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Wallingford
paused in his report and a smile crossed his face. "You know,
the old gold-brick
dodge always worked
in the sticks
. . ."
He caught
himself and affected a cough
to cover his embar
rassment at this
revelation.

"Anyway,
the gold-in-reserve idea became rather
a
trademark of Trelawney's bank, and it spread to
other
west coast banks as well."

"Explaining
how they happened to readily have a
surplus
of the precious metal," said Holmes. He
had
indicated no impatience at Wallingford's detailed recounting,
and I sensed that he was much interested in the complete picture of
the Trelawney-Hananish operation.

"Hananish
returned to Gloucester after being
mustered
out, and he was more fortunate in that
his
father was president of the bank there and he
rather
inherited the position."

Holmes,
his eyes on the ceiling, suddenly shot
Wallingford
a sharp glance, which the man interpreted.
"Both
Hananish's bank and the one in Shaw were
publicly
owned, each by a small group of stockholders."

Holmes
'
gaze retreated, again, to the ceiling.

"The
gold reserve in both banks was annually listed as part of the assets,
but most of the time it
wasn't there at
all."

Holmes
leaned forward in his chair suddenly,
and
Wallingford certainly had my attention as
well.
Orloff, already privy to the information, was
blowing
smoke rings.

"Under
the banking laws, there are spot checks
by
examiners; but Trelawney was prepared for this, Hananish as well. If
there was official inquiry as to
the
whereabouts of the reserve gold, Trelawney had
at
hand a letter of credit from Hananish's bank for the amount of the
gold plus the date that the metal would be returned and the agreement
whereby Trelawney had made the gold temporarily avail
able
to Hananish."

Holmes
rose to his feet, now restless with antici
pation.
"But these agreements never passed through
the
normal channels of either bank."

"Nor
were the stockholders informed, nor was
there
interest charged," responded Wallingford.

I
could not suppress a question at this point.
"Where
was the gold, then?"

Wallingford
shrugged. "That I could not learn.
This
embraces a matter of some years, you under
stand.
All that time what was supposed to be a
reserve
fund was actually in movement: being
invested,
acting as collateral, who knows what."

Holmes,
standing by the bow window with his
back
to the group, suddenly whirled around.
"I
expressed a desire to look into previous mis
chief
of Hananish and Trelawney—Michael as well.
You
recall, Watson? This information should pro
vide
a fruitful lead as well as something to throw at
Hananish
when we close in on him."

Orloff
was snubbing out one of the small, black
cigars
he fancied. "Are you prepared to make your
move?"

Holmes
crossed to the mantelpiece, assuming a
familiar
position beside it.
Ah hah
,
I thought.
He's
ready
for the denouement.

The
sleuth gave Orloff a short nod, then his eyes
centered
on Wallingford. "Your mention, when last
we
met, of the Deutsche Bank reaping rich divi
dends.
The German banking house has call on four
hundred
thousand pounds' worth of gold in the
vaults
of the Bank of England. But the gold belongs
to
Hananish. From the treasure train, of course,
and
he's selling it twice, though this time with no
consortium
of banks and not with his partner
Trelawney
either. The Credit Lyonnais will get it
from
the Deutsche Bank. The Deutsche Bank gets it
from
the Bank of England, but the payment goes to
Hananish.
A major coup, but we've got him."

Wallingford
grew pale and had trouble finding
words.
When they did come, it was not with the assured, businesslike manner
that was his normal
delivery.

"Mr.
Holmes
. . .
I did not know about the
three-way
arrangement you outline; but it just
won't
work, you see."

His
somewhat smug manner jarred, Holmes
registered
surprise.
"What won't work?"

"I
see what you're driving at, sir. But Hananish
can
stop us cold. The four hundred thousand
pounds
in gold was deposited in his name in the
Bank
of England before the robbery."

There
was dead silence in the room, and I confess
this
startling statement actually caused me to hold my breath for a long
moment. Holmes almost
staggered back
against the mantel, surprise a harsh
and
blatant thing on his expressive features.
Good
heavens
, I thought.
His
whole case has been shat
tered
by one unanticipated fact. The poor chap
must
be stunned.

Holmes'
reaction was not what I anticipated.
Instead,
the palm of his right hand swept up to
smite
his forehead with a crack like a revolver shot.

"
Dumkopf!
"
he shouted. When sore pressed, my
friend resorted to exclamations in
foreign lan
guages.

A
tinge of pink suffused the features of Wallingford
,
and the sleuth hastened to prevent a misunderstanding.
"Not
you," he said, spearing the former confi
dence
man with an outstretched finger. His digit
swung
in a half circle to tap his chest forcibly.
"Me!"
Then his glowing eyes shifted in my
direction
and the shadow of a bitter smile creased
his
lips.

"If
in future times, Watson, you choose to record
this
case history, you can write me down an ass."

If
I had not known previously, this statement
would
have alerted me to how upset my friend was
at
himself. For he had used similar words when
castigating
himself for missing the mark on Colonel
Walter
in the matter of the Bruce-Partington plans.

Wallingford's
face, a picture of consternation,
was
shifting from one to another of us, with a dazed
expression,
as though he had lost touch with
reality.
Orloff had a grim look of disbelief about
him.

"You
cannot mean that Hananish will elude our
grasp,"
he said.

"Indeed
no," replied Holmes quickly, and those two words did much to
rally my morale, momen
tarily very
low.

Holmes'
long stride took him to the desk, and he
gazed
at it as though beset with a number of
necessary
actions and choosing which one to seize
on
first.
"Now, finally, I have the
right perspective regard
ing this
case, and the errant threads that have
nagged
at me are unraveled."

There
was a longish pause as Holmes communed
with
himself. Then his hawk-like face rose and his
eyes
enveloped us.

"Orloff,
you'd best be off to the Diogenes Club
and
relate our findings to my brother."

Holmes
passed the letter he had received the
night
before to the security agent.
"Mycroft
has developed an interest in the
Deutsche
Bank and could well find Wally's informa
tion
of value. You might tell him that Watson and I
have
the matter of the stolen gold in hand."

"What
can I do, sir?" asked Wallingford.

"Accompany
Orloff. The Deutsche Bank has
proved
revealing to us. Possibly you can unearth some connection between the
Germans and the
financial manipulations
of Trelawney and Hananish
during the
period the former was alive. My
brother
has certain connections, which you will
find
helpful."

A
quick glance passed between Wallingford and Orloff, and the American
responded dryly, "So I've
learned."

The
urgency in Holmes' manner was communi
cative,
and both men rapidly vacated the premises.

Holmes
was fiddling in his desk and suddenly
turned
to me.
"Now it is you and I, old
friend, as it has been so many times before. Another journey is
called for."

"Shall
I throw some things in a valise?"

"Your
Smith-Webley in a handy pocket will be
enough."

There
was the sound of rapid footfalls on the
stairs,
and Slim Gilligan appeared in the half-open
door
to our chambers. Now I understood Holmes'
actions
at the desk. He had some sort of alarm
signal
rigged up with the house next door.

"Slim,"
said my friend, "I've need of Burlington
Bertie
and Tiny."

"They
were on the night shift, guv," responded
the
cracksman, taking the unlit cigarette from
behind
his ear. It occurred to me that I had never
seen
him light it.

"Contact
them, good fellow, and have them take
the
first train available to Brent in Essex. I'll have
them
met at the station."

Gilligan
had been with Holmes too long not to
sense
a crisis. "Anythin' fer me, guv?"

"Let's
make sure this building isn't blown up,
Slim.
That Lightfoot rascal is still at large."

"Right,
Mr. 'Olmes." Gilligan was gone.

So
,
I thought,
it's back to the scene of
the crime.

Holmes
was spinning the dial on the safe and
took
a short-barreled revolver from its interior,
placing
it in the pocket of his tweed coat. His action
prompted
me to hasten upstairs to my sleeping
quarters
to remove my army-issue handgun from
the
drawer in my bed stand. It was not often that
Holmes
went armed, but there was much about
this
strange case that departed from the norm.

Chapter
15

The
Lightning Colt