“I am indeed Adolf Kraus,” said the man in a measured tone. “Mr Rhodes Harte,” he continued, “I have been listening to everything which has been said. It is a pleasure to see you again, sir! Do you vouch for these other two gentlemen?”

“Certainly I do,” replied Harte promptly. “This is Mr Sherlock Holmes, the leading criminal investigator, and this is his colleague John Watson, who is a medical man.”

“Then come inside,” said Kraus. “Put up your pistol, Joseph. If Mr Harte vouches for these gentlemen, that is good enough for me. Mr Harte is an honourable man, or I am no judge of character!”

He led us through the hallway into a large drawing room. Then, having seated his wife in a chair by the hearth, he turned and addressed us. His features appeared careworn and tired, and in his voice was a note of resignation.

“You say, gentlemen, that my life is in danger. You tell me that you have seen men hiding in the bushes. I do not doubt that you are right. I have seen such things before. But what can I do, save sit here all night with a pistol in my lap?”

“You must get away from here immediately,” replied Holmes in an urgent tone.

“I am weary of flight. Besides, where can I go?”

“Perhaps Professor Walters could put you up for a few days.”

“What do you know of Professor Walters?” asked Kraus in surprise.

“His name was in one of your books, in the satchel. Would he do it?”

“Yes,” said Kraus, appearing roused from his apathy by the suggestion. “Yes, he might. He did say that I should not hesitate to approach him, should I ever need help.”

“Then pack a travelling bag at once,” said Holmes. “You must catch the last train; time is running out!”

“Yes! I will do it now,” cried Kraus’s wife, springing from her chair with renewed spirit. “Come and help me, Joseph. We can do it in three minutes! Tell Emily Jane to throw a jug of water onto the kitchen fire, then gather her things together and be ready to leave the house in five minutes!”

“Is it your intention to take the girl with you?” Holmes enquired of Kraus, as his wife and son hurried from the room.

“Certainly,” returned Kraus. “We have grown very fond of her and could scarcely imagine life without her. Besides, she is an orphan and has nowhere else to go.”

“Are there any other servants in the house?”

Kraus shook his head. “We have a cook, but she is away at present, visiting her sister. Mr Harte,” he continued, turning to the solicitor, “I must thank you for returning my satchel. It is very kind of you. I could not think where I had lost it. I had not even mentioned the loss to my wife, for I knew that she would be angry at my carelessness. When she informed me yesterday that you had called with it, I wanted to go after you, to speak to you, but she would not hear of it, and said I should be putting myself in danger unnecessarily. And whenever I went out in future, she insisted, I should take a cudgel with me, in case I was attacked. Then Joseph said he would walk to the village and take a look in the inn, to see if he could find the satchel. His search was not successful, and we concluded that you had left the district and gone home. He informed me, however, that he had heard a man on the road ahead of him in the dark, but he had not been able to see who it was.”

“I was that man,” said Harte. “I thought he was pursuing me.”

“Dear, dear!” exclaimed Kraus. “I am very sorry if you were alarmed, my dear Mr Harte. I know only too well how dreadful it is to be pursued! Do you know, gentlemen,” he continued after a moment, “why it is that I have been pursued so relentlessly?”

“Because you were head of the government in Bohemia at the time of the Prague riots,” replied Holmes. “Lives were lost and, rightly or wrongly, you were blamed.”

Kraus nodded his head slowly. “That is indeed the immediate explanation of the matter,” said he, “but there is a larger, more abstract reason. Everything bad that has happened to me in my life has happened because I was persuaded against my better judgement to enter the world of politics. It was not a world for which I was suited, either by nature or by education. I was naive and gullible and believed what I was told. This fact was my undoing.

“As you may be aware, I taught for many years at the Charles University in Prague. In that relatively modest capacity I was content to serve, and had no desire to make any greater mark upon the pages of history. Some years ago, however, when certain issues concerned with both the history and the future of Bohemia were the subject of intense public debate, I wrote several letters to the Press, in order to correct what I saw as misapprehensions which were prevalent at the time. My letters were responded to, I wrote more, and soon, to my surprise, I found that my opinion was being constantly sought by influential parties on every side of the debate. I was, with some reluctance, persuaded to address public meetings. Then the regional government itself requested my advice, and later appointed me to lead a committee of enquiry into the governance of Bohemia. I flattered myself at the time that the merits of my views had been recognized. The truth, of course, was somewhat different. As I learned later, express orders had been received from Vienna that I be appointed to the committee of enquiry in order that my hands should thereby be tied and my tongue stilled.

“After a time, my committee presented its report, and shortly afterwards I was asked to join the government itself. I had never for one moment sought such a position, but the circumstances were such that it was practically impossible for me to turn down the request. It seemed to be as it says in the book of Ecclesiastes: ‘The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; but time and chance happen to them all’. Time and chance certainly appeared to be happening to me. I had been in the government for but a few months when a singular series of events took away my senior colleagues one by one – one man was implicated in a financial scandal and resigned his post, another man resigned for family reasons, a third fell ill and retired – and I found myself elevated to the position of prime minister almost by default. I thus found myself, a man who had never sought any role in public life, at the very pinnacle of the Bohemian regional government. What I did not appreciate then, however, was that my colleagues, more experienced in the subtle twists and turns of politics than I could ever be, had already foreseen the troubles which were fast approaching, and were taking steps to remove themselves from the arena, leaving me alone to bear the assault. Needless to say, most of them miraculously overcame their personal difficulties and returned to public life once the troubles had passed and I had fallen from grace. Still, I knew none of this at the time, and saw only that I had arrived at a surprising and unlooked-for position of eminence. I was determined not to stay in that position for very long, but to do as much good as I could while I was there. As you will imagine, the first of these two aspirations was satisfied somewhat more fully than the second.

“You may have surmised from my name that I am of the German race, and you may be aware that the population of Bohemia is part German and part Czech, the latter being the more numerous. I determined to do what I could to address various grievances, which were causing ill-feeling among the Czechs, and believed that I was making some progress in this respect, when certain repressive laws and regulations came into force by order of the Imperial Government in Vienna. These led to great resentment and public unrest. Although I bore no responsibility for these laws, as the head of the regional government I was blamed for them, and became the focus of popular hatred. This was grossly unfair, but what was worse was that I was hated most bitterly by those I had striven so diligently to help. Still, that distinction scarcely matters, as I was hated by all parties alike. I was hated by the Germans of Bohemia because they considered that I had betrayed their interests and favoured the Czechs, and I was hated by the Czechs simply because I was a German. I struggled to restore public order once more, but at last I was forced to admit failure and composed my letter of resignation. Alas, before it could be announced, heavily armed troops were sent from Vienna to put down the riots in Prague. I tried to prevent the troops from entering the city, but I was overruled. There was great violence, and many of the rioters were killed. Within days it became clear to me that I was held responsible for this tragedy, even though I of all men had done my utmost to prevent it. I resigned then, but unfortunately this only confirmed the popular belief that I admitted responsibility for what had occurred. Shortly afterwards, two attempts were made upon my life, and I realized that we could no longer live safely in Bohemia. We moved to Berlin, but had been there scarcely six months when every window in our house was broken one night, and I received a death-threat through the mail. Once again we were obliged to move, and this time we came to England. We stayed for a time in London, but I was recognized in the street one day and decided that it would be safer to move to the countryside, where no one would know me.