Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

19

The Revelations of the Royal Jeweler

203

It was late afternoon and I was most pleasantly ensonced in our Baker Street sitting room. Mrs. Hudson had clucked over my return insisting that a good meal was an absolute necessity. Since there were a number of guests, the dear woman ended up providing quite a spread, but she magically produced half a baked ham, a goodly portion of cold roast beef, cold cuts and even some paté-de-foie-gras-pie. Having taken a welcome bath, I made inroads on the provendor with some gusto, washing it down with good and heady stout.

Alec MacDonald accepted some of our best Irish whiskey for medicinal purposes. Both Holmes and Wakefield Orloff fancied an excellent vintage burgundy that I had chanced upon the year previous while Slim Gilligan was satisfied with a flagon of ale. The way the cracksman applied himself to the paté-de-foie-gras-pie made Holmes wince. I noted that my friend secured a goodly wedge for himself while he was still able to.

With so much criminological talent present, there had to be a council of war. However, the speculative and questioning nature of previous meetings was singularly absent. Action was the order of the day and firm convictions had supplanted tentative attitudes.

Possibly I have misrepresented the situation. Those allies of Holmes present were very definite in their thoughts. It was Holmes, the hero of so many tour de force solutions, who sounded the only questioning note.

"Gentlemen, I am much in your debt for recent assistance." Standing by the mantle, his noble head turned toward Inspector MacDonald. "The presence of any constables during the hansom exchange might well have panicked the forces of evil and our good Watson might not be with us now." His eyes swiveled to Gilligan and Orloff. "While there was reason to suspect the recovery of Watson would go smoothly, I felt more in command of the situation with you, Orloff, disguised as the cabbie and Slim curled up in the luggage compartment."

I coughed over a mouthful of stout, this being my first intimation that Slim Gilligan had been a concealed ace up Holmes's sleeve. My friend's delivery became more measured, as though his words were unpalatable.

"I have been committed to this affair from the start since I made a pledge to a now-departed friend. With the taking of Watson, another motive has insinuated itself as regards my involvement. Chu San Fu cannot be allowed to get away with such actions, as fruitless as they will prove. I intend to break him by one means or another and fulfill my promise to Nils Lindquist as well. However, to date there has been an expenditure of time and effort on the part of the authorities as well as a certain organization with which Mr. Orloff is associated. I cannot continue to impose on the facilities of others relative to what has become a personal vendetta."

Holmes might have elaborated on this, but he did not get the chance. MacDonald cut in. "I'll speak for the Yard, Mr. Holmes, to set the matter straight. I anticipated a bit of resistance from the Commissioner about this matter. There's not much on the books and it has been hangin' fire for some time even though we've been after Chu San Fu for years. However, there's a new scent in the air. Somehow, knowledge of the kidnaping of Doctor Watson's got round. How I dinna ken for I've not bruited it about. But there's a lot of angry men at New Scotland Yard and the Commissioner's one of 'em. Count us in, Mr. Holmes—all the way."

"Allow me to endorse those words," said Wakefield Orloff. "In addition, certain august personages are much concerned with the pending marriage of the Chinese princess and Maurice Rothfils. We cannot yet prove that she is the daughter of Chu San Fu even though our men in Hong Kong and Singapore are convinced. If they are right, this marriage will extend the cloak of respectability to areas not fancied by my superiors. This matter warrants a carte blanche on whatever assistance my organization can supply." His next words shook me. "Besides, I also have a personal axe to grind."

He had to be referring to me and I could not believe my ears. Save for infrequent flashes of warmth in his manner toward Sherlock Holmes, the security agent had always been as devoid of sentiment or emotion as a king cobra. I realized that were I down to my last farthing, I could still consider myself a man of means. Wealth cannot be counted in worldly goods alone. In addition, I was provided with the intense pleasure of seeing the super sleuth of Baker Street actually appear embarrassed. During our long association I could count the number of times that had happened on one hand and have two fingers left over. All in all, it had been quite a day.

Perhaps Holmes's eyes were slightly misty, I cannot be sure. In any case, he cleared his throat, took a sip of his burgundy, and then a lifetime of training took over. The cold, logical analyst was present again as his sword of vengeance was unsheathed.

"As Watson knows, I have been searching the field of famous diamonds and have narrowed down my search. Is Doctor Max Bauer still in England?" Holmes addressed this question to Wakefield Orloff.

"He has returned to Germany but the royal jeweler, Edwin Streeter, is back in London."

"I had the pleasure of reading parts of his well-known book. An appointment with the gentleman would be of assistance."

Orloff indicated with a nod that the matter would be arranged.

"I need the name of the diamond, the identity of the gem that was concealed in the Golden Bird. That is the password to open closed gates. Basil Selkirk has the stone, I'm sure of it. But the old rogue is a bit of a romanticist and I might get it from him. I also need the statue, but Chu San Fu is going to provide that. I intend to write him a letter saying that if he wishes the gem, he will have to contact me to arrange for a fee to recover it. I will also demand a return of the Bird."

There was a rare twinkle in the deep-set eyes of Inspector MacDonald. "You intend to take on the Chink as a client?"

"I intend to recover the diamond," said Holmes, and let it drop at that. He continued looking at MacDonald. "I'll want to be sure that my letter reaches Chu San Fu, and promptly, before he puts further plans into action."

Slim Gilligan broke a long silence. "I'll take the billet doux, Guv. Sydney Sid runs the biggest gin hall and slap-bang shop in Limehouse. 'E'll see that Chu gets yer message."

Holmes seemed satisfied. "Three men know the story of the Golden Bird. Basil Selkirk, Chu San Fu, and my client, D'Anglas. If fortune smiles, I shall be able to deal with all three of them."

During the war council and, indeed, thereafter, I must confess that I felt something of the center of attraction. When one is associated with a great mind like Holmes, one becomes acutely conscious of limitations. I knew full well that mine was, and always had been, the role of associate, biographer, friend. In the amazing number of cases dealt with by Sherlock Holmes, I rarely played a major role. My friend had often stated that a thought or comment of mine had sparked his brilliant intellect to follow the correct road, but that generous admission on his part was certainly open to question.

On this particular day, and following ones, I was treated to the revelation that when one associates with greatness there are attendant rewards. Baker Street residents, if they were alert enough to take note, must have felt that the area anticipated a major outbreak of crime. Constables were everywhere. Our placid backwater in the great metropolis was blanketed with representatives of the law. Obviously, Alec MacDonald was taking no chances that I might again be spirited away by minions of the lawless, or Holmes either. In times past, the world's only consulting detective had chafed at the presence of sinews of the law, but he took these protective measures in good grace. My friend seemed to consider Chu San Fu and his extensive criminal organization as a snake whose fangs had been removed. Why he adopted this casual atitude I could not fathom.

It was the following morning that we were honored by a visit of the royal jeweler, Edwin Streeter. He was a tidy man of medium size with keen eyes and a businesslike manner. Obviously, he had been informed by Wakefield Orloff that the great detective required his knowledge of famous gems to solve a case of importance. He did not impress me as a waster of time.

"Tell me, Mr. Holmes, in what area does your interest lie?" he asked, immediately, after introductions. "Mr. Orloff indicated that it is diamonds that have caught your fancy."

"A large field, as Doctor Bauer informed me. However ..."

Our visitor bristled. "If you have consulted with Bauer, you have little need of me, sir. He is one of the foremost authorities in the world."

"As you are. I have read your Precious Stones and Gems with great interest. I consider any book that can intrigue and inform one who is not versed in the field has the quality of lasting greatness."

Streeter's brusque manner vanished. "You are most kind, Mr. Holmes. Though I would think that in your profession a knowledge of gems would be automatic."

"A surface knowledge," agreed Holmes. "I find the present problem far beyond my resources and am most grateful that the government has prevailed upon you to come to my assistance."

It crossed my mind that Holmes had put the gentleman in a bit of a bind. By linking Her Majesty's government and Streeter's expertise, and the need of same for an undisclosed reason, he had put the royal jeweler on the spot as far as cooperation was concerned. However, this was probably unnecessary. Speak to the expert of his field and he instantly opens his book of knowledge, if only to prove why he is an expert.

"I am much interested in a famous gem, one of undisputed quality, which has disappeared. Does this suggest something to you?"

Holmes's question undoubtedly intrigued the royal jeweler.

"Mr. Holmes, men have died for diamonds. Wars have been fought over diamonds. But very few of the great diamonds just disappear. There was a famous theft in 1792 of three of the crown jewels of France. One of them, the Regent, was recovered and later adorned the sword of Napoleon. It is in the Louvre. The second, the Sancy, was also recovered."

"Yes," commented Holmes. "I am familiar with that stone."

"The last of the trio was a rare blue diamond. It surfaced again, but it had been cut. The larger portion is now known as the Hope Diamond. It is in America. The smaller portion has been lost track of, but it would not be considered a major stone in any case."

Holmes mulled over the expert's words for a brief moment and then embarked on a different tack. "In my research in the field, I am confused on one point."

Streeter smiled. "Mr. Holmes, historic diamonds have been a favorite subject for writers for a century or more. So much has been written that what is truth and what is fiction is sometimes hard to determine."

"The Pasha of Egypt diamond came to my attention," said Holmes. "I note that it was sold to the Viceroy of Egypt"

Streeter was nodding. "Fetched a good price, too. A fine octagonal brilliant of forty carats."

"Yet I note a strange similarity relative to another gem, the Pigott Diamond." Holmes referred to a book open on the desk. "The Pigott Diamond was disposed of to Ali Pasha, the Viceroy of Egypt. All trace of this stone has since been lost and, according to reports, it has been destroyed."

Streeter almost bounced up and down in his chair. Obviously, Holmes had touched a nerve.

"That information is printed in several authoritative texts, but is incorrect. The confusion is due to names. Mr. Holmes. I might better say: titles. The Pasha of Egypt Diamond was, indeed, sold to Ibrahim, Viceroy of Egypt. He held the title of Ali Pasha. But the Pigott— that is another matter. Fortunately, sir, I happen to be the leading authority in the world on that stone."

"And many others as well," said Holmes, diplomatically. "But do tell us about the Pigott and the confusion in recognized texts on famous stones."

Streeter was delighted to comply. "The stone got its name from Lord George Pigott, twice Governor of Madras. Though his name has a single t, the diamond is known as the Pigott with a double t. But that is of scant interest. Lord Pigot received it as a gift from an Indian ruler in 1763. They did things rather in the grand manner in those days. The diamond has been described as anywhere from forty-five to eighty-five carats. In any case, Lord Pigot brought it to England and undoubtedly regretted it since he was plagued by ill fortune and died in prison. Later, his family put the diamond up as a prize in a lottery and it is sometimes referred to as the 'lottery diamond.' It was sold for a mere fraction of its worth—six thousand pounds—to Rundell and Bridge, the London Jewelers. They turned a nice profit by selling the diamond to Ali Pasha of Albania for one hundred and fifty thousand pounds."

"I see," said Holmes, "where the confusion lies. The title of Ali Pasha has thrown researchers off the track."

"Exactly," agreed Streeter. "The Albanian Ali Pasha was a ruler of some historical significance. Known as the tyrannical 'Lion of Janina,' he wielded such power that the Sultan of Turkey sent an emissary to bring him back to Constantinople to curb his excessive ambition. Ali Pasha resisted and there was an exchange and he was fatally wounded. The Lion of Janina requested permission to die in his own throne room, in his own fashion, and this wish was granted."

At this point in his narration, Streeter almost preened himself. "Now, Mr. Holmes, I can give you information that is not common knowledge at all. As the eighty-year-old Pasha lay dying, he summoned a trusted soldier of fortune, Captain D'Anglas . . ."

"D'Anglas?" I asked. Holmes looked at me with irritation and I subsided.

Streeter continued as though he had not heard me. "The Pasha ordered his aide to destroy his two most precious possessions: the Pigott Diamond and his wife, Vasilikee. Captain D'Anglas crushed the diamond before the Pasha's eyes and he died. According to legend, his wife was not killed by the French mercenary."

"You say 'according to legend,' " . said Holmes, thoughtfully. "If the Pasha's wife survived, might not the diamond have as well?"

"This was in 1822, Mr. Holmes. Since that time there has been no trace of the Pigott."

At Streeter's mention of 1822, Holmes threw me a knowing glance. His eyes then returned to the crown jeweler.

"How is so much known about the stone?"

Streeter was amused by Holmes's question. "Man's obsession with great diamonds is nothing new, Mr. Holmes. The Pigott was well-known. Lord Pigot acquired it in 1763. He died in 1777 and his family disposed of it via the lottery in 1801. At one tune it was owned by Madame Bonaparte, the mother of Napoleon. There is a model of the stone which was made here in England and still exists. It was an oval-shaped gem of the finest quality."

As he had been recounting the history of this famous gem, Streeter had been observing Holmes's manner.

"Do I sense that this is the information you are searching for?" he asked.

"You have certainly opened up avenues of thought," replied the sleuth. "Let us pose a hypothetical situation. Let us say the Pigott still exists. Who would it belong to?"

"To whomever holds it in his hand, Mr. Holmes."

"But it would be recognized?"

"A stone of that quality could not be ignored. We are speaking of one of the great diamonds of the world. An expert would immediately identify it by its shape and size. But proving it is another thing. Why, sir, if you had it, you could wear it on your watch fob and no one could say you nay."

Holmes had secured the information he wished. Soon thereafter, the crown jeweler took his leave. Of course, I was bursting with ideas.

"I say, Holmes, you struck a rich vein there! And the name of the French mercenary in the employ of the Ali Pasha ..."

"D'Anglas—the same name as our client." Holmes had the satisfied look of a cat who had consumed cream. "D'Anglas's grandfather served the Albanian but did not follow his dying orders. The Frenchman had the Pigott and the ruler's wife, Vasilikee, as well. They had to be in it together. Note our client's first name—Vasil, in memory of his grandmother. The conspirators secreted the diamond in the Golden Bird and gave out the word of its destruction. They planned to secure the statue later and retrieve the prize within, but the Bird eluded them. Somehow the story got out, for Jonathan Wild heard of it. Through him, Harry Hawker, as well. Since 1822, the Golden Bird has had a value far in excess of its original worth. It has been a loadstone, a magnet for all who knew its secret. Barker left us the clues, ol' chap. First the year—1822. Then, recall that in the book on Jonathan Wild's career, Barker ran a line through the reference to the Pasha of Egypt diamond. I mistook it as underlining, but he meant that the mention of this famous gem was incorrect."

"How did Chu San Fu learn the secret of the diamond?"

"We may never know the answer to that. But observe that Basil Selkirk seized on the clue I gave him, the year of Ali Pasha's death and solved the mystery."

Holmes's recreation of events covering more than half a century was interrupted by Billy, who informed us that an Oriental gentleman requested a few moments of Mr. Holmes time.

My friend cocked an eye in my direction. "My letter to Chu San Fu has prompted a rapid response. Show the man up, Billy, by all means."

When the page boy ushered a squat Chinaman into our chambers, my manner was frigid indeed. Nor was my friend a model of hospitality.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes—my name is Loo Chang. I am a solicitor."

He passed the sleuth a business card, which Holmes dropped on the desk without looking at it. Chang bowed in my direction. He was quite short and somewhat overweight, which may have contributed to the perpetual sheen on his face. His mouth was drawn in a constant smile and I wondered, for no particular reason, if it was present when he slept.

"I am here, Mr. Holmes, representing a client."

"We can," said Holmes severely, "dispense with evasions. You have been instructed by Chu San Fu to contact me relative to a certain piece of property, which he is interested in."

The Oriental's hands were spread, palms up, as though to indicate that he carried no weapons. "I do not know the object involved but I am empowered to negotiate a fee for its recovery. My client is a most generous man and will pay one thousand pounds for its return."

Holmes sighed as though his patience was being sorely tried. "You client's generosity is imaginary. Ten percent is a standard fee for lesser talents than mine. The price is fifteen thousand pounds based on the last valuation of the object. The thousand pounds you mention is to be paid in advance to cover possible expenses."

Chang looked shocked. "My client did not anticipate . . ."

He was allowed to go no further. "I do not haggle in matters of this kind." Holmes's right hand indicated the door. "Begone!"

"But, Mr. Holmes."

"Out!"

The sheen on Chang's face was more evident. He fumbled in his coat pocket, extracting a bulky envelope, "I will leave this thousand pounds as a retainer, Mr. Holmes. If my client agrees to your terms, he will notify you."

Placing the envelope on the desk, Chang backed toward the door with short, rapid bows to Holmes and myself.

"I bid you good day, gentlemen."

"One moment," commanded Holmes, and Chang halted by the door. "When your client agrees in this arrangement, instruct him to return to me the statue. When he does so, six members of his organization will reappear."

"The statue will be in your hands within the hour," the lawyer said, with a defeated air and then departed in haste.

The solicitor departed in haste.

"Holmes," I said, as soon as the man was gone, "you don't intend to give the Pigott Diamond to Chu San Fu."

"I intend to break him," was Holmes's grim response.

He crossed to the window with rapid strides, peering through the drapes. What he saw seemed to give him satisfaction for he gave vent to a chuckle.

"Loo Chang is departing with Slippery Styles, the human shadow, on his trail. Sooner or later the solicitor will return to his office. 'Tis then that Slim Gilligan will enter the picture."

Noting my blank look, Holmes continued. "Both Alex MacDonald and Wakefield Orloff are very interested in the names, locations and income derived from Chu San Fu's various enterprises. The Chinaman is very businesslike and organized and there should be more revealing information in the files of his lawyer."

I did not question this matter, realizing that Holmes was taking full advantage of his unofficial status and following a line of investigation not open to the authorities.

Holmes reverted to the matter of the diamond.

"By now, Chu must realize that Basil Selkirk has the stone. Rather than have him attack Selkirk's residence or involve himself in some similar skullduggery, it is best to let him think I'll secure the diamond. Besides, with Vasil D'Anglas arriving tomorrow from Berlin, I need the statue. That was our original commission, if you recall."

"But D'Anglas will expect the diamond to be in the statue. He, of all people, knows the secret of the Golden Bird."

"We have a touchy point there, Watson. The last legal owner of the gem died sixty years ago. Who does own it?"

"Streeter was definite on that point. The possesser in this case, Selkirk, is the owner."

"But we know something that the crown jeweler did not. My theory is that D'Anglas's grandfather secreted the stone and married Vasilikee, Ali Pasha's wife. Theoretically, Vasilikee owned the stone upon the death of her husband, the Lion of Janina. Which makes our client, Vasil D'Anglas, the man with the best claim on the gem."

"We are stretching things a bit, are we not?"

"My blushes, Watson. The fact is that I was commissioned to secure the Golden Bird at the time when the diamond was still concealed within it. Therefore, I intend to honor the interests of our first client, Vasil D'Anglas."

"But how do you hope to get the diamond from Basil Selkirk?"

"I really don't know," said Holmes, to my surprise. "That could well be a two-pipe problem, at least."

As it happened, I was never to learn what plans Holmes made to separate the eccentric millionaire from the Pigott Diamond, for the following morning we received startling news indeed.