Nonsense Novels | Page 3

in amazement--"pray do not
stand, I beg you. Sit down, lie down, anything rather than stand."
The Archbishop took off his mitre and laid it wearily on the
whisker-stand.
"You are here in regard to the Prince of Wurttemberg."
The Archbishop started and crossed himself. Was the man a magician?
"Yes," he said, "much depends on getting him back. But I have only
come to say this: my sister is desirous of seeing you. She is coming
here. She has been extremely indiscreet and her fortune hangs upon the
Prince. Get him back to Paris or I fear she will be ruined."
The Archbishop regained his mitre, uncrossed himself, wrapped his
cloak about him, and crawled stealthily out on his hands and knees,
purring like a cat.
The face of the Great Detective showed the most profound sympathy. It
ran up and down in furrows. "So," he muttered, "the sister of the
Archbishop, the Countess of Dashleigh!" Accustomed as he was to the

life of the aristocracy, even the Great Detective felt that there was here
intrigue of more than customary complexity.
There was a loud rapping at the door.
There entered the Countess of Dashleigh. She was all in furs.
She was the most beautiful woman in England. She strode imperiously
into the room. She seized a chair imperiously and seated herself on it,
imperial side up.
She took off her tiara of diamonds and put it on the tiara-holder beside
her and uncoiled her boa of pearls and put it on the pearl-stand.
"You have come," said the Great Detective, "about the Prince of
Wurttemberg."
"Wretched little pup!" said the Countess of Dashleigh in disgust.
So! A further complication! Far from being in love with the Prince, the
Countess denounced the young Bourbon as a pup!
"You are interested in him, I believe."
"Interested!" said the Countess. "I should rather say so. Why, I bred
him!"
"You which?" gasped the Great Detective, his usually impassive
features suffused with a carmine blush.
"I bred him," said the Countess, "and I've got 10,000 pounds upon his
chances, so no wonder I want him back in Paris. Only listen," she said,
"if they've got hold of the Prince and cut his tail or spoiled the
markings of his stomach it would be far better to have him quietly put
out of the way here."
The Great Detective reeled and leaned up against the side of the room.
So! The cold-blooded admission of the beautiful woman for the
moment took away his breath! Herself the mother of the young

Bourbon, misallied with one of the greatest families of Europe, staking
her fortune on a Royalist plot, and yet with so instinctive a knowledge
of European politics as to know that any removal of the hereditary
birth-marks of the Prince would forfeit for him the sympathy of the
French populace.
The Countess resumed her tiara.
She left.
The secretary re-entered.
"I have three telegrams from Paris," he said, "they are completely
baffling."
He handed over the first telegram.
It read:
"The Prince of Wurttemberg has a long, wet snout, broad ears, very
long body, and short hind legs."
The Great Detective looked puzzled.
He read the second telegram.
"The Prince of Wurttemberg is easily recognised by his deep bark."
And then the third.
"The Prince of Wurttemberg can be recognised by a patch of white hair
across the centre of his back."
The two men looked at one another. The mystery was maddening,
impenetrable.
The Great Detective spoke.
"Give me my domino," he said. "These clues must be followed up,"

then pausing, while his quick brain analysed and summed up the
evidence before him--"a young man," he muttered, "evidently young
since described as a 'pup,' with a long, wet snout (ha! addicted
obviously to drinking), a streak of white hair across his back (a first
sign of the results of his abandoned life)--yes, yes," he continued, "with
this clue I shall find him easily."
The Great Detective rose.
He wrapped himself in a long black cloak with white whiskers and blue
spectacles attached.
Completely disguised, he issued forth.
He began the search.
For four days he visited every corner of London.
He entered every saloon in the city. In each of them he drank a glass of
rum. In some of them he assumed the disguise of a sailor. In others he
entered as a solider. Into others he penetrated as a clergyman. His
disguise was perfect. Nobody paid any attention to him as long as he
had the price of a drink.
The search proved fruitless.
Two young men were arrested under suspicion of being the Prince,
only to be released.
The identification was incomplete in each case.
One had a long wet snout but no hair on his back.
The other had hair on