I turned away and suppressed my smile.
“Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” I said, buttoning my coat and drawing on my gloves before taking up my own hat and stick.
I followed Holmes into the bustling crowds, for despite the chill, the streets teemed with activity. Holmes hailed a hansom and after giving the count’s Grosvenor Place address to the driver, he sat back on the leather seat with a small sigh.
“You asked about my activities today,” Holmes began. “You will be pleased to know I performed honest labour and a little reconnaissance. With the assistance of Mary, the youngest and most imaginative of Her Grace’s housemaids, I repaired several broken panes in Her Grace’s dressing room.”
I glanced at Holmes. “How convenient that there were broken panes which required repair.”
He did not reply, but simply flashed a small smile and folded his hands upon his knee.
“And how were those panes broken?” I continued. “Your young colleagues throwing rocks, perhaps?”
“It is positively shameful how these hooligans run wild.”
I was not at all surprised Holmes had arranged such an event. In the interests of justice, he maintained that to prove the greater crime, one could be forgiven the lesser. I generally agreed.
“And what about young Mary?” I turned a critical eye on him. “I hope you did not play upon her expectations.”
“Never fear, my dear fellow. I assure you that our relations were entirely proper. Her eldest brother is a glazier in Plymouth, and we spoke of the demands of his trade after the fleet has returned to port.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You would be surprised at the amount of destruction perpetrated by Her Majesty’s forces whilst in their cups.”
“I assure you, I would not.” I suppressed vivid memories of the actions of my military brethren during leave. “And what news did Mary convey?”
“A great deal of commiseration for Her Grace and Lord Maurice regarding the activities of Viscount Sheppington, some of which were conveyed in a whisper, with hints of others that were far worse and could not be spoken of.”
I shook my head. “Is the young man truly so far sunk in vice and dissipation?”
“Apparently so, although when I enquired if she had witnessed any of his dreadful behaviour, she denied it.”
“Then how did she know of it?”
“Ah, there’s the question, Watson. Rumour amongst the other servants is the most likely cause; however, I have identified a few other possibilities.”
Before I could ask him to elaborate, our cab came to a halt.
“Number sixteen, sir,” said the driver.
As Holmes paid, I wrapped my scarf closer around my neck and stepped to the pavement amidst the confusion of a dozen cabs and carriages disgorging their passengers.
The count’s house sat at the end of the row, brightly lit windows facing both Grosvenor Place and the side street. The façade was of fine Portland stone with elaborately carved lintels. A heavy granite wall bordered the pavement, leaving the narrow well between wall and house immersed in a pool of black. During the day, those subterranean rooms whose windows faced the wall would receive scant illumination; at night, the darkness was Stygian.
Gentlemen and ladies hurried by and quickly mounted the steps. The open front door welcomed guests as the music from within wafted to the street.
“This should prove an entertaining evening, Watson.” Holmes joined me on the pavement. “I have already spotted one jewel thief in the crowd, and there may very well be more.”
I turned to stare at the passersby. “So your suspicions were correct! What dreadful news!”
“Calm yourself, my dear fellow. Come, let us join the others and see the legendary emeralds for ourselves.”
We were ushered inside and shortly thereafter presented to the Count von Kratzov, a portly little man with eyes as black and round as shoe buttons.
“Welcome, Mr Holmes, Dr Watson.” He spoke perfect English, despite a heavy accent. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr Holmes. Should I be concerned about the safety of my jewels?”
Holmes bowed. “That depends upon the security of your arrangements.”
“Ah, of course. You shall judge for yourself.” He glanced at a thin, sharp-featured man with the stooped shoulders of a scholar who stood to one side, and addressed him in what I assumed to be Polish. “My private secretary will accompany us.”
Excusing himself from his other guests, the count led us down the corridor toward the rear of the house to a receiving room where a burly footman stood beside a door. The count drew out a key hanging on his watch fob, unlocked the door, and preceded us into a small drawing room. A glass case rested atop the polished mahogany table. On the other side of the room sat a broad fireplace. The hearth was cold, and the chamber’s sole illumination came from a gas fixture arranged to shed its light upon the table, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Once inside, the count closed and relocked the door and then gestured toward the closed windows that faced Chapel Street. Through the glass, I could see closely spaced iron bars.
“This door is the only means of entering or exiting this room, gentlemen, and I myself hold the sole key. Only a few select guests will be invited to view the stones, but in case anyone tries to slip in unobserved, Stanislaw is on guard outside. He has served my family for many years and is completely trustworthy.” The count lifted his eyebrows and looked at Holmes. “As you can see, I have taken every precaution.”
Holmes studied the room for a moment. “Your secretary does not have a duplicate key?” he asked.
The count chuckled and turned to the man who stood as still as a statue just inside the door. “Carolus, explain please.”
Carolus gently cleared his throat. “This morning, before we brought the jewels from the bank where they had been housed for safekeeping, I oversaw the installation of a new lock on the door. The locksmith himself handed the only key to my master.”
“I see.” Holmes turned to the glittering gems, nestled on black velvet inside the case.
I leaned forward. The emeralds were magnificent, with brilliant colour and unparalleled clarity. There were eight stones in all, each cut in a different style and displayed in an elegant setting, save for the largest and most spectacular stone. It lay in the centre of the case, loose and unadorned; it needed no other device to enhance its beauty.
Holmes nodded once, and we followed the count into the corridor.
“I commend you on your arrangements,” said Holmes, as the count closed and locked the drawing room door. Carolus bowed and slipped away.
The count smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Your words comfort me, Mr Holmes. And now, shall we join my other guests?”
As we entered the ballroom, an elderly matron approached and playfully batted the count’s arm with her fan.
“Count!
