Unknown (37 page)

I nodded that I was. The door
closed. A small candle
illuminated
my limited quarters. Outside the door, I
heard
the lock being engaged. Slim Gilligan could have
opened
that lock in less than a minute. The door
seemed
sufficiently flimsy that even I could have executed an escape.
However, I could certainly not get free
of
my massive guard so I abandoned any plans of
freeing
myself.

Had I been privy to certain
beliefs of India, I might
have
passed the time contemplating my navel. Instead, I
thought
back on the strange trail of the Golden Bird.
Obviously,
Chu San Fu expected to barter me for the
Bird.
Actually, I was not overconcerned about the situ
ation,
knowing that Holmes could surrender the statue
without
any great loss. The treasure it had concealed was no longer there.
Comforted by the thought that I had not placed my friend in too
difficult a position, I fell off to sleep.
...

The sound of the door being opened
roused me after
a
period. With the complete lack of windows and nothing but
artificial light, I had no idea of the time. My amber-eyed jailer
stood within the door as I rose to my
feet,
rubbing sleep from my eyes. Also present was a
scrawny
little yellow man with a close-fitting black cap
set
directly on the middle of his head. He had a blue
coat
buttoned from neck to belt-line and loose-fitting
pants.
He shuffled into the room in slippers, a black
silk
sash in his hands.

For a moment, I envisioned a
professional strangler,
but
he revealed a toothless grin and indicated for me to
turn
around. As he slipped the sash over my eyes, I
suppressed
an indication of relief with difficulty. My
wrists
were secured in front of me with a thin cord that
felt
no larger than string. However, it held me firmly
and
I could detect the odor of hemp. I was then led
from
the room.

Bound and blindfolded, my journey
can only be recounted via sound and conjecture. I was led down
corri
dors, up
and down stairs and around corners, certainly
no
attempt to confuse me since I did not know where I was to start with.
Another of many doors opened and I
knew
that I was in open air again. Now there was the
smell
and the sounds of the river, reaffirming my idea
that
Chu San Fu's lair was in Limehouse, though we
could
have been anywhere in the Thames estuary.
Hands
held me on either side. Something about the texture of the
sleeve fabric led me to believe that my other attendants had been
replaced. Certainly, my giant friend
was
no longer with me. Neither of the hands on my
arms
could approach his in size. Then I was maneu
vered
into a conveyance that had to be a hansom. As it
assumed
motion, I tried to keep alert to any impressions
I
might get, but could make little of our trip. I judged
that
we progressed for at least a half-hour with no more
than
one or two stops.

The sound of companion traffic
seemed to increase.
At
one point, I was sure we crossed a bridge. Then the hansom came to a
halt. There was the clatter of a dray,
the
sound of voices and close by I heard an internal combustion engine of
some kind come to life. I opened
my
mouth to make a comment and a thin palm instantly
covered
it. A voice, not Oriental, cautioned me to re
main
quiet, and the manner was authoritative enough to
encourage
me to comply. Suddenly, the horse of our
cab
was gigged into action and we were in motion
again.
Our speed increased and, suddenly, the others
who
shared the hansom with me changed position. I
was
pushed to one side so that I was adjacent to the
window
of the cab. The blindfold was removed from my
eyes.

The first sight was of another
hansom progressing
alongside
and there was Holmes looking right at me
with,
I'm happy to say, an expression of intense relief.
His
eyes shifted to my captors, two in number I noted,
and
my friend nodded, seemingly a signal of agreement. I spied the
coachman of Holmes's hansom, recognizing
the
form of Wakefield Orloff. Suddenly, I pictured the security agent
jumping from cab to cab and disposing of
those
around me in jig time, something he was com
pletely
capable of doing. However, an agreement must have been reached and it
seemed the terms were being mutually honored.

Orloff swung the hansom he was
guiding closer to the
one
I was in and Holmes reached out with his long and wiry arm and passed
an object to the outstretched hand
of
one of my captors—a small, dark man with a Balkan face. This
Occidental—his companion was Western as
well—took
the object within our cab and removed the
cloth
bag that enveloped it, revealing the Golden Bird.
He
nodded to his companion who rapped on the roof of
the
hansom, which drew to a stop as did the one con
taining
Holmes. I was urged from the hansom, which
immediately
took off to vanish in the traffic of the
Strand.
I scrambled into the adjacent hansom and
leaned
back in the seat with a sigh.

"My good Watson, you are all
right, I trust?"

"Quite," I replied.
"Actually, they treated me with
considerable
care."

Holmes's grunt had a tinge of
menace. "I made it
clear
that if any harm befell you I would haunt their footsteps through
eternity, if necessary."

He had a long-bladed knife in his
hands with which
he
severed the cord binding my wrists and I was glad to massage
circulation back into them.

"I cost you the statue,"
I began, in an apologetic
manner.

"Purely a gesture, though Chu
San Fu does not know
this
as yet. The Golden Bird will be returned to us
shortly.
I have plans regarding that. The important
thing
is that you are back, sound of mind and limb.
What
actually happened, ol' friend?"

As Orloff guided the vehicle back
to Baker Street, I
related
my experiences and I have seldom heard my
friend
laugh so heartily as when I described my encoun
ter
with the Oriental criminal.

"Capital! Capital! I shall
recommend a study of criminal psychology for Scotland Yard with you
as
dean, good
Watson. No doubt, the Chinaman expected
you
to be frightened, or awed. That was his first surprise. Then he
chose to appeal to your weaknesses to
learn
of my plans and to glean what knowledge he
could
of his burglar squad that has disappeared. Faced
with
an indignant and scornful doctor and threatened
with
a loss of face, he had to pause and regroup. The
moment
his emissary approached me, I pressed for a
rapid
exchange to get you out of the bounder's clutches.
The
statue was what he was after and since I agreed to
the
exchange plan on the spot, he jumped at the chance.
When
Chu San Fu discovers that the Golden Bird will
not
hatch a diamond for him, he will regret allowing
himself
to be pressed into rapid action. In his own
heart,
he will really lose face, a situation which we can
exploit
to the fullest".

19

The
Revelations of the Royal Jeweler

203

It was late afternoon and I was
most pleasantly ensonced
in our Baker Street sitting room. Mrs. Hudson
had
clucked over my return insisting that a good meal
was
an absolute necessity. Since there were a number of
guests,
the dear woman ended up providing quite a
spread,
but she magically produced half a baked ham, a
goodly
portion of cold roast beef, cold cuts and even
some
paté-de-foie-gras-pie.
Having taken a
welcome
bath, I made
inroads on the provendor with some gusto, washing it down with good
and heady stout.

Alec MacDonald accepted some of
our best Irish
whiskey
for medicinal purposes. Both Holmes and
Wakefield
Orloff fancied an excellent vintage burgundy
that
I had chanced upon the year previous while Slim
Gilligan
was satisfied with a flagon of ale. The way the
cracksman
applied himself to the
paté-de-foie-gras-
pie
made Holmes wince. I noted that my friend secured a
goodly
wedge for himself while he was still able to.

With so much criminological talent
present, there had to be a council of war. However, the speculative
and
questioning
nature of previous meetings was singularly
absent.
Action was the order of the day and firm con
victions
had supplanted tentative attitudes.

Possibly I have misrepresented the
situation. Those
allies
of Holmes present were very definite in their
thoughts.
It was Holmes, the hero of so many
tour
de
force
solutions, who
sounded the only questioning note.

"Gentlemen, I am much in your
debt for recent assistance." Standing by the mantle, his
noble head turned toward Inspector MacDonald. "The presence of
any
constables
during the hansom exchange might well have
panicked
the forces of evil and our good Watson might
not
be with us now." His eyes swiveled to Gilligan and
Orloff.
"While there was reason to suspect the recovery
of
Watson would go smoothly, I felt more in command
of
the situation with you, Orloff, disguised as the cabbie
and
Slim curled up in the luggage compartment."

I coughed over a mouthful of
stout, this being my
first
intimation that Slim Gilligan had been a concealed
ace
up Holmes's sleeve. My friend's delivery became more measured, as
though his words were unpalatable.

"I have been committed to
this affair from the start
since
I made a pledge to a now-departed friend. With
the
taking of Watson, another motive has insinuated itself as
regards my involvement. Chu San Fu cannot be
allowed
to get away with such actions, as fruitless as
they
will prove. I intend to break him by one means or
another
and fulfill my promise to Nils Lindquist as well.
However,
to date there has been an expenditure of time
and
effort on the part of the authorities as well as a certain
organization with which Mr. Orloff is asso
ciated.
I cannot continue to impose on the facilities of
others
relative to what has become a personal ven
detta."