A very tell man entered, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be considered bad taste. He was wearing a double-breasted coat with fur-trimmed collar and cuffs, over which he wore a deep blue cloak lined with flame-coloured silk. His boots, which went halfway up his legs, were also trimmed with fur, completing his appearance of barbaric richness. He had a thick moustache and a straight chin suggesting strong determination, but a black mask hid the upper part of his face. He was carrying a hat in one hand, while his other hand was raised, as if he had just finished straightening his mask.
“Please take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, Dr Watson. Whom have I the honour to address?”
“You may address me as Count von Kramm, a Bohemian aristocrat. I hope you friend is a man I can trust. If not, I prefer to speak to you alone,” said our strange visitor.
“You can say anything in front of this man that you can say to me,” Holmes replied. The Count nodded and continued. “You will excuse the mask; my employer wishes my true identity to remain a secret.”
“If your majesty would like to tell us your problem,” Holmes remarked, “I will be happy to advise you.”
The Count sprang from his chair, paced nervously up and down the room, then took off the mask and threw it on the floor.
“You are right!” he cried. “I am the King. Why should I try to hide it?”
“Why, indeed?” said Holmes. “I knew, ever before you spoke. that you were the Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein and the King of Bohemia.”