“And the IRB are supportive of Parnell and Gladstone’s joint policies?”
The sandyhaired man stirred a little and shrugged. “We are a pragmatic body, Mr. Holmes. Our uprising was crushed fifteen years ago. The Invincibles are as much of a threat to us as they are to anyone else. The way forward in practical terms, at this time, is to ensure that land reforms are achieved, as a first step toward eventual Home Rule-the day when the Irish nation will be able to decide its own future without London. We believe that some sinister plot is being concocted to discredit us, one which would set Ireland back a hundred years and bring back the Penal Laws. We know the plot must be put into action soon.”
“Why soon?”
“Because today the new Viceroy, Lord Frederick Cavendish, and his Chief Secretary, Burke, arrived in Dublin to take over from the more conservative hands of Lord Cowper and Forster,” explained Lord Maynooth.
The darkbearded man summed up. “We ask you, Mr. Holmes, to help us find your brother and identify the leader of this plot, so that we may save the country from chaos.”
Holmes answered without hesitation. “You may rely on my full assistance and that of my colleague, Doctor Watson here. But, gentlemen, I need clues. I need-”
There was a disturbance from outside the door. The mysterious “cap’n” made an apologetic gesture and withdrew. We could hear raised voices outside.
When the door opened again and the man returned, his face was deadly pale. “Too late!” he announced quietly.
“Too late?” cried Holmes, starting forward. “You mean Mycroft-”
The man stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. “Far worse, I fear. Gentlemen-” He turned to the three men sitting tensely behind the table. “-this evening, as they were walking outside the Viceregal Lodge on the grounds of Phoenix Park, Lord Cavendish and Chief Secretary Burke were stabbed to death. They have been assassinated. The Irish National Invincibles have admitted responsibility.”
There was a silence that seemed to last a long time.
Lord Maynooth rose, his face cold and grim. “Reaction in England will be inevitable. Even though the Irish Party and the IRB have disassociated themselves from the Invincibles, they will be painted with the same brush. Arrests will follow, new Coercion Acts will be enforced, and the cause for land reform and Home Rule will be set back for generations.”
The darkbearded man on the left stood up also. “There is nothing to be done,” he said simply.
Holmes rose in outrage. “And what of Mycroft?” he demanded.
“The plot is revealed. He is as good as dead,” said Maynooth quietly.
“I refuse to accept that,” Holmes said stubbornly.
“The country will be in a panic now,” the darkhaired man said. “You brother is, sadly, expendable.”
Only the man on the right, the IRB representative who had remained seated, looked compassionately at Holmes. “You have my support,” he said quietly. “I suggest that we all reseat ourselves and see if we can save something out of this debacle.”
The other two appeared reluctant but finally reseated themselves. Holmes had taken out one of the two telegraphs he had received in London and was examining it hastily. “Mycroft provided me with the clues, but I need a key. The answer is probably staring me in the face.”
They looked at him in bewilderment. Holmes thrust the telegraph forward. They peered curiously at it. The quiet man, to the right, shook his head in bewilderment. “There isn’t anything there, Mr. Holmes. It’s all gibberish. It does not make sense in anyone’s language.”
Holmes stared at the man as if he had been struck. “Language!” he suddenly cried, causing us all to think that he had taken leave of his senses. “Language! Do you have an EnglishIrish Dictionary?”
We fretted impatiently for a quarter of an hour before a messenger sent for the purpose returned with a volume.
“Most dictionaries are IrishEnglish, but I found this old one from 1732, published in Paris…,” he started to explain. Holmes snatched it out of his hand, sat down by the lantern, and began busily turning pages. When he finally looked up, his face was flushed with triumph.
“Gentlemen, you must arrest O’Keeffe of Dublin “Castle. He is your link with the Invincibles.”
The cap’n let out a derisory whistle. “O’Keeffe? I know him. He’s an Orangeman and would have no truck with the Invincibles.”
“Nevertheless, he is the man whose name Mycroft was going to reveal. He had even invited O’Keeffe to come to his rooms on the night of his disappearance… I believe that was in order for your agents to arrest him.”
Lord Maynooth examined Holmes with narrowed eyes. “You will have to tell us how you did this conjuring trick, sir,” he demanded.
“Plenty of time afterward,” Holmes snapped. “In the meantime, we must also find out if there is any building of note near Maulnagower in County Kerry. Perhaps a country house owned by someone in the world of politics, It is my belief that Mycroft is being held there.”
A sudden stillness had descended over the room. The eyes of our companions had turned to the darkbearded man who had been seated to the left and seemed to represent the Irish Party.
“But isn’t that where your country house is…,” began Lord Maynooth. Before he could finish, the darkbearded man had uttered a curse and tried to leap for the door. He was expertly grappled by the cap’n and held in an arm lock.
“Holmes, this is amazing!” I cried. “How can you possibly have deduced that? Where did you get your information from?”
Holmes shot me a pitying glance. “We have been in possession of the main clues the whole time. All we lacked was the key to interpreting them. It was only when our Republican friend referred to ‘language’ that I realized that chat key was.”
“Then let us in on the secret before we proceed, Mr. Holmes, for we are curious,” pressed the silverhaired man. “Our colleague’s action has proclaimed his guilt but how-?”
“My brother knew that he was in some danger. He had to warn me. He knew that he was facing a combination of two elements-the extreme Unionist faction and the extreme Republican faction. Between the two, little moves in Ireland that is not known about. Any telegraph sent from the GPO would be reported on by their agents, spies, and informers. Mycroft had to send the information to me in London in case the worst happened. So he encrypted a message to me, hoping that I would understand.” He gestured to the telegraph.
“How could you interpret this through the Irish language?” demanded the silver-haired man.
“They key was the Irish language itself. Mycroft knew that I have made a study of the ancient Celtic languages and had worked, now and then, on preparing a monograph on the Chaldean roots that I perceived therein.”
“How does that help?”
“Simply enough. I realized that Mycroft was identifying someone. The very man whom he was going to warn you against. What does he say?”
“He warns you not to trust a gentleman but does not say who,” I said, peering at the telegraph.
“No!” Holmes almost exploded in irritation. “Observe more carefully! He says do not trust a man who is Gentle. Look, he uses a capital G in the word Gentle.
“A mistranscription by the clerk at the telegraph office?” I hazarded.
“It is deliberate, That was when I suddenly realized that an Irish word for gentle is caomh.” He pronounced the word ceeve. “That is the root of the name O Caoimh, which we commonly Anglicize as O’Keeffe.” They were looking at him with wonder on their faces.
“Certain things O’Keeffe claimed now endorse this view. He said he was a witness to Mycroft’s kidnapping and described Lord Maynooth’s carriage. I suppose he knew your carriage?”