Read Online The Lost Casebooks of Sherlock Holmes by Donald Thomas - Free Book Online Page B

‘I cannot say that I had included Dublin in my summer itinerary.’ The superintendent paused and then came out with his trump. ‘It was our late Lord Chancellor who suggested to His Majesty that your assistance might be called upon.’
    My friend paused and the aquiline features assumed a look of dejection. His bohemian nature had given him a strong aversion to society and ceremonial, ‘flummery’, as he termed it. However, as soon as Lord Halsbury’s name was invoked, I knew that the superintendent had won the day. Holmes looked a little despondent, as it seemed to me.
    â€˜You hit below the belt, Lestrade,’ he said gloomily. ‘Lord Halsbury knows I can refuse him nothing.’
    So it was decided. We talked over a few matters and at length got up to leave. Holmes turned back to Lestrade.
    â€˜One thing, Lestrade. Where is His Majesty to be lodged in Dublin?’
    â€˜The Viceregal Lodge in Phoenix Park, as I understand.’
    â€˜Impossible.’ Holmes brought his hand down flat and hard on the desk. ‘It is the first place that would be made a target. Let him make the crossing on the royal yacht, anchor off Kingstown, and live on board. And let there be a cruiser either side of him. I cannot undertake this business if he multiplies the risks by living ashore.’ I confess there had grown about my friend something of the prima donna in such matters. He must have his way. As the world knows, however, King Edward sailed on the Victoria and Albert , anchored off Kingstown, and lived aboard. The cruiser Black Prince was moored on one side, the Antrim on the other.
    III
    King Edward’s visit was to take place on 10 and 11 July but the Irish International Exhibition opened in Herbert Park, Dublin, on 4 May. This was the occasion of our first glimpse. At eleven o’clock that morning, a grand procession set out from Dublin Castle for the official opening.
    In the cool spring sunlight, the carriage of Lord Aberdeen, the Viceroy of Ireland, passed out through the triumphal arch of the castle gateway to the salute of sentries on either side. The glossy geldings turned down the short incline of Cork Hill into Dame Street, its cobbles ringing with the hollow hoofbeats of two squadrons of hussars, the upright plumes of their fur shakos stirring a little, their red tunics laced with gold and the sabres bumping against the dark blue thighs of their overalls. Behind the Viceroy and the Countess of Aberdeen came several more carriages, bearing officials of the viceregal household, including Sir Arthur Vicars, Ulster King of Arms. Holmes and I rode in the final carriage as guests of Lord Aberdeen.
    Holmes longed to be anywhere but in the middle of such aimless pageantry. The familiar look of ineffable boredom on his sharp features was painful to behold.
    â€˜This will be the death of me, Watson,’ he said from the corner of his mouth as we rattled along Dame Street, past the coloured glass arcade of the Empire Music Hall and the pillared elegance of the bank. He looked with complete incomprehension upon those who had turned out to clap and cheer the procession, as the Viceroy lifted the cocked hat of his court-dress in acknowledgement. The women waved and the men stood bareheaded, as if at the passing of a funeral.
    Where the carriages and escort swung round College Green, the trams had been drawn up to allow the procession past the grey classical façade of Trinity College. There was a glimpse of lawns and chestnut trees. Then, behind the railings, rose a jeering outburst. The uniformed officers of the Dublin Metropolitan Constabulary moved quickly as clenched fists were raised at the King’s Viceroy and his lady. Holmes brightened up at the promise of an affray.
    Among the long residential avenues of south Dublin lay the exhibition grounds in Herbert Park with newly erected African villages and Canadian settlements, an Indian theatre and children’s amusements.