The Big Book of Sherlock Holmes Stories (95 page)

We were rushed from the station to a carriage and taken to the Genesee Hotel at Main and Genesee Streets. The Genesee was one of several large and thriving hotels in the central part of the city, with more under construction. The hotel served to seal my impression of the city, which was full of people from elsewhere, there to sell or buy or negotiate or merely gawk, as a
place that grew and changed so rapidly that one had better write down his address because the next time he saw the location it might look different.

Captain Allen waited while we checked in and let the bellmen take our trunks to our suite. Then he took his leave. “I shall call upon you gentlemen at ten this evening on the matter of which we spoke,” he said, turned on his heel, and went out the door. The carriage took him away.

Holmes and I went upstairs to our quarters. “We shall be here for at least a week,” he said. “We may as well do some unpacking.”

I took his advice, and watched out of the corner of my eye as he did the same. He had an array of unexpected items with him that I had not noticed during the six days at sea or the two days of travel into the interior. In addition to the clothing and accessories that he wore in London, there were some clothes and shoes that looked like those of a workman, some firearms and ammunition, an actor's makeup kit, and wooden boxes that were plain and unlabeled, which he left unopened in the trunk.

We took the opportunity to bathe and dress appropriately for our evening appointment. Holmes was a tall, trim man who looked positively elegant when he chose to, and a visit to the President of the United States was one occasion he considered worthy of some effort. In all modesty I must assert that my somewhat broader body was also suitably dressed. The elegant and tasteful lady I had been courting had, long before the voyage, insisted on going with me to a fine tailor on Savile Row where I was outfitted with several suits I could barely afford.

At exactly ten there was a knock on the door of our suite. Captain Frederick Allen was there to escort us. He conducted us to a waiting cabriolet, and we went down a broad and nicely paved street called Delaware Avenue. On both sides there were stately, well-kept homes of three stories, made of wood or brick or both, and surrounded by impressive lawns and gardens. We stopped at number 1168. When the cabriolet pulled out of earshot to wait, Captain Allen said, “This is the home of a local attorney, Mr. John Milburn, who is serving as president of the Exposition.”

We mounted the steps and a pair of American soldiers in dress blues opened the doors for us, then stood outside for a few moments to be sure that we had not been followed. Then they stepped back inside and resumed their posts. Mr. Allen led us across a broad foyer to a large set of oak doors. He knocked, and the man who opened the door surprised me.

I had seen photographs of William McKinley during the election of 1900, and there was no mistaking him. He was tall, about sixty years old, with hair that had not yet gone gray. His brow was knitted in an expression of alertness that made him look more stern than he proved to be. His face broadened into a smile instantly, and he said, “Ah, gentlemen. Please come in. I must thank you for coming halfway around the world to speak with me.”

“It's a pleasure, sir,” Holmes said, and shook his hand.

I said, “I'm honored to meet you.”

We were inside the library in a moment, and then someone, presumably Allen, closed the door behind us. Holmes said, “I don't mind if our friend Captain Allen hears what we say.”

The president shook his head. “He knows what I'm about to tell you, and some day in the future having been here might make him subject to unwanted inquiry.”

The president went to the far end of the library and sat in a leather armchair. I noticed he had a glass on the table beside him that appeared to be some local whiskey-like spirit mixed with water. “Would you care to join me in a drink?”

I saw that there were a decanter of the amber liquid and a pitcher of water on a sideboard, and a supply of glasses. In the interest of politeness, I poured myself three fingers of the distillate. Holmes said, “Water for me, Watson, at least until I'm sure I won't need a clear head.”

I brought him the water and we each sat in armchairs facing the president. Holmes leaned
back, crossed his legs at the knee, and said confidently, “You're a president who has learned of recent plots against his life. You are about to appear in public at an international exposition. I assume that what you want is for me to take charge of your personal security to ensure that you are not assassinated.”

“Why no, sir,” President McKinley said. “I called you all this way because I want you to ensure that I
am
assassinated.”

“What?” I said. “Perhaps I—”

“Your surprise proves you heard the president correctly,” Holmes said. Then he looked at President McKinley judiciously. “Dr. Watson will agree you appear to be in perfect health, so you're not avoiding the pain of a fatal illness. I can see from the lack of broken vessels in your facial skin that the alcohol you're drinking now is not your habitual beverage, but an amenity for guests. You were only recently reelected by a nation grateful for your service. Unless there's some curious delay in the delivery of bad news in this country, I don't think there's a scandal. And if you wanted to kill yourself, you're fully capable of obtaining and operating a firearm, since you fought in your Civil War. Why would a leader at the apex of his career wish to be murdered?”

“I don't wish to be murdered. I wish to appear to have been murdered.”

“But why? Your life seems to be a series of victories.”

“I've become a captive of those victories,” he said.

“How so?”

“Five years ago, with the help of my friend the party boss Mark Hanna, I assembled a coalition of businessmen and merchants, and ran for president on a platform of building prosperity by giving every benefit to business. Using protective tariffs and supporting a currency based on the gold standard, I helped lift the country out of the depression that had started in 1893, and made her an industrial power.”

“Then what can be the matter?”

“I'm a man who got everything he wanted, and has only now discovered that his wishes weren't the best things for his country.”

“Why not?”

“Unintended consequences. Mark Hanna got me elected, but in doing so he spent three and a half million dollars. I'm afraid we have irrevocably tied political success to money, and that the connection, once made, will be disastrous for this country. The men with the most money will buy the government they want. I got us out of a depression by favoring business. I believed men of wealth and power would be fair to their workers because it was the right thing to do. Instead, the giant companies I helped act like rapacious criminals. They employ children in inhuman conditions in factories and mines, murder union spokesmen, keep wages so low that their workers live like slaves. Their own workmen can't buy the products they make, and the farmers live in debt and poverty. Since my reelection, I have been trying to bring sane and moderate regulation to business, but I have had no success. My allies, led by my friend Senator Hanna, won't hear of such a thing. My opponents don't trust me because I was champion of their oppressors. I wanted a second term to fix all the mistakes of the first term, but I find I can't fix any of them. I am clearly not the man for this job.”

“Your people reelected you.”

“I should not have run. I am a man of the nineteenth century. I understood the challenges of the time—bringing an end to slavery, building the railroads, settling the western portions of the country. But my time is now over. We have moved into the twentieth century, and I have overstayed history's welcome.”

I said, “Mr. President, if you were to be assassinated, what would become of your nation?”

He smiled. “That is one of the few things that don't worry me. I selected a special man to be my vice presidential running mate. His name is Theodore Roosevelt. He's what I can never be—a man of the twentieth century.”

“I'm afraid I know little about him,” said Holmes. “I remember reading that he led a cavalry charge up San Juan Hill.”

McKinley nodded. “He was running the U.S. Navy when war was declared. He resigned his Washington job and then organized his own troop of cavalry, fought alongside his men, and was recognized for his bravery. He is a genuine hero. And that should help when the country has to accept him as president. He is as well educated as a man in this country can be, is a respected historian, but also spent years running cattle in the Dakota Territory. He is only forty-two years old. He is fearless, intelligent, and utterly incorruptible. He is a man who sees these times so clearly that to a nineteenth-century man like myself, he seems clairvoyant. He is the man for the challenging times that are coming.”

“What challenges do you mean?” I asked.

“The ethnic and linguistic groups of Europe have been forging themselves into nations and joining alliances for decades now—Germany and Italy have risen, and Germany defeated France in 1870. The pan-Slav movement has united Russia with the Balkans. The strength of Russia places it at odds with the Turks and the Japanese. Now all of these nations, and dozens more, are in the process of arming themselves. They're galloping toward a conflagration.”

“And what can Mr. Roosevelt do?”

“In a few days, he can begin by showing the world that once again, there will be an orderly succession here. When one American leader dies, another stronger and better leader will immediately step up into his place. And then Mr. Roosevelt will show the world that the United States has might. Knowing him, I believe he will begin with the navy, which he knows best. He has already suggested sending a Great White Fleet around the world to show the flag. Germany has been working to build a fleet stronger than the British navy. Maybe if the kaiser becomes aware that he would need to defeat two strong navies, he will hesitate to attack anyone for a time.”

“So you see Roosevelt as buying time?”

“Yes. I believe that if he does the job right, he can delay a general war by ten years. If he's better than that, he can delay it by fifteen years. America is on the rise. Each day that our leaders can keep the peace makes the country richer, stronger, and less vulnerable. Keeping the peace will also give him the time to begin conserving the country's wild places for posterity, and to begin curtailing and breaking up the trusts that have sprung up in industry to strangle competition and impoverish farmers and workers. I don't know what else he'll do. He is the man of the future, and I'm only a man of the past. I just know the time has come to get out of his way.”

“And what would become of you?”

“That, sir, will be up to you. I would like to have you arrange my assassination within the next few days. Then I want you to help me with my afterlife. My wife, Ida, and I want to go off somewhere to live the years allotted to us in anonymity and privacy. I love my country and I've done my best for it all my life. But now I would be content to watch it from a distance.” As he looked at Holmes, the president's brows knitted in that stern way he had.

Holmes sat in silence for a moment. “Sir, I accept your charge. Tonight, I believe, is the third of September. We must move quickly and keep the number of conspirators very small. I believe we'll be ready to move on the sixth.” He stood.

McKinley smiled and stood with him, so I had little choice but to do the same, although I felt a bit confused by their haste. I too took my leave, and Holmes and I went outside to find Captain Allen waiting by our cabriolet. We got in, and Allen said to the driver, “The Genesee Hotel,” and then stepped aside and let the cab go by.

On the way up Delaware, Holmes told the driver to stop at the telegraph office. There was one on Main Street, which was not far from our quarters. He went inside and wrote out a message he covered with his hand so I couldn't accidentally glance at it, handed it to the telegraph operator, and paid him a sum of three dollars.

When we were back in the cabriolet, he said, “Take us to the Exposition grounds, please.”

“The buildings will be closed, sir,” said the driver. “It's nearly midnight.”

“Exactly,” said Holmes.

The cab took us north along the deserted Delaware Avenue. The clopping of the horse's
hooves on the cobblestone pavement was the only sound. All of the great houses were closed and darkened.

After no more than ten minutes, we reached a section of the avenue that curved, and as we came around, the Pan-American Exposition rose before us. From this distance it was a strange and ghostly sight. It was 350 acres of buildings constructed on the site of the city's principal park. Because the Exposition was, above all, a celebration of progress exemplified by electrical power, all of the principal buildings were decorated and outlined with lightbulbs, and all of them were lit, so the place looked like the capital of fairyland.

The countless bulbs glowed with a warm pink hue which never glared or fatigued the eyes, so a spectator's attention was drawn to every detail, every color. I was dumbstruck at the sights. The Exposition grounds were bisected by a grand promenade running from the Triumphal Bridge at the south end to the Electric Tower at the north end. There were canals, lakes, and fountains surrounding all the buildings, so these large, complicated, and beautiful constructions with heavily ornamented walls were not only illuminated and outlined by the magical lighting, but the glow was repeated in lakes and canals that served as reflecting pools. As we approached, the impression was of a city, with domes and towers and spires everywhere.

The architecture was indescribable—a fanciful mixture of neoclassical, Spanish Renaissance baroque, and pure whimsy all placed side by side along the midway in every direction. There were some constructions that reminded me of the more ornate Hindu temples I'd seen, with their red and yellow paint and green panels.