Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

"Ah!" The old man's sigh, almost of ecstasy, came from deep down in his frail and wasted body. "You describe it well. I can almost see it myself." He threw a quick, penetrating glance at me.

"From Cleopatra's mines in Upper Egypt, you know. Egyptian emeralds are better than those Central American ones."

He seemed to ruminate a moment. His face lowered and then it rose again to view us with those birdlike eyes.

"Smart woman, that Cleopatra. I have a lot of Egyptian staters in my coin collection, you know."

A twinkle appeared in Holmes's eyes. "In deference to your business acumen, might I deduce that your staters are the old Ptolemic ones and not those issued by the Queen of the Nile."

Selkirk burst out in his high cackle again and laughed till tears came to his eyes. Finally, he dabbed at them with his handkerchief. The great door in the background opened and the old man waved at it with irritation.

"Out! Out!"

"But, Mr. Selkirk . . ." protested the voice of the blond young man in the shadows of the huge room.

"Leave, I said. I'll ring for you."

As the door closed slowly, the old man had recovered, though his toothy mouth was still stretched in a grin somewhat like a death mask.

"Young fool! But I suppose he serves a purpose. In any case, Mr. Holmes, you've made your point. I heard you were sharp." Suddenly, his eyes swiveled to me as though detecting my puzzlement. "Cleopatra lowered the silver content of the stater from ninety percent to thirty-three percent. Not too many people know that. But you did," he added, spearing Holmes again with his disconcerting gaze. "Do you have a cigarette about you?" he asked, abruptly.

Holmes nodded, reaching for the gold case in his pocket, but then his hand slowed in its progress.

"Are cigarettes bad for you?"

"Of course, they are. Why do you think I'm asking you for one."

Holmes passed his case to the old man and helped him light a Melachrino, which he inhaled with gusto.

"All the things one loves are bad for them. But don't be concerned," he added, noting my medically conditioned frown of disapproval.

"I'm such an old rascal that it doesn't matter at all."

I noted that the cigarette held between overly thin fingers was steady as he shifted in his chair and regarded us with a trace of cunning.

"Now, let's be at it."

I could think of nothing to say and looked at the silent Holmes helplessly.

"Come, come, I'm not completely a doddering idiot. What you're here for. It's not to see a relic of the past or to brighten an old man's moments with a few words about the Midas Emerald. You want something."

"I want the Golden Bird," said Holmes, simply.

"So does everyone else."

"A fact that puzzles me."

The millionaire took a deep puff of the cigarette and his head cocked sidewise again in his peculiarly elfin manner.

"You're sharp for a fact."

"Do you have it?" persisted Holmes.

"I might have an idea where to lay my hands on it."

"I represent the legal owner. If necessary, I can secure a warrant of search."

"You're whistling in the wind, Holmes. When I cornered the Canadian wheat market, three nations couldn't stop me. If I've a fancy for that gold statue, I'll have it and that's a fact."

Obviously, Selkirk's interest had been aroused. Suddenly, he looked younger and seemed to sit more erect in his chair.

"Do you have a fancy for it?"

"I'm intrigued. Not for its value, which is no great thing."

Holmes's eyes were half-closed in thought. "Because somebody else is so anxious to get it," he said.

Selkirk cackled in delight. "You do know about the matter. You're right, of course."

"The Oriental." Holmes made this a statement rather than a question.

"The bloody brigand!" There was steel in the old man now and his thin lips were twisted in a grimace that was frightening. Then his slight figure relaxed.

"How strange that despite the prattle of pious churchmen and do-gooders, it is hate that can make the blood run faster, if but for a brief moment. And I don't even hate the Chinaman. It's jealousy, gentlemen, for 'tis said that he is a bigger rascal than I am. Or was," he added, with a tone of regret. "In any case, you are right."

One cannot associate with another for so long without becoming attuned to his moods and I sensed that Holmes had decided on his approach. The fencing was over.

"Let me advance some thoughts," said my friend. "The Chinaman is after the Golden Bird and you don't know why?"

Selkirk nodded briefly, gazing at Holmes slyly as though awaiting further revelations from the known master of deduction and rather daring him to produce them.

The manner of the aged financier, which I found disconcerting, did not phase Holmes in the least. He continued: "The Oriental located the Bird in Constantinople and sent his men after it. You sent Gridley on their heels for obvious reasons."

The somewhat taunting manner of the financier had disappeared and there was admiration in his bright eyes. "I respect a man who does not waste time with useless questions, Mr. Holmes, but I've seldom been thought of as obvious. What prompted you to divine my move?"

"You told me. You said the Bird was of no great worth, at least not enough to excite your interest. Obviously, you learned that your Oriental rival was going to great lengths to secure the statue. You felt, of course, that he knew something you did not and joined in the chase."

Selkirk was nodding in satisfaction. "You say it as it was. I believe, Mr. Holmes, that we should strike a bargain, for you might be of use to me. Tell me what you wish to know. If I choose to answer, I will do so truthfully."

This surprising reaction seemed what Holmes expected. He attacked the matter in his usual methodical manner.

"You don't know what prompts the Oriental to covet the Golden Bird but could you hazard a guess?"

A negative movement of the head was his answer.

"Is the name, Vasil D'Anglas familiar to you?"

"A worker in rare metals, living in Berlin. Proficient. I know he bought the Bird from the dealer in Constantinople. He is not known as a collector."

"Possibly not in your segment of the spectrum," said Holmes, drily. "He informed me that the Bird had become a passion with his family and himself."

Selkirk shrugged. His manner indicated that he could accept this explanation as reasonable so Holmes switched to another tack.

"I find the history of the object interesting. Through the ages knowledge of its existence has persisted."

Since my friend's voice trailed off, Selkirk filled the void of sound. "Gold will always command respect. From the graves of Scythian chieftains to New York's East River."

My face, which Holmes often accused of being a ready mirror of my thoughts, must have registered confusion. Selkirk seemed to have his attention centered on Holmes, but his next words were to me.

"There is a British frigate sunk there, Doctor. It carried the payroll for the British army fighting the War of Independence in the Colonies. There have been many attempts to reach the sunken vessel for the pay was in gold. Alas, the currents of Hell's Gate have defied the searchers. I merely use it as an instance. Gold is forever the magnet of mankind. As regards the Bird, there is the craftsmanship to consider. It is an object of value and I would welcome it to my collection though I would hardly take elaborate steps to secure it."

"As yet ... there are those who did, and before the Oriental."

Holmes had risen and was staring into the great fireplace. As a result, he may not have noticed the sudden shift in the birdlike eyes of the financier. Selkirk's lips parted for a moment as though a question trembled upon them, but he suppressed it. Quiet settled over the cavernous room, broken only by the snap and crackle of the flames in the hearth that sent dancing shadows into the room. Holmes began to list facts, as though their voicing would allow him to inspect them with greater accuracy, to search for a flaw or inconsistency that would lead his mind to hidden truths.