Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Sacred Sword

Holmes and Orloff were looking at each other, and a silence fell. I began to get that feeling again. The same that I experienced when my friend consorted with his brother, Mycroft, and one sensed that there was unspoken communication as two minds evaluated facts, each knowing the line of thought that the other was following. However, this was not as unusual as it seemed at first glance, for Wakefield Orloff was an extension of Mycroft Holmes. "The Walking Arsenal," as Holmes described him, was the steel forged to strike terror in the hearts of the enemies of the nation. That this unusual man chose to display an antagonism towards the enemies of Sherlock Holmes was another matter. Finally the detective broke the vacuum of silence.

"You have been in touch with London?"

Orloff nodded. "Finally, Whitehall and Downing Street seem aware that there is a pending crisis out here. A cabinet meeting was called and a lengthy, sometimes heated, debate followed. In the end, it was agreed that since a British subject who had been of service to the Empire was on the spot, he should approach the matter. It is hoped that it can be resolved without embarrassment to the Crown."

There was another pause as the security agent's words sank in. Orloff continued in a casual tone.

"If you pull this off, you may have to refuse knighthood a second time."

Holmes dismissed this idea with a gesture. "Poor Mycroft will be accused of nepotism."

"It was Bellinger and Lord Cantlemere who swung the day. I understand Cantlemere was quite grandiose in his references to you, mentioning, among other things, 'wooden ships and iron men.'"

"The aged peer may not be original, but I have no doubts as to his eloquence," was Holmes's dry comment. His eyes captured my startled ones.

"Well, Watson, we'd best come up with something or we dare not show our faces on Baker Street again."

"We, indeed! As near as I can figure out, you are practically Viceroy of Egypt."

"Let us not dramatize, ol' chap. Surely the word 'unofficial' will be used in all dispatches and echoed by that august personage in Balmoral Castle."

Orloff distrusted politicians and disliked anything but the direct approach, but he tried to be fair. "Really the only solution, you know. 'Investigation' is a very elastic word and does present the government with a disclaimer if 'private' is used in conjunction with it. The news has been relayed to the right quarters. You can count on the cooperation of the authorities, as reluctant as they may be."

"All right," said Holmes, springing to his feet. "The matter is coming to a head, that we know. Our first move is to keep that yacht of Chu San Fu's under observation. The Hishouri Kamu should also arrive shortly. Now, if there is to be some revelation to the Moslem world, it must take place in the Mosque of al-Ashar right here in Cairo. It has been Islam's center for religious study for a thousand years."

"That concurs with the feeling of the local men," said Orloff.

"Then we'd best to bed," said the sleuth. "Why don't you stay with us?" he asked Orloff. "There is ample room."

"I was hoping you would ask. The sofa out here will be fine. Let me tend to a few things, secure my bag, and rejoin you."

The only entry to our suite was the main door, and I saw what the security agent was up to. Holmes's presence in Cairo had become vital, and any unwarranted visitor would have to pass Orloff before reaching our bedroom door. Since Orloff had the nighttime instincts of a Bengal tiger, I ranked such an attempt as impossible.

Before extinguishing the lights, I recounted my adventure in the back alleys of Cairo to Holmes, and his face reflected sternness, then gravity, and finally relief.

"Good heavens, Watson, had your quick wit not come to your aid and you'd come to harm in the hands of Loo Chan, what would I have done?"

These few words were Holmes's most emotional reaction since that day when I had been superficially wounded by a bullet from the gun of Killer Evans. Once again I had a brief glimpse of the great heart that lurked behind his usual cold and austere manner. As though ashamed of himself, he shook off the mood.

"But Shakespeare was right. 'All's well that ends well.'"

The next morning, following breakfast, there was a parade of local authorities to our suite, and I recognized that the situation was an uncomfortable one. It was they who had put in the time here on the edge of the Arabian desert, yet in a moment of crisis, an unofficial investigator from London was to call the shots. To have his associate, a doctor no less, in attendance would have added to the strain. To vacate the premises, I contacted Gray and asked if he would take me to the pyramids as he had volunteered the previous evening. I could tell that the Colonel felt he was being shunted off again, but he stood by his invitation.

So it was that we passed through the city to the Nile bridge. In the morning hours, Gray informed me, one encountered a true cross-section of natives and animals, and I agreed with him. There were camels and donkeys and asses in profusion carrying or being led by turbaned men, veiled women, and everywhere squalid children. I had expected to be assailed by Arabs crying for baksheesh, but such was not the case, no doubt because of Colonel Gray's trim uniform and official manner. On the other side of the Nile donkeys awaited us, and we mounted them and set off in the direction of the three huge figures, triangular lighthouses rising from a sea of sand.

Gray must have supervised many such a visit and he had, in fact, mentioned the Prince of Wales's tour of Egypt. Since I recalled that this took place in '62, he obviously had been on the scene a long time.

He had cautioned me about the heat and took pains to remind me of my weakened condition upon my arrival in Egypt. As a precaution I took my small medical kit with me. The black valise rode nicely in a saddle pouch on my donkey.

The monuments or tombs seemed but a stone's throw but proved to be considerably further. I suggested visiting the largest, that of Cheops. As we drew closer, I was amazed that the pyramid rising more than four hundred feet did not seem that tall, but the blazing sun, reflected from the stones in a dazzling manner, made an estimation difficult. At its base, I was imbued with the thought of climbing to the top, an idea that found little favor in Colonel Gray's eyes. However, it did not seem difficult since the pyramid resembled a huge staircase, if one can accept steps four feet high.

Gray decided to humor me, and close to half an hour later, sweaty and breathless, I was atop the oldest and largest of its kind. In former times it had been taller, but now its apex was a platform that extended thirty or more feet. Having Gray with me proved invaluable since he pointed out and named other pyramids, easily seen, along with various smaller tombs. From where I stood, the emerald green of the valley of the Nile was of breathless beauty. In contrast, the vast desert that was everywhere beyond the fruitful reach of the great river was awesome in its absolute desolation.

Gray's warnings about the midday heat were made in a genuinely concerned voice and I began to heed them, feeling as though I was in Neville's Turkish baths on Northumberland Avenue.

There was no shade, nor did there seem to be any at the base of the pyramid either, with the midday sun blazing on all four sides. Gray took me to the north side, saying that if we descended two-thirds of the way, we could gain the entrance to the tomb of Cheops and find refuge from the inferno. I agreed to this idea promptly. Gray cautioned me to step to the very edge of each of the great stones, a necessity if one wished to see the step below. Heights have always bothered me but did not on this occasion, for all I could think of was relief from the desert sun and heat.