The Scottish Ploy by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Bill Fawcett Page B

not hesitate to capitalize on the power of their minds.” He folded his hands on his chest and favored me with a thoughtful look. “Imagine what we might do if we could but comprehend the workings of the human mind, its strengths, its weaknesses, its unexplored capabilities. Once we had such knowledge, there would be no more madness, no more criminality, no more senility or apoplexy, and, once the mechanism was comprehended, no more poverty, for each man should know how to employ the strength of his thoughts, not be subverted by their weaknesses.”
    “A laudable goal,” I said, making no apology for my skepticism.
    “You think it is not attainable.” He waved his hand to stop my protestations before I could make any. “Well, for now you have the right of it. But for the future, I do not agree. A capable, disciplined mind: the mind is the secret, Guthrie. All our potential is locked within it; science shows us that if it shows nothing else. Sir Marmion seeks to give us some access to it, and I, for one, applaud his efforts, and the efforts of all who seek to comprehend the whole of it. We have discovered so much in the last decade, we must persevere to the limit. I will not be stopped by fashions in thinking, nor by public outcry, for there is too much at stake.” He rose from his chair.
    “And what if the highest potential of a mind is for greater criminality, or more fecklessness?” I asked. “There may be such predilections even as there is talent for music and science.”
    Mycroft Holmes nodded. “Indeed, there may be such, and if there are, the sooner we know them, the better. In those cases Sir Marmion may provide the key to identifying those inclinations early enough in life when they might be redirected into more useful applications.” He came over to me. “For example, if Sir Cameron had received appropriate instruction early in life, he might not be the drunken, cocksure wastrel he is now.”
    “It is possible,” I allowed in a tone that said I did not think it likely.
    “You do not think it could be so;you are not persuaded by what you have heard in this regard,” said Mycroft Holmes, wagging a finger at me as if he were a schoolmaster and I a wayward student. “Yet I tell you each man has it within him to be a tyrant or a saint, to be a beacon of achievement or a sink of depravity. It is all a matter of emphasis and application, and of education.” He began to pace the room. “I repeat: the mind is the secret. Do not deny the truth of it. You, of all men, should appreciate the power of the mind.”
    “I do not question it,” I said. “I do question its diligence, and the ends to which it is employed.”
    “That is precisely what Sir Marmion’s studies seek to address,” said Mycroft Holmes. “And speaking of Sir Cameron,” he went on in another voice, “I fear we must prepare to meet him at his London club. He has telegraphed early this morning that he does not wish to be met at the train.”
    “That is not reassuring,” I said as I went to gather up the notes Mycroft Holmes wished me to transcribe.
    “No. It suggests he had been drinking or has a doxy with him he does not wish anyone to see. It will not do, to have him arrive in this havey-cavey manner. Not that we would seem to have any choice in the matter.” Holmes pulled at his lower lip. “And there is the meeting with Baron von Schattenberg. It would not be to our advantage to have Sir Cameron attend our deliberations drunk.”
    “No, it would not,” I said, thinking of all the times we had had to deal with just that eventuality.
    “I think I am going to ask Sutton to put on one of his disguises and go watch Sir Cameron arrive. If he follows him to his club, there will be ample opportunity to discover what state he may be in.” He pointed to the notes. “Well, first things first. You may have two hours for that task, and then Tyers will return the file, as Sir Marmion requested.”
    “That seems an excellent notion; I