Unknown (2 page)

Holding the paper up to the light,
I tried to emulate
my
friend, mimicking the manner with which he had
viewed
countless messages in times gone by.

"I note the paper is
Neeley-Pierpont bond. I'd say it
fetches
a good price."

"My dear Watson, you fill me
with delight! Ob
viously,
our years together have not been wasted."

Holmes usually had only sparing
praise for my pow
ers
of observation and I was much heartened by his
tone
of commendation. Therefore, I desperately searched for further clues.

"The chap writes in a precise
manner, conserving
space
since his lines are rather close. Might I hazard the guess that, in
his role of art expert, he makes his reports
in
longhand rather than using a machine?"

"Better and better! Pray
continue."

"Alas, I cannot. There seems
little else to note."

Holmes assumed an air of resigned
patience, which
did
not fool me one whit. I well knew that he delighted
in
producing his little surprises and gloried in his ability to do so.

"I must, ol' fellow, let you
read a pamphlet I pub
lished
some years back: 'Handwriting as a Guide To
wards
Vocation and Attitude.' It does have some points
of
interest. Now regard Lindquist's message. The letters slant forward
and the writing curves down at the end of
each
line. The mark of tragedy, Watson. Also regard
the
first sentence in which he used the word
that
twice,
as
well as
this
and
there.
In
each case, the first letter
t
has an elongated
bar at the top. This is further proven
by
the first word of the second sentence
time,
where the
capital
T
is crossed with
an even longer stroke."

"A characteristic of his
hand."

"Agreed. But the cross bar
dwindles out. While I am
not
familiar with Lindquist's penmanship, I contend
that
in former times this characteristic would have been
firmer,
more definite. In several instances, there is a
waver
that denotes weakness. I fear he is a sick man,
which
may explain the urgency in the note."

"Despite our long
association, Holmes, you continue to amaze me. A short message like
this and you deduce
that
the writer is low in spirits and failing in health. As
tonishing!"

"Not really," remarked
the great detective, with unusual modesty. "It is just
knowing what to look for."

Holmes broke off our conversation
and busied him
self
with a case book. I noted it was the
F
file and as
sumed
that he was going over the Farintoch Case, possi
bly
looking for a sample of Nils Lindquist's hand. I was
not
to learn if he found one for the hour of nine was
upon
us and the sound of a distant church bell blended
with
a ring at the outer door of 221B Baker Street.
Shortly
thereafter, footsteps were heard on the seven
teen
steps leading up to our chambers. Alerted by
Holmes's
deductions, I noted that they were not steady, but indicated that our
visitor paused twice, as though to gain strength, before continuing
his ascent.

When Billy, the page boy, ushered
the man through
our
door, I was not surprised to note that he was very
thin.
Fair hair had receded in front but still made a
brave
showing on his head. It was the unusually high
color
around his cheekbones and the feverish glitter of his eyes that
captured my medically trained eye. "By
Jove!"
I thought. "Holmes called the shots again. This
chap
does appear to have had it."

Holmes's introduction of Nils
Lindquist was brief and as I busied myself with the tantalus and
gasogene, our visitor seated himself gratefully in the low armchair
by the fire. His breathing was labored and had a hoarse, rattlelike
sound that affected the hackles of hair on the
back
of my neck. His voice was strong enough, and
while
his English was certainly of Oxford, there was the
rising
inflection of the Scandinavian to it.

"Doctor Watson's training and
your unerring eye, Holmes, have doubtless revealed an unpleasant fact
to
you both.
Certainly unpleasant to me," he added with a
grim
smile.

Holmes could be soothing and
reassuring when called upon, but he seemed to sense that Lindquist
did not seek sympathy nor would he welcome it.

"You have secured expert
opinion, I assume?"

"Three leading specialists
are in agreement. The verdict is definitely in. Which explains
my call."

"How can I help?"
questioned Holmes as I gave
Lindquist
liquid refreshment.

He thanked me with his eyes and
drained half the
glass
in a single draft as if to bolster waning strength.
Then
he leaned forward in his chair with purpose.

"As time grows short, one
does develop a severe
case
of ethics. You might bear that in mind, gentlemen.
There
is an obsession to clean the slate. A month ago, I
accepted
a commission from one Vasil D'Anglas of Ber
lin.
The matter was handled by mail and I received a money order for one
thousand pounds to locate or ar
range
for the return of the Golden Bird."

Since Holmes's face remained
impassive, Lindquist cocked an eye. "I see you are not familiar
with the object. No reason that you should be. In any case,
D'Anglas agreed to the payment of another thousand pounds upon
recovery of the object as well as reasonable expenses incurred
in tracing it. I sent out feelers in the art world but uncovered
little. Actually, I should not have accepted the case. My health made
the necessary travel impossible, but I needed the money."

There was a furrow between
Holmes's brows. "Your reference to travel I find confusing. Did
not this gentle
man
in Berlin expect the art object to be here in En
gland?"

"D'Anglas was somewhat vague
regarding that. He
had
purchased the Golden Bird from a dealer in Con
stantinople,
Aben Hassim. The bill of sale was mailed
to
D'Anglas, making him the legal owner. However, the
Bird
was stolen from Hassim's shop immediately prior
to
its being sent to Germany. My employer, for reasons
he
has not revealed, is of a mind that it will show up
here
in England. Actually, I should have gone to Constantinople,
interviewed Hassim, and picked up the trail
from
there. Instead, I hired Barker, an inquiry agent of
Surrey,
to try and find a lead in the London under
world."

There was a half-smile on Holmes's
face. "My rival,"
he
stated, with a quick glance at me. "You will recall
that
our paths crossed relative to that matter of Josiah
Amberley."

" ' The Retired Colourman,' "
I responded automati
cally.

"Such was the title you used
in your recounting of the affair," commented Holmes. His eyes
swiveled back to
Lindquist.
"But what is this Bird which, by the size of
your
fee, must be valuable?"

"It is that. The Golden Bird
stands twenty-three
inches
high, and is mounted on a pedestal of good size.
The
detail work is that of a master. The entire figure
and
base is said to be of twenty-four carat gold."

"My heavens!" I said,
without meaning to.

"I am inclined to doubt
that," added Lindquist
quickly.
"The Golden Bird has a unique history. It
keeps
disappearing."

Holmes was nodding. "I follow
your reasoning. If
this
Bird is much traveled, undoubtedly there must be a percentage of
alloy to provide rigidity."

"Eighteen carat sounds more
reasonable." Lindquist
and
Holmes seemed in agreement on this. Frankly, their
discussion
was over my head.

"What kind of a bird is it?"
I asked.

"A roc."

"Well, now," said Holmes
with a pleased expression,
"this
gives us a touch of melodrama. The legendary giant bird of Arabia, so
huge that it carried off ele
phants
in its claws." Then the shadow of a thought
crossed
his face. "A strange subject for the artisan. You mentioned
disappearances, which I assume were due to the criminally minded."

Lindquist leaned back in the chair
as if rallying his
limited
strength. "See what you make of this sketchy his
tory.
The Golden Bird is said to have first appeared in
Samarkand,
part of the treasure of Tamerlane, the great
Tartar
conqueror. From drawings it would appear to be
of
Greek workmanship, though I cannot be certain of
that.
It was next heard of in the Russian Court of Peter
the
Great around 1720. This tsar was a great fancier of gold objects.
Around 1790 it is definitely referred to as
being
in France. The royalist owners are said to have
sold
it to raise money desperately needed during the
French
Revolution. Then it fell into the hands of Napo
leon,
who used it as a pledge to borrow money from
Dutch
bankers. At the turn of the century, the Bird was
in
the possession of an art dealer named Weimer, of
Amsterdam.
Weimer's shop was gutted by fire and the
Bird
disappeared. Around 1850 it showed up on the Is
land
of Rhodes. Evidently, it had been gathering dust
in
a small shop there until it was stolen by Harry
Hawker."

Holmes, who had been gazing
throughfully into the
fire
as he listened to this strange history, suddenly
turned
toward the speaker.

"Ah-ha! Hawker, the expert
thief, who had been in
his
youth a disciple of Jonathan Wild, London's master
criminal
of the last century. His sharp eye would indeed
recognize
the value of the Bird."

Lindquist resumed his narrative.
"He escaped with
the
statue to Budapest. To whom he sold it is unknown.
It
finally reappeared in Constantinople in the shop of Aben Hassim. A
reputable dealer, Hassim spread the
word
that the Bird was in his possession and the Turk
ish
government upheld his claim of ownership. At this
point,
my client entered into negotiations with Hassim."