Alex Auswaks: Sherlock Holmes in Russia

Holmes heard them out with considerable attention.

‘You say that the number of drunkards or the amount of spirits consumed is an indication of the approximate quantity of alcohol stolen to be traded for stolen gold, is that not so?’ he asked when he had ended his cross-examination.

‘Yes,’ said one of the investigators. ‘We keep a precise record of everything.’

‘Then why isn’t the administration coming down hard on those most often drunk and cross-examining them specifically?’

The two investigators exchanged ironic looks. ‘Any mineworker would rather hang than reveal the source of forbidden drink,’ answered one of them.

‘Wonderful!’ said Holmes. ‘And how much stolen gold do you think the manager has put away.’

‘According to the sums we have done, approximately forty-eight Russian pounds. But it is possible he may have somewhat more. We can’t account for every bottle of spirits.’

‘When is Seltzoff going off?’

‘In three days. The work in the mine ends tomorrow and the caravan with mined gold goes off. Seltzoff has to stay another two days to submit all accounts and pay off the workmen.’

On this our conversation ended.

We returned to our quarters. For a long time Sherlock Holmes paced back and forth silently, deep in thought.

‘No, he wouldn’t trust that much gold to anyone else,’ he said at last, stopping by the window. ‘He is a single, lone man, has nobody close, and he has to take his treasure away sooner or later. The only question is this: will he take it with him now or hide it and return for it later.’

‘I think it is the latter,’ I said.

‘It all depends on how cautious he is. A thief always feels that he is being watched,’ said Holmes. ‘And I am prepared to stake my head that Seltzoff realizes he is being watched, especially given that he has already been searched. Only, he relies too strongly on his own cunning. If that is so, he will try to carry the gold with him, because he realizes clearly enough that a second opportunity might not arrive. Moreover, a return when the season is over would attract suspicion. It would be impossible to do so secretly, because there will always be someone around and if nobody is working, all the more reason to notice someone around than when work is in full progress.’

I couldn’t but agree with this line of thinking.

We began to wait patiently. Day and night, we took turns to keep Seltzoff under continuous scrutiny, except when he vanished inside his own quarters.

The next day the caravan left with the owner and the gold. Before he left, he revealed our true identities to the mine guard, asking him to give us every possible assistance.

Another day passed.

The manager made preparations to leave. His spacious leather-curtained personal coach was brought up to his quarters and his things brought out and placed in it.

‘We have to give the appearance that we are leaving,’ said Sherlock Holmes as evening fell. He spent some time in discussion with the mine guard.

We dropped in on the manager, thanked him for the hospitality we had been shown, and announced we were leaving that day.

‘We could travel together,’ proposed the manager.

‘Oh, no, thank you,’ answered Holmes. ‘As it is, I cannot forgive myself for having stayed today.’

A hardly perceptible ironic smile appeared on the manager’s face. We left him and immediately ordered a carriage to be prepared for us. Two hours later we were off with the mine guard.

But we had hardly gone five or six miles from the mine when Holmes ordered the coachman to turn off at the next crossroad, and a quarter of an hour later we were deep in the thick coniferous forests of the taiga.

‘Let him get ahead of us,’ Holmes explained. ‘An attack from the rear invariably works better. We’ll fall upon him as soon as he gets to the first post house to change horses. I doubt if an ordinary but carefully conducted search won’t produce the requisite results.’

We spread out felt matting, wrapped ourselves in warm blankets and slept the night in he forest. We rose with the dawn. The sun had most probably already risen, but in the deep gloom of the taiga it was still dark.

Our bivouac, which gave all the appearance of a robber encampment, was a mere two or three hundred paces from the main road. Every little sound would penetrate the deathly silence of the taiga, more so the rumble of wheels and the beat of horses’ hoofs. We left our horses behind and the three of us crouched behind bushes, near enough to see anything moving along the highway.

Everything was quiet till one in the afternoon, but then my ears detected some sort of sounds in the distance. I glanced at Holmes. He was already on the alert. The sounds increased in volume until, at last, the rumble of wheels and the beat of hoofs increased in volume.

A few minutes and a troika, the carriage driven by three horses, sped past.

The coachman was on the coach box. The manager inside. He had flung himself back in his seat, apparently dozing away as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He didn’t even look in our direction. Looking at him, nobody would imagine a man with anything but a clear conscience.

When his carriage had passed us a mile or so, Holmes threw himself into ours, motioning for us to follow. We sped in the path of the vanished manager, afraid we wouldn’t catch him in time at the next post house where he would change horses.

Mile after mile flashed past. Our troika made a sharp turn and through the forest we spied the post house. With horror we saw that the manager’s troika had nearly completed the change-over of horses. Another minute and we would have lost him, but just in time, as his coachman was clambering up to take his seat, our troika, horses foaming at the mouth from exertion, drew up beside him.

‘Mr Manager, I must detain you for just a minute,’ said the mine guard, approaching him.

‘Is anything the matter?’ asked the manager in surprise. And turning towards us, he said jovially, ‘I never thought I’d overtake you! Wherever did you get stuck? Surely not in the taiga!’

‘I’m afraid we got slightly involved in hunting,’ said Holmes.

‘And that is to be commended. At least the mine guard will be able to carry out his errand.’ The sentence was uttered with the deliberate intention of delivering a little sting. A malevolent look appeared for a moment in his eyes. ‘Now, sir, I am all ears,’ he turned to the mine guard.

‘Permit me to search you.’

‘Me!’ The manager burst out laughing. ‘Do you really still think that I am carrying away my employers’ gold. In any case—’ He shrugged. ‘The laws of the taiga are rough, and anyone who has fallen into it must be reconciled to them. Do your duty, sir. I am at your service.’ He and the mine guard went into the post house.

‘Oh, what a rogue!’ Sherlock Holmes exclaimed merrily. ‘I am prepared to wager anything that he guessed our identity all along. He’s laughing in my face.’

‘So I see,’ I said.

And as if to confirm our words, the manager suddenly sprang out of the post house. ‘Gentlemen, aren’t you joining us? No need to carry on with your comic act, no need to conceal your real profession. Do come in, Messrs Detectives!’ he yelled at us.

‘If that is so, of course, there is no need for us to hide who we are,’ said Holmes with a smile. ‘Come along, Watson.’

We went in and began the search. But Seltzoff had absolutely nothing except for a cotton-lined heavy coat whose pockets were empty and a suit in whose pockets all we found was a wallet and a few letters.

We went outside. We ransacked his entire carriage, the suitcase and the bundles. A feather would not have escaped us. But, despite all our efforts, we found nothing. There was no gold.