thebottle of Imperial Tokay.The thickset chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table, pushedforward his glass with some eagerness. "It is a good wine, Holmes.""A remarkable wine, Watson. Our friend upon the sofa has assured methat it is from Franz Josef's special cellar at the Schoenbrunn Palace.Might I trouble you to open the window, for chloroform vapour does nothelp the palate."The safe was ajar, and Holmes standing in front of it was removingdossier after dossier, swiftly examining each, and then packing it neatly inVon Bork's valise. The German lay upon the sofa sleeping stertorouslywith a strap round his upper arms and another round his legs."We need not hurry ourselves, Watson. We are safe from interruption.Would you mind touching the bell? There is no one in the house exceptold Martha, who has played her part to admiration. I got her the situationhere when first I took the matter up. Ah, Martha, you will be glad to hearthat all is well."The pleasant old lady had appeared in the doorway. She curtseyed witha smile to Mr. Holmes, but glanced with some apprehension at the figureupon the sofa."It is all right, Martha. He has not been hurt at all.""I am glad of that, Mr. Holmes. According to his lights he has been akind master. He wanted me to go with his wife to Germany yesterday, butthat would hardly have suited your plans, would it, sir?""No, indeed, Martha. So long as you were here I was easy in my mind.We waited some time for your signal to-night.""It was the secretary, sir.""I know. His car passed ours.""I thought he would never go. I knew that it would not suit your plans,sir, to find him here.""No, indeed. Well, it only meant that we waited half an hour or so untilI [978] saw your lamp go out and knew that the coast was clear. You canreport to me to-morrow in London, Martha, at Claridge's Hotel.""Very good, sir.""I suppose you have everything ready to leave.""Yes, sir. He posted seven letters to-day. I have the addresses as usual.""Very good, Martha. I will look into them to-morrow. Good-night.These papers," he continued as the old lady vanished, "are not of verygreat importance, for, of course, the information which they represent hasbeen sent off long ago to the German government. These are the originalswhich could not safely be got out of the country.""Then they are of no use.""I should not go so far as to say that, Watson. They will at least showour people what is known and what is not. I may say that a good many ofthese papers have come through me, and I need not add are thoroughlyuntrustworthy. It would brighten my declining years to see a Germancruiser navigating the Solent according to the mine-field plans which Ihave furnished. But you, Watson"-he stopped his work and took his oldfriend by the shoulders-"I've hardly seen you in the light yet. How havethe years used you? You look the same blithe boy as ever.""I feel twenty years younger, Holmes. I have seldom felt so happy aswhen I got your wire asking me to meet you at Harwich with the car. But you, Holmes -you have changed very little-save for that horrible goatee.""These are the sacrifices one makes for one's country, Watson," saidHolmes, pulling at his little tuft. "To-morrow it will be but a dreadfulmemory. With my hair cut and a few other superficial changes I shall nodoubt reappear at Claridge's to-morrow as I was before this Americanstunt-I beg your pardon, Watson, my well of English seems to bepermanently defiled- before this American job came my way.""But you have retired, Holmes. We heard of you as living the life of ahermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the SouthDowns.""Exactly, Watson. Here is the fruit of my leisured ease, the magnumopus of my latter years!" He picked up the volume from the table andread out the whole title, Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with SomeObservations upon the Segregation of the Queen. "Alone I did it. Beholdthe fruit of pensive nights and laborious days when I watched the littleworking gangs as once I watched the criminal world of London.""But how did you get to work again?""Ah, I have often marvelled at it myself. The Foreign Minister alone Icould have withstood, but when the Premier also deigned to visit myhumble roof- -! The fact is, Watson, that this gentleman upon the sofawas a bit too good for our people. He was in a class by himself. Thingswere going wrong, and no one could understand why they were goingwrong. Agents were suspected or even caught, but there was evidence ofsome strong and secret central force. It was absolutely necessary toexpose it. Strong pressure was brought upon me to look into the matter. Ithas cost me two years, Watson, but they have not been devoid ofexcitement. When I say that I started my pilgrimage at Chicago,graduated in an Irish secret society at Buffalo, gave serious trouble to theconstabulary at Skibbareen, and so eventually caught the eye of asubordinate agent of Von Bork, who recommended me as a likely man,you will realize that the matter was complex. Since then I have beenhonoured by his confidence, which has not prevented most of his plansgoing subtly wrong and five of his best agents being in prison. [979] Iwatched them, Watson, and I picked them as they ripened. Well, sir, Ihope that you are none the worse!"The last remark was addressed to Von Bork himself, who after muchgasping and blinking had lain quietly listening to Holmes's statement. Hebroke out now into a furious stream of German invective, his faceconvulsed with passion. Holmes continued his swift investigation ofdocuments while his prisoner cursed and swore."Though unmusical, German is the most expressive of all languages,"he observed when Von Bork had stopped from pure exhaustion. "Hullo!Hullo!" he added as he looked hard at the corner of a tracing beforeputting it in the box. "This should put another bird in the cage. I had noidea that the paymaster was such a rascal, though I have long had an eyeupon him. Mister Von Bork, you have a great deal to answer for."The prisoner had raised himself with some difficulty upon the sofa andwas staring with a strange mixture of amazement and hatred at his captor."I shall get level with you, Altamont," he said, speaking with slow deliberation. "If it takes me all my life I shall get level with you!""The old sweet song," said Holmes. "How often have I heard it in daysgone by. It was a favourite ditty of the late lamented Professor Moriarty.Colonel Sebastian Moran has also been known to warble it. And yet I liveand keep bees upon the South Downs.""Curse you, you double traitor!" cried the German, straining against hisbonds and glaring murder from his furious eyes."No, no, it is not so bad as that," said Holmes, smiling. "As my speechsurely shows you, Mr. Altamont of Chicago had no existence in fact. Iused him and he is gone.""Then who are you?""It is really immaterial who I am, but since the matter seems to interestyou, Mr. Von Bork, I may say that this is not my first acquaintance withthe members of your family. I have done a good deal of business inGermany in the past and my name is probably familiar to you.""I would wish to know it," said the Prussian grimly."It was I who brought about the separation between Irene Adler and thelate King of Bohemia when your cousin Heinrich was the ImperialEnvoy. It was I also who saved from murder, by the Nihilist Klopman,Count Von und Zu Grafenstein, who was your mother's elder brother. Itwas I- -"Von Bork sat up in amazement."There is only one man," he cried."Exactly," said Holmes. Von Bork groaned and sank back on the sofa. "And most of thatinformation came through you," he cried. "What is it worth? What have Idone? It is my ruin forever!""It is certainly a little untrustworthy," said Holmes. "It will requiresome checking and you have little time to check it. Your admiral mayfind the new guns rather larger than he expects, and the cruisers perhaps atrifle faster."Von Bork clutched at his own throat in despair."There are a good many other points of detail which will, no doubt,come to light in good time. But you have one quality which is very rare ina German, Mr. Von Bork: you are a sportsman and you will bear me noill-will when you realize that you, who have outwitted so many otherpeople, have at last been outwitted yourself. After all, you have done yourbest for your country, and I have done my [980] best for mine, and whatcould be more natural? Besides," he added, not unkindly, as he laid hishand upon the shoulder of the prostrate man, "it is better than to fallbefore some more ignoble foe. These papers are now ready, Watson. Ifyou will help me with our prisoner, I think that we may get started forLondon at once."It was no easy task to move Von Bork, for he was a strong and adesperate man. Finally, holding either arm, the two friends walked himvery slowly down the garden walk which he had trod with such proudconfidence when he received the congratulations of the famousdiplomatist only a few hours before. After a short, final struggle he washoisted, still bound hand and foot, into the spare seat of the little car. His precious valise was wedged in beside him."I trust that you are as comfortable as circumstances permit," saidHolmes when the final arrangements were made. "Should I be guilty of aliberty if I lit a cigar and placed it between your lips?"But all amenities were wasted upon the angry German."I suppose you realize, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said he, "that if yourgovernment bears you out in this treatment it becomes an act of war.""What about your government and all this treatment?" said Holmes,tapping the valise."You are a private individual. You have no warrant for my arrest. Thewhole proceeding is absolutely illegal and outrageous.""Absolutely," said Holmes."Kidnapping a German subject.""And stealing his private papers.""Well, you realize your position, you and your accomplice here. If Iwere to shout for help as we pass through the village- -""My dear sir, if you did anything so foolish you would probablyenlarge the two limited titles of our village inns by giving us 'TheDangling Prussian' as a signpost. The Englishman is a patient creature,but at present his temper is a little inflamed, and it would be as well not totry him too far. No, Mr. Von Bork, you will go with us in a quiet, sensiblefashion to Scotland Yard, whence you can send for your friend, BaronVon Herling, and see if even now you may not fill that place which he hasreserved for you in the ambassadorial suite. As to you, Watson, you arejoining us with your old service, as I understand, so London won't be outof your way. Stand with me here upon the terrace, for it may be the lastquiet talk that we shall ever have."The two friends chatted in intimate converse for a few minutes,recalling once again the days of the past, while their prisoner vainlywriggled to undo the bonds that held him. As they turned to the carHolmes pointed back to the moonlit sea and shook a thoughtful head."There's an east wind coming, Watson.""I think not, Holmes. It is very warm.""Good old Watson! You are the one fixed point in a changing age.There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew onEngland yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson, and a good many of usmay wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less, and acleaner, better, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm hascleared. Start her up, Watson, for it's time that we were on our way. Ihave a check for five hundred pounds which should be cashed early, forthe drawer is quite capable of stopping it if he can."