Read The Oriental Casebook of Sherlock Holmes for Free Online Page B

awoke at one point in a start, his heart pounding at the end of the latest in a series of nightmares. It was about four a.m. He could no longer sleep. He arose, washed, dressed and was about to go out to watch the dawn when there was a strong knock at the door. He opened it to find a British soldier standing there.
    “Mr. Lloyd-Smith, Sergeant Laughton, sir,” he said. “The Viceroy has asked me to accompany you to his office at once.”
    He handed Holmes a note. It read, with no salutation:
I request that you come immediately to me on a matter of the greatest concern.
Curzon
    A cab was waiting and they went directly to the Viceroy’s private office. Holmes recognised where he was even in the morning darkness, for they were not far from where he had visited Sir Reginald. He was at once ushered into the Viceroy’s presence. He motioned all to leave as Holmes entered, and rising from his desk, he beckoned him sit down.
    Sitting directly across from him, Lord Curzon began: “Mr. Holmes, a tragedy of monumental proportions has occurred during the night, and I only hope that Providence has brought you here back from the dead in order to help us avoid any further evil.”
    “I am at your complete command, My Lord,” replied Holmes.
    “In brief, then,” he began, “Sir Reginald Maxwell, your friend and my trusted assistant, together with an English merchant, Mr. James Hamilton, were found dead this morning in Maxwell’s private office. I have just come from the scene and, though I have seen my share of gore on the battlefield, Mr. Holmes, I have never seen anything quite like this. Both of them were shot and then beheaded. There are signs of a great struggle, for everything is in disarray. It appears to have been some kind of cult murder, possibly a case of thugee. There are imprecations on the wall in a local tongue, possibly Sanscrit—no one can tell me definitely—that appear to indicate that the murders are also a direct attack on our rule. Some kind of obscene goddess holding a head in each of her hands is drawn in blood on the back wall behind Reginald’s desk, with the words “Kali” and “rashtra” written in the native script. Kali is the goddess of the criminal thugs, Mr. Holmes, and “rashtra” the word for nation, or so I am told. We have no way of knowing at this point who perpetrated this dastardly act, but if it proves to be an act of terror by some of India’s misguided political leaders rather than the wanton act of some insane intruders, the consequences for the relationship between us and the Indian people are grave. Whatever it is, I regard this as the most evil attack upon us since the Cawnpore massacre.”
    The Viceroy paused for a brief moment and then said, “I can only hope too that this was not meant as an act of welcome, so to speak, for His Highness Edward, the King-Emperor, who is scheduled to set foot on Indian soil in three days.”
    Rising to his feet, he continued: “Mr. Holmes, it may also be that Reginald Maxwell and James Hamilton were killed by mistake, that I was the intended victim, and that it was the purest accident and the confusion of the mad beasts who entered the compound in the dark that led to their slaying. If this is correct, then I must act swiftly and ruthlessly in order to ensure that the perpetrators of this crime are brought to justice, that the King-Emperor is secure at all times during his sojourn in the Subcontinent, and that by extension British rule in India cannot be and is not questioned.”
    He was pacing now, like an angry lion, said Holmes. He stopped, sat opposite him once again, and staring into him, said: There are, however, certain aspects of this crime that have made me hesitate before I act. One is that I am aware that Maxwell had recently discovered that Hamilton was his own brother or half brother. He at first seemed happy at learning this fact, but for the last few days, judging from his depressed mien, he seemed tormented, as if he had