Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

13

Our Quarters Under Seige

135

When we had regained the road outside the feudal establishment of the financier-collector, Holmes set the horse to a good pace. He seemed distracted and showed no signs of voicing his thoughts but I could not preserve our silence, which was out of step with the mood I had anticipated.

"My dear Holmes, surely you are not disappearing into that mental world of yours. The old man said that you would have the Golden Bird. Your promise to Lindquist will be fulfilled. If you believe Selkirk, that is," I added.

"Oh, I believe him, Watson. Which is why I am sorely puzzled. Consider, if you will, that we were not engaged in a fishing expedition. Actually, we were attempting to land a whale with no line at all."

Holmes consistently referred to his adventures using the plural, which was gratifying but had no basis whatsoever in fact. I seldom knew what was flitting through his massive intellect and could certainly divine no reason from his last remark. But I knew that he would relieve my befuddlement if it suited his fancy, which it usually did.

"All we did, Watson, was drop a little bait into the water. A consulting detective and his associate acting in the interests of a metal worker in Berlin are hardly capable of mounting an offensive against one of the most powerful men in the world. So I hoped to tempt the old rascal with a colorful tale that might brighten his existence and, in return, gain some information which he might see fit to throw us in the manner of a king throwing a bag of coins to traveling minstrels."

"Instead of which he promised to solve the matter for you."

"I don't recall his saying that," replied Holmes. His small smile had a grim quality to it. "Actually, he suggested that this matter had a way to run yet. But he did promise us the Bird, that I cannot deny."

"What is nagging at you, Holmes?"

"What did I do for him? He said that possibly I could be of use. Evidently, I was. True, he used my mention of Chu as an excuse to repay me but I'd told him nothing he did not already know. Watson, somehow I benefited the old brigand in some way. The Basil Selkirks of our world never give something without full value in return. He used me in some way and for the life of me I cannot fathom how." The clip-clop of the horse's hooves was the only sound for a considerable period of time. "Did Selkirk seem intrigued when I mentioned the year of 1822?"

"I can't say that he did," I said, trying to recall that moment in the baronial surroundings we had just left. "What prompted your remark, by the way?"

"It was the final clue given to us by the departed Barker."

Following our return to St. Aubrey, we left the four-wheeler with Doctor Witherspoon and bade a rapid farewell to the rural hamlet. Fortunately, a train to London was due soon. Evidently, Holmes found no answer to the question plaguing him for our trip to the metropolis was made in silence.

The following morning, when I descended to the sitting room of our chambers, Holmes was not in evidence. This came as no surprise. The smell of tobacco was strong in the room and I sensed that my companion had spent much of the night ruminating on the strange collection of facts so far unearthed in this most unusual case. It took but little imagination to picture Holmes's tall, thin frame pacing the floor and arranging bits and pieces into various patterns only to sweep them aside like a mental jigsaw and begin all over again. That his restless disposition would cry for action and drive him elsewhere in search of a wisp of information which "had to be" was in accord with his mode of operation in previous cases.

Mrs. Hudson, when serving breakfast, did reveal that he had departed at an early hour. In response to a question, she stated that he was clad in his familiar deerstalker and not decked out as an aged sea captain or any one of the myriad disguises which he could assume on short notice. This, of course, was no indication of where he had gone. I well knew that Holmes had other hideaways in the great city to which he could retire and clothe himself in a false identity to prowl the shadow-land of the lawless. It had often crossed my mind that he might have established domiciles under false names and recognized personalities with which to pursue the information, the whispers that often guided his precise mind to a solution. The thought of three or four Holmes in one city was, in my mind, a frightening concept for anyone bent on preying on society and I thanked my stars for a good honest upbringing among law-abiding people, the immunization from the plague that was the sharp and piercing eyes of Sherlock Holmes.

Since he had left no message, I devoted the day to catching up with my much-neglected practice, ably handled by Vernier or Goodbody during my frequent absences. It was in the early evening hours that I returned to Baker Street, where I found Holmes, in his familiar dressing gown, attended by familiars of our residence.

The bony figure, topped by the large cranium of Inspector Alec MacDonald, sat in our visitor's chair, while lounging in a straight-back was the almost skeletal form of Slim Gilligan. The master cracksman had removed his cloth cap, but the unlit cigarette dangled from his lips as it had on so many other occasions.

"Ah, Watson, you time your arrival well," said Holmes, genially. "It seemed appropriate that we have a council of those directly involved in this matter and your presence completes the circle. I have related to Slim and Mr. Mac something of our trip to rural surroundings and we were just considering the next step."

"I have a thought regarding that," I said with determination, placing my medical bag by the cane rack and divesting myself of my coat and bowler. "Does not a summation seem in order? This case has led down so many paths that I am hopelessly mired in a sea of confusion."

Gilligan's toothy smile was immediate. "It's sometimes wiser, Doc, not to know too much."

"But Watson's point is well-made," said Holmes, somewhat to my surprise. "Our interests are identical here since Mr. Mac is officially involved in the death of Barker, a matter in which we have considerable interest as well."

"What about the Chinese seaman on the Asian Star or Amos Gridley?" I asked, quickly. If answers were forthcoming, I had a number of points that required clearing up.

"The mystery of the Golden Bird is interwoven inextricably with the homicides," said Holmes.

"But if you come into possession of the Bird," I began, but was interrupted by Holmes.

"There is more to the puzzle of the elusive statue than simple possession."

I hoped the detective would continue to explore this vein but he shifted his tack.

"Have there been any recent rumblings in the underworld?" he asked our visitors.

MacDonald placed his Irish whiskey on the occasional table by his side. "You are thinking of Baron Dowson and his boys. No, they havena' made moves toward Chu San Fu in retaliation for the fracas at the Nonpareil Club. I had pictured a gang war breaking out but there are no indications of it."

"Exactly the opposite," commented Gilligan. Slim was not loquacious by nature, so when he made a statement, there was reason behind it. Three pairs of eyes swiveled in his direction and he elaborated. "Whitey Burke an' four of his best lads left London this morning' bound for St. Aubrey, of all places." My breath came in suddenly but neither Holmes nor MacDonald reacted to this news.

"I'm thinkin' that if Dowson was gunnin' fer the Chink, 'e'd 'ave use fer Whitey. Burke bosses the Lambeth Duster Gang and they 'ave a sorta workin' arrangement with Dowson."

"Now that's interesting," said MacDonald, ponderously.

"And very logical," commented Holmes. "Watson and I know that Dowson is in the pay of Basil Selkirk. The industrialist may be anticipating the attention of Chu and his people."

MacDonald absorbed this news for a moment. "Then Burke and his men are goin' down-country as mercenaries."

"That is my thought," agreed Holmes.

"So, as you intimated before Doctor Watson's arrival, 'tis Selkirk and the Chinaman. Dowson's gang is the army that the financier is puttin' into the field. Well, I wouldna' welcome bein' quoted, but if they have at each other a bit, 'twould be no loss to the Yard."

"Save that we have no guarantee that only their blood will be split," remarked Holmes, with his quiet smile. "There was a certain efficiency in the manner of the Italian city states, which hired their mercenaries and fought their wars with a minimum of loss to the civilian population. However, back to our problem: Watson and I have been fortunate enough to discover much about the history of the elusive Bird, information I consider important in attempting to uncover why this art object has acted as such a catalyst in this affair. We know who is after the statue, though not why. However, one thing remains a complete mystery: the death of Barker, the Surrey investigator. He was delving into the matter of the Golden Bird at the time of his death. He was employed at the Nonpareil Club. As I have frequently stated, premature theories are the bane of investigations but it is reasonable to assume that he learned Dowson had been hired to recover the object from Chu San Fu. It is what else he learned that is so important. Something prompted him to hasten to his employer, Nils Lindquist, and he was killed in the process. Before dying, he said one word to Lindquist: 'Pasha!' Does that mean anything to you, Mr. Mac?"

A brief negative was the inspector's response and Slim Gilligan mimicked him when Holmes's eyes shifted in his direction.

The sleuth thought for a moment. "There may be a break in this case shortly, but because of the powerful and potentially dangerous elements involved, I doubt if a disclosure of value is due to fall into our laps. Therefore, it behooves us to concentrate for the time on Barker. If he learned something, we can, as well."

It is sticking in his craw a bit, I thought. A fellow investigator, either by diligence or chance, has come across information that has so far eluded Sherlock Holmes. One of his greatest assets has always been his complete confidence in his ability, which precludes any possibility of negative thinking. But he's reached an impasse and he won't rest until he's thought his way round it.

My musings were interrupted by MacDonald, who had often been the audience to one of Holmes' patented tour de force solutions and must have savored a denouement of his own.

"Relative to Barker," said the Aberdeenian, softly, "I have a wee bit o' information. Bystanders identified the vehicle which ran him down as a hansom. So the Yard in its slow-movin' manner investigated all the public conveyances it could." There was a touch of triumphant malice in his words that had to be directed toward Holmes. "We found one not far from the furniture warehouse that housed the Amateur Mendicant Society."

Holmes was watching him intently as he paused. I recalled the Society MacDonald mentioned. It was a case my friend solved in '87.

"The front right wheel had a stain on it and our laboratory men were able to establish it as blood. They used the very reagent you discovered Mr. Holmes to establish that fact. In addition, they discovered that the blood was the same type as Barker's. The hansom had been stolen and then abandoned."

"Capital work, Mr. Mac!" said Holmes, with enthusiasm. "While we have assumed that Barker met his death by foul play, it is comforting to have a deduction verified. This evidence might not be accepted as conclusive in a court of law, but I believe we can take it as fact. Coincidence can be stretched but so far. All right then, if we have no more revelations to contribute let us center our energies on Barker and whatever he discovered. I would like to know what he was doing at the Nonpareil Club. That may have a bearing on what he found."

"Let me inquire into that," volunteered MacDonald. "In the process of investigating his death it would be reasonable to inquire into his employment. In fact, it would be strange if I did not."

Holmes nodded. "Also the fact that Barker's death has not been dismissed as accidental might make Dowson somewhat nervous, not a bad thing at all. Let me inquire into his personal life and quarters. I have some ideas regarding that, Slim, which it might be better for Mr. Mac not to be aware of. Officially, that is."

The inspector knew Holmes's methods, having been associated with him on a number of cases. His craggy face loosened to permit a wise smile. "Barker's landlady said that his lawyer had paid for the rental of his lodgings till the end of the month," he mentioned. "Strange that we have found no trace of said gentleman," he added in such a manner that I was sure he knew of Holmes's involvement.

"But, as Gilligan said, some things are best not known," concluded MacDonald.

He seemed on the verge of rising when I became conscious of the sound of music on the street below. I was looking at Holmes at this very moment and saw his alert eyes flick toward the casement window. Was I right in thinking that his face suddenly hardened?

"Strange. An organ grinder on Baker Street at this hour," I commented. Instinctively, I rose from my chair by the fire, moving toward the window.

"Passing by, no doubt," said Holmes, quickly, but my curiosity was aroused and I crossed to the aperture.

From long habit, I peered out from the side of the curtains rather than opening them. Behind me, Mac-Donald had also risen, preparatory to leaving. Holmes's voice had a touch of urgency to it.

"Inspector, simply as matter of security, why don't you depart via our back yard," he suggested.

I looked back from the window in surprise. This was an unusual thought on Holmes's part and I could see that it puzzled MacDonald as well. However, he did not choose to comment on it.

"Vera well," said he, in his low-timbered voice as my attention returned to the street outside.

On the pavement below there was a raggedy man winding the crank of an ancient street organ. He was gazing upward at illuminated windows in a hopeful manner and, indeed, one did open and there was a flash of metal in the light of the gas jet of the street lamp and a clink as it struck the cobblestones. Like a flash, a small monkey darted from atop the musical instrument to retrieve the coin, causing me to smile, but only for a moment, for in the wavering jet of the lamp I noted another presence in a doorway opposite Mrs. Hudson's house. For but an instant I glimpsed an Oriental face peering at the organ grinder's monkey and then it disappeared into the darkness.

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed, turning back to the others. "There's a Chinaman outside and he's watching this house, I'm sure."

As both Gilligan and the inspector instinctively stepped toward the window, they were halted by a surprising statement from Sherlock Holmes.

"I know."

Gilligan, as always, exhibited no reaction but both MacDonald's and my eyebrows escalated.

"The organ grinder is an . . . associate. The possibility of the hand of Chu San Fu reaching as far as Baker Street had occurred to me."

"And the music was the signal," said MacDonald. "Then the Oriental must have arrived but recently. I see now the reason for my leaving by the back."

I had vacated my position at the window and Gilligan had replaced me there. One glance at the street was enough for the cracksman.

"Slippery Styles," he exclaimed, with a grin. "Iffen the watcher leaves, 'e won't be alone. Though 'e'll never know it," Gilligan added, with relish.

"This puts a different complexion on things," stated MacDonald, his face suddenly creased with worry.

"Come now," replied Holmes, "after Styles leaves and he will have to shortly, to prevent being conspicuous, Wiggins and a couple of his street urchin friends will be in the vicinity."

"Ta ... a smart move, Guv," said Gilligan. "Them Baker Street irreg'lars can wander at will without attractin' notice."

"In a matter such as this, considering the forces that form the opposition, I need all the help I can get," said Holmes, and this was a remarkable admission to come from him.

MacDonald and I exchanged a significant glance. Holmes was notorious for his lack of concern about his personal safety, a fact that had prompted many an uncomfortable thought for both of us. I was reassured by the conviction that some of London's finest might soon find themselves in the area as well.

MacDonald bid us goodnight and made his way down the stairs and out the rear past the plane tree in our small yard and through the inconspicuous door that served as a seldom-used back exit. From there, he had easy access via the Mews to King Street and a route of departure safe from the eyes of the watcher without.

I wondered for a moment if the back of our residence was being watched. The Chinese crime tsar seemed to have unlimited manpower at his command. But then I realized that Wiggins and the irregulars were no doubt already on the scene and would have notified Holmes had our rear been under surveillance.

With the leaving of MacDonald, Holmes had some instructions for Gilligan. To facilitate them, he crossed to the desk and scrawled an address on a sheet of paper, which he tendered to our ally.

"Slim, here's where Barker had lodgings during his London residence, which was terminated in such an unfortunate manner. The front door has a Crowley lock. You might find the back more convenient. There are two windows to his living room, either of which will not delay you more than thirty seconds. I noted that there is convenient ivy on the back wall of the building as well. While I spent some time going through Barker's things, a more detailed search is called for."

"Right you are, Guv," replied the cracksman, with his ready smile. "It's a pleasure doin' biz wiv you. Every little caper is like a summer breeze."

"Let's hope they are all like this one." For a brief moment there was that gleam in Holmes's eyes that was reserved for very few people indeed. "But think, my good fellow, how reassuring it is to know that a complex problem would become simple in your deft hands."

Holmes was habitually sparing in his praise, and I knew of very few who commanded his respect. Not all of them, associates like Gilligan. Von Herder, the blind mechanic who had worked for Moriarty, was one. Van Seddar, the Dutch gem expert associated with Count Sylvius was another. And, of course, that late Napoleon of crime, Moriarty and his right-hand man, Colonel Sebastian Moran, were held in the highest esteem by the sleuth for their talents if not for their motives and morals. Gilligan had his place in this diverse and limited group.

Holmes and Gilligan departed together and I assumed that my friend was leading the cracksman to the upper story, where there was access to the roof of 221B. Gilligan had a pronounced preference for rooftops. How he intended to vacate our residence and reach the adjacent building I had not the faintest idea but I had no doubt that he would accomplish this feat, and with ease. Holmes had many times mentioned that the mark of the expert was the ability to make the difficult seem commonplace and, considering some of his own amazing solutions to baffling problems, I was certainly ready to agree with him.

In but a short time, Holmes returned with a satisfied air.

"It is said that one is judged by one's associates, which makes me the most fortunate of men. To secure an aide who will follow instructions implicitly is one thing and not an easy one. But to secure a Gilligan who can think on the spot and adapt himself to a changing scene, that is a treasure indeed."

Through my mind flashed a series of incidents when I had blundered on a wrong trail, and my face must have expressed this painful recollection or possibly Holmes divined the memories that his comment would awaken.

"Come now, good fellow, we all make our contributions in our particular style and where would I have been on many occasions without your invaluable presence?" Sentiment was rare for the sleuth and I could see him erase it promptly. "To prove my point," he continued, "do you have readily available that piece of heavy ordnance you carry on occasion?"

"I can secure it in a trice," I stammered, quickly, glad to be of some use.

"Do so by all means and check its load. I shall caution Mrs. Hudson and Billy not to answer the door below without alerting us first. Some caution from here on in will not be amiss."

When we retired for the night, I had the feeling that our cozy domicile was in a state of seige, a most unusual situation indeed.