Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

"Your man, Gridley, was a day behind the Oriental's emissaries in Constantinople. But he, or you, figured that the statue was to be transported to England aboard the Asian Star. When the Chinese sailor reached London, the statue concealed in his personal Buddha, it was your hirelings, members of the Dowson gang, who took the statue from him. Frustrated, Chu San Fu ordered an attack on Dowson's stronghold, the Nonpareil Club. But Gridley preceded them, paid Dowson the arranged fee, and either departed from the club just before the attack or, more likely, succeeded in escaping during it. In any case, all signs point to your having the Golden Bird, Mr. Selkirk."

Holmes turned from his scrutiny of the fire and faced the financier, loosening the power of his commanding personality as he did so.

Selkirk again exhibited his death-mask grin and his face was nodding excitedly with what seemed like satisfaction or possibly gratification.

"Better and better. In truth, Mr. Holmes, you do amaze me and that is surely not the first time you've heard those words. You have recreated a chain of events which certainly fit the facts at your disposal. Like a glove, they do. Not that I'll admit to any of it but we'll let your recounting stand as a basis to work from. Indeed we shall. But did you not mention that others had pursued the Bird with more than the usual persistence?"

Holmes recaptured his quiet smile. "You know all the facts relating to the Bird's history. If the signs are as I read them, you would learn everything about the object if only to frustrate your opponent."

"For a fact," agreed Selkirk. "But perhaps I have not benefited by your interpretation of them."

Holmes chose to acquiesce. "We shall not speculate on the Bird's unknown origin or its equally unknown creator, a fact obscured by the mists of time. Its passing from the Tartars to the French court and then into the hands of Napoleon is, in my opinion, not relevant to the problem. But I do find the Bird's being stolen from the Island of Rhodes of great interest indeed."

This time Selkirk could not smother a question. "Why?"

"Because it was stolen by Harry Hawker. During an infamous, though successful, career, Hawker was the tool of Jonathan Wild, a master criminal of the past century. Was Wild intrigued by this art object that had gone from hand to hand through the years?"

Now it was Selkirk who was gazing thoughtfully into space. "If he was, we must ask why? The Bird passed from the Tartars to the Russians and then the French always as a gift, a gesture, a device to lay the groundwork for goodwill."

"And, later, as collateral" added Holmes.

"Yet, at a certain point it became the object of criminal pursuit. You know, Mr. Holmes, that the Bird reappeared in the court of the Ottoman Sultan and was stolen from there around 1830 only to disappear again until Harry Hawker found it in Rhodes."

Obviously this was news to Holmes and he said so. . "Then," continued Selkirk, "it fell out of sight again for forty years."

"I think fate played a hand there," said Holmes. "Conjecture, of course, but suppose Hawker went to Constantinople with his prize. He died before disposing of it and the statue remained in a trunk belonging to him for four decades."

Selkirk seemed as happy as a small boy hearing a fanciful story of derring-do. "While that thought does not shed light on the matter, it does fill out the canvas. Here, sir, is another tidbit for you. Prior to its appearance on the Island of Rhodes, the Bird is rumored to have been in Albania."

Holmes thought for a moment. "It was stolen from Rhodes in 1850. Would it have been in Albania, say in 1822?"

Selkirk shrugged and for a moment his intense eyes closed as though from weariness, but they snapped open again almost immediately.

"Perhaps we should return to the present," suggested Holmes. His tone hardened. "An inquiry agent, a Chinese seaman, and one Amos Gridley have died within the month. All because of the Bird. Gridley was an employee of yours. What do you intend to do?"

"Must I do something?" replied Selkirk, but these were only words. The financier's mind was racing, a fact obvious even to me.

"You should," replied the detective. "Chu's men picked up Gridley's trail and it led them here. The man's fall from the roof of his cottage was no accident. He was murdered, probably because of his loyalty to you. Doctor Watson and I benefited from information Chu did not have. Gridley was not only the man in the Nonpareil Club who came for the Golden Bird. He was also the man in Constantinople on its trail. Therefore, I deduced that he was an emissary of yours. How long do you think before the Oriental arrives at the same conclusion?"

Again Selkirk cackled and my fingers twitched with nervousness. "Not long, sir. I'll give you that. Of course, his reaching me is another matter. A visit by his underlings and dacoits would not find a warm reception."

"And yet," persisted Holmes, "it is a wise man who knows not to underestimate a resourceful enemy. You have been warned."

"And by an unimpeachable source, Mr. Holmes.

Your words will not go unheeded. For this, I am in your debt. I shall repay you, of course. You said you wished the Golden Bird. You shall have it in due time. You have my word on that."

By what means the financier effected a signal I do not know, but the door to the huge room opened and our pale guide reappeared.

"I tire, gentlemen," said Selkirk, and there was a note of apology in his voice. "You will be contacted shortly. Before departing, may I extract one promise? This matter has a way to go yet or I miss my guess. When it is over, return and we shall exchange words again. I do believe this has been one of the most pleasant days I can recall."

The pale blond man was beside him now. With regret, Selkirk gestured to him.

"Show the gentlemen out, Cedric."

Silently, our guide ushered us from this outré room and away from one of the strangest interviews I had ever been witness to in my many years at the side of Sherlock Holmes. As we reached the door, I threw a glance over my shoulder at the frail, dried-up figure, huddled in his robe beside the blazing fire. It was the last time that I ever saw the frightening Basil Selkirk.

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."