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coloured pasteboard, burned at one end - the remains of a small firework.
 A Guy Fawkes banger! exclaimed Lestrade.  I shall have my superiors make a stiff protest to the
embassy!
 Only to be told, said Holmes,  that the Russian ambassador cannot be held responsible for the actions
of every prankster in London. Far better to let Kyriloff believe that you accept his story. That may lead
us to discover what it is that really frightens the count.
 What about, I asked,  the description which Kyriloff gave of the perpetrator? It sounded very much
like 
Holmes shot me a fiercely warning glance.
  a complete invention, I went on.  Surely, such a man would have been easily noticeable among the
crowds in Rotten Row?
 Certainly, agreed Holmes,  but he was not there. He was not even the man who ignited the firework.
 How do you know, Mr Holmes? asked Lestrade.
 Because young Freddy saw the man who was in the shrubbery and who left it just after the explosion.
He was able not only to provide a very good description, but also to identify a picture.
 A picture! Lestrade exclaimed, open-mouthed.  You have a picture of the perpetrator?
Holmes reached into the inside pocket of his coat, withdrawing a folded sheet of paper.
 Not until young Freddy had given me a complete description of the man that he saw, and until I had
formed a theory as to who that man might be, did I show him this picture. His response was immediate.
 That, he said,  is the cove what lit the banger. He was completely sure.
He passed the paper to the little detective, who sat and stared at it for some minutes.
 Might I ask, Mr Holmes, said Lestrade eventually,  who this picture represents and how you came by
it?
 As to who it represents, Lestrade, it is a picture of one of Major Kyriloff s aides, I suspect. It is
certainly a young man who has been seen about a great deal in Kyriloff s company. I imagine that you
will find him among the Intelligence operatives at the Russian Embassy. As to the picture s origin, that
is a matter of confidentiality between myself and a client.
Lestrade went to speak, but Holmes forestalled him with a raised palm.
 Before, he said,  you remind me that I could be arrested for obstructing the course of justice, I would
say that my client has no idea of the name of that man, nor of his purposes. You would gain nothing by
interviewing her.
 Then I suppose I must accept what you say, Mr Holmes, but it s a pretty rum affair. If you re right, the
Russians have faked an attack on one of their visitors to the Jubilee, but for what reason, Mr Holmes,
for what reason?
 I have told you what happened in Hyde Park today,
Lestrade. I rather think it is up to you to discover why it happened, said Holmes, with a perfectly
straight face.
The little inspector emptied his glass, thanked us for dinner and for Holmes views on the case, and
showed himself out.
When he had gone I turned to Holmes.  Why, I asked,  did you not explain the business of the man in
the striped blazer?
Holmes lifted an eyebrow at me.  Because, Watson, you and I know that no such person exists. It
would be a shame to send poor Lestrade along a trail which will take him nowhere.
Mrs Hudson tapped on the door and entered.  While the inspector was here, she said,  this was
delivered for you, Mr Holmes, and she handed him a large brown envelope.
 Very good, he said, and laid the packet down without opening it. Taking out his pocketbook he
scribbled a few lines and gave the page to Mrs Hudson with some coins.  Perhaps you will be so good,
he said,  as to see that this message is sent as soon as the telegraph offices open.
When she was gone he turned to me with a broad smile.  Now, Watson, he said,  we seem to have
discharged our obligations for the day. Would you object to a little music?
When an investigation was frustrated, Holmes would vent his feelings on his violin, usually in a series
of angry and dissonant phrases repeated indefinitely, but when in a good mood he was a delightful
player with a considerable gift for improvisation. I made myself comfortable in my chair as he picked
up his Stradivarius and launched into the first of a sequence of low, dreamy melodies. Soon the music
had lulled me to sleep.
The brown envelope lay unopened on the table.
Eleven
A Visit to a Relative
Holmes and I were at breakfast next morning when the reply to his wire arrived. He slit the envelope,
glanced briefly at its contents, and passed the form across the table to me with no comment. It said:
MR SHERLOCK HOLMES, 221B BAKER STREET, LONDON.
REGRET MR GREGORIEFF AND SISTER NO LONGER RESIDENT AT THIS ADDRESS
OR IN MY EMPLOY. BELIEVE THEM TO BE RETURNING TO RUSSIA.
AGATHA WORTLEY-SWAN
I passed it back when I had read it.  Why did you wire the interpreter? I asked.
 I merely wished to warn him not to use his eccentric disguise again, since a description had been given
to Scotland Yard, and to seek an opportunity to talk to him. I also wished to warn him of what he was
suspected before he read it in this morning s papers. In that I was evidently forestalled. He has already
cut the slender thread which Scotland Yard might trace from him to Miss Wortley-Swan, which is a
pity. It means we must pay a visit to Uncle.
 Uncle? I queried.
He nodded and set about applying marmalade to his toast. He was not, it seemed, going to elucidate. I
tried another approach.
 Are you not in danger of seeking to assist the escape of a wanted man? I asked.
 If Gregorieff were wanted for a crime he had actually committed, Watson, that might cause me some
concern. As it is, he has, so far as I know, committed no crime in London except dressing outrageously.
The crime for which Lestrade will seek him was not, as we know, Gregorieff s work. Lestrade may feel
obliged by his official position to kowtow to the Russian Embassy. I certainly do not.
Whereupon he turned to discussing various items that had caught his eye in the morning papers,
including a short and garbled account of the alleged shooting in Hyde Park which included a
description of the mysterious man in the striped blazer and bowler hat.
Breakfast done, Holmes invited me to accompany him on a visit to his uncle in the East End.
 You have an uncle in the East End? I said, for I had never previously heard of such a relative. It was
not impossible. I had known Sherlock Holmes for several years before he ever mentioned to me that he
had an elder brother and that his brother was by way of being one of the most powerful men in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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