The Mystery of the Missing Count Polski

The mystery of the missing Count Polski

One night as I was walking along Baker Street, I heard the sound of a violin drifting out of an elegant house. The violin hit sharp notes and the vibrato was enough to break a window. I realised that this was the home of my old friend Sherlock Holmes, whom I had not seen for a long time. Holmes was a virtuoso musician and could have had a concert career rather than indulging his hobby of solving mysteries. As I knocked on the handle of his ornate entrance door, I wondered whether my friend was currently engaged in detective work.

After a few moments he answered the door himself, which surprised me as he normally had a manservant. He didn't say anything to me as he gestured me into his study with its elegant oak desk scattered with papers and a ring from a cup of coffee in the centre of all the clutter, with leather chairs sitting either side of the chaos. I was always telling him to use a coaster. The aroma from his pipe drifted around the room. Barely had we sat down to exchange the usual pleasantries, when there was a loud rap at the door,

"Who could that be at this hour," exclaimed Holmes. "I say, old man, would you mind letting them in?"

When I went to the door, I found standing there an expensively dressed woman who spoke with a sight accent. A hansom cab was parked across the street.

"Does Sherlock Holmes sit here? I need help with the solving of a clue." It was clear her English was not very good.

"Please come in, my good lady. I'll take your coat."

Holmes quickly interrogated his new client, "My husband was to meet me at the opera, and we had a cardboard box. I went into the box but he did not appear for the whole evening and I haven't see him since. I cannot go to police. My husband no like the police."

"Does your husband have any enemies?"

"No" she replied, "just the usual business rivals."

With her voice in a low tone she added hastily, "My husband is the great Count Polski, The Count of Polski."

At this point she seemed very distressed and said she had to leave. Holmes escorted her out of the door, they exchanged details and as she walked towards her hansom cab, she called back, "Contact me as soon as you hear anything". She was gone, her hansom cab disappeared into the fog, and the imprints remained in the snow.

Holmes beckoned to me, "What did you make of that?"

"I wonder why the count does not like our friends at Scotland Yard?" I said.

"Indeed," agreed Holmes, knocking his pipe against the fireplace.

"I'd like you to go t the offices of The Times and ask to see their archive, to find out whether Count Polski has been in the news recently."

That was how I became involved in helping Homes get to the bottom of another mysterious case. Soon Holmes had included me in his efforts to find the missing Count.

I could go places where Sherlock Holmes could not go because he was too well known – even though he kept out of the public eye, Holmes had become famous for his successful detective work. However, my face was completely unknown.

When I inquired at the offices of The Times, there was no suspicion that I was connected to the great detective. After searching for several hours through back copies of the newspaper, I came across an item about Count Polski; according to the article the Count was a collector of Oriental treasures and had recently acquired a rare Japanese artefact worth one million pounds. The Golden Dragon box was believed to be cursed. I read on with mounting excitement. The box was from a Jujitsu Temple and was regarded by the monks, who practised an extreme form of martial arts, as a stolen item.