Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

Holmes, his pipe in his mouth, gave a slight nod.

The man's sigh of relief was akin to ecstasy. "Possibly it is not too late." A keenness infiltrated his dull eyes. "Let me savor this moment," he said. "Tell me, sir, how came you by the Bird?"

"As a gift or a payment," said Holmes. "Either interpretation has merit."

"I would like to see it." For the first tune, D'Anglas's face reflected anxiety.

"Shortly." Holmes's manner was reassuring. "There is some information I would like to secure."

D'Anglas shoulders lifted in a shrugging motion. It was like movement of a water buffalo. The man was glandularly deformed but he certainly seemed powerful, an impression strengthened by his oversized, knobby hands.

"Mr. Holmes, I have told you of the search for the Bird by my family. I spoke the truth."

"I know that you did. It is just that the story interests me and there is a great deal you did not tell."

D'Anglas's oversized face hardened. "You have the Bird. May I see it?"

"Of course."

Holmes crossed to the desk. Opening the second drawer, he removed the statue and passed it across the desk to our visitor.

The roc was dwarfed in D'Anglas's hand and he peered at the masterpiece for a long time. Then his knobby fingers with swollen joints oscillated in a gentle movement like the scales in a gold-assayer's office. The creases in his overhanging forehead deepened.

"The weight is not what I expected."

Holmes seated himself behind the desk, his eyes never leaving D'Anglas.

"The diamond is no longer in the base."

D'Anglas's hand tightened and, for a moment, I thought that he would crush the statue in his grasp, but his movement was momentary. Ponderously, he reached toward the desk surface, depositing the Golden Bird there. His hand rejoined its mate in his lap and round the strange handle of his stout walking stick.

"You know."

"Almost everything," was the detective's response.

"What of the diamond?"

"I have that as well."

The goldsmith's body had been inclined forward toward Holmes and now he leaned back, the frame of the chair creaking. His expression mirrored relief but there was a tinge of surprise as well.

"Am I to have the Pigott or does the pursuit go on?"

"I discussed this with Doctor Watson. When you commissioned Nils Lindquist to recover the statue, the diamond was still concealed within it. Since I fell heir to Lindquist's case, we consider that the return of the statue involves the passing of the gem into your hands as well."

Two emotions—gratitude and astonishment—were fighting for supremacy on D'Anglas's face.

"But," continued Holmes, "I cannot afford to have loose ends lend confusion to my case histories. Not when answers are readily available. I have enough unresolved matters in my files now."

My mind immediately flashed to the affair of "The Engineer's Thumb" as well as that bizarre adventure of "The Greek Interpreter." Of course, "The Case of Identity," which Holmes had never brought to even a successful conclusion, had bothered him for years.

Holmes's manner had convinced D'Anglas that there was no sly ploy involved and he hastened to fall in with the suggestion of the great sleuth.

"If, as a bonus, your only request is the complete story, my knowledge now belongs to you. The quest of the Bird and what was within it has been the driving purpose of the ill-fated D'Anglas line for three generations."

If there was anything Holmes enjoyed more than a good story, it was a strange tale that coincided with his conjecture. It was he who now sat back in his chair with an expression of anticipation.

"We can dispense with the history of the Bird prior to this century. Let us begin at the court of Ali Pasha of Albania when the Pigott Diamond and the statue became one."

The goldsmith complied.

"Jean D'Anglas was a professional soldier, who first followed the banner of Le Grand Emperor. Then he chose to hire his sword in foreign lands and in Albania achieved a position of trust under the Lion of Janina. French by birth, he began to yearn for the peace of family life and applied his not inconsiderable talents to the goldsmith trade. Ali Pasha was a despot and a wealthy one, but he was a great fancier of art objects and much could be learned in his court. Of course, the ruler's main passion was diamonds."

Holmes never liked to be completely left out of an explanation and made a comment to indicate his familiarity with the narrative. "Passion, indeed! Was it not in 1818 that Ali Pasha paid Rundell and Bridge, the London jewelry firm, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds for the Pigott?" His eyes shifted to me. "Truly, an amazing price for the time. Can you imagine the worth of the gem now?"

D'Anglas's pendulous lips exhibited a small smile that carried with it a touch of bitterness.

"Sometimes there is more at stake than worth," he said. "You know of the ruler's receiving a fatal wound and his summoning my grandfather to his side in his last moments. My forefather had been working on the Golden Bird, repairing the base, and had the statue in his hands when he hastened to Ali Pasha's throne room. The wife of the Albanian, Vasilikee, had also been summoned. The three were alone when Ali Pasha gave his final orders. My grandfather was to take the diamond, which the Albanian always kept in a pouch tucked in his sash, and smash it. Following this, he was to kill Vasilikee. With the destruction of his two most precious possessions, Ali Pasha felt that he would be able to die in peace. My grandfather was at a crossroads since he had established a clandestine relationship with Vasilikee. Fortunately, he did not have to face a decision for the Lion of Janina died."

Though privy to a part of this tale. I did indulge in a sign of relief, which the goldsmith acknowledged with his dull eyes.

"Those were cruel times, Doctor, but knowing that his master was gone, my grandfather acted instinctively. In his hand was the fabled gem and there was the Golden Bird, its base still warm from fresh-poured gold. He pressed the diamond into the bottom of the statue and was artisan enough to remove the surplus gold and smooth the base. When the gold cooled and hardened, the Pigott was safely concealed in a perfect hiding place. Jean had Vasilikee secure some small diamonds and he smashed them to represent the wreckage of the great stone. He announced the death of his ruler and the ruination of the diamond. The court of Albania was in a turmoil, with various pretenders striving for the throne and the specter of Constantinople everywhere on the scene. My grandfather and Vasilikee were able to steal away without causing comment."

"The king is dead! Long live the king!" said Holmes.

"Jean D'Anglas and Vasilikee had a Christian wedding soon after. They chose to bide their time as regards the statue, on the theory that it would not drop from sight. My grandfather was adept to the goldsmith trade and prospered. The Golden Bird returned to the Ottoman capital and he made plans to secure it. But then the unanticipated thrust its surprising head upon the scene. The Bird was stolen from the Ottoman court by an aide of the Sultan who had fallen from favor. Choosing to flee the wrath of the Turkish overlord, he undoubtedly seized the statue because it was at hand and gold is a commodity of value anywhere. Only two people knew that the Pigott diamond still existed. But when the Bird disappeared, my grandfather was in a frenzy. He made every effort to locate the object, to no avail. He was a man obsessed. Everything had been risked for the great gem encased in a tomb of gold and now it was gone. Finally, he enlisted the aid of the English master-criminal, Jonathan Wild, to find the statue."

Holmes had to be delighted to hear his theories confirmed and he was nodding with the story.