Unknown (11 page)

"Orientals are not
commonplace here in Berlin,
which
makes things simpler for us if we are being fol
lowed."

"Obviously you spotted the
two quite readily."

"As we left the Bristol
Kempinsky. I will confess
their
presence was a surprise, Watson. It. would seem
reasonable
to assume that they followed us from Lon
don.
The puzzling question is where did they originally pick us up!"

I was baffled, nothing new to
Holmes, and he contin
ued.
"Considering recent events, had the two Chinese
been
watching Baker Street I would have certainly become conscious of
their presence."

"I don't see what you are
getting at."

"Simply that it is almost as
if they knew we were
coming
to Berlin. I'm most curious as to how they, or
more
realistically the man giving them their orders,
were
privy to that information."

Holmes's musings came to an end as
we were at the
door
of a fairly sizeable residence. We were in a good
neighborhood,
but this domicile in comparison to its
neighbors
warranted the rating of modest, a fact which
Holmes
seemed to find strange as he activated the or
nate
knocker on a stout oaken door. -

"Watson, I expect a little
more than this. Collecting
objects
of art is an occupation reserved for affluent
members
of society. Possibly, the gentleman is a dealer
though
I think we should have been given a business
address
were that the case."

A fairly young man with burly
shoulders and a
swarthy
face, who was dressed in livery, answered the
knock
and Holmes presented his card. We were ushered into a small main hall
area. The beamed ceiling was two
stories
high, the walls were paneled in dark wood, and
candlelight
was necessary since the windows of the resi
dence
were small—not unlike those of a monastery or, indeed, a Rhine
castle.

Having secured our coats and hats,
the butler ab
sented
himself, mounting curved stairs that led from the
hall
to the second story area. He reappeared shortly thereafter to usher
us up the same stairs. It occurred to me that the man might not speak
English since he had
not
uttered a word since our arrival. His features were
broad
and, in conjunction with his swarthy visage, gave
me
the feeling that he was Turkish or Croatian.

A door on the landing led to a
sizeable room in
which
a large fire was burning brightly. Though the day
was
sunny, the air was cold and I welcomed the heat provided by the
burning logs.

A figure arose slowly from a
tapestried chair by the
fire
as the silent retainer closed the door behind us. The man was at
least six feet tall with craggy, overhanging
features.
Dark eyes were sunk deep in a face that
seemed
oversized and out of proportion. His nose was
thick
and his lips were broad and pendulous.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," he
said, in a very low but pleas
ant
voice. "When Achmet brought your card it was a
surprise
indeed, though a welcome one. This, of course,
is
Doctor Watson," he added, as his dull eyes swiveled toward me.
"Do be seated, gentlemen, and tell me what
brings
you to Berlin."

As he waved us toward available
chairs, I noted that
his
hands were very large and knobby and his feet were
oversized
as well. He was terribly stooped and pre
sented
a brooding, almost ominous picture, which was
belied
by his cordial manner.

While his question as to our
presence must have puz
zled
Holmes, as it did me, the sleuth gave no evidence
of
it. He was intent on sizing up the man and his sur
roundings
and I knew that every wrinkle in that seamed face was being printed
on Holmes's photographic mind.
He
certainly knew, as did I, that D'Anglas suffered
from
a serious ailment. The man's unusual appearance
was
not natural, nor was the effort that every movement
seemed
to cost him. He did not give one the impression
of
weakness but rather seemed like a wounded elephant.
Suddenly,
I thought I knew the source of his suffering.

Comfortably seated, Holmes
approached the question
in
both our minds in a circuitous fashion. "As you were
informed
in a letter from Nils Lindquist, I have . . ."
—Holmes
corrected himself with a gesture to include me—"we have
taken over the search for the Golden Bird."

D'Anglas was nodding slowly. "The
gentleman ex
plained
the situation to me in detail as well as his ill
health.
I was most unhappy to hear of his death." He
paused
for a lengthy moment as though in deference to
the
departed and then continued in a brisker tone.
"However,
I would be hypocritical if I did not admit to being delighted that
you, Mr. Holmes, and your asso
ciate
have accepted the case. With all deference to Mr.
Lindquist,
had I felt that I could afford your not inconsiderable fee, I would
have approached you originally."

"In the field of art objects,
Nils Lindquist was most qualified, as I'm sure you know,"
responded Holmes promptly.

Our host nodded in a ponderous
manner and then a
spark
of cunning crept into his deep-set eyes. "I was
given
to understand that your services are included in the
original
financial arrangement I made with the late Lindquist."

The man's tone was tentative but
Holmes waved the matter aside with an impatient gesture. He hated to
discuss business and while he had the reputation of charging
enormous fees for his incomparable services, I well
knew
of the myriad cases which he had undertaken sim
ply
for the interest that they prompted in him.

"Nils Lindquist had made some
discoveries in the
matter
of the missing golden object and I have been
able
to pick up parts of the trail he was following."

For reasons of his own, Holmes did
not choose to
mention
Barker, the Surrey investigator, and his sad
end.

"No doubt you can fill in a
few pieces in this puzzle,"
continued
Holmes. "But, first, do we understand that
our
visit today surprised you?"

"I guess not," was the
reply. "Correspondence can
hardly
equal a personal confrontation. Do allow me to provide any facts at
my disposal."

Holmes leaned back in his chair
thoughtfully and directed a quick glance in my direction.
Evidently, a sus
picion
of his had been confirmed.

"Mr. D'Anglas, did you not
send me a cable in Lon
don
requesting Dr. Watson and myself to come here to Berlin?"

The thick skin of the man's face
twitched and his expression of surprise was a quick thing in
comparison to
his
previous ponderous movements.

"I certainly did not, sir."

"There has been no recent
news, no event that has
cast
light on the disappearance of your possession?"
persisted
Holmes.

"None at all. But this
telegram?
..."

"Was signed with your name.
No great problem, that.
But
it presents interesting grounds for speculation. I
must
assume that Doctor Watson and I were decoyed
away
from London. Therefore, something is going to
happen
there, probably already has, that is connected
with
this case."

D'Anglas was nodding again. A
sharp note of interest
livened
his slow and pedantic speech. "This bogus tele
gram,
if it was to serve the purpose you suggest, cer
tainly
indicates that the Bird is in London."

"And that someone involved
with the Bird knew not
only
that you had instigated a search for it, but that I
was
involved."

"My interest in locating it
is obvious since I am the legal owner. However, before you ask, let
me state that I have not mentioned your taking over the case to
anyone."

"Yet someone knew," I
said.

D'Anglas looked at me in surprise
as though he had
forgotten
my presence.

"An immediate question,"
said Holmes. "After the
Bird
disappeared in Constantinople, you secured the
services
of an art expert in England. What prompted
that
move?"

"The current market in art.
The Golden Bird is a
well-known
piece. The finest private collections these
days
are in England. I assumed that the Bird was stolen
not
for the worth of the gold but for its appeal to a
collector."

"Which answers, in part,
another question," com
mented
Holmes. "An object of that size would weigh, I assume, in the
vicinity of three pounds."

"Two pounds, seven ounces."

"Hmmm," said Holmes,
calculating mentally. "Thirty-
nine
ounces, then."

"Actually thirty-one, Mr.
Holmes. Troy ounces are
the
weight measure used for gold and there are twelve troy ounces to a
pound."

"Interesting," commented
the sleuth who was seldom corrected on a technical matter. "With
the finest gold at
certainly
no more than six English pounds per ounce,
we
have an object whose metal value would be around
one-hundred
and eighty-six pounds. Less than a thousand American dollars."

Something kindled for a moment in
D'Anglas's lack
luster
eyes and then disappeared. "You wonder at the
great
interest this object, whose intrinsic value is lim
ited,
stimulates. But consider the workmanship. There is another factor, of
course. Collectors are generally romanticists. If an object has
a colorful history it has ad
ditional
appeal."

"If there is a story that
goes with it," murmured
Holmes,
almost to himself. "Well, the Bird has been
much-traveled.
The Tartar capital of Samarkand, the Russian and French court,
Napoleon, then the Dutch
bankers.
Lindquist outlined some of its history and left
other
details in his case report. I note that its presence
was
known for a considerable period and then it began
disappearing."

D'Anglas was obviously dealing
with a subject of fascination to him and, not surprisingly, was
well-informed.