After pulling deeply on his pipe, admiring the near-empty board as he did so, Holmes continued. "Were it not for the inclement weather, I would have sent a boy to you at your offices to suggest that we attend the Calhamer Club to-night should you have been able to extricate yourself from your duties lancing the boils of London, for Baron Hervé has acceeded to a request to conduct another presentation this evening. Indeed, Sir Malcolm rushed away from here a mere two hours ago, concerned that he would arrive there too late to attend the exhibition. He wished very much to join the other Britons there in displaying their pride in country by betting once again upon His Majesty's armed forces, just as his fellow delegates to the conference all mean to repeat their own wagers upon the success of their respective home-nations."

As if on signal, a rap came at the door of our quarters. Startled that we would have visitors on such a night, I nevertheless resolved to protect our landlady from the freeze in the air. "I will attend to it, Mrs Hudson," I called, and stepped to the door.

Opening it, I found there our Liverpudlian friend, the diplomat Sir Malcolm Walpole-Price, who rushed past me with barely a nod. "Tragedy, Holmes! Tragedy!" he cried, entering the drawing room where Holmes still drew on his pipe.

In stark contrast to the frantic behaviour of our visitor, Holmes merely said, "Good evening, Sir Malcolm; it seems from your entrance that England did not fare so well in this evening's game? I do trust that your financial reverses were at least minimal."

"You are correct that the funds I wagered ended the evening in another man's pocket, but no, Holmes, I am exceedingly distressed to admit that they were not minimal; not at all. I am afraid that they were quite substantial indeed. And I am far from alone in this my unhappy situation, Holmes. A great many men left the Calhamer Club in the same sad state as I, having become bereft of considerable sums of money. Oh, Holmes, I feel completely ruined!"

Holmes appeared not to notice what my trained medical eye did: that Sir Malcolm was quickly throwing himself into a weakened state, overwrought as he was, his flushed face hot and sweating, arms flailing about as he paced, the heat of the fire only adding to the shocks his system had experienced, come in as he was so soon and suddenly from the harsh weather. "Do calm down, Sir Malcolm," I tried, "and tell us what transpired."

Sir Malcolm did not, however, calm down, though he did, in panting frantic breaths, tell us about his misfortune at the Calhamer Club. "Once again, Holmes, Baron Hervé told us that the game would end as quickly as last evening's game had done — with the Last Man Standing alone after the conclusion of 1904. My hopes rose immediately for another successful night like the last!" He paused, breathless, shaking his head sadly and in disbelief, then immediately began pacing again. "We were then promised that we would see a convoy move performed during every phase in which any fleet were in water, and again, my intended wager upon England seemed all the more sure — Britannia Rule the Waves and all that rot, you know."

Holmes nodded, and tried to be sympathetic. "How unfortunate that England did not come out of 1904 with the sole unit, Sir Malcolm. You would have been wise to have wagered to-night only as much as you had won last night, so that you could not have come out of the two exhibitions less flush than you went in."

Sir Malcolm neither needed nor appreciated the reproach, his face reddening all the more in shame (if not indignation at Holmes for pointing out the error of his ways). "You are of course correct, Holmes," he sputtered, "but it is not simply that I bet more upon the English survival than I should have; you see, we engaged ourselves in a particular set of side-bets this evening — bets that have left me not only impoverished but quite astonished at the proven failure of my bets."

I approached our visitor and, clapping my hands upon his shoulders, tried to drag him to the stuffed chair, but he only threw me off and continued pacing, wringing his hands in his agitated state. "What were the terms of the side-bets, Sir Malcolm?" inquired Holmes.

"Oh, it's just terrible; terrible, Holmes!" came the reply. "Baron Hervé announced that, unlike last evening's game, some number of neutral centres would be captured, and then some one of our party struck on the idea that we should bet upon those centres that would and would not come under the control of one of the Great Powers during the course of such a brief game having the aim of eliminating every unit save one. I and many others laid much money on what we were certain were fool's bets being offered us, so positive were we that precious few neutrals could possibly be captured in such a short game, laying even more heavily against particular centres that seemed truly unreachable during the course of the game." As if to himself, he added, "And some of these men, one in particular, are seemingly quite wealthy; why oh why did I wager so much?"

I saw that Sir Malcolm was beyond calming, so I resigned myself to what seemed our task: to simply allow him to purge the evening's experience from his system by telling us of it. "And how many neutrals were captured, Sir Malcolm?" I asked.

"When the game finished, Baron Hervé claimed that he had captured every last neutral centre!" came the response.

At this, Holmes immediately sprung to his feet, his attention suddenly rapt. "Impossible! Are you quite sure, Sir Malcolm?"

Our guest was visibly flustered at Holmes's outburst. "I will take your word that it is impossible, Holmes, and indeed the baron had not, in fact, done so. He had, only slightly, overstated his accomplishment, and he was quickly corrected. Would that he had captured them all, however! It would have meant a slightly better result for me," he said, shaking his head sadly. "In fact, Holmes, there was a single neutral centre uncaptured. Yes, only a single one. And this single centre — alas! — was one of the very few that I had bet a considerable sum would be taken!" Pacing frenetically now, Sir Malcolm muttered, You'll forgive me for the state I'm in, gentlemen," and then he rushed on. "Yes, yes; eleven neutrals were taken — all of them during the first year — while we with grand sums of money laid against any such thing being possible all watched in horror!... and one, only one, was not. Even though there were many units skirting it, none ever set foot there, let alone captured it."

"Sir Malcolm, you have clearly been under too much tension. At least take off your coat," said I, reaching out to take off his winter coat, but he shrugged me off.

"It doesn't stop there. After that first tumultuous year the pieces came streaming back to the same area of the board as the night before, raising our hopes that we might luck out on the final destination, but alas, ..."

"It was not the same capital?" Holmes helpfully offered, dimly suppressing a smile.

"My good man, it was not even a home center! And then — oh, then, Holmes! — the terrible costs were accounted!"

His body could take no more of what his mind was putting it through, and Sir Malcolm collapsed suddenly on the floor of our drawing room, before the fire. I rushed to him, calling to Mrs Hudson for smelling salts, but his heaving body failed immediately to revive. Informing Holmes of the gravity of Sir Malcolm's condition, I sent for an ambulance, and readied myself to accompany Sir Malcolm to hospital.

I was surprised to see that Holmes had apparently decided to ride with us, for he grabbed his deerstalker and began to bundle up against the weather. I protested that he need not travel to the hospital with me, and that I would manage the care of my sudden patient, whereupon Holmes said, "I do not intend to accompany you, Watson. Rather, I am off to the Calhamer Club. Indeed, while you were seeing to our guest, I dispatched a boy to Scotland Yard to convey to Inspector Lestrade my urgent request that he join me there, and that he locate and detain the confidence men who mean to abscond with their ill-gotten gains. You see, I know which power won the game, I know where his solitary unit sits, and I am also convinced that I know which neutral centre remained uncaptured. I only hope that I might arrive at the club in time to see the game board, which will go a long way toward confirming my suspicions."

Holmes's suspicions that Sir Malcolm and the others were the victims of a sly hustle are correct, of course, and at the Calhamer Club he will indeed find a particular single unit standing on a particular space on the Diplomacy board. Is it an army? Is it a fleet? On which space does it sit? And which Great Power owns it? Holmes also is correct about which centre was never taken, and in fact, the Great Detective can correctly specify the ownership of every centre on the board. When you, like Holmes, have reconstructed this costly game of Last Man Standing, mail your solution to The Pouch! ...If you need just a little bit more help, click here.

— Dr John H. Watson

via Mario Huys (woelpad@gmail.com) and Manus Hand (manus@manushand.com)

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