After we had talked a little of his son, who had risen to become private secretary to Lord Milner in Cape Colony, he came to the purpose of his appointment.
‘Gentlemen, the matter at issue is a delicate one. May I ask what you know of the imitating or, indeed, counterfeiting of sapphires and Brazilian diamonds?’
Holmes took the pipe from his mouth and frowned.
‘They are two very different things, my lord. A good reproduction of sapphires may be obtained by using cobalt oxide. The process is similar to the imitation of rubies and often more successful. A Brazilian diamond of the first water would be impossible to imitate with any success. Even a close examination by a retail jeweller would reveal the fraud at once. A casual glance need not betray, certainly not in some lights. However, the deception could not be kept up for more than a short period of time and certainly could not be depended upon.’
I turned to our visitor.
‘Why do you ask, my lord?’
Our visitor looked distinctly uncomfortable.
‘Since I know that everything said here will remain in confidence, I shall try to explain my unease. You are, I imagine, aware of the Earls of Longstaffe?’
I laughed at this.
‘Anyone who reads the racing papers or the gossip columns could not be unaware of them.’
‘Our firm has for many years been bankers to the family, most recently to the present Lord Adolphus Longstaffe, as we were to his father, Lord Alfred, before him. There has frequently been occasion to advance money against security until such time as funds could be raised by the sale or mortgage of a further portion of the Longstaffe estate.’
‘A sale more often than a mortgage, I fear,’ said Holmes, gazing at his pipe.
‘The Longstaffe family suffered greatly from the depredations of the late Lord Alfred. It is common knowledge that his way of life in the German spa towns, not to mention Paris and Biarritz, left the estate crippled by debts and claims against him in the courts. He died in Baden-Baden, I believe, at the gaming tables with a hock and seltzer in one hand and not a single lucky card in the other. I fear that his successor, Lord Adolphus Longstaffe, has continued in much the same way,’ he continued.
‘I fear so, Mr. Holmes. We customarily hold certain family jewels for safekeeping and, when necessary, as security until the value of land can be realized. Among these is a splendid royal clasp, the so-called Queen of the Night, bequeathed by William IV to his favorite, the young Lady Adeline Longstaffe, seventy years ago.’
‘I am aware of the Queen of the Night,’ said Holmes in a quiet voice. ‘When the clasp was shown in the Paris Exhibition, the catalogue gave a specification of its extreme dimensions as three inches laterally and vertically.’
His long, slender fingers drummed on the arm of his chair absentmindedly.
‘I fear I am a stranger to this treasure,’ I said frankly. Lord Holder turned to me.
‘Lord Adolphus Longstaffe as the senior member of his family is herald to the Prince of Wales, or to any heir-apparent to the throne. It is a ceremonial rank only. The neck of the robe covering his lordship’s tunic on great occasions bears this clasp, the Queen of the Night, whose value is perhaps greater than most state jewels. As with so many priceless ornaments, even the Koh-i-Noor diamond in the royal crown, the gem is not large. You might hold it on the palm of your hand, but not quite in it.’
‘I am still not entirely clear what it is, other than a clasp at the neck of his cloak.’
‘A fine Brazilian diamond, Doctor,’ said Lord Holder patiently, ‘a twelve-sided rhombic dodecahedron, set among sapphires of the deepest blue. There is also a small silver clip. This enables the diamond to be detached and worn alone, if so desired. The great Koh-i-Noor—the River of Light in the royal crown—is said to weigh one hundred eighty-six carats, though there has been some dispute of late. Estimates of the Queen of the Night may also vary, but it cannot be less than one hundred forty carats. The entire clasp is a work of art, a brilliant star among midnight blue, as well as a jewel. Like any treasure of that nature, the workmanship makes it almost impossible to put a realistic value on it. It is, quite simply, beyond price.’
‘From where did it come?’ Holmes intervened.
‘You may believe if you choose, Watson, that the star came from the looting of the Portuguese vice-regal palace by European mercenaries during Brazil’s wars of independence. It is said to be the ransom paid for the viceroy’s life and the vicereine’s honour. I prefer the tale of it, being wagered and lost against a woman’s affections, during a game of faro played between a royal brother and a future prime minister in the presence of the Prince Regent at Carlton House.’
‘You are admirably informed, Mr. Holmes,’ said Lord Holder with a faint smile.
‘However, why should it be the cause of trouble now?’
His lordship shook his head.
‘It is not yet the cause, but I fear it may be. In a matter of weeks, we shall begin the ceremonies attendant on the coronation of His Majesty Edward VII. Lord Adolphus Longstaffe must play his part as herald to the Prince of Wales, and the Queen of the Night will be the clasp at the neck of his robe.’
‘Where is it at present?’
‘Just so, Dr. Watson. At present it lies in a velvet-lined box, within a safe of two-inch steel, inside the strong-room of our bank. That is where it is usually kept, except on ceremonial occasions or when securely on display.’
‘Why should it be at risk on this occasion if not on others?’
Lord Holder folded his hands uneasily.
‘The Queen of the Night has appeared in many places. It has been photographed, exhibited here and in Paris, and is well enough known to jewellers and connoisseurs. There is hardly a book on
bijouterie
in which it does not make its appearance.’
‘I see no harm in that.’
‘Nor I, Dr. Watson. Yet such photographs and displays give ample scope to counterfeiters. I have it on good authority that in the past three months, since the date of the coronation was announced, a jeweller in Brussels has been commissioned to produce a passable imitation of the Queen of the Night. It is such a commission as a thief might offer, particularly at a time like this.’
‘Raoul Grenier et fils is the firm in question,’ said Holmes calmly.
Lord Holder sat suddenly upright in his chair.
‘Mr. Holmes! There are only two or three men in the City of London who know that! It has been held in the strictest confidence! How can you possibly know?’
‘Because,’ said Holmes thoughtfully, ‘it was I who gave the order.’
The silence in the room had the quality of the stillness that follows the explosion of a shell or a grenade.
‘You, sir? The thing is impossible!’
‘It is not only possible, Lord Holder, it is the truth. I must ask you to trust me. It is plain that I should not have done this with dishonest intent, for if that were the case, I should not have told you now.’
‘But if an imitation is produced, you make the task of a thief all the more easy!’
‘On the contrary, my lord. In my opinion, what I have done is the sole means of saving the precious clasp from being lost for ever. I need hardly remind you of your own words just now. Much of the value lies in the workmanship. Moreover, this is not the Koh-i-Noor diamond, which stands alone. The Queen of the Night might be broken up and its recut stones sold for a small fortune.’
‘But why should you care about the Queen of the Night? You are not commissioned to guard it, surely?’
Holmes shook his head.
‘I care nothing for it, sir. It is a matter of no importance to me whether it is stolen or not. I play a larger game. In that game, the diamond and its sapphires are no more than pawns. Beyond that, you may summon Inspectors Lestrade or Gregson from Scotland Yard so that I may be handed over to them. Or you may trust me and say not a word to anyone of what has passed between us this morning.’
‘And that is all?’
‘That, I fear, is all, my lord. There is no other course.’ It was hard to say whether our guest, who made his way down the stairs half an hour later, was more shaken or shattered. Had it not been for the service Holmes had done him in proving his son’s innocence all those years ago, I really believe that Lord Holder would have summoned Lestrade and Gregson, and told them to do their duty.
‘Holmes! What the devil was all that about?’
He raised his hand to silence me and went off to his room. When he came back, he was holding a large buff-colored envelope. He sat at the dining table, laid the envelope before him, and looked up.
‘What was it about? It was about matters that I cannot reveal to anyone but you, my dear fellow, not even to a loyal and impeccable servant of the Crown like Lord Holder.’
‘Has this something to do with the matter of your disappearance some months ago?’
He smiled.
‘Dear old Watson! There is no pulling the wool over your perceptive eyes, is there?’
‘I should hope not!’
‘Then you will recall the proceedings of the criminal tribunal that condemned me to death in Newgate. I described to you how hyoscine wiped many of the details from my mind. With some effort, fragments of them came to me in sleep. I recall a remark of the late Henry Caius Milverton about Colonel James Moriarty, the surviving younger brother of my ancient enemy, the late professor. Milverton apologized for the fact that Colonel Moriarty had been temporarily detained over a dispute relating to a family heirloom. You will recall my saying that the colonel had been looking forward to my rope-dance, as they called it, having cut me to pieces beforehand.’
‘I should not have thought the finances of such a family as the Moriartys would run to an heirloom to dispute about!’
He smiled again at this.
‘It was not their heirloom, I assure you. The Moriartys are consummate thieves, Watson, and I concluded at once that the heirloom in question belonged to somebody else. Then, quite lately, I was invited to the Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria Station, at the behest of Monsieur Raoul Grenier.’
‘The jeweller from Brussels?’
‘The same. He had come over by ferry from Ostend to Dover and so to London, for no other reason than to consult me. The matter was so delicate that it was confided to me on condition that I divulge it at that time to no one, not even to your good self.’
‘Nor Lord Holder?’
‘Lord Holder and the entire world were suspects, to Monsieur Grenier. He knew of the forthcoming coronation, of course, and he well knew that it is a time when the jewels on display are at their most vulnerable. Even the crown jewels of England must leave the Tower of London, where at all other times they are guarded day and night by a regiment of the Foot Guards. I concluded that was assuredly the thought behind the Newgate conspiracy. Grenier himself, incidentally, has been retained by two crowned heads of Europe to alter the ceremonial headgear to fit the skulls of a new generation. It is sixty-four years since our late queen was crowned.’
‘This Monsieur Grenier sounds to me like a very fortunate and prosperous fellow.’
‘Scarcely. He told me that he had been visited by a certain Count Fosco. The count had commissioned him to make a glass replica of the Queen of the Night. My mind went back to that remark of Henry Milverton’s about an heirloom. My nostrils scented a Moriarty.’
‘But surely Count Fosco was a name in a novel, assumed to disguise a member of an Italian secret society.’
‘It was that which brought Grenier to me. He guessed that the name was a mere cloak, and yet he dreaded to turn away the man, for fear that a secret society lurked behind him. He could not believe the imitation was required for any honest purpose. It is not uncommon for the owners of such treasures to have high-class copies made so that they may be worn on less important occasions, while the originals are held safely in a bank vault. There are also foolish people who cannot afford such originals but whose vanity is satisfied by an artificial resemblance. Grenier’s visitor was neither of these. To use the poor fellow’s own words, the man who came to him reeked of dishonesty. Our jeweller knew very well that the original of the clasp belonged to the Longstaffe family—and feared the worst. Either the so-called count proposed to steal the original and substitute the imitation—or the last of the Longstaffes planned to perpetrate a trick of some kind upon his creditors.’
‘Surely not!’
‘I think not. Yet it must be conceded that Adolphus Longstaffe, like his father, has a rackety reputation. Much of the Caversham estate in Suffolk has been sold and the great house at Pickering Park in Sussex with all its lands has been at risk.’
‘Not to mention Portman Square in London and most of Marylebone!’
‘Exactly so.’
‘Mind you, if Lord Adolphus Longstaffe were to go smash, the whole world would hear it.’
‘Quite correct, Watson, and when a man of that sort faces ruin, there is no knowing what he may do. It might seem a mere peccadillo to place the imitation as surety with a bank, while breaking up the original and selling its stones.’
‘But what of Grenier?’
‘I asked him as a great favor to me, for he once received a favor
from
me, to make a cheap imitation of the clasp. Such an insult to his professional reputation! He was to tell no one. At the same time, he must wait until it was too late for our friend Count Fosco to have one made elsewhere before the coronation. Then he would regretfully inform this bogus nobleman that, under such pressure of work as the coronation demanded, he could not fulfil Fosco’s commission for several more months.’
‘Then you put Grenier in danger!’
‘I think not.’
He opened the envelope and drew out a number of photographic prints.
‘Count Fosco is a made-up name. There are Italian secret societies to be sure, but not in this case. That part of the trick was a bogey to frighten the dupe. But Grenier is no dupe.’
‘What are these?’
He spread the photographs before him.
‘You will recall our friend Colonel Piquart, to whom we were able to render a service during the deplorable Dreyfus affair in Paris.
*
He became thereafter Minister of Defence in the government of
Georges Clemenceau and director of military intelligence. It was the work of a day for him to establish that the address given by Count Fosco in the Boulevard Saint Germain was merely an office where letters had been collected for several months on behalf of Colonel Jacques Moriarty of the Rue des Charbonniers in the slums of Montmartre. Inquire in Montmartre and you will probably find that this domicile is as elusive as the first one. The more accurate Christian name of its lessee is, of course, James, rather than Jacques. See for yourself. I do not think Monsieur Grenier need greatly fear the threats of Count Fosco and the assassins of the Red Circle. This is single and single-minded fraud.’