"I had tangled with both these agents earlier, though we never met face-to-face," said Holmes, relating to me what he knew of them from earlier adventures. "Dorjiloff was a man well into his fifties by now, but his origins were mysterious. He himself claimed to be of Mongolian Buriat origin, born in Siberia east of Lake Baikal at a place called Azochozki. His youth was misspent, and he soon ran afoul of the Tsarist police. He was arrested for murder and petty larceny and sent to a labour camp in the Urals. From there he escaped and came to London, where I first became aware of him. You may recall the unresolved murder of Sir Samuel Soames, Watson."

"Indeed, I do. Soames was a wealthy merchant of Liverpool, who was stabbed to death by a street thief . . . in Russell Square, if I remember correctly."

"Excellent, Watson. It was no street thief who perpetrated the crime, of course, and I traced the murder to a secret society of Russian agents operating in London, of which Dorjiloff was a prominent member. Unfortunately, he avoided my net and escaped to New York, where he engaged in forgery. He eventually made his way to San Francisco, then Shanghai. From there he returned to Russia and hid in a Buddhist monastery at Urga, where he convinced the ignorant monks of his religious propensities and began the study of the Buddhist religion. Following his ordination, he left Russia and travelled in Mongolia. He took the Tibetan name of Ghomang Lopzang, and arriving at last in Tibet, he entered the Drepung monastery as an authority on metaphysics and philosophy. During his stay he went often to Lhasa, where began to exercise great influence over the Regent and thereby upon the child who was the Grand Lama. Undetected by the Russian authorities, he returned to Moscow, where he became influential as a religious teacher. He came to the attention of the superst.i.tious Tsar himself, who brought him to the Russian palace, where he exerted a strong influence. In both the Russia and Tibet, he soon became known as Dorjieff, or Dorjiloff, a strange Russified Tibetan name that means "Man of the Thunder Bolt."

I marvelled at Holmes' account and the wealth of detail that he commanded about his enemies even after so many years.

"Of Yamamoto I learned little more than I already knew," he continued. "I had come across his name in the Tokyo Police Reports, where he was described as a petty thief who had fled j.a.pan and settled in Shanghai. There, because of his knowledge of Chinese, he became a secret agent of the j.a.panese in China. From thief to secret agent is an ever more common path to success. He was married for a time to a Tibetan woman whom he met in Canton. Becoming one of the only j.a.panese to know both Chinese and Tibetan he caught the eye of high officials in the Imperial Court, who sent him to Lhasa as the leader of a trade mission. For several years, he and Dorjiloff had worked in concert against our interests, each manoeuvering for a position of advantage, and it was with them that my major confrontations would undoubtedly begin."

Holmes interrupted his account briefly as he sifted through the facts that poured forth from his brain. "So much for my two adversaries, Watson. I won't bore you further. Let it suffice to say that by now Lhasa presented sufficient criminal interest for me to wish to go even without the secret mission that had been given to me. The chief goal was to find Manning, or to learn what had happened to him. I hoped to find him still alive, for I doubted that the Tibetans would risk killing or imprisoning a British envoy, unless, that is, someone such as Dorjiloff forced the issue or killed him himself. Such an act would bring direct intervention of the Viceroy, and whatever Dorjiloff's desires in this respect, my researches indicated that the Tibetan Government itself appeared to me to be one whose character was, if anything, restrained. The old Regent still wielded considerable power and influence, and it was with him I wished to deal, if I could get near him. He apparently received almost no one these days and remained in the Potala, where he dictated the life of Tibet."

Holmes stopped his account of his researches there. Those days in Florence he still remembers as amongst the happiest and most carefree of his existence, for he had no lack of servants, and no task save the one at hand. He emerged from the long days of study fully confident that he knew what he had to know to accomplish the mission. He had become in a short time what he could only call an Orientalist.

True to the minister's promise, after those days of relentless study, Holmes was taken to the central station in Florence, where he boarded a train for Naples. There he switched to another that took him overnight to Brindisi, where he boarded the small American freighter, the SS Downes-Porter, in the early morning, bound that very evening for Alexandria and then Bombay.

The trip was uneventful, and Holmes spent the long idle hours imposed upon him in further study of the notes and doc.u.ments he had with him. Among them were several photographs of Manning, Yamamoto, and Dorjiloff. He studied them intently, committing to memory every detail. He also had photographs of the Grand Lama and his family. The Regent, as far as Holmes could ascertain, had circ.u.mvented all known attempts to photograph him, and Count d'Este had registered none in his collections. One of the family photographs, however, contained a figure who, Holmes was fairly certain, was the regent Getong Tsarong. The photograph showed a tall, rather gaunt man standing next to the child chosen to become the Grand Lama. He wore thick gla.s.ses, his hair in a braid tied round his head. The picture was faded and improperly focussed, and Holmes found his features most curious. Another doc.u.ment which he perused constantly was a detailed map of the city of Lhasa, one that he had put together himself from the maps in the Italian collection. So well, however, did he memorise the streets and so vivid had the monuments of the city become, that he felt by the time he had come to the end of his sea voyage that he had already walked through even its back alleys. He also had made detailed diagrams of the Potala, both its outer ramparts and its inner corridors and rooms, which he also committed to memory. It was this kind of knowledge-become almost instinctive, so well had he drilled himself on it-that would give him the ability to move quickly in dangerous circ.u.mstances.

"We docked in Bombay just over three weeks after our departure from Italy," he continued. "By this time, I was in despair over the ship's food, the enforced rest, and the small talk of the few uninteresting pa.s.sengers. I was delighted therefore when we first glimpsed the Bombay harbour in the early morning mists. It was my first taste of the Orient, Watson, but I must say that initial delight soon pa.s.sed into disappointment. Architecturally, in its grandiose public monuments, Bombay attempted to be another London, but succeeded only in being one drab and run-down, a metropolis totally misplaced in the tropical climate of western India, filled with teeming millions living in the streets trying to survive the vicissitudes of an indifferent fate. The rains had been heavy and the city was soaked through. The air was wet and reeked of humankind and its myriad activities, and I found myself eager to leave on my mission."

Holmes's first task was to meet with officials of Government, but they were at once unhelpful and unconcerned. What appeared as a grave problem in London impressed no one in Bombay as urgent. Indeed, Lhasa seemed farther from Bombay than it was from London. In addition, the Viceroy himself had been called out of India unexpectedly and was on his way to Burma to tend to a crisis in Rangoon and was therefore unreachable. If Holmes was to keep to his schedule, therefore, he would have to pick his own route and travel to Lhasa on his own. Out of several routes that he had studied, he chose one of the shorter ones, and the very one taken by Manning. This was the one through the western Himalayas that leads directly to the Tibetan plateau. From there, he would follow an eastern route to the sacred city of Lhasa. And so boarding a train to Pathankot in the Punjab, and from there with a guide and a group of porters, he began the ascent, sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, to the Kulu Valley, thence to Spiti and Zanskar. It was in Zanskar that he was most fortunate to meet a group of Kashmiri traders who were on their way to the holy city. They invited him to join their caravan.

"It has been said, Watson, that no stranger can enter Tibet without the knowledge of the Tibetan Government. And yet, in travelling with this large caravan, I entered un.o.bserved. I was not questioned at the various checkposts, and at almost every point I was allowed to proceed without difficulty. Only on one occasion was I noticed, and that was just outside Shigatse, the last post before Lhasa. I produced the doc.u.ments of the Norwegian naturalist Hallvard Sigerson, and stated that I was on a scientific mission to collect botanical and zoological specimens from the Tibetan plateau. I pa.s.sed through without delay and continued on with my Kashmiri friends. The Tibetans appeared to have a high regard for Scandinavians, and regarded them without the suspicion that they reserved for British citizens and those of the major powers. My special status as an emissary of the British Government I was to reveal only to the authorities in the Potala, and I kept it hidden from the police at the border. Having pa.s.sed through this last post, I was finally in Tibet, and as I gazed around me, I felt a singular elation, no doubt intensified by the great heat of the sun and the high alt.i.tude."

The Tibetan plateau appeared to Holmes as it has appeared to so many travellers: a vast expanse of empty land, beautiful and severe, and at times forbidding. Fierce winds blew, and the sun scorched him and his companions, blistering the skin, almost blinding them as it shone from the high vault of cloudless sky that seemed unending. The air was thin and deficient at the highest alt.i.tudes, and the way therefore exhausting. Holmes survived-miraculously, he thought at times.

When they reached the valley of the Brahmaputra, Holmes had seen the worst of the trip. Though its elevation is almost twelve thousand feet, this valley in which lies the capital city of Tibet was filled with vegetation, and he travelled with far greater ease. One morning, shortly after they had resumed their journey beyond Gyantse, the city of Lhasa appeared-or rather, the Potala-that immense edifice that houses the Grand Lama-first became visible in the morning sun atop the hill on which it sits north of the city, an unexpected piece of Oriental splendour. It was in stark contrast to the city of Lhasa itself, which soon appeared at the end of a broad avenue lined with large trees, and it was not long before the caravan entered the central bazaar.

"Lhasa, my dear Watson, is no more than a small town, housing only a few thousand inhabitants in its stone houses and narrow lanes. Its appearance is better from afar, for closer inspection reveals a city covered with soot and dirt, with no orderly plan. The streets are full of dogs, some growling and gnawing bits of hide which lie about in profusion, emitting a strong charnel house odour. Despite this rather gloomy appearance, my first impression was, overall, a good one, for the poverty and primitive way of life notwithstanding, the people were friendly and courteous, varied and colorful, and the city was filled with the activity of an amiable, even innocent, humanity."

Holmes was taken first to a small lodge where foreign guests were housed before they met their official hosts. It was from here that he made his initial attempts to make contact with the Tibetan Government. His papers were politely accepted by an official of the Potala, but he was informed that he would have to wait until the Regent himself reviewed his doc.u.ments before his work could begin. It was soon apparent that Tibetan officialdom, although now aware of his mission, had not yet agreed to receive him. When he asked to meet with Mr. Manning, the official checked a list of foreign visitors and duly informed him that no one by that name had ever visited Lhasa. He was most cordial but firm, and Holmes knew then that his work would take extraordinary patience.

In the delay, he was afforded the time to explore the city and to begin private inquiries about Manning, who now, it seemed, had disappeared without a trace. In trying to locate him, Holmes spent the early days of his stay combing every inch of the old Lhasa. At its centre lies the most sacred of Tibetan temples, the so-called Jor-khang, a most ornate edifice, heavy with incense, and filled with monks, pilgrims, and the sacred idols of a superst.i.tious people. Around it and in the adjacent alleys are the shops, residences, and offices of much of the Tibetan Government. These are all housed in grey stone buildings, with which Holmes soon became thoroughly familiar.

Those first days in Tibet also taught Holmes things he had not learned in the countless books that he had perused in Italy. Like all things human, the Tibetan character is complex, with much that is good in it, perhaps more than there is in ours. But there is a dark side as well, of which they are very much aware-of anger, greed, cruelty, l.u.s.t, and mental as well as physical disease. The religious system is a highly developed one, with spiritual attainments that far surpa.s.s our meagre efforts. But the Tibetan life, despite these accomplishments, is for the majority of extreme difficulty and poverty. Tibetans are farmers and herders ruled by a small priestly cla.s.s and an aristocracy who set the rules by which the majority lives. These rules are extremely harsh and resemble the criminal law of our own mediaeval epoch. The rack, the ordeal, various ancient tortures such as disembowelling, dismemberment, public executions, are all practised for the most heinous of crimes. The harshness of these rules appears to have little effect on the criminal cla.s.ses, for crime is widespread and gangs of thieves and murderers roam the countryside, giving grief to villagers, merchants, and priests alike. No trade route is truly safe, and the large caravans that travel between the Tibetan plateau and the Indian plains are usually well armed.

"Despite its isolation and reputation for impenetrability," said Holmes," I soon became aware that Lhasa housed a number of people from other parts of the world. There were a variety of merchants, mainly Kashmiri, Nepalese, and Chinese, for the Tibetans in Lhasa are loath to engage in business on their own. There were also a number of Europeans. Some of these were engaged in honest activity and researches concerning Tibetan belief and practice. Among them were Sandor Halevy, the great student of Tibetan literature, and Marie le Carre, an exuberant and eccentric disciple of Buddhism from Provence. But others had bribed their way in with the collusion of corrupt officials. I quickly spotted Sackville-Grimes, the most dangerous of arsonists, Platon Gilbert, one of the cruelest murderers of modern France, the infamous German counterfeiter, Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, and finally, Sviadek, notorious as the Gallician cannibal. These and others were there as long as either money was to be made or they were protected by the Tibetan Government, petty criminals and quacks, most of them, who lacked the means or the energy to leave and so found themselves to be longtime residents of the so-called Forbidden City. None of these, when interrogated, professed any knowledge of William Manning."

It was well within his first fortnight that Holmes met Gorashar, the most successful merchant of Lhasa. He was taken to his house by one of the Kashmiri merchants with whom he had travelled from Zanskar. Gorashar was a Newar from Katmandu, a short, dapper, man whose intelligent and impish eyes said at once that he believed in nothing and trusted no one. He welcomed Holmes warmly, offering him a rare Russian cigarette, and Holmes felt at once comfortable in his presence. In the evening Gorashar's lavish home near the Jor Khang became the site of an elaborate salon which almost all of the peculiar denizens of the city attended. Evenings there included elaborate banquets, punctuated by games of mah-jong and gambling in almost all its varieties, all of which were accompanied by the constant consumption of intoxicants, either in their local manifestation known as chang, or in the more exotic varieties that Gorashar was able to import through his agents in St. Petersburg. The air was always thick with the smoke of tobacco and Indian gunja, and the ears were often a.s.saulted by a band of Indian musicians from Calcutta who attempted peculiar Oriental renditions of the seductive ditties that one a.s.sociates with the demi-monde establishments of London and Paris.

"As you might well imagine, Watson, it was not an atmosphere that I found in the least congenial, and were it not for my mission, I would have removed myself at once. It was clear to me, however, that Gorashar's establishment was more than just a place for an evening's entertainment. It was, among other things, a feast for the eye of the detective. I found myself constantly drawn to it. The room was filled with the riff-raff of four continents. What a delight, dear Watson. Here, in this large and crowded room in one of the most isolated corners of the globe, there mixed together the most dangerous criminals with the worst mountebanks and pious bewilderers known to the civilised world. Some of them taxed even my powers of observation. Imagine a host of criminals and quacks who had taken on exotic disguises-shaven heads and eyebrows, gla.s.s eyes, wigs, long beards, scars, tattoos, fake limbs causing the oddest limps, canes and crutches of exotic manufacture. On several occasions, I sat contemplating the scene before me, wishing that I could have uninterrupted observation. Remote Lhasa, the romantic destination of every middle-cla.s.s heart in England, had become a cesspool not unlike London, far smaller perhaps, but one with its own poisonous aspects, one in which the profound religious life of the Tibetan people served as the scenic backdrop for the nefarious activities of international roguery. So many who had apparently disappeared from the face of the earth were here, perfecting their disguises in this exotic land before they returned-transformed, they hoped, beyond recognition. And to my delight, neither Scotland Yard, the French Surete, nor the New York Department of Criminal Investigation had any inkling of their whereabouts."

I could not help but interrupt Holmes at this point in his story.

"Extraordinary luck, Holmes," I said laughing, "considering your interest in disguise and charlatanry."

"It was a room of Cagliostros, Watson, and I add the curious but interesting morsel that, according to some philologians, 'charlatan' is the only word that comes into English from the Mongolian and it does that through the Italian language."

We both laughed heartily, and he continued.

"But of even more importance, Watson, was the fact that Gorashar's salon was also one of the places where the most important matters of state were transacted. Monk, merchant, secret agent, Tibetan as well as other officials, mixed and made the arrangements that influenced the lives of the Tibetan people, almost all of whom were ignorant of what transpired late into the night in the confines of this one house. No contrast was greater than that of the daily life of the ordinary Tibetan, with its hardships and religious piety, but with its mirthful laughter as well, and the evenings at Gorashar's, where the piety of the monk, the mysticism of the saint, the integrity of the ruler, and the honesty of the peasant, were often transformed into their dark opposites. One would think that in this atmosphere I would have come upon a clue, a trace, a word slipped into a conversation-even incidentally-about Manning, but there was nothing. This absolute silence paradoxically became the only clue: it was as if a command had been issued on high that even the name 'Manning' was not to be uttered. If the silence was absolute, then so must be the fear."

As the first weeks pa.s.sed, Holmes's frustration grew. Yet he knew through his long experience of crime that if he persevered, his very presence in Lhasa would eventually force something to surface. Manning had disappeared completely, and every inquiry in his regard was greeted with a blank stare.

As in so many difficult cases that he had lived through in the past, however, there was a sudden and abrupt change. Events began to move rapidly, so rapidly that within two days he began to see the first dim outline of what had transpired before his arrival and what was about to unfold before him.

The first of these events was most extraordinary. One morning, a curious scene, seemingly unrelated to his mission, led him to the first clue. It was near noon, and he had walked already for almost two hours through the crowded bazaar to the outskirts of the city. A sentry stationed near the city wall prohibited him from venturing any farther and he turned back. The sun was already almost too bright to endure, and he sat for a moment under one of the few nearby trees. At that moment, a large man appeared in front of him, dragging the remains of a dead yak, leaving it to rot only a few yards away. A group of wild street dogs that had followed, ravenously hungry, began greedily gnawing at the abandoned carca.s.s. Suddenly, a large group of vultures gathered in the sky above and descended, their large wings flapping furiously. These obscene creatures, abhorrent in their habits and appearance, began to fight for their rights to the carrion. A battle of loathsome proportions ensued, a battle in which the dogs, smaller in number but no less ferocious, were forced to retreat from the scene by the talons of these demons from the sky. In defeat, however, the wild dogs took their toll: one of the vultures lay mortally wounded, blood flowing from its neck, a strange unearthly noise emanating from its beak. As soon as they had finished with the yak, the other great birds descended on their moribund companion, and in a few minutes had reduced the unfortunate creature to a second pile of bones gleaming in the noonday sun.

It was only then, after the vultures had flown away, that Holmes noticed something stuck to one of the dead vulture's talons. It had glinted in the sun. He walked over and saw that it was a piece of metal. He tugged it free. It was a bra.s.s b.u.t.ton, obviously of English manufacture. There were several black threads still attached to it. It bore the letters WM, the initials of William Manning. He placed it in his pocket for later scrutiny. As he turned back towards the city, he found himself staring at the Potala. Only then did he sense how that immense edifice dominated not only the city of Lhasa, but his mission as well. The secret of Manning's disappearance may lie within its walls, he thought. Eventually, if all else failed, he would have to gain entrance to it and pursue his search within its vast chambers.

Holmes returned to his lodgings and spent the remainder of the day in his room in thought, pondering his find of the strange monogrammed b.u.t.ton, and struggling with the implacable silence that Lhasa presented. How did the b.u.t.ton find its way to its gruesome location? For the first time since his arrival, he feared for Manning's life.

Towards nightfall, having made little progress in the mystery of Manning's fate, he decided to attend Gorashar's soiree once again. As he walked into the great central room, he saw Dorjiloff and Yamamoto for the first time. They had been in Drepung since his arrival and had just returned. Behind them in the dimly lit smoke-filled room Holmes could see a ring of dark shapes formed by the criminals and cranks whom he had come to know inhabited the holy city. They appeared to be in deep conversation with Octave Mirbeau, a French doctor visiting Lhasa whom Holmes had met previously. As Gorashar introduced him, Holmes noticed that Dorjiloff was shorter than he remembered but looked exactly like his photographs. Dressed in Chinese red and gold brocade robes, his bald head, dark pointed beard, and piercing dark eyes gave him an almost mad, satanic appearance. He moved with singular grace, and his robes did not hide his lithe and muscular build. He nodded pleasantly enough when Holmes was introduced by Gorashar. He looked directly into Holmes's eyes but made no sign that he thought that he was anything other than the botanist he claimed to be.

Yamamoto was very different in appearance than memory served. He was a slender man, and his movements were those of one who was well acquainted with buritsu and the other j.a.panese martial arts. His head was too large for his body, however, and his thick gla.s.ses and large ears gave him a grotesque appearance that magnified the malevolence of his gaze. Mirbeau, there to treat the Grand Lama for an undisclosed ailment, was holding forth about his experiences in Lhasa. Holmes had found him to be an entertaining fellow, whose English was minimal, however, and the conversation proceeded almost entirely in French. The doctor was an acute observer of Tibetan life, and had been given special privileges by the Regent. This enabled him to see things that Holmes had not, including the disposal of the dead and several executions. He had even visited a group of criminals on display in what he called le jardin des supplices, or the Garden of Punishments, a place that Holmes a.s.sumed was just beyond where he had been stopped by the guard that very morning. Mirbeau appeared to have a veritable thirst for the disciplines and punishments of Tibetan life, all of which were well concealed from the view of the foreigner.

"Behind high stone walls, they wander in cages set about their heads," he said, "their hands unable to reach their mouths, so that they must rely on the charity of the people to survive. One of them is near death. In Tibetan eyes, his crime was particularly serious: he used a gold alloy in his paintings of the Buddha rather than the pure metal. The buzzards sit and wait for him to expire."

Mirbeau went on, recounting more of what he saw, and as he spoke, Holmes realised that the place of criminal punishment could indeed be where Manning was. As Mirbeau talked, his eyes wandered across the room, and he noticed walking towards them a most beautiful woman. Tall, with long, raven black hair, she moved quickly up to Mirbeau. She was Tibetan but spoke French as well as English. Mirbeau introduced her as Pema, a princess of Amdo, a northern province of Tibet, and wife of Pasang, a princely official in the Tibetan Government who had been recently reported killed in a battle in Kham. She stood silently, nervously glancing around her, and then said in a whisper to Holmes, "He is still alive."

Yamamoto suddenly appeared by her side, and the princess became at once visibly nervous and uncomfortable at his approach. She seemed anxious to communicate something further, but after her quick whisper, Yamamoto took her firmly by the arm, bade good-bye to our host, and led her from the room.

Several other guests left shortly thereafter, and as the crowd thinned, Holmes noticed Dorjiloff staring at him from across the room. He motioned to Holmes to join him. Standing at his side was a short, sallow man with a large moustache whom Holmes judged to be Rastrakoff, Dorjiloff's accomplice.

"So, Dr. Sigerson, you are a naturalist, I understand."

"Yes," Holmes replied, "and there is much to study here in Tibet."

"I study only the people," said Dorjiloff with a laugh. "And I pay great attention to all visitors. Tell me about yourself, Mr. Sigerson."

As he spoke, Holmes was aware that Dorjiloff examined and weighed every word he uttered, for he was there to make sure that no one entered Tibet who was inimical to Russian interests.

"Wherein lies your main interest, Dr. Sigerson, in plants or animals?'

"In both," Holmes replied.

"How so?"

"Because I am interested in poisons. . . . and their antidotes."

"How interesting, Dr. Sigerson. And which poisons in particular?"

"There are many here in Tibet. Belladonna, I see, grows everywhere, and certain arachnidae seem to have proliferated."

"You know of the wolf-man?"

"Yes, of course, a deadly species, but imported from outside . . . like certain snakes."

"Ah, then, you must be familiar with Kruger's work."

"Yes, Giftschlangen und Schlangengift is one of the few volumes I have brought with me."

"And you know Gunther's work of course . . ."

"I worked with him in London."

"He is the first to report on-"

"Agkistrodon himalaya.n.u.s, the Himalayan Viper. According to Mellins, the great herpetologist of China, a recent import. . . . from Mongolia."

"You know the story-"

"Yes," Holmes said smiling, "the king cobra hidden in the golden funerary urn. A distinct surprise."

"Still, there are few snakes in Tibet."

"The examination of that a.s.sertion is at the core of my research. I shall present you a copy of my monograph when it is complete."

"I shall be most honoured, Dr. Sigerson. One final question. You are familiar with the work of Sebastian Moran?"

"In all its aspects," said Holmes.

"So am I," said Dorjiloff.

"By the bye," said Holmes with a smile, "I bring you greetings from the family of the late Sir Samuel Soames of Liverpool."

Dorjiloff's face darkened but he did not reply, for at that moment, Gorashar announced to those who remained that the Regent Tsarong had arrived and was about to enter. Everyone rose at once. Two guards, with drawn swords, entered, followed by the Regent himself. Those who remained in the room bowed as he pa.s.sed.

The most powerful man in Tibet walked slowly and deliberately, nodding only once so that the remaining guests would take their seats. Except for his red robes, there was no colour in him beyond silver and white. He was as tall and straight as anyone Holmes had seen in Tibet, thin to the point of emaciation, so thin that the lines of his skull stood out boldly on his shaven head, from the back of which hung a long silver braid. His face was indeed that of the old battered photograph, far older but the same imponderable one. His eyes were grey behind his spectacles, bright with a silver light, what the Tibetan texts refer to as the light of asceticism. His skin was exceedingly pale, almost translucent, and he had a full white beard of the greatest fineness that partially hid his mouth. He wore the simple robes of a monk. Though he walked with long, firm strides, Holmes judged him to be well into his eighties. He took his place with the Grand Lama's brother and sister and began to play the Chinese game of mah-jong.

In a few minutes, Tsarong beckoned to Dorjiloff. He in turn summoned Holmes, and they went and sat in Tsarong's small circle. Dorjiloff acted as interpreter.

"Doctor Sigerson, I welcome you to Lhasa," said the Regent softly. "Your stay will be a fruitful one. And a long one, if you choose."

"I thank you for your kind words," Holmes replied. "May I know when I may pay an official visit to the Potala?"

"We are aware that certain tasks may have been a.s.signed to you. The Tibetan Government has decided, however, that it will receive no official guests until further notice. In your case, you are welcome to pursue your researches. As long as your purpose remains a scientific one, you will be welcome. Any change in your activities, however, will result in immediate deportation outside the confines of Tibet."

Dorjiloff smiled as he translated the Regent's last words. The Regent's face remained expressionless. To Holmes, for the moment at least, they appeared to be at one: what had been communicated to the Regent's office appeared to be known to Dorjiloff. Apparently bonded in the mysteries of Tibetan mysticism, the Regent and this dangerous Russian monk were acting in concert. The aim could only be to bring Tibet under the protection of the Tsar, and to block British entrance into Central Asia. Sobering too was the thought that the Tibetan Government had now refused to deal officially with a British emissary, albeit secret, recognising only the disguise of the scientist, not the ident.i.ty of the agent.

The Regent nodded, ending the interview, and Holmes rose and left the circle. The Regent left shortly thereafter, with Dorjiloff in his company. Holmes stayed on, and it was well past midnight when he said goodnight to his host. Gorashar smiled and said, "You have enjoyed the evening."

"I have indeed. And I hope that I may continue to come."

"My house is open to you. And so that you reach home safely, I will send my servant with you."

"That will not be necessary," said Holmes.

Gorashar smiled again. "I fear that it is," he said as he let forth a puff of cigarette smoke.

A st.u.r.dy young Nepalese boy appeared from the shadows, and Gorashar instructed him to accompany Holmes to his quarters. The boy was from the hills of central Nepal and belonged to a tribe called Gurung. His name was Purna Lal, and he later was to become indispensable to Holmes.

The darkness was pitch-black in the narrow lane. Purna Lal walked several feet ahead, silently checking the path ahead. Holmes could find his way even in the dark, however, having trained himself to do this over a number of years. Still, he was grateful to have someone to accompany him. How grateful, he was to learn, for Gorashar's latest help was to be apparent at once. They had just reached the end of the lane, and in the moonlight that now flooded their path, Holmes saw a dark figure grab Purna Lal from behind. He rushed forwards instinctively, but the Gurkha needed no aid. In a swift movement, he disabled his a.s.sailant and was about to despatch him, when Holmes caught his arm in mid-air, his Khukri at the ready. The large knife fell to the ground harmlessly, and Holmes found himself gazing at a prostrate Yamamoto, his face filled with terror at his close brush with death. Holmes seized him as he tried to rise and ordered Purna Lal to bind his hands with his scarf.

"Come this way," said a voice in the darkness.

Holmes turned and saw the princess Pema standing behind him. Dragging the unwilling Yamamoto with them, they followed her to the end of the lane, where they entered a narrow courtyard and then pa.s.sed into the hall of a large and regal house. The princess Pema directed them to a small antechamber.

"Do not release him," she said, glowering at Yamamoto. "He is a murderer who should be destroyed!"

"'Fear not, Madam, he will not trouble us further,'" answered Holmes.

"He is one of those responsible for the cruel plight of Manning," she said.

"How so?" asked Holmes quickly, for her remark was the first reference to the British agent that he had heard since his arrival.

"From the day of his arrival," she said, "Manning lived nearby, in a house owned by my husband. We were introduced to him by the merchant Gorashar. We found him to be a most congenial guest. We had no idea at first that he was an agent of the British Government. Gradually, he became a close family friend. When my husband was killed in Kham he was a great solace to me and my family. It was not many days before your arrival here, however, that at the instigation of this man, he was arrested and taken to the garden of tortures, where he now lies close to death. An order was issued by the Regent that the presence of Manning in Lhasa was not to be acknowledged by anyone. Even his name could not be uttered on pain of death. I have tried to keep him alive by paying the guards to feed him, but I have been prevented from seeing him myself more than once."

"'Why was he arrested?"

At this point, the woman hesitated and appeared to have difficulty in continuing her story. "Manning had become enamoured of me," she said with difficulty, "but kept his affection to himself. When the news of my husband's death arrived, he showed the greatest kindness to me. Then, after some time had gone by, he revealed his affection and asked me to marry him and to leave Tibet. Since no Tibetan woman of the n.o.bility may marry a foreigner, I refused. Yamamoto learned of Manning's offer to me through a treacherous servant who overheard our conversation. The matter became public, and not even the Regent could intervene on his behalf. There was a public outcry. I was protected by my family's position, but Manning was placed first in a prison cell in the Potala, then in the garden of punishments in an iron cage in which his arms were pinned. He is there still. He cannot eat or drink unless he is fed. He is helpless. My servants say he is now near death. He has been taunted, tortured, beaten, and is no longer himself. They say his mind is almost gone."

At these words, Yamamoto became agitated. "Manning is a British spy," he hissed, "and deserves his fate. And you also are a British spy," he said to Holmes as he vainly tried to free himself from Purna Lal's grip.

"You are in no position to engage in idle accusations, my dear Yamamoto," Holmes responded, "for in addition to working for the Imperial Government of j.a.pan, you have a previous history that unfortunately for you is even more sordid than your present occupation. Must I remind you of the Nakamura affair in Shanghai in which you played a major role? Or more recently, of the a.s.sa.s.sination of General Chen in Canton?"

"How did you know? Who are you? You are not a naturalist nor are you a Scandinavian-"

"Who I am is of no immediate relevance to you-except that I intend to turn you over to the Chinese authorities in Lhasa once the Manning affair has come to a close. Purna Lal, keep close watch on him. I must leave now and I do not know when I shall return. Should I not return by the morning I wish you to take this man to the office of the Chinese amban with this note."

Holmes hastily scribbled a message describing Yamamoto's true ident.i.ty, and turning to the princess Pema, he said: "We have no time to lose. Take me to Manning."

"Follow me," said Pema. "I shall take you to him, but we shall have to bribe the guards. Let us hope that he is still alive."

They went out again into the cold air of the night, making their way down the dark lane whence they had come, past the Jor-khang, and into a wider street that led them to the outskirts of the city. They soon reached the place where Holmes had been stopped by the sentry and where he had witnessed the great battle between the dogs and the vultures. Just beyond was what Dr. Mirbeau had called the Garden of Punishment. Here in the first light of the morning, Holmes came upon the place where Tibetans deal with their criminals. The princess handed the chief guard a few Indian rupees and they pa.s.sed through the gate.

"I must say, Watson, that even though I have experienced many horrors, I found the place singularly abhorrent. The punishments were of the most brutal and primitive kind, as bad as Mirbeau had described, reminiscent of the worst of mediaeval Europe. Most of the prisoners had been maimed in one way or another and were either in chains or on racks, with cages encasing their upper bodies. There were no walls to contain the victims of Tibetan justice; each was kept there by the crippling visited upon him and the promise of a few morsels of food fed once a day."

They walked past several men who were in various stages of consciousness, groaning in what might have been sleep had their circ.u.mstances been different. The princess Pema led him to a dark figure lying under a large tree. His upper body, including his head, was encased in a cage of iron, his head covered with a black hood. Pema sobbed, and Holmes asked her to remain at a short distance. Holmes removed the hood. The man was in a bad state, emaciated to the limits of mortal dessication, and his eyes bulged from his skull. He had been badly beaten, and had been clawed by vultures in antic.i.p.ation of his death. It took little to release him from the cage, for it was easily lifted over his head. He released his hands and the man slumped to the ground. He was dead.

Holmes proceeded to examine the man thoroughly. He had been dead for only a short time, for the body was still warm. He was undoubtedly European, but he was so thin and bruised that he was almost unrecognisable. He was dressed in Tibetan clothes but underneath was an English coat: one of the b.u.t.tons was gone and Holmes noticed that those that remained were identical to the one that he had pulled from the vulture's talons. Indeed, he heard the fluttering of wings in the tree above and, looking up, saw the companions of that dead vulture, ready to pounce on the hapless corpse in front of him.

"At that moment, I was sure of only two things, Watson. The man was dead-and he was not Manning."

Holmes moved quickly, saying nothing as he led the princess Pema, now sobbing bitterly, gently away. Before it was fully light, they returned to her house. Yamamoto had fallen asleep, Purna Lal's eyes glued upon him.

Holmes leaned back in his chair, and I took the moment to interrupt him with my own thoughts.

"Extraordinary, my dear Holmes. But the mystery has only deepened and become even more confusing. You have at this juncture one of the chief criminals in your hands, but a commonplace rogue, nothing compared to Dorjiloff. And the mystery of Sir William Manning is murkier than ever. You have been led to a dead man by the Tibetan woman, but he is not Manning. Obviously she thought he was Manning. And if she thought he was Manning, then surely others would have thought so as well, even Dorjiloff himself. You saw this immediately and without ever having laid eyes on Manning. How on earth did you deduce that the dead man was not Manning?"