The countess fell silent and large tears appeared in her eyes.
VI
Sherlock Holmes listened in silence, only raising his head when the countess ended her story. His brows were furrowed, his lips tightly pressed together. There was an enigmatic look in his eyes, which neither the countess nor I could comprehend. Suddenly he rose and began to pace the room nervously, occasionally stopping to look out of the window to cast a thoughtful look outside.
‘You didn’t see the letter which came to the count?’ he asked the countess.
‘No,’ she answered. ‘All my life I felt that there was some mystery involved. But since the count said nothing to me, I didn’t feel I had the right to ask questions.’
‘But did you notice whether, prior to his departure for Kazan, he set anything down on paper?’
‘Most probably he did. He spent half the night in his study.’
‘What did he say on leaving?’
‘I’ve already told you. In addition, he told me that he might be away for some time. Then he repeated several times that whatever happened to him, I wasn’t to worry.’
The countess opened her eyes wide as if a thought had struck her, ‘Do you know, Mr Holmes, it just came to me. Every time he repeated that phrase, he would stress it.’
For a moment only, Holmes’s eyes flashed. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked.
A ray of hope shone in the eyes of the countess, ‘Could he still be alive?’ she asked, her voice shaking. ‘Is this some sort of machination on somebody’s part?’
‘What about the scar on the left leg? And the clothes?’ Sherlock Holmes said thoughtfully.
‘Yes, yes, it’s so,’ the countess whispered, confused and bewildered. ‘There is no doubt that the leg belongs to him.’
‘In any case, we must hurry,’ said Holmes firmly. ‘Where are the count’s remains?’
‘As soon as the authorities had finished their investigation, they gave them back to me. I took them to Oriol and had them buried in the Trinity cemetery,’ answered the countess sadly.
‘You still have an apartment in Oriol?’
‘Yes.’
‘In that case we go there by the very next train.’ Holmes turned to me. ‘Would you look up the train timetable for Oriol, my dear Watson. When is the next train?’
I looked up the timetable and said we had three-quarters of an hour.
‘Oh, we have enough time,’ Holmes exclaimed. ‘Countess, can you meet us at the train?’
‘Of course, I have only to stop at the Northern Hotel to collect my things.’
We set off.
VII
We were in Oriol the very next day.
‘My dear Watson, will you escort the countess home,’ Holmes asked me, as soon as we stepped off the train. ‘I’ll explore a little and join you presently.’
He wrote down her address and her husband’s burial place, but prior to leaving us asked, ‘When did the funeral take place?’
‘Two days ago,’ answered the countess. ‘As soon as the funeral was over, I set off for Moscow to find you.’
Holmes set off in one carriage and the countess and I in another. Our carriages parted by the Mariinsky Bridge.
The countess’s apartment wasn’t very spacious, but furnished richly and in great taste. I waited while she changed and we had tea together in the sitting room.
Sherlock Holmes joined us a couple of hours later. He didn’t say a word about where he had gone. He ate some pastry, drained a cup of tea quickly and without further ado asked to be taken to the late count’s study.
‘Nothing has been touched since the count left,’ said the young widow, leading us into a fairly large study. There were bookcases all round the walls, massive furniture, armchairs covered with dark yellow hide. Holmes stopped and silently examined the room. I, too, examined everything with great curiosity, seeking to penetrate whatever mystery was concealed here.
Evidently, the count had a wide range of interests. Several works on a wide range of subjects by famous scholars lay on the desk. A naval globe stood on a large stand in one corner. Maps of different countries hung on stands, with handwritten notes on some of them, probably in the count’s own handwriting.
But what attracted most attention was the back wall of the study. A huge, fluffy carpet, evidently of Indian make, covered the entire wall. Over it, different weapons were arranged in beautiful order. The weapons consisted of ancient arrows, bows, quivers, tomahawks, shields of rhinoceros hide, halberds and boomerangs. Between them were unusual little axes with long handles, the official swords of the English, French and German navies, Japanese weaponry, revolvers, and different sorts of firearms, many of which were official weapons of various armed forces.
In the corner, touching the edge of the carpet, there were two tall, though not very deep cupboards with inlaid decorations. Inside them stood largely scholarly books.
Sherlock Holmes, having made a superficial examination of the study, began a detailed examination of the papers on the desk. The side drawers were unlocked, but held nothing out of the ordinary.