My name is Dr. John H. Watson, medically retired from the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. It was my very great honour to have enjoyed a close association with Mr. Sherlock Holmes for these many years since our first meeting. I had considered for a time not to set upon paper before the public the startling events that chronicle "The Adventure of the Disappearing Sovereign." No record of the doings of Mr. Sherlock Holmes would be complete which did not include an account of this highly unusual affair. This matter is so extremely delicate that it's publication would severely threaten the lives of those involved. Hence, I have had this memoir safely hidden away until all of the participants had gone to their reward. Although this narrative is of the service of Mr. Sherlock Holmes during The Great War, it's beginning can be traced to late November, 1894 in "The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez."

Professor Coram escaped from Russia after informing on his fellow Nihilists including his wife, Anna. This occurred after a time of trouble during which a policeman was killed and many being arrested and some executed. Anna's fellow comrade whom she loved, named Alexis, was sent to Siberia. Anna's term was not for life, and she was trying to get letters and a diary that would free Alexis from his unjust imprisonment. My good friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes and I took those articles to the Russian Embassy as Anna requested when she died from swallowing a phial of poison by her own hand to atone for Willoughby Smith's murder. The time of trouble, that she referred to in that chronicle, was the period of time following the assassination of Czar Alexander Romanov II, Russia's highest ranking policeman. The incident took place on March 1,1881 when a group of Nihilists rolled a bomb under the Czar's carriage killing him and the others within.

This particular day, early in the month of May in 1918, I was consuming my breakfast while Holmes forsook his in favour of his first pipe of the day. In it he would save all the plugs and dottles from all the previous day's pipes to fill his first pipe of the day with. This had , I fear, a frighteningly disagreeable odour with what must be a much more repulsive taste somewhat like charred straw. He was curled up in a chair near the window overlooking Baker Street contentedly puffing away as if his mind were elsewhere, and his countenance was, as usual, dreamy and expressionless. I had finished my eggs and bacon when I arose lighting a cigar, and strode over to the window to feel the fresh, although clammy and repressive, air upon my face. I had no sooner settled myself in the chair opposite Holmes when my ears detected the noise of wheels clattering over cobblestones close to our rooms. I surmised that a vehicle was coming towards us down Baker Street as the noise was increasing to a ruckus. The ruckus came to termination abruptly as a four-wheeler came to a stop directly in front of the entry door to our lodgings at 221-B Baker Street. The carriage was a plain and austere black carriage with absolutely no ornamentation of identifying signs.

"That sounds like brother Mycroft's four-wheeler," Holmes suddenly announced in an excited whisper.

"Holmes," I said in amazement. "How could you possibly know who was in a carriage without having seen them descend from it".

"O pshaw," retorted Holmes. " I really had hoped for better from you Watson after all these years. It is nothing supernatural, as you fear, my good fellow," said he.

"Then how can you possibly know that it is your brother in the carriage as we've seen nobody descend from it," I remonstrated?

"I was sitting here waiting and listening," Holmes explained. "As you know it takes some event of an extremely drastic nature to dislodge brother Mycroft out of his inflexible routine. He operates within the limits of his lodgings, Whitehall, and the Diogones Club as a matter of regimen. Whenever something occurs to alter this cycle, brother Mycroft, always calls for the same nondescript carriage with the loud grating wheels to keep his association with the government a secret," he elucidated.

"I had no idea that Mycroft was such a creature of habit even when his routine was disrupted. My apologies, Homes, for doubting your observations," I vouchsafed.

"That is hardly necessary, my dear Watson," said he. "In fact Mycroft informed me of his arrival today at this very hour by telegram yesterday," chuckled Holmes.

I notices that Holmes had that all too familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he stunned me with the telegram news that felt like a clap from a thunderbolt. I wanted to get angry, but I felt the look of astonishment on my face must truly be funny to look upon. Hence, I let it go until I could somehow find a way to properly repay him. Finally, there came to our hearing a much louder commotion from below. Upon our looking downwards we discovered Mycroft Holmes' considerably bulky form descending from the carriage. He moved quickly to our door to be met by Mrs. Hudson who appeared to be waiting there expressly for his arrival. After a few moments we heard Mycroft's heavy tread upon the stairs, which terminated at our door with a loud but weary knock.

"Come in, dear brother Mycroft, the door is unlocked," Holmes sang. He was basically the same robust and bulky size as when we saw him last in August of 1914, but his face seemed more haggard and surmounted by much whiter hair. He gave the appearance of bearing a great weight or under some form of tremendous pressure. He walked across the room with slow heavy determined steps, and all but fell heavily into our most commodious sitting chairs.

"Really, Sherlock, I am glad you have forsaken the Bees of Sussex for your lodgings here in London, but you really need to install a lift that your clients, and especially myself, may have easier access," advised Mycroft in place of a greeting. He fell heavily into the easy chair across from Holmes, that I had recently vacated for the sofa, and sank back into the deep recesses of the plush chair gathering his composure.

"Pray elucidate the significance of your most ambiguous and secretive telegram," inquired Holmes as he moved to the edge of his chair? "I am completely at your disposal," he added with a flurry of arms.

Mycroft Holmes took in a slow deep breath as he scanned the rooms as well as the areas outside the windows. He exhaled noisily as he leaned forward sitting on the edge of the chair whispering to his younger brother, "Sherlock, I regret giving you no information regarding an extremely delicate matter which has been placed before me to implement; however, the matter requires extreme secrecy and incredible precautions. I dared not put anything in the telegram save that I would be calling upon you this morning to consult you on a sensitive matter. The stakes in this game are very high, and the other players are totally ruthless. It is the Crown's desire that our opponents do not know that we are in the game until it is over successfully in our favour."

Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet, and paced about the room methodically while producing immense quantities of smoke from the Cherrywood pipe that he had but recently lighted. After a few minutes thus, he paused, and suddenly rushed back to his chair and lighted gracefully therein.

Looking more composed Homes addressed Mycroft in a faster than normal delivery, "My dear Mycroft, I deduced that much by your lack of particulars in the telegram. Now, what's afoot," he queried

"Sherlock, you really must keep hidden your excitement and hunger for details. It surely gives the game away as well as the advantage of being seemingly bored to learn more information in the process," Mycroft rebuked. "Now I must ask you to swear that what you hear will never be repeated while any of the parties involved remain living," Mycroft demanded!

Sherlock Holmes and I both swore in the affirmative. My mind was awhirl attempting to ascertain the secrecy of this unusual case that Mycroft had not put us through in previous cases. It was, as far as I was concerned, a definite conundrum! I suddenly came to my senses realizing that I had been daydreaming for how many minutes I knew not, but in point of fact it turned out to be mere seconds.

Mycroft once again whispered, "Sherlock, I have brought with me a person higher in the government than I who will lay the full particulars before you, and I hope most earnestly that you accept the commission to be offered you. When they are made known to you the reason for secrecy will be as plain as a pikestaff!"

Mycroft then arose slowly, walked to the window where he held up his right hand as if taking an oath, and then placing his hand over his heart. A commotion was heard out in the street that was closely followed by the opening and closing of the outer door. A flurry of rapid steps echoed from the stairs as my excitement and apprehension mounted. I hoped that all this cloak and dagger business would be worth the outcome of this case to be set before us.

The door suddenly flew open when a large and totally muffled figure swished into our room in but a twinkling of an eye. The figure turned and slammed the door shut with breathtaking speed as Holmes and I rose to voice our outrage. Our new guest stood now just within the door still totally muffled by wrapping a large floor length cloak around the now still figure. The head obscured by a large black hat with a thick veil that was impenetrable to the eyes. All that could be seen was the tips of highly polished boots protruding from beneath the folds of the cloak.

The four figures stood motionless facing each other. The room was pregnant with silence, and my pounding heart sounded like a bass drum brought on by my intense apprehension. This tableau seemed frozen in place as we stood gazing at each other for what seemed to be an indeterminable length of time, which, in point of fact, was actually less than a minute. My nerves were now very strained. What could all this secrecy be for to give the case validity? This thought went round and round within my mind unable to arrive at a solution. My thought processes were becoming dulled by the increasing pain from my shoulder, where I was wounded by a Jezail bullet during the Second Afghan Campaign. I was about to demand an immediate disclosure of the case to ease my pulsating nerves when a most unexpected event happened.

Sherlock Holmes straightened up to his full height while grasping the bowl of his Cherrywood pipe removing it from his lips. After setting it down post haste he strode three steps in the direction of the muffled figure who was recoiling from his advance. Sherlock Holmes then stopped dead still, and with an elaborate sweep of his right arm he bowed deeply from the waist stating almost reverently, "I most graciously welcome your Imperial Majesty, and I am humbly honoured by your august presence to my humble lodgings."

I was stunned into inaction by Holmes' action. I must confess that my wits had fled from me. The muffled figure discarded the cloak as he unwound it, and removing the hat and veil with august dignity to reveal our sovereign King George the fifth. He was attired in his blue military uniform richly emblazoned with many medals, badges, and trappings. He promulgated royal authority.

"I request your indulgence for the disguise and the inordinate secrecy of my mission," vouchsafed the King drawing nearer to us. He then added, "I implore you draw the curtains as we must preserve the secrecy of this meeting, and also of your hopefully soon involvement in the commission I would like for you to undertake for the Crown." Holmes quickly drew the curtains on both sets of windows, and turned up the gas jet to lighten the room as we had been eating by the cloud diffused sunlight prior to Mycroft's arrival. Holmes gestured to a chair with his arm for the King to be seated. As Holmes and I sat down on the edge of our chairs he asked of the King, "If your majesty please pray elucidate the full particulars of the matter at hand."

The King took a deep breath and sighed, "This case is a highly irregular one, which can not be handled by official sources due to it's most delicate nature." The King reached into his tunic and withdrew a photograph, which he offered to Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes arose and reached for the photograph. He showed it to me as he was studying it. The King inquired, "Do you recognize the 'gentleman' in the photograph?"

"Your majesty, said I, it surely is a photograph of yourself in rustic hunting clothing!"

A slow smile spread across the King's visage at my rapid deduction.

"A natural misjudgment, Watson," interjected Holmes.

"Holmes, it is the King as you can plainly compare before your very eyes, protested I.

The King held up his hand, and a silent hush permeated the room. "The photograph is not myself, the King smilingly explained, rather it is my cousin, Czar Nicholas the Second of Russia."

Amazement seized my countenance at the shock of the statement. My mind was numbed as I settled deeper into my chair.

"I need not relate to you the events that have occurred in Russia during the past year," said the King sadly. "You see, 'Nicky' is my cousin as is Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, but he is very dear to me, because he looks enough like me to be the twin brother I rather think I would have liked to have had. It is my deep concern for him that draws me to Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Holmes was on the edge of his seat with anticipation as his eyes sparkled with the glitter I at once recognized as the evidence the game was afoot. So commanding was the King's presence that we never noticed when the rain had stopped, and the parting of the clouds to admit the life awakening sunlight with the refracted light painting a lustrous rainbow in the sky.

"Nicholas having abdicated last year is now a mere citizen under house arrest at a summer house outside of St.Petersburg at his Tsarkoe Selo villa," continued the King. "The concern now is that he has disappeared from this residence, and there is no trace of him to be found anywhere. Our agents have looked all over the area and the major cities with but failure to report. Mr. Sherlock Holmes I do hereby commission you to go with all dispatch to Russia, with Dr. Watson, on the 'Hunt for the Czar.'" "The recent Brest-Litovsk treaty had a secret codicil in which the Bolsheviks agreed to the German, Kaiser's, demand that 'safe passage' be granted to the Imperial Russian family, however many believe the Bolsheviks mean to murder them in the near future," said the King.

Holmes arose with a dignity and bearing that I had not heretofore seen. He executed a perfect accolade of a bow and said, "It would be my extreme honour to undertake this hunt for the Czar to it's successful conclusion; however, I am not at liberty to answer for Dr. Watson's involvement in this dangerous venture."

I must confess that I had been rightly mesmerized by these proceedings that Holmes' remark somewhat caught me somewhat off guard. At last, after a tense moment or two, I arose stiffly, and bowed as graciously as I possibly could with my wounded hip flaring with flashes of pain caused by that Jezail bullet so long ago. "I am honoured that your majesty would have me accompany my good friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, on this grave matter of Imperial concern," said I.

Holmes was knocking the ash out of his pipe as Mycroft said, "Sherlock, I have exhausted all available channels of official inquiry with but emptiness to show for it. It's deucedly depressing, that the unmitigated gall of these new Bolsheviks coupled with their intense lack of honour towards non-socialist nations makes communication nearly impossible. The fact is, dear Sherlock, the Bolsheviks have not responded to a single inquiry from any nation regarding the Czar and his family. Even though we are all involved in this war there is not one nation seeking harm for the Czar. We are, as you have probably guessed, halted at a standstill."

The King slowly stood to his feet while smoothing out the creases in his uniform. "Mr. Holmes, if you and Dr. Watson would be good enough to honour the Diogones Club with your presence tonight at eight o'clock Mycroft will be in full possession of the details regarding your journey to Russia, and hopeful return, with the latest intelligence regarding "Nicky", and they will be promulgated to you at that time," said the King with sadness in his eyes.

"That will be quite satisfactory, your majesty," announced Holmes rising.

"Gentlemen, said the King as he replaced his disguise, please find Nicky and his family, and help them to escape the horror that I fear will otherwise surely befall them. Godspeed to you gentlemen, and I salute you," and the King snapped a salute, covered himself, and departed hurriedly down the stair and out the door into the waiting carriage.

"Well Watson, what do you make of that? This case surely presents many features of interest that we have not previously experienced, asked Holmes as he escorted Mycroft to the door to the stairs bidding him a farewell.

Holmes crossed to the mantle where he picked up the Persian Slipper commencing to fill his full-bend briar pipe with the strong tobacco contents within. He applied a match just above the pipe's bowl as he drew the fire down to the tobacco, and he began puffing strong blue-grey smoke as the tobacco took fire. Holmes turned towards me finally with his eyebrow raised in query again.

As speech returned to my lips I responded, "Holmes, this is a dangerous undertaking, but think of it, the King here in our lodgings. I can hardly wait to write about it, and it should sell quite well," said I.

"Watson, I fear that you will be unable to write of this mission for quite some time if it is brought to a successful conclusion," Holmes solemnly warned. "If the Czar is rescued and you write one of your overly melodramatic narratives about it then the Czar, his family, and all involved including us will be in constant danger of losing our lives," he explained.

"Just the same, Holmes, while it is fresh I do intend to write down the account, which will be put away until none of the participants can be harmed," rejoined I. "Further, Holmes, a record does need to be left to the following generations, and it will touch the 'Romantic' in many hearts, and encourage them in affairs of honour," I vouchsafed mistily.

Holmes all the while was puffing his pipe reflectively with a far away dreamy look in his eyes. He took the Persian Slipper with him to his window chair, and curled up in an all too familiar position. He turned towards me and said, "Be a good fellow, Watson, and do not speak to me for the next six hours for this is quite a five-pipe problem, and I need to put all this data to the test and sort it out." His voice just trailed off as he stared out into the sultry morning sky.

"I believe that I will visit The Strand Magazine to see if they would be publishing my last set of stories soon," offered I to excuse myself. I exited the room, and limped down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was just coming in from visiting the market with the delivery boy in tow. She dispatched the lad to the kitchen, and he apparently knew the way from many previous visits as he hardly stopped for her commands.

"Good Morning, Dr. Watson," said she cheerily.

"Good Morning to you, Mrs. Hudson," replied I. "Mr. Holmes is curled upstairs with his pipe, and he probably would not notice if you went in to gather up the breakfast settings," I added as I tipped my hat to her.

"Did the four-wheeler bring an important case Doctor," she asked.

"Yes, and a very important one I might add. It might take us abroad for a fortnight," I explained as I exited the door to walk towards the Strand. I must confess that my heart was torn between being happy to being in the game once again, and the unpleasant task of going abroad during wartime, with my wounded knee giving me fits whenever humidity came 'round.

The rest of the morning and afternoon proved to be rather uneventful compared the challenge looming before us. The Strand magazine was considering the publication of my recent submission of narratives about some of Sherlock Holmes' cases that were too delicate to put before the public previously. They hopefully would publish some by the end of next year. I enjoyed a leisurely luncheon with my editor on the Strand after which I completed some errands for some needed personal articles. I returned to Baker Street as the chimes were striking Four o'clock, which is tea time. As I entered the street door I encountered Mrs. Hudson starting up those familiar stairs taking a Tea Service up to our old rooms. I followed her up the stairs, and opened the door for her entry into our lodgings. She thanked me as she set the service on the table. She turned and bustled out of the room rapidly closing the door behind her.

Holmes was still curled up in the chair where I had left him earlier that morning. He was veiled in a cloud of smoke that hung in the air as if it were painted there. All of a sudden Holmes, in a flurry of activity sprang from his chair to open the window, and set aside his pipe while walking briskly over to the table saying, "Ah Watson, you have returned just in time to take Tea with me."

"Really Holmes, I thought you were oblivious to everything going on in this room by your pallid expression," I returned.

"Surely by now you must know that the best way to observe is to act like you are not interested or observing," said he.

"Has your sorting out the case given you a clearer idea of what we have before us," I asked hopefully.

"Why yes," said Holmes as he drank down his cup of tea, "there are quite a number of facets that are clearer now, but I feel that any theories should wait until we visit brother Mycroft tonight."

The rest of the afternoon was leisurely spent pursuing the newspapers of the day's news and war events. We took our time in changing for dinner into our evening suits since we intended to dine at the Diogones Club prior to the arrival of Mycroft Holmes. The evening was sufficiently cool that we decided to enjoy a slow walk to the club. Holmes did appear to really enjoy being outdoors instead of being cooped up in a cab. We arrived at the Diogones Club at 6:30, and we were seated directly in the restaurant. All that could be heard was the clatter and tinkle of glasses and silverware as talking was strictly forbidden within the Diogones Club save in the Strangers Room. We pointed out our selections on the menu to our waiter, and afterward ate our sumptuous meal in an unnatural silence. It was unnerving, that eerie silence, and it made my skin crawl. I did not enjoy this meal.

Promptly at Eight o'clock found Holmes and I safely entrenched in the comfortable leather covered lounging chairs in the Stranger's Room. As the clock struck the last gong of Eight, Mycroft Holmes entered the room with fluid dignity. Mycroft was always an extremely punctual person, and he seemed to have gotten more punctual as years advanced. He walked over to us, and we rose to greet him. Mycroft held up a hand cautioning silence, and motioned us to follow him undoubtedly to a private room where we could converse freely without the fear of being overheard. We followed Mycroft upstairs to the third floor to a room located at a corner of the building. Four men came out of the room and signaled with a nod of their head that all was secure within. We entered a richly furnished room with tapestries on the walls and well made costly furniture. We moved to the centre of the room where three large commodious chairs were set facing each other.

As we settled into our chairs Holmes took out his slate coloured clay pipe, and proceeded to fill it from a black seal skin tobacco pouch, a souvenir from a previous case. As he lit the tobacco in his usual manner of one inch above the top of the bowl he spoke to Mycroft.

"Well brother Mycroft, pray tell us what has eventuated since this morning regarding this case," Holmes inquired.

Mycroft reclined into the recesses of his chair and lighted a cigar. As he was contemplating the flavour of the smoke he spoke.

"Sherlock, there is still no word as to the Czar's whereabouts, and there is no telling what drastic measures the Bolsheviks may undertake on an impulse. The situation is so unstable and volatile that we must think in terms of prompt action only," stated Mycroft.

"I deduced as much this afternoon," yawned Holmes.

"Your passage to Russia has been arranged in minute detail. You both shall leave on the thirty-first of May from the Police Landing under the Tower Bridge at exactly eight-thirty in the evening. You must pack only your essentials in an inexpensive cloth overnight bag, and one that preferably is old and battered I might add," explained Mycroft.

"Obviously, we should dress in the attire of poor sailors seeking employment," said Holmes interrupting.

"Actually, Sherlock, the poorer the better as it will help you to blend in, and not to be conspicuous. I have faith still in your ability at disguise, and I am certain that you will assist Dr. Watson in his new identity," added Mycroft respectfully.

"Mycroft, what is to be the method of transport and itinerary to Russia," inquired Holmes languidly.

"That is to remain a secret until you are on the Thames. What I can tell you is that there is help for you when you get to Russia. The help is in the form of two very effective secret agents. The first is an American secret agent named Charles James Fox, whose code name is "The Fox." He is a tall, dark, and distinguished gentleman with a bushy mustache and pince-nez glasses. He speaks English, French, German, and some Russian and Chinese. You will discover that he is athletic, adventurous by nature, with a military background. He will be working with a partner, one William Rutledge McGarry. McGarry, likewise, is tall and very distinguished appearing, but has a neatly trimmed mustache with short hair parted in the centre. He is a man possessing a whole galaxy of talents, and that will prove invaluable to our cause. He is a remarkably learned man whose tireless energy and studies have taken him all over the globe. He has the ability to put what he learns into action quickly. He is the foremost intelligence agent in the world currently, and has worked as a lawyer, writer, linguist, corporation executive, and foreign trade expert. He fluently speaks English, French, German, Russian, and others. He is a close friend with David Roland Francis, the American Ambassador to Czarist Russia, and has additional help in those areas. The other assistant is somewhat ambiguous. He is an aviator who is a double-agent for the Allies, but the Germans believe he works for them alone. We believe that he may be an American, but we really do not know his nationality. He came over early in the war to fly in the flying corps. It seems he likes to live life on the edge, and often takes death-defying risks. His code name is 'The Eagle,' which in German is "Der Adler" essentially meaning the same thing. It should also be noted that Mr. Eagle believes in shoot first, and ask questions afterwards! In short he kills," promulgated Mycroft.

"The man sounds somewhat like a "Jack The Ripper" like homicidal maniac," I observed.

"It actually matters little as he is a highly successful agent in a time of war when the services of undesirable people are needed for disagreeable assignments. Be certain of this fact, which is that you are totally safe from harm with him," Mycroft explained.

"There is also another factor in your favour. There is currently another counter revolution going on now within Russia at this very minute. The White Russians are challenging the Red Russians for the governmental control. The Reds, as you know, are called Bolsheviks, and the Whites are the Byelorussians. The main activity of hostilities is from Poland eastward to the Caucuses Mountains, and from the Black Sea northward to a point 100 miles south of Moscow. If you are successful you can escape easily if you can gain the White Russian lines. You see, they are still fiercely loyal to the Romanov Czars. Does that sound suitable to you, Sherlock," asked Mycroft.

"I believe we will be able to search better with two extra pairs of eyes in a country that large," Holmes replied.

"Well, Sherlock, that brings you up to date, and I advise you spend the remaining days in pursuit of learning a working knowledge of the Russian language, and a study of their customs and extensive knowledge of maps will prove useful. The time is short, and we must accomplish much to be ready for the challenge of the Hunt for the Czar," announced Mycroft.

"You may reach me at Baker Street," said Holmes, "I will be checking in there more often than anywhere else," he explained.

"Very well, Sherlock, I will be sending you periodic reports to keep you up on things. His Imperial Majesty, King George, gave me this for your use," vouchsafed Mycroft as he gave Sherlock Holmes a leather pouch containing 1,000 Gold Sovereigns.

We extravisated the room to descend downstairs to the main floor. Mycroft took a different staircase from the second floor so as not we should all be seen together. We gathered our wraps and made our way outside to a lightly falling rain rather like a mist. There was a row of Hansoms close by behind the motor car cabs so Holmes led the way to the Hansoms as he preferred them for the sake of familiarity. We were lulled by the steady grind of the wheels upon the wet cobblestones harmonizing with the rain and horses hoofs echoing through the night. Ah, but it was 1895 once again if but for only a few moments. Holmes awakened me from my reverie when we reached our lodgings.

We entered and climbed the familiar 17 stairs to our room. We found that all was in order, and I prepared to go to sleep, with Holmes curling up in his chair with his pipe and Persian slipper of tobacco. I knew it was useless for any further talk.

The following three weeks were extremely busy ones, and I saw little of my friend save those rare meals we attended together. I learned a smattering of the Russian language as well as it's customs and recent history. My mind was awhirl at this intense ingestion of foreign material, and at times it seemed to overwhelm me.

The evening of May 31st found us deposited at the Police landing underneath the Tower Bridge a full hour early. Holmes was obviously chomping at the bit for one last romantic adventure. He seemed to sense forthcoming excitement and intrigue by the sparkle in his blue-grey eyes. I must confess that I too had the butterflies of urgency in my stomach. We sat in silence on the bench by the river's edge casually observing the river traffic, and my mind traveled back in time to that wild chase down the Stygian dark Thames after the Great Agra Treasure. I felt the same menacing danger once again.

Punctually at the stroke of eight o'clock a Police launch drew up to the landing, and to my astonishment I perceived Mycroft Holmes at the rail. We scrambled aboard as the launch did not tie up, but was moving down the river at a stomach churning pace. The launch showed neither light nor sounded the horn, and only the muffled throb of the engines with the rushing of the water past the hull being all that came to our ears. The air grew murky and thick as we sped along with frightful smells of brackish water and mildew assailing our sense of smell. I knew we were nearing the mouth of the mighty river with anticipation wrapping her cold hand around my heart at the unknown step that lay ahead. Mycroft was perfecting his imitation of a clam. To our ears came a deep hoot of a ship's horn from close at hand.

A shape suddenly separated itself from the surrounding gloomy blackness, and took form as a Royal Navy Battle Cruiser. As we came closer I noticed some structural damage, and the evidence of recent repairs. It probably saw service at the Battle of Jutland, and had not yet had the availability to go to the yards for extensive repairs. A gangplank was in place as the launch tied up to it. Mycroft gave Holmes a sealed packet as he shook our hands, and wished us Godspeed as he waved us a farewell as we ascended the gangplank to the main deck.

The captain saluted us as we stepped on deck and said, "Welcome aboard The Invincible, gentlemen will you please follow me," in a dignified manner.

As we followed, baggage in hand, we heard the gangplank being raised along with the anchor chain, and then we felt movement beneath our feet realizing that we were already underway. There seemed to be no loss of time on the beginning of our trip. We walked to the front of the ship and into a archway to come to an abrupt stop at the first door. The captain opened the door for us and we entered. It was roomy for a ship, and I believe that it may be reserved for visiting admirals or other dignitaries.

"You will keep to this cabin, and do not leave it for any reason as our trip is not a very long one," ordered the captain as he saluted and quitted the room locking the door behind him.

"Holmes this is all deucedly queer behaviour, and all this not knowing what is going on upsets me," I complained.

"Evidently this is all designed to keep our leaving England a secret, which can only aid us in our task," Holmes replied.

Within minutes the door opened with an enlisted man entering carrying a large tray of covered dishes. "With the captain's complements, gentlemen, I hope you enjoy your meal," announced the server. He set the tray down on the table in the centre of the room and departed locking the door behind him.

"Brother Mycroft apparently has thought of everything for our voyage and mission," mused Holmes aloud.

"We may as well try these dishes set before us," said I.

As we consumed the delicious steak dinner Holmes opened the packet given him by Mycroft as we boarded the vessel. It was full of identity papers for the both of us. One set had us representatives of the Red Cross in Switzerland, and the other as Ukrainian farmers. There was a considerable amount of Russian money, and two red armbands of a crude nature with the Bolshevik emblem sewed on it. It must be for our disguises in Russia I thought. Shortly after we finished our meal the door opened to admit our server who removed the evidence of our repast. After a most comforting pipe we retired to give our strained nerves a respite. Even with the strange surroundings I was soon fast asleep.

"Sirs, wake up!" Thus spoke enlisted man as he was shaking me. I stirred and sat up. "What is it my good man," I inquired as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

We are nearing your place of departure, sirs. Hurry up and get ready as the captain must get this done bloody quick," said he.

We dressed as fast as we possibly could without giving proper attention to our toilet. We arrived on deck in less than twenty minutes, and I stared in horror to see that it still was pitch dark outside. I looked at my watch for the time only to discover to my dismay that it was gone!

The captain approached hurriedly. "There is no time to explain, but all that you miss will be returned to you upon your return to Baker Street," said the Captain as he led us to a boat davit.

"Gentlemen, please enter the boat, and we will lower it to the surface, disengage the hooks, and leave you temporarily adrift here," explained the Captain.

"Captain, where exactly are we being left," asked Holmes coolly?

"You are outside Heligoland Bay, but your journey will continue in short order so fear not," clipped the saluting Captain.

As the boat touched the water we unhooked the "monkey lines," and they were hauled up quickly while three long moans came from the ship's foghorn. The ship started moving with an incredible wake trailing behind as if the hounds of hell were on her trail.

"Holmes, where or what is this Heligoland Bay," asked I.

"Heligoland Bay lies between the Elbe and Weser Rivers near the port of Bremen, and it is the anchorage of the Imperial German High Seas Fleet," said Holmes grimly.

I was struck dumb, and I fear my mouth gaped open at this revelation. Holmes just sat there as if expecting some eminent event. It came momentarily as a loud foghorn three times sounded. A loud churning sounded to be approaching us from the opposite direction that the H.M.S. Invincible departed towards. Rapidly a shape loomed, and soon became defined as a large battle cruiser. As it neared I noted a shield bearing a black eagle at the top of the bow. It was a German ship! It slowed to come along side us so I could read a name on the bow as "Derfflinger." My mind raced. It was the German's greatest success at Jutland. This ship reeked honour, but it still was a dangerous enemy. Hooks came down with German sailors attached. They secured the hooks in place with grim silence and cold efficiency, and we were soon on the deck of the ship after scrambling down the boat in chocks set in the deck. The ship's captain was standing there, and snapped a perfect salute accompanied by the traditional European heel click. His uniform was immaculate, and bristling with many decorations. I noticed that he wore the Knight's Cross around his neck underneath the Blue Max. This officer obviously was a brave man.

He gestured for us to follow, and with baggage in hand we did. This time our way led to the very back of the ship. We entered a hatch right before the large rotating guns. There was a sentry on guard in front of the first door on the right just inside the hatch. The sentry saluted smartly and opened the door. The captain preceded Holmes and I through the entry way and I closed the door. The room was positively sterile or spartan as there was nothing on the walls save a small black curtain over the porthole. The room consisted of two chairs, two beds, and a table with a washroom in a recess. Everything was simple and plain so that the captain's uniform looked extremely out of place.

"Welcome gentlemen, aboard the Battle Cruiser Derfflinger, and I will endeavor to make this journey as pleasant as humanly possible. You will be our guests for about two weeks," announced the Captain.

Holmes and I had placed our bags on the bed of our choosing, and we sat down on the chairs provided.

You are no doubt wondering at my excellent English? After my studies in Germany I studied for about eight years at Oxford and Cambridge. I have since kept up with my fluency with your language as it is a great asset during this currant war," he added.

"I assume this ship will sail eventually around Denmark, through the Baltic Sea to somewhere near East Prussia," inquired Holmes.

"Your reputation has preceded you, Mr. Holmes, and I perceive that it is justly deserved," retorted the captain in awe. Holmes merely bowed curtly to acknowledge the captain's promulgated accolades without uttering a word.

"You have deduced correctly, Mr. Holmes, that is the plan that has been worked out secretly between our respective sovereigns. You will be met in Koenigsberg on the coast of East Prussia, and from there will your journey continue," vouchsafed the captain.

"Would you be permitted to inform us as to what magic lands us on board Germany's most battled honoured ship while our nation's are still engaged in hostilities," questioned Holmes?

"Ach, but you are curious. That tells me you have not been informed of the entire chain of events. Very well, I can elucidate to you the facts that I know. The Kaiser did not want to see his cousin, the Czar, murdered by the bestial Bolsheviks even though he wanted to defeat the Czar in the war. The Czar was defeated, and has abdicated his throne to become a private citizen. The fear is that the Bolsheviks want to murder the Czar and his family so that there can be no counter-revolution like the one currently in progress. I was personally assigned the duty of getting you to Russia without any Russians knowing that you are near or even involved. We must preserve secrecy if we are to catch those maniacs off guard, and rescue the Czar so he may live out his days in exile, but alive without fear of attack," explained the Captain rapidly.

"You have confirmed what I have long ago surmised," answered Holmes sadly.

The captain then retired to leave us to our thoughts, and the door, as usual was secured. I turned and asked Holmes, "I believe that the captain was talking as if he already knew you, Holmes."

"Watson! I am surprised that you did nor recognize him. The facial features are unmistakable to show him to be an exact look-a-like of his father, The King of Bohemia," announced Holmes in a triumphant manner.

"How blind I have become," I explained. "It is, of course, an easy deduction since you draw my attention to it," I sighed.

There would be no interest in a German warship steaming in the waters bordering upon Germany. I still find it hard to believe, but we were here on a mission of international stature. The rest of the voyage was passed in an uneventful manner excluding the fact that I was resigned to my bed due to sea sickness. I suppose that it was fortunate that I had not joined the Navy out of Medical School. We spent 10 days at sea steaming in a routine patrolling pattern at a slower pace not to excite interest in our movements.

We were awakened early on the morning of the 11th of June while it was yet dark. The captain came in just as our breakfast arrived in the cook's hands. He set the tray down, and left the cabin as we sat down to eat clad in our shirtsleeves as we had not time to finish our toilet, and dress in our coats, "Good morning, gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that we have anchored just inside the harbour of Koenigsberg, which is as close as we can possibly get you to Russia," said the captain proudly! "You will accompany me ashore dressed as junior officers in the Imperial German Navy in the captain's launch. Your uniforms are being readied, and they will be here presently. You will attire yourselves in them, and place your other belongings into the sea bags that will come to give the impression that you are going home on leave. That will help us pass through the city to where your transportation to St.Petersburg is secured. Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me," he added as he left us to our meal.

Our meal consumed we changed into the uniforms provided us. I had the uniform of a captain in the Medical service and Holmes had that of a Korvetten Kapitan on the Admiralty Staff resplendent with medals and badges. I feared that Holmes' uniform would draw undo interest, but I held my tongue for the nonce. We were staring at each other at how odd we both appeared when there sounded knocking upon our door. The door was immediately opened to admit four sailors to escort us to the launch, two of whom carried our sea bags. We were assisted into the launch followed by the captain and his four escorts who became the boat crew.

With the shrill accompaniment of B'sun's pipes our launch was swung out and lowered to the water's surface. The engine started as we turned our bow towards the city across the harbour. After a thirty minute ride we came upon the Naval Pier where we tied up. The sailors made the boat fast, and we stepped on to the dock followed by our four "friends" carrying our sea bags. The captain led the way up a long sloping ramp to the exit to the town. There was a flurry of commotion just outside the gate as everybody moved aside and the double gate opened wide. The air was suddenly assailed by the shrill notes of many fifes being played in unison. Our captain got us aside quickly. "They are changing the guard and performing the flag raising ceremony so stand stiffly at attention, and both of you hold a right hand salute until they are all past," the captain warned in a whisper.

Drums thundered suddenly in marching rhythm, and a wall of noise nearly knocked me over as an entire naval band broke forth in a very stirring march accompanied by a squad of shrieking fifes and thundering drums. I confess that I was impressed to promptly salute as I felt my military blood racing. Holmes whispered to me that the march was titled "Prussians Gloria," and it was one of the German Military's favourites.

It took over twenty minutes for the little parade to pass following the flag raising ceremony, and the only thought I had during the concert was how much I now hate the shrill squeal of fifes! We dropped our salute as they passed, and once more followed the captain. Just outside the closing gates a new model Touring car was waiting for us with a driver who snapped to attention as we approached. The captain preceded us into the rear seats of the automobile as the driver closed the door behind us.

The car lurched into gear and we rolled speedily forward. Our way wound through the city, and out into the beautiful and luxuriant green countryside. After a brief thirty minute drive we turned into a military depot that boarded upon a railroad line. We came to a stop before the depot proper, and we dismounted the machine to the ground after our driver hurriedly opened the door and snapped to attention. Together with the captain we walked up the stairs into the depot waiting room. The captain led us over to a corner as if we were watching the train tracks.