We thanked him heartily and saluted him with our best attempt at the European "Heel Click," and he returned the salute smartly followed by a crisp about face and he marched back to the waiting car and driver. As he was leaving the train to the east was just pulling into the station. As it ground to a skidding stop we walked slowly out onto the boarding platform with our sea bags, this time, in hand. We counted four carriages from the locomotive, and entered the coach from the forward entrance. We followed the numbered compartments until we stood before number seven, which Holmes slid open and we entered. The room was draped with shadows and gloom as the window curtains were drawn shut when Holmes reached to open the curtains a crack to admit at least some light to dispel the murkiness of our surroundings. I was in the process of drawing the curtains over the doorway when the darkness spoke!

"I really would prefer that the curtains not be opened, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the darkness in a sepulchral voice.

The effect this had upon us was instantaneous in nature and cataleptic in response. We had both observed the room to be empty of everything excepting shadows that we were attempting to dispel. It felt like forever that we were galvanized to inaction; however, it must have been seconds in relation to how fast we jumped after the darkness spoke to us. I am ashamed to confess that with all the tense situations I shared with Sherlock Holmes I experienced a control lapse, and subsequently moistened slightly the front of my trousers. All of this took place within just a few moments during the great amount of time it has taken to relate its happening.

"Pray, who is this who speaks English perfectly in a foreign train," asked Holmes haltingly as he gained his composure. Holmes left the curtains as they were and sat down on the seat facing forward. I sat heavily down next to him still too unnerved to vocalize anything coherent.

"I am to assist you and Dr. Watson in finding Czar Nicholas and effecting his escape. You have been told to expect help from a spy named "The Eagle" or "Der Adler", which is exactly who I am," spoke the nebulous voice from the shadowy recesses of the corner seat before us.

"Sir, it would help a great deal if we could see your face that we may recognize you in the future as a friend," said I.

"Forgive me, Dr. Watson, your request can not be granted. It is not a reflection upon either you or Mr. Sherlock Holmes here, but it is something I find necessary and priceless in my profession. You see, I am able to assume many faces and identities so that my enemies can never know my true identity to convey harm or death upon me, hence, it is my policy that anyone who sees my true face and knowing my identity will die then and there," explained this type of living shadow!

"That is quite satisfactory with me," returned Holmes to my amazement. "If we knew your identity we may inadvertently give you away by some means, which is counter productive with our mission," he added.

"My point exactly," replied the shadow. Holmes, seemingly satisfied to converse with a voice out of the blackness, proceeded to narrate our entire involvement thus far in the case. We were pulling into the station at Kauna, the capital of newly independent Lithuania as Holmes was finishing his discourse. Holmes receded into the friendly confines of the deeply comfortable seat cushions as he refilled his short traveling briar pipe lighting it with a match that he extinguished in a sand pail on the wall underneath the window.

"I will be leaving you at Riga, our next stop, to precede you to St.Petersburg on a scouting mission as I have, er- shall we say, borrowed the identity of a Colonel in the Russian Air Force. I have a plane ready just outside of Riga where the colonel unfortunately lost most of his head. I was forced to shoot him as he was attempting to prevent me from borrowing his airplane," explained our ally in a sibilant voice.

This was followed by a soft sardonic laugh that froze my blood in their veins, and visibly affecting Holmes as well. Our unseen ally gave the impression of approving of the use of violence and murder to achieve his aims. This living shadow now terrified me greatly.

Some of the darkness in the corner seemed to separate itself from the surrounding gloom, which grew to a height of slightly over six feet and took a human form shrouded within the folds of a black floor length opera cloak. He wore a shapeless black hat with a wide turned down brim that obscured his countenance effectively. The detached darkness moved to the door of our compartment, and with a swish he disappeared outside. I instinctively shivered uncontrollably as he exited the compartment. I noticed that Holmes was unruffled by our recent guest's departure as he was meditatively smoking his full bend briar pipe with his brows knit together in serious thought. I went over to the window to crack the curtains a little for light and to roll down the window half way for fresh air to steady my overwrought nerves.

Our train arrived at the Riga railway station on time, and as I watched out the window I could see no one to fit the Eagle's appearance of height nor was there anyone in a Russian uniform. I gave up on trying to figure out who and what he was for the time being.

Our trip from Riga to Tallinn was dull and uneventful. All the while Holmes stared into the ceiling gently puffing on his pipe in contentment. Regarding conversation Holmes did his best impression of a clam much to my frustration. Who was this Eagle chap? Why was he so mysterious? Why was my wounded ankle acting up in pain now? That long ago Jezail bullet still caused me hurt. We had just lurched forward out of Tallinn when we opened our sea bags to lay out a fresh change of clothing for our soon to be arrival in St.Petersburg. The firm rap of knuckles upon our door halted our ideas of changing as we both froze in place straining our ears for a voice.

"Tickets Please," asked the conductor in Russian, German, and French. Holmes motioned to me quickly to give our tickets to the conductor as I was in the uniform of the lower rank. After all this is German Army operated, and we were in the uniforms of that army. So I picked up the tickets from the seat between Holmes' place and mine, and in one motion swerved the towards the door with the tickets in my left hand and pulling the door aside with my right. The conductor was framed by the doorway, and he was a rugged looking elderly man in a loose fitting uniform. I gave him the tickets as I stood there reflecting that the Great War had already deflowered the virile manhood of many nations in staggering numbers. After looking the tickets over he tore off a portion of each ticket, and then returned them to me with a half-hearted salute, which I for some unknown reason returned snappily with a European "Heel Click." He then moved down to the next compartment which was number eight. I slid the door shut and reentered the compartment sitting down heavily with a sigh in my former p lace.

"I thought that you might have forgotten that you were a German officer and give us away. I congratulate you for ensuring the secrecy of our mission," vouchsafed Holmes.

"Holmes I acted out of reflex, and I totally forgot who was supposed to be," bemoaned I.

"The matter is rendered academic nevertheless I suggest that we change our attire before we arrive in St.Petersburg," Holmes said energetically.

We laid out the fresh clothing on the seat opposite, and secured the door latch and drew all the curtains so that we were able to select the proper articles. My attire was that of a Doctor of Medicine in the International Red Cross, and Holmes had become a retired sea captain, named Captain Basil, acting as my traveling companion and official Red Cross inspector. Holmes had packed his make-up kit, and had made himself a new person with wind browned leathery skin that was wrinkled and haggard looking with long grizzled white hair wig topped by a most repulsive looking, greasy, and age tattered Captain's hat. 'Pon my word I would have sworn that did not know him had I not seen the transformation right before my eyes, and I'm still skeptical about it.

We stowed the uniforms in the sea bags with the false identity papers not yet needed and the leather pouch of gold sovereigns we received from the king for emergencies. Holmes wisely stuffed it with socks so that it would not jingle thus tempting some person to a rash act. Holmes produced two old pipes that I thought he had disposed of long ago, but he evidently saved them for such an occasion as this. The briars had cracked bowls, and both had been recently repaired. Two traveling tobacco pouches followed as Holmes began filling his pipe, and I secured my articles filling my bowl as well.

"We will arrive in St.Petersburg about two in the morning at the rate we are traveling," mused Holmes aloud.

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, and we consumed a bag of sandwiches that the Eagle had left in the corner of the opposite seat. The conductor came round once with a coffee cart from which we both drank two large cups of very strong coffee. We would be awake for a while now. The train pulled into St.Petersburg at two forty in the morning with grinding noise and one final jolt. As we were disembarking I noticed that there were many younger looking men standing around. This seemed rather peculiar during a time of hostilities.

"The new Soviet Secret Police," Holmes cautioned under his breath.

We sauntered through the massive railroad station looking in all directions at everything like tourists, and I know that Holmes was noting the location of everything for future reference. As we exited the main entry way there were only two open carriages acting as cabs. We entered the second of these as Holmes told the driver in French, "drive us to the Swiss Ligation, please."

We were deposited at the ligation after a short, but remarkably refreshing ride through the cool morning breezes. We knocked upon the door, and to our surprise it was opened post haste. It did appear that we were expected. A short slender man with a waxed complexion closed the door behind up as we stepped through into a large foyer.

"Welcome Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, and pray accept the hospitality of the Swiss ligation, and you may channel many inquiries through me as it will avail you faster replies. My name by the way is Count Rudolf von Liechtenstein from Zurich, and I am the Council-General of the ligation; however, our new ambassador has not yet arrived from Switzerland," explained the Count in a concerned manner. "The American Ambassador, David Roland Francis, a former mayor of St.Louis and governor of the state of Missouri, has telephoned several times requesting news of you or the American agents," he said.

When I awoke just after dawn the next morning I discovered that Holmes had breakfasted and departed some two hours earlier. Our host, the Count, set a delightful table despite the current conditions in Russia. After a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and biscuits I sat down in the entry parlour to enjoy smoking a good cigar. While I contemplated the aromatic aroma and taste of my recent meal with this cigar I could not help but compare them to the irritating quality of the German gastronomic offerings. I was completing jotting down my notes of the case thus far in the library as the noon chimes were sounding. This was followed by a loud knocking at the main door, and I arose moving to the vestibule door in hopes of seeing a familiar face. I was disappointed as a slovenly old man in filthy tattered clothes sporting a crumpled plain red armband strode behind the secretary who opened the door. The bewhiskered old man took hold of the door and gently closed it as I gaped in astonishment at the audacity of the v illain.

"Watson, you really should have more control of your self than to stand there with your mouth agape," spoke Sherlock Holmes.

My eyes grew wide in amazement at the shock that you could have slapped them off my face with a paddle. "Holmes," cried I!

"I am frightfully sorry my good fellow, but I have just returned from a most informative scouting mission into the countryside," explained Holmes as he was taking off his facial make-up.

"Gentlemen, the noon meal is awaiting our pleasure in the study, and we can converse there over our repast," announced the Count.

"That is an excellent suggestion, and I'll be there directly," said Holmes advisedly.

The staff was beginning to serve our dinner as Holmes walked into the room as a cleaned up Captain Basil. He seated himself across from me to the Count's right as he sat at the end of the table. Without even so much as a word Holmes sat down and ate the meal set before him with relish and silence. After the meal was completed we adjourned to the library for Brandy and cigars. As Holmes was lighting his Perfecto the Count and sat forward eagerly in expectation of new information regarding the case.

"It was, as I said before, a very profitable morning's work," said Holmes after blowing out his match with smoke.

"Have you discovered the Czar's whereabouts yet," asked the Count?

"Yes, he and his family are in Tobolsk, which is about eight hundred miles to the east of Moscow, and there appears to be no indication of impending harm,"" elucidated Holmes.

"How did you find out all that in a few hours when I have learned nothing in over a month," demanded the Count.

"It is really elementary, Count, if you knew where and how to look," retorted Holmes coolly.

"In the guise of a poor revolutionary worker looking for work and food I rode out to the Czar's country villa just outside the city with a wagon driver who was assigned to remove the food from the villa to bring to the St.Petersburg for distribution. I merely offered to help him for something to eat. He readily agreed as he was assigned no help. We chatted about the new government being helpful to the common worker instead of the wealthy, and he is looking forward to an utopian existence that, I fear, will never come. We arrived at the lodge, and carried out all the food almost filling the large wagon we rode on. It was brisk, but still hard work. There were many tins of foods of all types. When we finished we opened a few tins of sausage and cheese and we satisfied our hunger. He then took me on a little tour of the place, which was luxuriously furnished on a smaller scale than the palaces. He left me in the main hall while he was off checking all the rooms for more food, but I suspect that he was trying to find something he could steal and sell for money. Be that as it may, I found a shield on the wall on which was a seven pointed star. I knew this was a clue so I took it down from the wall," stated Holmes in explanation.

"Why would that shield tell you that it was a clue," asked the Count puzzled?

"O yes, you would not know about that," mused Holmes.

"In the latter part of the last century I took a case to successful conclusion for the Romanov family, which Watson has not yet published in the magazines. The Czar gave me, as a token of honour, a ring with a girasol or fire opal set in it. When a secret button is pressed the setting springs up on a hinge to reveal a seven pointed star engraved in the ring. This is the identification of the Czar's most loyal and trusted followers, friends, and trusted agents that is known as the 'Order of the Seventh Star. If any message was left it would be near a seven pointed star as it would literally draw the attention of those wishing to help the Czar. The clues were there, and it had not been disturbed by enemy eyes. Etched with a pin was the message, 'Czar moved to Tobolsk, surveillance continuing there, signed The Fox.' This message was followed by a seven pointed star as an identifying mark. I rode back on the wagon, and was let off just outside town as he feared his superiors would frown upon his private enlisting of help," explained Holmes eagerly.

"What then is our next move," I asked

"We take the Trans-Siberian Railway at noon tomorrow for Tobolsk and to meet an American agent called, "The Fox,"" said Holmes.

The rest of the day was passed studying maps of the route of the Trans-Siberian Railway from St. Petersburg to Moscow to Ekaterinburg to Tymen, and the overland routes to Tobolsk. Each map was minutely examined by Holmes and committed to memory. We passed our evening meal in grim silence contemplating our foray into unfriendly regions.

We all retired early due to mental exhaustion, and sleep came quickly.

We awoke late the following morning. It was nearly ten o'clock as we hurriedly dressed in our Red Cross attire. We were provided with packages of sandwiches, rolls, and cakes for the long trip. Our German uniforms were left at the Swiss ligation under the custodial care of the Count who promptly burned them in the cellar after retrieving the medals and badges for his private collection.

We piled into the ligation's automobile which took us to the railway station speedily, and we arrived thirty minutes before the train was to depart. We thanked the Count profusely as he wished us good fortune in our mission. He drove off as we walked through the main entrance of the station. Holmes went to the ticket counter for the Trans-Siberian Railway, and purchased our round trip tickets so as to not arouse suspicion in purchasing one way tickets. We hurried through the cavernous building to the departure tracks where we found our train getting up steam on Track #7.

We slowly trotted along the carriages to the front of the train where the Passenger cars were located. We found our car, which was #5, and entered it by the rear entry door. Our compartment was third from the front of the coach. Holmes slid the door aside as we entered the compartment, which had one but occupant seated in the gloomy semi-darkness.

We sat down on the forward facing seat as we naturally did each time we rode trains. As we settled into a comfortable position in the seat we raised our hats slightly as a gesture of greeting to our fellow traveler. To my surprise he raised his hat in return, while he got up and locked the door drawing the curtains in one swift and smooth motion. He turned around withdrawing his hand from his trouser pocket, which, when opened, revealed a large gold signet ring featuring a bright blue gem that took on a blood red hue when he held it before the light-filled window curtain crack.

"Agent Fox, I presume," inquired Holmes?

The tones of the replied blood chilling sardonic laugh echoed softly within our compartment, and I knew instantly that it was the spy known as "The Eagle" who stood before us.

"Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, I bid you greeting," said he.

"It is now the Fourteenth of June have you any news regarding our mutual mission," asked Holmes politely.

"Yes, the Czar and his family will be moved from Tobolsk to Ekaterinberg before the first of August. The fanatical members of the Ural Soviet have set into motion a plan to insure that the Royal Family will have to experience for sinister reasons known only to them. I believe than they mean to murder the entire family there to demoralize the counter-revolution by the White Russians. I suggest that we wait in Ekaterinburg for the Royal Family's train to arrive, and hopefully "The Fox' will be in close proximity to the train as he is already in Tobolsk watching over the Czar and his family," related The Eagle.

"How long will it take us to reach this city of Ekaterinburg," questioned Holmes?

"We will arrive on the morning of the Sixteenth of June as this train makes far too many stopovers along the route," said he.

"Further, I have set in motion a plan to be used if the necessity arises, but the success of it fully depends upon security and timing," added "The Eagle."

We shared the food that the Count had furnished us after which we all enjoyed a smoke. Holmes smoked his cracked briar, and our companion and I smoked cigars. The Eagle produced a flask of Brandy from beneath his tattered gray coat, which he shared with us. I confess that I certainly felt braver and warmer after that.

We each then curled up into different corners lapsed in and out of sleep during the next two days. When we felt hungry we helped ourselves to the bag of food, and the refill obtained by our companion during one of our periods of sleep by some means he never explained.

The train rolled into Ekaterinburg a little after eleven o'clock in the morning of the sixteenth of June, and it was late, as is the custom of Russian Railroads. We disembarked after nearly everyone else had departed. The living shadow had adopted a new disguise that neither of us saw, but he was wearing a Russian Officer's uniform with the telltale red armband of the Bolsheviks. He told us that he would be scouting the situation while Holmes and I registered at a nearby hotel as Red Cross observers. He was gone in a blinking of an eye, and we followed him a few minutes after that we would not be associated together.

Holmes inquired of the guard posted at the station entry where the nearest hotel was in French, with only a negative nod of understanding from the guard in reply. However, a man seeing our dilemma from across the street came over to introduce himself as Thomas H. Preston, the British Consul, speaking in the French language. He motioned for us to follow him as he led us to the British ligation which had an international hotel located next to it. We all entered the hotel together as Holmes and I registered, while the manager and a Bolshevik guard examined our papers. They must have been in order as we were led up to our room on the second level right at the head of the stairs. Mr. Preston escorted us into our room, and he made a motion with his hand prompting silence. He wrote upon a tablet that he removed from his jacket that the Reds were listening in on all rooms occupied by foreigners. He then suggested on the tablet that we converse in normal tones in French suggesting we dine together next door at the British ligation after our long journey. This we did convincingly, and we departed thence in grim silence.

As we entered the ligation, our bags still with us, Mr. Preston gave the order for three dinners to be sent to his office. We kept on towards the office where we seated ourselves around a dining table breathing somewhat easier in a fellow countryman's presence.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, I consider it an honour and a privilege to finally meet you both," said Mr. Preston addressing us with his outstretched hand.

"Thank you," Holmes blushed shaking Preston's hand.

"A veritable plethora of nobility and representatives have been imploring my aid to get the Royal Family released from their imprisonment which they now endure here," stated Preston bemoaningly.

"Preston, are you positive that the Czar and his family are held here in Ekaterinburg," asked Holmes quickly?

"Yes, all the indications are pointing that direction," he replied.

"Can you give the possible location of their holding area," requested Holmes?

"The Ipatiev House, which is known among the local soviets as the 'House of Special Purpose,'" Preston replied.

"We will have to find 'The Eagle and the Fox' as soon as possible to make our plans, and getting them into effect as soon as humanly possible," stated Holmes uneasily.

Just then the curtained gloom in the far corner of the room spoke sibilantly in perfect English. "Fear not for 'The Eagle' is here, and 'The Fox' is watching the house," said the sepulchral voice of the living shadow.

Preston and I jumped with a start with Holmes displaying no emotion or surprise.

"I surmised that you would be there awaiting our arrival," Holmes stated.

"Tonight is the night for freedom, retribution, and honour," our shrouded ally said. "I have talked with 'The Fox' and he reports that three plans are ready with three possible escape routes. The Czar and his family are at the Ipatiev House which is too well guarded by day thus we must move by night. Mr. Holmes, would you and Dr. Watson kindly engage in a leisurely walk about town as Red Cross representatives for the next two hours," he asked.

A knock at the door drove our ally into the darkness from whence he had appeared. Preston opened the door to admit a kitchen aide pushing a food service cart. He set the dishes before us and retired closing the door behind him. "The Eagle" separated himself, once again, from the darkness.

"Mr. Holmes kindly walk from two to four, and again from seven to eight-thirty as I believe that the Soviets are holding you both under intense surveillance. If you distract their spies then that would give the others uninhibited movement to make the best possible preparations," the "Eagle requested".

"We have been shadowed ever since we arrived in St.Petersburg, but I do concur that a diversion can accomplish much," Holmes affirmed.

We turned our attention to our repast as the spy of darkness exited the room behind the heavy curtains and via a window hidden by a large bush. We ate our meal with relish and without further interruption.

At precisely two we started a stroll about the town looking over the buildings and people as if we had been a long time used to it. We enjoyed a leisurely smoke of good cigars as we kept our pace steady returning to the ligation just before four. A man was waiting with Preston, and he was "The Fox."

"Mr. Holmes, I need to ask you if you have any hard finances with you as we seem to be in need of extra bribe money," asked the tall rugged looking man.

Holmes went over to the bag he had brought into the Consul's office, and withdrew the leather bag containing the gold coins.

"In this bag are 1,000 English Gold Sovereigns, and I give them to you for the express use of rescuing the Czar and his entire family," said Holmes handing the bag to "The Fox."

"This is more than enough to complete our plans, and the remainder will be returned to you," he stated thankfully.

He hid the pouch inside his light coat, and departed with a short salute of farewell. After an uneventful next couple of hours we enjoyed a good supper, and were soon on our second our of the town. It was close unto seven-fifteen that we were passing behind the Ipatiev house near a warehouse when an elderly man holding a large pistol stepped from a warehouse doorway blocking our path. A dim light was shining on the man's face and I could swear that there was something familiar about it, however, I just could not seem to place it in my mind.

"You seek the Romanov traitors to assist them do you not," jeered the man in halting English?

"Why should you, Alexis, seek to harm those responsible for obtaining your freedom," rejoined Holmes.

This struck the man like a blow as he clearly staggered back a few steps recomposing himself in the process.

"I would never hurt Anna, but just how do you know my name," questioned Alexis?

"I hesitate to tell you, but Anna died by her own hand in England during November of 1894. I was investigating a murder case, and discovered her hiding place in Professor Coram's room, who you may have known as 'Sergius' when you were all nihilists involved in the assassination of Czar Alexander II in March of 1881," stated Holmes flatly.

"My Anna did get to the beast Sergius as she had promised! But how did she free me if, as you claim, she did indeed die," he asked?

"She had letters and a diary that she had recovered from "Sergius," which she implored me to take to the Russian Embassy in London that would secure your release from false imprisonment," explained Holmes further.

"I do believe that you speak the truth as I note the sincerity in your eyes, face, and voice, but who are you - another policeman," he asked waving his pistol in our direction?

"My name is Sherlock Holmes," he stated flatly.

The gunman, Alexis, straightened up, with surprise marring his visage. "I am indebted to you sir for my release from that Czarist Hell Hole, but I am the leader of the Bolsheviks in this city and I can't allow you to take my prisoners. I am torn between either shooting you now or with the Czar and his family," he said slowly cocking his pistol.

Suddenly the darkness on the ground began to move growing upwards in size, and taking the shape of a shrouded man. He was wearing a shapeless black hat with a full length black cloak enveloping him. As he materialized from the ground a haunting and terrifying sardonic laugh grew from a whisper into a defiant mocking laugh. The Living Shadow was intervening between us and death. The Shadow spoke in a sibilant and mocking voice to the stunned Alexis.

"You seek the death of two people who have done you only good and no evil. You also desire the death of a family to purge your frustrations of false imprisonment. Poison flows through your veins which will end right here. Your life is herewith forfeit," hissed the Shadow as two automatic pistols belched forth flame and noise and spat death six times.

Alexis was dead long before he touched the ground. I was stunned that anyone could kill a person in such a fashion, but I am sincerely grateful for my life being saved. The Living Shadow sounded forth his hollow mocking laugh of triumph, and he then swiftly wheeled in our direction.

"The guards will think the royal family is being murdered now. Hurry into the house as the way is clear. The stair from the kitchen will get you to the Royal Family on the second floor, and bring them out that way as a truck is coming now. Make haste," he hissed.

Holmes and I went in the back door to find no one about, and we scrambled up the stairs to the second floor. We found the Czar and his family in the first room all huddled together, and dressed in cheap peasant's clothing. They had all recoiled behind the Czar, Nicholas, who I would still swear was our good King George. The room was pregnant with silence and fear, but the Czar smiled in recognition upon seeing Holmes.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I am here to assist you in your escape," said Holmes rapidly in English.

Everything changed in an instant as fear was dispelled by the Czar's acceptance of Holmes as a friend. They all moved silently down to the kitchen waiting for the truck. I noticed that the Czar's fingers seemed to be bleeding I began motioning that I was a Doctor and would tend to it.

"It is a small cut where I had to cut off a sapphire ring that was unremovable to protect our identity," Nicholas replied in English.

Holmes showed the Czar his ring opening it to expose the seven pointed star to which Nicholas smiled gently remembering his father, Alexander III, bestowing that honor to Holmes.

Our reverie ended abruptly enough when a truck screeched to a halt right outside the door, with our black robed friend driving. The brake set, he dismounted and rushed to the door. Opening it, he displayed to the Czar his ring exposing the hidden seven pointed star. The Czar called him what seemed a friendly name in Russian in smiling tones, and they all scrambled into the back of the truck with the Czar helping his wife, daughters, and especially his hemophiliac son carefully into the truck. Holmes and I squeezed into the cab, and with a jolting lurch we set off at a dizzying pace on the road leading out of town to the south towards the White Russian lines. After a few miles our ears detected the frightening sounds of pursuit and the shouting of many angry voices. The truck sped on ever faster as the black robed driver did not seemed intent on not stopping for man nor beast under any circumstances. As Holmes and I briefly glanced around we did see that we were being pursued by two trucks seemingly full of Bolsheviks. As we approached a point about twenty miles south of Ekaterinburg we swerved suddenly as we left the road plunging down a side dirt road with increasing speed of the hair raising variety. The man in black pushed the accelerator to the floor as our speed increased until our truck bounced all over the road, and the passing trees were but a blur. The hair on the back of my head was standing on end, and I was too terrified to move or speak.

The other trucks were also flying down the road at breakneck speed. The man in black laughed mirthlessly as he headed the truck between two rock outcroppings in our wild dash for freedom. We slid, rather than drove, at a sickening speed down a long gently sloping embankment, and crossing a long level field that was surrounded all around by thick hilly forests. We skidded to a stop less than one hundred yards from the sloping hill covered with thick forest. The Living Shadow laughed mirthlessly as he scrambled out of the cab running to the rear of the truck. He said something to the Czar and his family hidden there in fluent Russian that caused everyone to fall down flat very quickly behind the folding steel tailgate.

The other two trucks skidded to an abrupt stop as soon as they saw we were stationary, and the trucks vomited out numerous men drawing weapons of all sizes and types as they walked purposefully towards us confident that we had made a tragic mistake. They covered about one third of the distance between their truck and ours when a metallic scraping sound softly pierced the air and descended to our ears from the trees above. The Living Shadow pulled two .45 automatic pistols from beneath the folds of his sable cloak, and fired one shot into the air. This was answered by a rumbling noise resembling thunder yet somehow different. The trees suddenly spewed forth men on horseback with drawn sabers poised in great numbers all around the summit of the little valley of death. Each of these riders wore a black hairy busby hat, with the silver Romanov double-headed eagle emblazoned on the front.

It was the Czar's ever faithful Cossack Calvary who were poised for what seemed an eternity on the encircling ridge. Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by terrifying screams and thundering hoofs. The Cossacks as one entity broke forth into a wild tumultuous charge halfway down the slope yelling and screaming in Russian as they bore down upon our pursuers. The Czar's devoted Cossack Calvary was murderously intent on the Czar's safety, and the painful deaths of the Bolsheviks. Suddenly the Cossacks closed over the fleeing cowards with a deafening crash. Sabers flashed and guns roared in the moonlight as men screamed and died. Many of the dying and wounded Bolsheviks were trampled into pulp under the horses' hooves in the Cossack's eagerness to defend their Czar. It was not a pretty sight, however, it was a just one. It was mere quick minutes until it was all over as the victorious Cossacks rode slowly toward the truck. They stopped about twenty-five feet behind us waiting, and then the Czar stood up to face them.

"My children, I owe you my life and thanks," said the Czar as he jumped down from the truck.

All of the riders dismounted and lowered their bloody sabers to the ground in salute to their beloved leader. Noise echoed from the mouth of the valley as a car came rapidly down the little valley screeching to a halt by the Cossacks. "The Fox" got out, and advanced to the back of the truck. He spoke rapidly spoke to the Czar who spoke a command that his family descended from the truck gathering close about him. Nicholas moved towards the Cossacks addressing them lovingly in Russian after which he prayed a blessing on the rescuers and the devoted ambushing Cossacks.

The Czar's family piled into the commodious rear of the newly arrived vehicle while the Czar opened the passenger side front door. He saluted all of us by the truck, and seated himself in the front seat next to "The Fox" as they sped away across the valley of death, and off to freedom in exile. Holmes, "The Eagle," and I stood watching the departing Royal family as they disappeared across the valley, while my heart was beating proudly accompanied by misting eyes at the honourable service that we had performed that day. The Cossacks remounted and dashed off to the south up through the trees ringing the valley.

"We had best be departing ourselves," advised "The Eagle" as he surveyed the grisly spectacle before us.

"Quite so, my good fellow," said Holmes.

"Get in the front of the truck, and I'll drive you to your escape route," exhorted "The Eagle" in motion.

I got in first with Holmes following, and the truck once more lurched into motion accelerating rapidly. We swiftly crossed the little valley, and rocketed out of the narrow entry. We circled around the little valley pursuing a generally southern course. We were close to Chellybinsk after several hours of wantonly reckless driving when we turned off the road up a pair of ruts that masqueraded for a road towards a farm complex. We pulled up along side of a very large barn. As we disembarked the "Eagle" told us that "The Fox" was taking the Czar and his family south to Afghanistan then east across Northern India into China to eventually arrive in France, which had a large Russian colony near Paris. The Czar's appearance would be altered to thus provide safety during the long dangerous journey and exiled life.

"The Eagle" opened the large folding doors of the barn to disclose an airplane of a long distance nature that seated three easily. It was designed to carry bombs, but instead sported extra cans of gasoline for longer range. It was a German "Gotha" long-range bomber. "The Eagle" got into a flying suit, and clambered into the cockpit. We quickly scrambled into the rear compartment after we spun the propeller to catch the ignition as "The Eagle" started the plane moving. We taxied out of the barn onto the level field as we faced into the wind, the plane gathered speed, and finally took flight turning to a South Southwest heading "The Eagle" appeared most at home here in the clouds, but I felt my stomach rising into my throat. We were drawing near a considerable body of water as we banked for a landing near the northern end of the lake. As the reserve gas cans were emptied into the plane our pilot told us we were on the northern edge of the Caspian Sea, the largest lake in the world. Our task completed we took off again holding a more southerly route over the sea. A short time after crossing land we descended through mountains to a landing in Teheran. We secured a full cargo of petrol and were soon airbourne West Southwest to eventually land in Cairo. The British authorities were waiting there for us, and quickly took Holmes and I to the harbour to board the battle cruiser, Invincible, once again. As we stepped on board the Captain greeted us warmly telling us that we were on a direct course for London as the ship started moving out of the harbour.

It was a speedy race home, and inside of four days we were once again standing before the door to 221B Baker Street. We entered and wearily climbed the stairs to our room, which, upon entering, saw us folded into our lounging chairs each of us lighting a cigar. We found the relaxing smoke in familiar surroundings a refreshing tonic for our strung out nerves. As we were extinguishing our cigars there sounded a wild peal of the bell at the door downstairs. We heard Mrs. Hudson admit someone, which was followed by heavy footsteps upon the stair. A knock sounded to be immediately followed by the opening of our door.

"By all means, Mycroft, do come in," invited Holmes.

The bulky form of Mycroft Holmes appeared in the doorway after Holmes finished his invite, and he held the door that King George preceded him into our room. Mycroft crossed to Homes shaking his hand, and then turned to me extending congratulations also.

Stepping forward the King honoured us each with a handclasp. "Mr. Holmes our friend and his family are safely beyond the powers that sought them harm, and they send their thanks. I also thank you both from the bottom of my heart, and I ask you both to kneel. I have an honour for you," said the king as we knelt on one knee.

The King slowly extracted his sword, and touched each of us on the shoulder thrice saying, "For honourable service to the throne, I George, do hereby confer upon you the rank of knighthood." After this he stated "Arise sir knights to receive your honours." We were bestowed with the appropriate badge of rank. Mycroft presented me with a gold signet ring surmounted by a fire opal that opened to reveal a seven pointed star engraved into the ring as a gift from a friend he said. We both bowed as Mycroft looked on in an approving manner. The King again thanked us warning us not to say anything of this case, and not to believe any reports from Moscow regarding the Czar as they were indeed quite safe. Mycroft then led the King to the waiting carriage, and they departed.

"Holmes, I confess that I feel so much more secure now that we are safely within our own domicile. Nothing can reach us now," said I.

"By the way Watson, I heard that William Rutledge McGarry mention that he too planned to author a novel about "Rescuing the Czar,' Holmes said offhandedly.

I was flattened, but I remembered that he was an American and would be published in America. I felt much better at that comforting thought. Now, I felt, we were safe and secure amid our familiar lodgings.

When from the street there drifted up to our ears rising from a softly whispered sardonic mirth to a loud mocking peal came the triumphant laugh of the frightening agent in Black, The Shadow!