My own reaction was far less sanguine. ‘If you intend to harm Miss Rhodes in any way—’ I began, but Conway interrupted before I could complete the thought.
‘I am not in the habit of assaulting defenceless women, Dr Watson.’ He appeared offended by the suggestion, in fact, and moved his gun around to cover Holmes and me.
With a twitch of the barrel Conway indicated that he desired us to sit. The most minute shake of the head from Holmes convinced me to leave my own revolver in my pocket, and thus we gave no trouble to the Major as we seated ourselves.
Holmes’s disappointment with himself was plain to see. ‘You have been working for the Albino all along, of course,’ he sighed, reaching inside his jacket for his cigarettes. He offered both the Major and myself the case, then lit one for himself. ‘I should have wondered at the ease with which I was embraced by the Brotherhood, should I not? An error of judgement on my part.’
Conway spoke for the first time. ‘Come, come, Mr Holmes. Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ he said, in a voice entirely bereft of an Irish lilt, but with more than a hint of the American. ‘I had no concept of your identity when we first met, though I was made aware of your true name after your abortive, if entertaining, self-assassination attempt. I myself was relatively newly inserted into the republican movement, truth be told, and was concerned enough for my own concealment, without worrying about yours.’
He smiled agreeably, and blew a large, thick smoke ring towards the ceiling. ‘My role was simply to find out what the Brotherhood was up to, to ascertain whether the assault on the Portrait Gallery was in any way linked to our own search for England’s Treasure and to act accordingly. Having discovered it was simply another of that group’s foolish indulgences I moved on to pastures new, as it were.’
‘But not before removing several of the more prominent republicans from the field of play,’ Holmes replied. ‘The Metropolitan Police have you to thank for the deaths in Streatham, I presume?’ Major Conway nodded, and Homes continued. ‘I will not weep for those particular deaths, I admit.’
A frown crossed the Major’s face and I think he would have spoken, but Holmes was in full spate by now, and nothing short of a revolver shot would have silenced him.
‘But what have you been doing since then? Where have you been, Major? A man such as yourself is not a natural recluse, but neither do I imagine yours is a face currently welcome in many of the capital’s public houses.’
‘No,’ Conway replied with a laugh. ‘Fair to say it’s not. But I’ve kept myself busy, Mr Holmes, don’t you worry. I’ve been information gathering, you might call it. Checking out the lay of the land, as it were, on behalf of my employer.’
‘Does he trust you so much then?’
‘He flatters me with his confidence, yes. ’Course, it helps that I saved his life only a few days ago. You recall the vault beneath the Old Bailey, and the eager constable who knocked both yourself and the good Doctor to the ground as you prepared to shoot our mutual acquaintance?’
‘That was you? I admit I had not made the connection. I should have recognised you in Limehouse, however. I almost did, in fact. You were the beggar by the riverside, were you not?’
‘I was. My task recently has been keeping an eye on the two of you, and the circumstances lent themselves to my saving the day.’ He grinned hugely. ‘I did wonder if you had recognised me, down by the docks. I would have told you something to your benefit then, had there been an opportunity. I tried to get Dr Watson’s attention just after, but his mind was elsewhere. Yes, sir, I’ve been following you around London for days, keeping an eye out for danger… but you have me talking away, when I intended by now to be listening to what you gentlemen have to say.’
As Conway spoke, Holmes’s face twisted into a scowl. ‘We will reveal nothing before your principal arrives, Major.’
It was clear that Holmes was stalling for time. I knew my part of old in such an undertaking. ‘Holmes! Enough!’ I said with all the passion I could muster. ‘You cannot seriously be considering helping these people! This is the man who tried to crush you beneath a hansom cab, who attempted to kill you with a crossbow in your own sitting room, and who – in case you have forgotten – murdered Miss Marr and Mrs Boggs! For God’s sake, his forces are outside this building as we speak! Will you make polite conversation with the representative of the very man who may at any moment order an armed attack on us?’
Holmes looked around for an ashtray and, seeing none, walked over to the window and flicked what remained of his cigarette outside. ‘Really, Watson, you should know better than that,’ he said as he strolled back to his chair. ‘If one of the Albino’s men could so effortlessly walk into this library and confront us with a gun, do you imagine that they would bother with a full-scale attack? From the manner in which Major Conway was able to immediately find the library, I would further hazard that he has been here before – or at least scouted the Hall out at some point – and so knows that a frontal assault is entirely unnecessary. There are not even servants enough to keep watch on the many entrances, never mind defend the place from a concerted attack.’
‘That’s all very well, Holmes,’ I replied with what I hoped was a convincing degree of anger, ‘but even if it was not Conway himself who attempted to kill you, it was his master, or another of his men.’
‘Again, I would say not. You heard the good Major. He is not in the habit of murdering innocent, defenceless women. I believe that Miss Eugenie Marr, at least, would count as such a person.’
‘And you believe him?’ I asked, making no attempt to keep the growing incredulity from my voice. I understood that Holmes desired as much delay as we could create, but I was becoming confused as to what was bluster and tactics, and what was Holmes’s genuine thoughts on the subject of the Albino.
‘I do. I would go further, in fact. I am now persuaded that the Albino and his men have played little part in the more unpleasant aspects of this case. The presence of Major Conway was final proof that there is another, darker force at work, one determined to obtain England’s Treasure, whatever the cost. That force, I am convinced, operated under the leadership of the Lord of Strange Deaths.’
As he spoke he kept his eyes keenly fixed on Major Conway. He need not have worried. Even a sidelong glance, such as I gave the Major in the shocked moments following Holmes’s dramatic announcement, was enough to establish that he knew and despised the name of the Chinese politician we had met the previous week.
‘Bravo, Mr Holmes!’ said Conway, slowly clapping his hands as he spoke. The tone he employed appeared sincerely congratulatory, with a hint of smug self-satisfaction, as if he himself had made some great discovery, and not Holmes. ‘I wondered how much you had figured out. Yes, sir,’ he continued, ‘the Lord of Strange Deaths has proven a thorn in the flesh of my employer in recent months. It’s not for me to go into details of that, but would you mind if I asked how you figured it out? I know for a fact that Scotland Yard never have, and it would pass the time while we wait for my employer.’
Holmes pushed himself to his feet and, pacing up and down in front of the bookshelves, set out his thoughts.
‘I have first to admit that I have made several mistakes during the course of this investigation. I dismissed the Brotherhood of Ireland too quickly, without considering the curious nature of their apparent leader. It is clear now that, although the involvement of the Brotherhood itself was tangential at best to the question of England’s Treasure, it would have served us well to wonder whether anyone else was similarly investigating the level of their knowledge, given their activities at the National Portrait Gallery, unconnected as it proved to be.
‘I can claim no credit for this deduction.’ He allowed a thin smile to play briefly on his lips. ‘So much, then, for the republicans.
‘But, conversely, I was far too ready to accept that the mysterious Albino was the villain of the piece. Lestrade first mentioned him in relation to England’s Treasure and from there every particle of evidence appeared to point directly at his guilt. One of his men, Elias Boggs, murdered Miss Eugenie Marr, and we ourselves saw him order Boggs’s death in his turn. And as a group, you were attempting to bring together the collection of paintings that is the key to the Treasure, whatever it may be. This much is undisputed fact.
‘There is an odour of blood about your employer, Major, and that was the scent we followed, for better or worse. Perhaps I am being too hard on myself. If the evidence of our eyes under the Old Bailey is to be accepted, the death of Miss Marr was repugnant to your employer, but even so, she would not have died but for his actions. There is certainly guilt enough to go around. But whatever the truth in that particular respect, Dr Watson and I witnessed Boggs’s death and that, combined with immediately thereafter discovering the slaughtered body of Mrs Boggs, hardened our belief that the Albino’s hand lay behind all the crimes relating to the Treasure. At the start of this affair I was nearly run over by a hansom cab driver who kept his face hidden. Taking later developments into account, I concluded that an albino was the most likely person to require such concealment.’
‘I can assure you, Mr Holmes, that my employer is not given to driving a hansom cab around London, never mind using one to trample a man in the street.’ To my surprise, Conway seemed more amused than guilty. Perhaps it was my long exposure to an eccentric companion, but I found it increasingly difficult to dislike him.
Holmes shrugged. ‘I realised later, however, that an albino is not the only person who might wish to hide his face, lest he be too easily recognised. A Chinaman, too, would not wish to be too readily identified. That was my first inkling that the Lord was involved.’
‘And after that? My employer has a saying he’s fond of: a new theory does not gain traction unless considerable evidence is found to strengthen its case.’
Holmes cocked his head to one side, quizzically. ‘Your employer is not wrong, Major Conway. Very well then. There were two major points of interest, as well as many more minor, or circumstantial, considerations.
‘First, the savagery of the attack on Mrs Boggs and the destruction of her home did not match my observations of your group beneath the Old Bailey. Either you or your principal spared Boggs’s guards, even though it would have been more expedient to kill them. And yes, the fate to which you consigned Mr Boggs was a malodorous one, but a relatively quick death nonetheless, and one with a purpose, designed to send a specific message. There was calculation of cause and effect there: calculation leavened by mercy of a sort that was utterly missing from the unnecessarily brutal slaying of Mrs Boggs. Considering that, I was reminded of something else, something the Lord of Strange Deaths said to me only a few days ago: that in China, when a man is executed, a relative is often also killed. The brutality of that killing I saw first-hand in Limehouse.
‘Incidentally, Major, I wonder if you might clear something up for my own satisfaction? You never attempted to rob a family by the name of Rudge recently, did you? And your current “gang” contains no one of Oriental extraction, does it? And has at no point recently contained such a person? No? I thought not.’ He turned to me, shaking his head. ‘You see, Watson, the Chinese who committed suicide while returning the second forgery to the National Portrait Gallery was no traitor to the Lord, after all. That villain murdered the man’s family simply to further incriminate the Albino. That is a particularly advanced form of evil, indeed.’
‘And the Rudges?’ I asked curiously.
‘Again, the behaviour of those involved was of a piece with the murders of the two ladies. Men already tied up badly beaten by the intruders, a policeman nearly killed by one of the gang – and a single hair left behind. Not the white hair of the Albino, either, or the brown of Mrs Rudge, but a long, jet-black one, such as you may recall is common amongst the Chinese population of Limehouse.’
Conway had pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and was busily taking notes as Holmes spoke. Holmes politely waited for him to finish before he continued. ‘And then there was the second attempt on my own life. Someone used a crossbow against me, firing through the window of my rooms in Baker Street. I briefly considered that the choice of weapon was predicated upon a preference for silence. But why should a gang otherwise willing to snatch their prey from within the Old Bailey itself and then execute him on the premises, care a jot for a little sound and fury? It made no sense. Far more likely that there was another explanation.
‘The simplest solution was that there was another group with an interest in my investigation into England’s Treasure. The leap from there to the realisation that the Lord of Strange Deaths was the mastermind was a lengthy one, admittedly, hence my failure to mention it to my friend Watson here. I was not absolutely certain until you appeared in the doorway just now, but I began to suspect a second hand at play after the discovery of Mrs Boggs’s body.’
He turned his full attention on Conway. ‘Perhaps we could dispense with the gun, Major? I give you my word that we will make no attempt to escape before we meet your employer, though given that he is standing outside that door, the length of time involved is likely to be short.’
Conway looked from Holmes to the gun he held and to the closed door, then, with a smile, placed it on a table.
‘A wavering shadow at the base of the door, combined with the firm belief that he would want to know what was said at first hand,’ Holmes said, though Conway had asked no question. ‘Perhaps you should invite him in?’
There was no need, however. The door creaked open, framing the Albino in the dying light coming through the low windows in the entrance hall.
He was certainly a distinctive figure, now that we could see him in a clearer light than that beneath the Bailey. His hair was cut just above his shoulders and was of the purest white, and his eyes, which he blinked somewhat more than the average man, were a pale pink colour. He stood around six foot tall, with broad shoulders and strong legs, the whole perfectly contained in immaculate evening dress, which, it seemed, he habitually wore. In his hands he held a freshly brushed top hat and a gold-topped cane, both of which he now laid down upon a nearby shelf.
‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said. His soft tone reminded me again of our previous meeting, when he had quietly ordered Boggs thrown to a terrible and squalid death. I took a step in front of Miss Rhodes, and slipped my hand into my jacket pocket again. Holmes might be willing to negotiate with the man, but I was less trusting.
‘Good evening, Mr—?’ Holmes replied on our behalf, but the Albino ignored the question as though it had never been asked.
‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Holmes. And you, Dr Watson – and the lovely Miss Rhodes, of course. Please make yourselves comfortable while we talk.’
If Conway was the bluff, honest American to the life, then the Albino was the epitome of the decadent European nobleman, then prevalent in the society columns of the popular press. Even allowing for his lack of pigment he exuded an air of artificial weariness and a contrived sensuality, which his soft, almost feminine speech did nothing to improve.
‘Major Conway,’ he murmured, ‘would you be so kind as to obtain refreshments for us all? It has been a busy day and I would appreciate a little tea.’
He pressed his head close to Conway’s as he passed, and the two men exchanged whispered words that we could not make out.
Finally the Major left to make arrangements, and the Albino seated himself, pulled out the golden cigarette case we had seen at the Bailey, and lit one of his small cigarettes. I recognised the scent of opium immediately and so, I was sure, would Holmes. Perhaps it would give us an advantage.
Once he had the cigarette lit, the Albino continued. ‘I have long been an admirer of the manner in which you have winnowed out the lesser lights amongst the English criminal fraternity, Mr Holmes. Your removal of that vicious madman, Moran, was particularly welcome, I must say, as his attempts on my own life, while fruitless, had begun to prove… irritating. And I do so hate irritation.’
While the man spoke, I looked over at Holmes. He sat unblinking in his chair, with his chin resting lightly on his hand and his eyes never once leaving the Albino. What thoughts were going through his head at that moment I could not have said, but the sense of a hunter finally scenting his prey was unmistakable. The Albino for his part seemed entirely at ease. His courtesy and affability were not what I had expected, but I knew enough about criminals as a class to know that appearances could be deceiving.
I felt Miss Rhodes slip her hand into mine as I observed my friend, and reminded myself that while Holmes might revel in such confrontations, at least one person in this room was terrified. I squeezed her hand quickly, for comfort, and resumed my study of the Albino.
His eyes were half closed as he went on, in a voice that at times fell so quiet as to verge on the inaudible. That aside, there was no sign that the drug had any effect on him. A habitual user, then. ‘I wonder, Mr Holmes,’ he said, ‘how much you have managed to discover. Has that huge mind of yours worked everything out yet? I do hope that it has. You see, I know everything but the solution – and while I flatter myself that I am no idiot, it would be ridiculous to imagine that I am as capable of problem-solving as the great Sherlock Holmes. Major Conway says that you were willing to exchange our information for your own, but that you hesitated to be the first to speak? Quite understandable. You had no reason to trust me, after all.
‘I would like to change that, if possible, Mr Holmes. I would like to gain your trust, if I can.’
Holmes’s tone was doubtful. ‘How do you intend to do that, Mr… I’m sorry, how should we address you? It seems absurd to refer to you as Mr Albino.’
The Albino smiled in acknowledgement. ‘Zenith will suffice. It is a name I have used before.’
‘Very well then. How do you intend to do that, Mr Zenith?’
‘Just Zenith,’ said the Albino. ‘And I hope to gain your trust by demonstrating that I am not the bogeyman of this tale, and never have been. You are perhaps aware of something of my alleged past? Amongst the police forces of six countries it is rumoured that I am a disgraced prince, the reprobate scion of a minor European royal family.’ He raised his hand to his brow in mock salute. ‘I am guilty as charged, Mr Holmes. A very minor royal family, it is true, but even so…’
His voice trailed off into silence. I wondered if it were the effect of the drug, but the pause was brief and he quickly resumed his tale.
‘In any case, I am no longer recognised by my family, who are ashamed of the life I have chosen, and of the type of man I am. They are within their rights, by their lights. I am a thief and a killer, after all, a drug user and a sybarite. But still, I retain many of my old allegiances. I am no Fabian, no friend to the working man. No “Robin Hood”. I find the poor rather tiresome, if truth be told. I find most things tiresome, in the end. But I have always believed in loyalty.’
He shrugged. ‘You will appreciate, then, that when I was made aware of a certain rumour – one which made mention of another Royal family, a family to whom I am distantly related – I felt it my duty to act, even though my own family had rejected me.’
‘England’s Treasure,’ said Holmes quietly. It was not a question.
‘Yes, England’s Treasure. Once I was made aware of its existence, if not its substance, I investigated more fully, and discovered a link to a group of obscure paintings. Unfortunately, other parties also became interested, and there has been some recent unpleasantness as a result of our mutual interest.’
‘The headless and limbless corpse in Brook Street,’ Holmes muttered to himself.
‘Amongst others,’ Zenith agreed. ‘I have been working for the last few months to stay ahead of these other parties, and to make sense of a most intriguing puzzle.’
‘One you have been unable to crack. The fact that you have not killed us already would argue not.’
Zenith’s heavy-lidded eyes flickered once at that, then were still again. ‘I’m pleased to see that you have not mistaken any previous mercy on my part for weakness, Mr Holmes. I do not destroy without cause, and I endeavour never to kill the innocent or the defenceless. But I consider you neither of those things, and I will not hesitate to kill you if that action would serve my needs best.’ He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his immaculate trousers, and continued with a new hint of steel in his voice. ‘I had hoped to come to bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion without your assistance… but I am a realist above all, and now I am delighted that I had Conway keep you alive. I would like you to consult for me, Mr Holmes.’