Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Sacred Sword

I had something to mull over myself: an Arabian sheik, for such he had to be, speaking impeccable English with an accent that made it odds-on that he was a university graduate. What was he doing in the shadow of the Sphinx—leading a scurvy crew of land pirates? But then again, why not? Holmes had forecast a great meeting of Mohammedans in the Mosque of al-Ashar. No doubt my patient had come from some far-off oasis for just that gathering. I regretted that I had not questioned him regarding his social calendar but shoved that thought aside. Medical ethics, you know.

In our suite at Shepheard's, I was happy to find Holmes and Orloff alone. Their mood was a clue that their news was not reassuring, and such proved to be the case.

"Things have gone amiss, ol' chap. Chu's yacht arrived at Alexandria, but he is not aboard."

"Good heavens, Holmes!"

"They came by way of Rosetta. Obviously slipped Chu ashore there, and even now he is secreted aboard a native dhow making his way up the Nile Delta. Certain members of the secret service feel very chagrined, which helps us not a bit."

"But you are sure he's coming to Cairo?"

"There is going to be the great meeting we anticipated in the Mosque of al-Ashar in a week. That's what Chu is here for."

Orloff was seated upright in a chair, his weight balanced on the toes of his feet, his hands resting in his lap. The man's ability to remain completely motionless and relaxed was a source of wonderment to my medically trained mind. It was as though he saved every ounce of strength for those moments when it was needed. Possibly that was why he was able to move so fast when he had to. Now he spoke.

"Then there is the matter of the cable."

My eyes shot towards Holmes questioningly, and he seemed to wince.

"The Hishouri Kamu put in at Port Said. The coffin containing the corpse of Sidney Putz remained aboard, but a certain crate did not. Burlington Bertie and Tiny were not able to pursue the object, so we've lost that as well."

A horrible thought was crossing my mind.

"Look here, you are chiding yourselves for no reason. Chu suddenly altered his plans regarding himself and the sword. Might not my little foray last evening have been the reason? Certainly Loo Chan could have contacted the freighter, and I'll wager Chu's yacht has wireless equipment as well. The minute Chu learned we were in Cairo, he put an alternate plan into operation."

"It's possible, you know," said Orloff.

"There is an Arab expression," responded the sleuth, "'All things are possible in the caravan of life.' Now let us see what is possible for us. We've had reports from the Intelligence people, the army, the civil authorities; all more chaff than wheat. Chu will be in Cairo. It is his plan that eludes me. I can't shake the idea that those tablets might have contained a secret of the past. You were at the pyramids today, Watson. How did they build them almost five thousand years ago with nothing more than the lever, the roller, and vast embankments?"

"Plus the flood waters of the Nile to float the stone," added Orloff, "and unlimited manpower."

"Wait!" Surprisingly, it was my voice that rang out. "Gray told me something interesting today. In the twelfth century, Saladin's son had the notion to demolish the pyramids. He started with the Red Pyramid of Mycerinus, which had a casing of Aswan granite. They had the wheel and tools the Egyptians never dreamed of. Civilization had advanced four thousand years."

"What is your point?" asked Orloff.

"They couldn't do it. The best they could manage was two blocks a day. Destruction is easier than construction, but they couldn't tear it down."

At this point there was a knock on our door, revealing Colonel Gray, whom I had just quoted.

"Mr. Holmes," he said respectfully, "there's a Chinaman, Loo Chan, who requests permission to speak with you."

I had prepared myself a small libation and now almost dropped the glass.

"He is alone, I assume," said Sherlock Holmes, getting a nod in response. "By all means have him come up . . . Wait!" The sleuth's added thought caught Colonel Gray at the door. "He may be a messenger, a role he has played in the past. If I see him to the door, have the Oriental followed. If Dr. Watson shows him out, don't bother."

Gray's face brightened. This was more to his taste. "I'll be standing by, sir."

Orloff was at the sitting room windows, checking the street below out of habit. Holmes's eyes, alight with interest, encountered mine.

"This may prove a dividend from your nighttime excursion, ol' chap."

When Loo Chan was ushered into the room, the habitual sheen on his face was no more noticeable than at other times I had seen him. With a short, courteous bow to each of us, he assumed a chair in a nerveless fashion, a picture of Oriental calm. But he did not indulge in flowery preambles, so often a trademark of his race. He did not question the presence of Orloff, who was standing, watching him closely.

"Mr. Holmes . . . I need. . . ." Loo Chan took a quick breath, his only sign of agitation, and began again. "I am in great need of something, and I have something of interest."

"The one for the other," was Holmes's rejoinder. My friend was seated with his legs crossed, leaning on one arm of his chair and regarding the visitor without antagonism or any other emotion for that matter. Loo Chan nodded, and Holmes continued.

"Then let us deal with your need first."

"There is an 'Orient Middle East' liner entering the Suez Canal, destination Macao. I would like to be on it."

Holmes's eyes narrowed. "You don't need me to buy you a ticket, I'm sure."

Loo Chan's heavy lids blinked rapidly. "I do need you to get me out of Egypt. Alexandria, Port Said, the canal are all . . . the expression is 'bottled up,' I believe. There is no warrant for me in England, but had I tried to book passage I would have been in custody in a minute. Something about my passport, no doubt."

Holmes shot a quick look at Orloff. "He could be put aboard at Port Tewfik," said the security agent.

"What you ask can be done." Holmes let this hang in the air.

"I do not know, Mr. Holmes, Chu San Fu's plans regarding Egypt. I could tell you about the money he has spent of late in a number of Mid East countries, but I suspect you know more about that than I do."

"One thing. In Berlin. The Mannheim tablets?"

"I negotiated for them. Another of those rare items that Chu San Fu added to his collection."

"What happened?"

"He did not sell them when he disposed of his collection. They were stolen property, so he could not have put them on the market anyway. But he seemed to attach great importance to them."

The sleuth appeared disappointed. "You do have something?"

"I hope so." The Oriental shrugged. "As you know, part of my duties were associated with Chu San Fu's collection. There is a bit of guesswork involved in art objects. I developed the habit of attending estate sales and even disposal-of-property sales involving the belongings of unknowns. If their background was colorful."

Holmes exhibited interest as the Chinaman continued. "I picked up the notebook of an explorer, Puzza, an Italian who had been with Giovanni Balzoni in Egypt. It had entries regarding certain escapades of the incredible Balzoni. One page contained letters without meaning that Chu San Fu found intriguing. Then, two years ago, he referred to it once as 'the gateway to the past.' The notebook has been by his side ever since."

"You have it?"

"No, but I have a copy of the strange message that my employer found so interesting."

"Which you will give me if you can flee Egypt for Macao."

Loo Chan indicated this was so. There was a lengthy pause, and the Oriental seemed to feel the need of some explanation.

"Last night, Doctor Watson used words that I had refused to consider. Now I agree with him." His slanting eyes turned towards me. "It's time to get out."