A Gentle Secret

What I am about to convey is what Tatiana told me one evening, many months later, of her relationship with Reilly.

“Dr. Watson, Sidney was the first and only man I have ever loved. Yet until we parted that night in Archangel, I didn’t even know his true name.

“I had been shielded to a degree you wouldn’t believe. Matters of male and female were not seemly for a Russian Grand Duchess. Yet my sisters and I talked of little else.

“From the moment I saw him, and he me, it was as if the north and south poles had been pulled together and had exploded and melted from the turbulent heat of the equator.

“Ah, yes, my Sidney. What a mass of riddles and spots of north moss he is,” and she laughed as she explained what she meant by that.

When she was very young, her father had told her, that there were magic secrets hidden “’beneath the spots of north moss.”

“But papa,” she inquired, “what is north moss?”

“Tatiana,” said the Tsar, “that is the moss you find growing on rocks and trees, and it always grows only on the north side.”

“But why, papa?” she asked.

“Because a long, long time ago, a beautiful little girl, just like you, in fact her name was Tatiana also, was lost in this very same forest. She cried because she was hungry and was afraid she’d never see her family again. So she prayed to the Lord and he came and said he would show her the way out.

“He said he would put spots of moss only on the north side of rocks and trees, and that forever after, when she came into this forest, she would always know which direction her home was just by looking at the spots of north moss.

“But how will you do such a thing?” asked the little girl.

“Well, every time a little girl or little boy is good, another spot of moss will grow. As there are so many good little girls like you, and so many good little boys like your brother, all the forests of all the world will soon be filled with spots of north moss. Beneath each spot, in secret letters, will be the name of the little girl or boy who was so good.”

“So you see, Dr. Watson, my Sidney was really all spots of north moss, was he not?”

“Yes, Tatiana, you made him so.”

This particular day, which I shall get to in the proper course of this journal, had been of great emotion for us all, and when Tatiana told me the little fairy tale and her connecting of it to Reilly, I understood completely.

“Dr. Watson, do you think I shall see Sidney again?”

“Of course, you will. After the adventure that man has been through in his life, after all he has done to bring you and your family safely to this place, do you think there is any power strong enough to stop him?”

“I suppose you’re correct, Dr. Watson. Which means I must go as soon as possible to a forest here and count the spots of north moss. The new ones, I am positive, shall all be his.”

With a kiss to my cheek and a ‘thank you’, she took herself off to bed.

July 20, 1918

This day was beautiful, clear and cool from the breezes of the North Sea. Once again we were upon that dangerous body of water, now heading towards England.

Holmes was gone, as usual, so I surmised he had gone to the bridge, something neither of us had the stomach for the night previous. I cleaned myself, blissfully cleaned myself, I should say; the first real shower in such a long while. I then went to check upon Alexei, who was begging his father to go topside, and the Tsarina, who was resting peacefully in her bed. After being asked by the Tsar to find out if we were being taken to the Crimea, to his family’s beloved Livadia Palace, I pointed myself upwards.

Once on deck, I could appreciate the true resilience with which the North Sea air infused one. Then I saw our escort; one looking quite familiar. My initial suspicions were confirmed when I arrived at the bridge and was told, “Yes, that’s the Attentive.”

Holmes was speaking with Yardley when I arrived, and Yardley gave me a warm greeting.

“Good morning, I trust you slept well?”

“That I did. And I should sleep even better tonight with some food inside me.” He laughed, but had gotten the point, and suggested Holmes and I accompany him to his cabin, which had been General Poole’s just the day before. He told the steward, who also looked vaguely familiar, to bring our breakfasts.

On the way down, I found that Holmes had only just gotten to the bridge himself; so exhausted had he proven to be. Nothing had really been discussed, and all that Commander Yardley would now impart was news to both Holmes and me.

We sat at the captain’s table.

“Tell me, Commander,” said Holmes, “oh, I beg your pardon, it is Captain, here, is it not?”

“I’m afraid it is, Mr. Holmes. On ship, I’m the captain.”

“Very well. Why the elaborate charade? Surely, this was not going to be another of your little surprises?”

“It most certainly was. Tell me, Mr. Holmes, weren’t you surprised?”

The sheer baldness of the logic and honesty of the question caught us off-guard.

“Well, yes,” said Holmes, “but you know perfectly well to what I refer.”

“That I do, Mr. Holmes, and I still cannot divulge more information on that score.”

“Then tell me, if you can, for which branch of our government do you truly work?”

Yardley looked down at his uniform and stretched out his arms. “Well, unless I’m wrong, this uniform doesn’t in the faintest resemble that of a Grenadier Guardsman.” He laughed.

“So you are truly a navy man, then?”

“Through and through, Mr. Holmes. Many generations bred. My great, great, great grandfather, I believe, although that may be one ‘great’ too many, was at Trafalgar with Nelson.”

“And your father, perhaps, with Sir Randolph Newsome?” Holmes had sprung his surprise.

The commander’s eyes opened wide and his smile broadened.

“Very good, Mr. Holmes,” said Yardley, applauding mildly. “How came you by that information?”

At the confirmation of Holmes’ outrageous theory, a method of ‘educated guesswork’, as Holmes called it, I felt every hair on my body stand on end. Here was blithe corroboration of Newsome’s machinations; more links in his chain, pulling in the opposite direction of Lloyd George’s, with Yardley’s father firmly tethered to this opposite chain. Yet, since Yardley did not seem to see anything wrong with this information, indeed, he seemed proud of it, it appeared that he was oblivious to Newsome’s real intentions. Yardley thought he was really trying to rescue the Imperial Family, Holmes and me. He probably thought he was going to be a hero.

The scion seemed innocent bait of the sire. Since Yardley was obviously unaware of the damning evidence he had just provided Holmes, Holmes went on as casually as before.

“I, too, am not at liberty to divulge certain things. Tell me, Captain, what are your duties when not employed thusly?”

“Well, I suppose it’s all right. Usually, Mr. Holmes, you would find me at sea somewhere. I’ve been at sea, in one role or another, since I was a boy. About three months ago, however, I was seconded to naval intelligence at the specific request of Sir Randolph.”

“My father told me to expect the move, and I’m not afraid to say I didn’t like the idea much, at the time. After all, Mr. Holmes, I’m a sailor. Sailors belong at sea, in the thick of things, especially during war.”

“I take it then you’ve seen action?”

“Oh, my, yes. I was at Gallipoli, and have done quite a bit of U-boat hunting; where I might add, I’ve been reasonably successful.”

“Then why did Sir Randolph have this burning desire to tear you away from what you loved doing?”

“It was father, really. He’s an admiral, too, you know. He told me Sir Randolph needed me for something he felt he could only entrust to me. It was evidently something very hush-hush between them. When an old friend of the family like Sir Randolph asks for something, he gets it. It’s as simple as that. Whatever he and my father had up their sleeves, I knew it had to be big.”

“When did you finally learn all this?”

“Well, as you yourself saw at Harwich, I was still rather new to this intelligence thing, and I said a bit more than I suppose I should’ve. Although it was nothing, really.”

“You’ve learned your lesson well, Captain. You have been a veritable clam this entire go-round.”

“Why, thank you very much. But I still didn’t know what this was about back then. It was about a week after you left that orders came through for me to report to Scapa Flow. That’s where this invasion force originally began, though we’ve been sitting for a time at Murmansk. Now there’s a story for you.”

“If you don’t mind, Captain, please just continue ours.”

“Certainly. At Scapa Flow I reported to this ship and was attached to the staff of General Poole. He met me personally and simply told me to enjoy the ride over, because as soon as we got to Archangel, I would be coming back. He said that upon landing at Archangel, which, of course, our men would secure with absolutely no problem at all, I was going to be escorted down to Vologda to meet with a Sir George Buchanan, our ambassador to Russia. He wished me well and that, basically, was that.”

Holmes and I looked at each other again. Now General Poole was brought into this. But from where? And from who? All we knew was that he had instructions to send young Yardley down to meet Buchanan. Poole may have just been following orders. But with this insidious chrysalis being woven around us, how could we be sure?

“Well,” continued Yardley, “as you saw, events quite got ahead of themselves and it was Sir George who came up to meet me. It was at that meeting, which involved Sir George and me, and one other, that this entire plan was revealed.”

“Excuse me, Captain, but let me guess at the other person who was present at your meeting. Could it have been Captain Joshua David of the Attentive?”

“I say, very good, indeed, Mr. Holmes. Only in truth, he’s not a captain, and his name isn’t Joshua David.”

“Well, well,” said Holmes, triumphantly looking at me, “then who and what is he?”

“He’s an admiral and the second son of Lord Devon. His name is Richard Yardley and he is my father.”

As Holmes had said before to Reilly and me, “the pieces begin to fall into place, but only Lloyd George knows all the pieces and all the places.” However, now it seemed that Lloyd George most certainly did not know all the pieces and all the places.

This last revelation by Yardley positively confirmed Reilly’s warnings about the secret, powerful group that most assuredly still wanted the Imperial Family dead, and us with them. It left us more uneasy than ever.

In addition to our growing lists of who and who not to trust, Holmes could not divest himself of his “compulsive, illogical mistrust of Lloyd George,” as he phrased it. It upset him greatly that this mistrust manifested itself as “a hunch, a mindless, primitive, primeval feeling that has no business being in my mind at this stage.”

It also bothered Holmes that he had not deduced the true identity of Yardley, Senior. I reminded him that his mind was working on the larger puzzle of solving who was behind the “Black Faction”, as I dubbed our adversaries. As we had just come from a nation filled with Reds and Whites, it seemed only fair that I nominate a colour for this latest group. Holmes nodded consent, and so they became the “Black Faction”.

In any event, as soon as young Yardley had told us of his father’s identity, Holmes asked if he was still in command of the Attentive, now our escort.

“Naturally, Mr. Holmes. My father loves a good scrap as much as the next man. I was quite proud of him in that battle of yours. I hear he was quite the bulldog.”

“That he was, Captain. There’s no wanting of seamanship or pluck where your father is concerned.”

We could see how proud Yardley was of his father, and Holmes just let the matter drop. He turned the conversation to the Romanovs.

“Oh, my, yes,” said Yardley, “what a group of beautiful girls. That Marie is really something,” said Yardley.

From out of nowhere deep within me, came, “Now you keep your mind to the sea and avoiding the Germans, Captain. The Grand Duchesses are to be left quite alone.”

Both Holmes and Yardley were as startled at my outburst as was I.

“I assure you, Dr. Watson, I certainly know my duty. It’s just that, I mean, well, she’s quite the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I just don’t see what’s wrong with stating the unadorned truth.”

With much chagrin, I apologised. “Forgive me, Captain. I have become an uncle to the Grand Duchesses. I have full confidence in your chivalry. The Grand Duchess Marie is quite beautiful, as are all the Grand Duchesses. I commend you on your judgment of true beauty.”

“Thank you for your apology and your compliments, doctor. I am here only to tend to their needs. Trays shall be set out for them at meal times by my personal steward; he’s been handed down, so to speak, to me from my father.”

Holmes shot up from his seat. I immediately understood why.

“From your father, you say?”

“Why, yes. He was in my father’s service for years. He absolutely worships my father, and he seemed to always have been in the background, watching over me as I grew up. What prompts this violent reaction?”

“I cannot tell you at this moment, Captain, you will have to trust me. Could you please summon your steward here for some questions?”

“Questions? What sort of questions?”

“You can hear for yourself. You are free to remain. But please, summon him now.”

“Mr. Holmes, may I remind you that I am the captain of this vessel. And while you are responsible in general for the well-being of the Imperial Family, they are my direct responsibility on board this ship, as are you and Dr. Watson. I haven’t the faintest idea why you behave in this manner, but if you must question him, he’s bringing in your trays at this very moment.”

Holmes and I turned to see the same man who had served us aboard the Attentive. He was in his late fifties, with the air of an important man’s servant; yet with a touch of the furtive. It was quite obvious this man had been aboard ships for many years, and while he moved with the sure foot of a seasoned sailor, for a man of his years and his comparatively low station in life, his gait was rather too proud and erect.

He was a tall man, as tall as Holmes, with quite a strong physique for a man of his years. Before I could even begin to examine this man with my cursory medical eye, Holmes was already at him.

“Please sit down,” said Holmes, motioning the man to the seat I had just vacated.

The man looked at Yardley.

“It’s all right, Peters, do as the gentleman asks.”

Peters sat after first setting our trays down, with a practiced nonchalance, on the table. He sat there glowering up at Holmes, his eyes as wary as a sparrow’s in the middle of a flight of falcons.

“So Peters, how are you, this fine, summer morning?”

His voice became land-tenant coarse.

“Righ’ enuff, suh.”

“Tell me, Peters, where were you in prison?”

The man jumped out of his chair, his fists raised at Holmes. Yardley was mortified.

“Prison?” asked Yardley. “Mr. Holmes, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t ask me, ask your steward, here.”

Yardley turned to Peters. “Is this true, Peters? Were you in prison? My father never said anything about that.”

“’Cawz he wudn’. He swore nevuh to. He’s kep’ his word, he has. Yaw fathuh wudn’ break his word. How’d he know?” gesturing towards Holmes.

“Never mind that, where?” insisted Holmes.

Peters sat back down, facing away from Yardley. It was obvious he was greatly embarrassed.

“Newg’t.”

“Newgate. For how long?”

“Three yeers.

“Now let me guess, you murdered someone with your bare hands, am I right?”

Peters put his head down and mumbled to himself.

“How’d ya know?”

“It was a studied test. A man with your musculature at your age must have been at truly magnificent specimen when you were very young. Though you’ve learned to serve meals delicately, your hands are as rough and strong as they were when you committed your murder.”

Yardley interrupted. “I don’t understand, what’s this all about, Mr. Holmes?” He was as embarrassed as Peters.

“You shall know presently, I think. Now, Peters, you said you were in prison for only three years. I deal with murder all the time. A charge of murder, in most cases, would have you away for the better part of your life. Or even see you hanged. Now, how did you manage to get out in the time usually reserved for nothing more serious than a minor case of embezzlement?”

“’Twas his fathuh wot dun it. Got me out, he did. I had worked on his land. I grew up on it. I played with the admiral when we wuz boys. He wuz my frend. He got me out. He took me t’ sea.”

“I understand. And you looked after Captain Yardley, here, when he was a young boy?”

“Sometimes, when we wuzn’ at sea. I owes my life t’ the admiral.”

“Would you commit murder again for him?”

This time Peters flew up at Holmes and grabbed him by the throat. Holmes had managed to hit him soundly when Yardley simply ordered Peters to cease. This he did immediately, obeying his orders as a disciplined sailor.

“Mr. Holmes, I demand to know what this has been all about. You accuse a family servant of murdering for my father, and tell me secrets I was not supposed to know. Now, either you tell immediately what this is all about, or I shall have to think seriously of confining you to quarters.”

Peters had come to attention to Captain Yardley’s right, and the captain left him that way until Holmes asked if Peters could now be dismissed.

“Very well. But as soon as he leaves my cabin, you had better start explaining yourself, Mr. Holmes. And it had better be a thoroughly relevant explanation.”

This was the controlled tirade of someone used to power and command; or, rather, brought up with it. He was showing himself to be the antithesis of what Holmes and I first thought him to be. What Reilly had suspected.

“Captain, you asked for my explanation, and you shall have it. But before I give it to you, I also caution you. I cannot say under whose direct orders I am operating. But should anything untoward happen to Dr. Watson or myself aboard your vessel; or even one strand of hair be moved from its rightful place on the heads of any of the Imperial Family, there are those in London who shall make you and your father pay for it personally.”

“What are you talking about? What has my father got to do with this?”

“Captain Yardley, what if I were to tell you that your faithful steward, Peters, may have been put here not to serve your needs, but your father’s?”

“You are talking in riddles, sir. I shall not stand for it. Be straight and be brief or this interview will end.”

“If that is what you wish,” said Holmes quietly. “Very well, I have strong suspicions that Peters was sent by your father to kill not only Watson and me, but the entire Imperial Family. Is that straight and brief enough for you?”

Yardley did not know whether to laugh or have Holmes clapped in irons immediately, so dumbfounded was he by what Holmes said.

“Have you gone completely mad, Mr. Holmes? Do you know what you are saying? Dr. Watson, have you no medicines to calm this lunatic?”

“Captain Yardley,” I said, “I think you should sit down and listen to what Holmes has to say. For if you do not, it is certain that you may become accomplice to the very crime Holmes and I were dispatched to prevent.”

He sat at his chair, holding the arm to quash his anger, burrowing into his deepest self. Then, after perhaps two minutes had passed, he looked up at both of us, gestured to us to sit, and said to Holmes, “Mr. Holmes, tell me all that you’re able; everything that’s led to such a base accusation.”

Holmes, though reluctant to distress young Yardley further, quickly complied.

Captain Yardley sat there unbelieving.

Sherlock Holmes, while not pulling down his house, had certainly damaged its foundations. All Yardley had been taught, all he had faith in, all he had been nurtured by had just been made perfidious. One of his family’s dearest friends had been made into a traitorous villain; and his father, a man he obviously idolized, had been turned into a conspiratorial monster.

Finally, Yardley became the captain of our vessel again, the sworn servant of his King and country, and not the individual whose family honour had just been so trampled. He spoke.

“Mr. Holmes, what you’ve now recounted is damnable; if it be true. But how am I to know if it’s true, and not some insidious flight of fancy of a fractured mind?”

“It is true, Captain,” I said quietly.

“I am a serving officer of His Majesty; do you know what this information shall do to me if it be true?”

“We are only too well aware,” said Holmes “and we deeply wish you did not have to be burdened with such a dilemma.”

“Mr. Holmes, if this story is true, it’s not a dilemma. As I said, I’m a serving officer in war of His Majesty. My life has been pledged for protection of crown and country. Any traitor must be rooted out and destroyed. Any traitor. But in ten minutes you expect me to disavow family, friends, and faith with no corroboration of your story. I’m sorry, but I need much more proof than merely your word. Even though your word is gospel to some segments of society.

“In truth, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, all you have given me is a story by Colonel Relinsky, of whom all we know is that we don’t know all. Given the man’s dubious history, I believe the only way he could tell the truth is if he thought he was lying. And with that supposition, let me pose a question to you, Mr. Holmes. What if it was he who was lying? What if his instructions didn’t come from Sir Randolph, but from someone else? Have you thought about that, Mr. Holmes?”

Holmes had not. Nor had I. Because of the circumstance in which Reilly had told his story, and the previous and subsequent events, we had no further reason to doubt Reilly’s veracity. But now, this question asked by a son trying to salvage the honour of a beloved father, ripped through Holmes’ contemplations and left wide one of Holmes’ most sacred dictums: “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Under those circumstances, the permutations seemed insurmountable. Holmes was now mired in a maze of magnificent proportions; and at this time, there was no further hint in which direction to travel.

Yardley recalled Peters as Holmes and I, hungry no longer, slowly left Yardley’s cabin.

Holmes seemed anguished. There was too much happening and too little evidence to which Holmes could respond. Only tales and suppositions now, since Reilly’s story had been thrown open to question. Holmes asked to walk alone on deck, and I let him do so.

It had only taken one, simple question to knock over the steady table on which had lain the carefully pieced-together jigsaw puzzle. Now the pieces lay on a filthy floor, in total disarray. And even I did not know how Holmes would deal with this conundrum.

In all the current distress, I had not even the chance to ask Yardley our final destination. I slowly, and with monumental reluctance, began a walk back to the captain’s cabin.

As I arrived, though, I heard Yardley’s voice loudly through his closed door.

“...you will.”

“Bu’ I can’t, suh. I promised yaw fathuh.”

“Damn you, Peters, either you answer me now or I’ll have you court-martialled as soon as we get to base. In the meantime, you’ll suffocate down in the brig. Now, answer me or be damned.”

“I nevuh though’ I’d live t’ see the day you’d treat me so, Cap’n. But I understan’ an’ I’ll tell you all I know.

“When yaw fathuh an’ his friend, Sir Reginal’ wuz young’uns they wuz wild. Sir Reginal’ took a’vantge of a girl on yaw family’s property. She wuz gonnna have his baby when she came t’ me. She said it wuz mine, but I knew it wuzn’t. I strangled ‘er fer bein’ unfaithful.

“That took away the fright from Sir Reginal’ an’ yaw fathuh got ‘im to help me out a prison. It took ‘im three years, but out I got. It wuz really yaw fathuh who done it. He pushed that bleedin’ Sir Reginal’ to do the right thing by me.

“Yaw fathuh enlisted me an’ took me t’ sea with ‘im. An’ t’ this day, I tell ya, Sir Reginal’ is no friend of yaw fathuh. He’s awways been a blighter, an’ he still is. He likes the ladies and he likes the money, and there’s no tellin’ what he’d do for the both.

“I don’ know wot yaw want from me, but that’s all there is to it. Yaw fathuh wanted me here to watch over ya, is all. Somethin’ wuz trublin’ him fierce since he come back from that trip t’ Russia last month.”

“What do you mean, Peters?”

“Well, I don’ rightly know, Cap’n. When we come back from Russia t’ Scapa Flow, yaw fathuh met a Mr. Preston one day. I remember ‘im from a few times before. Yaw fathuh wuz a navy aide in Paris when he was young, this Preston was the assistan’ to the ambassador or somethin’ like that. They’d been friends all these years. You remember him, suh, the man wot give you that big, red book on Nelson an’ Trafalgar when you wuz still a boy?”

“Of course, now I remember him. Preston, Preston, that name was brought up by Holmes before. I wonder if there’s a connection there? Anyway, go on, Peters.”

“Lik I wuz sayin, aftuh yaw fathuh met with Mr. Preston, he seemed worried t’ me. He wudn’ say nothin’, but I could tell. That’s when he said he wuz goin’ t’ transfer me t’ you, and fer me t’ look aftuh you. And that’s every single thin’ I know, Cap’n. Everythin’.”

“All right, Peters, you can go now.”

I took my ear from the door and made like I was about to knock when Peter opened the door.

“Oh,” I said. I received the same facial reaction from Peters.

Yardley was excited now. He called me back in enthusiastically.

“Dr. Watson, Dr. Watson, yes, yes, come in. Peters, run and find Mr. Holmes...”

“Uh, Peters, he is on the main deck,” I said.

“Thank you, doctor. Peters, bring Mr. Holmes back to me.”

“Yes, suh,” said Peters with visible apprehension.

“Well, Dr. Watson, I’ve just learned some things I think you and Mr. Holmes should know about immediately. It may shed more light on everything we’ve discussed. And since I can’t confront my father with all this until land, I’ll feel much better about it. As soon as Mr. Holmes arrives, I’ll tell you both everything.

“Look, Dr. Watson, your trays are still here. Perhaps the food is not too cold for you to partake?”

It was, but I did. When Holmes arrived, Yardley was as good as his word and recounted everything I had heard while eavesdropping. Just the mere fact that he held nothing back and reported all so accurately, buoyed my spirits; and did likewise for Holmes when later I recounted my own bit of sleuthing.

Upon completion of Yardley’s news, Holmes became electric. “My word, Captain Yardley, if this is true, and I do believe it is, much may be explained.”

“What?” asked Yardley.

“Well, obviously, the Mr. Preston to whom Peters referred, is probably none other than Thomas Preston’s father; or at very least, his uncle. As do the families in the army and navy, those of the Foreign Service look likewise to their own for continuity, trust and tradition.

“It is also obvious that Preston, Sr. had come upon some greatly disturbing information which he imparted directly to your father; trusting not telegram, nor telephone, nor post. Would it not seem odd for a senior member of the foreign service to show up at a major port of invasion just for afternoon tea?

“My guess is that whatever information Preston had, it directly affected your father. That is why he could only trust himself for relay of that information. And once your father learned this news, his immediate concern was only for his son’s safety. By God, there is a man for you.”

Holmes was absolutely jovial now as was Yardley; although, he didn’t quite understand all Holmes was laying out for him. And I too, now, was happy; I had Holmes back and it seemed that he was now sailing ahead as swiftly and true as the Salvator and the Attentive.