The Great Game by Michael Kurland

concierge of this Italian villa, used as a breakfast room. For her English guests, Frau Schimmer believed in what she called "the English Breakfast," which consisted of slices of every meat or cheese about the kitchen that could be sliced, with platters of fried eggs. It had taken work for Barnett to convince Frau Schimmer that he would, really, prefer one of her delicious omelettes.
     
                  The only other guests in the breakfast room when they entered were a honeymooning couple in their early twenties from Rome who called themselves Pronzini, and spent most of their time in their room, and Herr Lindner, the German painter. Lindner, a skinny, balding man with heavy, dark eyebrows and a black toothbrush mustache, rose and bowed mechanically to Benjamin and Cecily as they crossed the room, and then went back to reading the Zurich newspaper and eating his pfannkuchen. The honeymooners merely looked up, nodded, and giggled, and returned to eating rolls, drinking coffee, and gazing into each other's eyes.
     
                  Benjamin and Cecily sat and told the serving girl what they wanted, and began going through the mail that "Mummer" Tolliver had passed on to them as they came downstairs. Barnett went through his letters quickly, and then settled down to his omelette and the latest issue of The Illustrated World News. Fifteen minutes later he tossed it aside with more than necessary violence. "Really," he said, "this is insufferable!"
     
                  Cecily put aside a long letter from her employer, and looked up from her buttered egg at her husband. "I particularly love you when you're angry," she told him. "You sound so English when you're angry. One can hardly believe that you grew up in Brooklyn, U.S.A."
     
                  Barnett looked across the breakfast table at his wife, and felt the anger and the pain dissolve, to be replaced by a feeling of quiet joy. "Married all these years," he observed, "And I still find myself rather fond of you. How do you explain that?"
     
                  "It passeth understanding," Cecily told him. "Now, what has raised your bile so much that you've lost that trace of American accent that women find so irresistible?"
     
                  Barnett passed the newspaper to her and tapped one of the columns. "Here," he said. "Read this!"
     
    -
     
    Consulting Detective
    Aids Crown
    DETAILS REVEALED IN ARTICLE.
     
                  In an article shortly to be published in the Strand M agazine under the title of "The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet," Dr. John H. Watson has revealed the details of another extraordinary case of his friend and companion, the consulting detective, Mr. Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street, London.
     
                  The case involved a matter of great importance to Her Majesty's government concerning a most difficult problem requiring the most delicate handling due to the high social standing of the persons involved. Mr. Holmes succeeded where the police failed in retrieving and preserving a state treasure— the aforementioned beryl coronet—and apprehending those involved in its disappearance.
     
                  Although the identities of several of the persons involved in the case have been altered to preserve their anonymity, it is clear that the case involved royal personages and persons in high government positions. The beryl coronet is part of the state regalia of a royal duke, and has been a state treasure for more than three centuries.
     
                  Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes are at present abroad enjoying a no-doubt well-deserved vacation, and could not be reached for comment.
     
    -
     
                  "Of all the unmitigated—," Barnett began.
     
                  "Quiet, dear, and let me read it." Cecily perused the item silently, and then pushed the magazine aside and returned to her