This struck Holmes as odd. “Why were you left behind?”
“It was almost Easter, and almost Tsarevich Nicholas’ birthday. We were told his itinerary was unclear. The Tsarevich was sneaking out on his own, of course, but we didn’t realize that until after the incident at Otsu.”
“So the press never accompanied Tsarevich Nicholas while he was in Japan?”
“Precisely. Including the day of attack. Our newspapers, that time, had to rely on Russian records.”
“Were there any photographs from the day of the incident?”
Borloo smiled wryly and withdrew two photographs from the envelope he had placed on the table. “This is all I have. I don’t believe these are from the day of the incident. They were probably taken around Nagasaki or Kyoto.”
One of the photographs featured a rickshaw, with Tsarevich Nicholas inside, dressed in a boiler hat, necktie and blazer. He stared at the camera with a solemn expression. His face was thin and mustached; he might almost have been a young international student. Sherlock studied the background. It looked as if they were near a temple or shrine of some sort.
The second photograph was also of a rickshaw, but from a different angle. Here, Nicholas was dressed in the same clothing as in the previous image, minus the hat, and was staring up at the sky leisurely. There was no cut on his head. Most likely the photograph had been taken before the attack.
Sherlock looked at Borloo. “There were no other photographs?”
“None. After the incident we had to hassle the Russians relentlessly before even acquiring just these. It took nearly a week for them to arrive.”
“And the notes?”
“Sparse as well. They contained very few details. There was no mention of the tattoo Nicholas had received on his arm, or of the several days he had spent in the company of geisha—those were all details that we uncovered later through our own reporting. All the Russians gave us was a brief listing of the official receptions that Japan had arranged.”
“And what is your impression, seeing these photographs?” Sherlock’s voice took on a clinical tone.
“My impression…?” Borloo considered. “Well, he seems to be in a much better mood than he was while in Egypt and India.”
“He appears to be in good spirits to you?”
“Yes. At the Nile River, for example, he scowled constantly. And in Hong Kong and Shanghai he did not like the Chinese. I suppose in Japan he was finally able to relax. Considering what happened, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
“And you were given no photographs after the Otsu incident, I presume?”
“No photographs, not even a few notes. We had to interview the Japanese government to get any details at all. Like how the Emperor visited the hotel to check on the Tsarevich, or the dispute over whether Sanzo Tsuda would be given the death penalty.”
“I see.” Sherlock placed the photographs on the table. “The Russians seemed set on stoking anti-Japanese sentiment. They reported that Prince George of Greece confronted Tsuda alone…”
“I don’t think that that was their intention,” Barloo countered earnestly. “Our first reports had it the same.”
“What’s that now?”
“Even though we never got any memo from the Russians, immediately after the Otsu attack we were able to speak with someone from the legation. They claimed that the Japanese entourage stood around doing nothing while Prince George saved Nicholas. Later the Russian court released Nicholas’ diary and it, too, said the same. He wrote his entry the same night of the attack.”
“Are you sure that it was Nicholas himself who wrote that?”
“Our correspondents in Russia saw the actual document. It was posted during a court press briefing. All the world’s press was present, all familiar with official documents signed by the Tsarevich. It was his own handwriting, without a doubt.”
Sherlock leaned forward. “Do you know what else was written in that diary entry?”
“Just a moment.” Borloo stood and walked to his desk. He deftly removed a packet of papers from within a towering pile of documents. He put the papers in front of Sherlock. “This is the English translation. The original, of course, was in Russian.”
He began skimming the first page.
“A great number of commoners crowded the road at the turn ahead. Just as the rickshaw turned the corner, I felt a heavy blow on my right temple. I turned and was affronted by the sight of a patrolman, with a grotesque expression, gripping a saber in both hands, poised to strike at me. ‘Are you mad?’ I shouted, leaping from the rickshaw. But that detestable face continued to follow me. I was in no position to stop him, and was forced instead to flee. I thought that I might take shelter among the crowd, but the Japanese had begun dashing away in a panic. As I ran, I turned to look over my shoulder, and saw George was close on the patrolman’s heels. I ran what must have been another 60 feet before turning to look once more, and saw the danger had passed. George had knocked the savage down with his bamboo cane. By the time I doubled back to the rickshaw, the rickshaw drivers and the other policemen had seized the brute. One had grabbed the man by the lapels and thrust the confiscated saber at his neck. None of the Japanese commoners had come to my aid. Why were George and I left alone with that barbarian on the road? I do not understand.”
“Curious,” Sherlock mused. “This differs from the description of events Japan provided.”
Borloo nodded. “After the Russian court released Nicholas’ diary and these details were reported, the Japanese objected. We interviewed several people who were on the road that day. After piecing together several accounts, it seems the true heroes of the day were the two rickshaw drivers, who succeeded in capturing Tsuda. The first blow was from Prince George’s bamboo cane, but that seemed to have been ineffective.”
“Yes, I had heard as much myself.”
“However, this did cause Tsuda to turn around to look at Prince George, which created an opening. That was when the rickshaw drivers entered the fray. One of them picked up the saber Tsuda had dropped and used it to strike him on the neck and back.”
Sherlock returned his attention to the papers. “‘One had grabbed the man by the lapels and thrust the confiscated saber at his neck.’ That is written in the diary. The previous sentence mentions rickshaw drivers and policemen, but it does not state who struck Tsuda with the saber.”
“We ran a correction that Prince George had not confronted Tsuda alone. The Russian papers, however, have only avoided the topic afterward. They never admitted a mistake. The truth is probably still not well known among the Russian population.”
“Is it possible that Tsarevich Nicholas wished to apotheosize his cousin, Prince George, by writing this?”
Borloo shook his head. “There was no shortage of witnesses along the road. Surely he would have anticipated the lie would out. Either way, after writing his diary entry the Tsarevich himself seemed to realize the truth. On May 18, a week after the incident, he invited the two rickshaw drivers onboard one of the Russian warships. Nicholas awarded them with the Medal of St. Anna and 2,500 yen.”
Sherlock quickly calculated the amount in his head. It was astounding, to say the least. “143 pounds? That is nearly three times the yearly salary of a butler in England.”
“And they received pensions of 1,000 yen, as well. A tremendous windfall for two rickshaw drivers, I’m sure.”
“Did they pledge those pensions on the spot? No consultation with the Japanese government beforehand?”
“I believe so. Aside from the rickshaw drivers there were no other Japanese. Japan only had people observing from the shore. After learning that the medal ceremony was to be held on deck, supposedly they telegraphed the Russians to suggest they move the two ships to the rear for a view of Mt. Fuji. I imagine they were trying to be helpful.”