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Remembering the valise full of
currency on the
Baron's
desk, I could well agree with that statement.

Holmes continued and I sensed his
mercurial brain
was
racing ahead of his words.

"It was a small scale war we
were involved in tonight.
Surely
there were thirty or so Orientals in action. The
whole
affair was much more reminiscent of an Ameri
can
criminal conflict than anything we are familiar with
in
England. What is the unknown value of this product
of
an ancient goldsmith's art that prompts such ac
tions?"

"Could the Golden Bird have
some religious signifi
cance?"
I guessed, somewhat desperately.

Holmes registered a negative. "To
my knowledge, the
roc
is simply a figure in mythology and plays no part in
an
organized religious movement. No, Watson, we are
faced
with a problem here that indicates deep water in
deed.
Possibly, Barker's last message will reveal a factor
that
we have not considered."

He paced the room thoughtfully for
a moment and
then
came to a decision.

"We do know the Golden Bird
is in London and an
important,
nay vital, question is whether it remains in
the
possession of Baron Dowson or if the man with the
lisp
departed from the Nonpareil Club before or during
the
outbreak of violence. Slim, best to learn what you can about the
Nonpareil affair with particular attention
to
anyone carrying a black attache case."

Gilligan nodded. I knew that his
lock and key estab
lishment
had been financed by Sherlock Holmes and
suspected
that the detective paid him a monthly retainer as well for his unique
abilities. Rising to his feet, he had but one question.

"Any description of the
cove?"

"Alas, no," replied
Holmes, with distaste. "We did
not
see him, but he was closeted with Dowson and Syl
vius
prior to the attack and may well have left with the
Bird
in his possession."

As the cracksman departed, Holmes
turned his atten
tion
to the letter that Gilligan had delivered. After read
ing
for some moments, his eyes found mine briefly.
"This
should interest you, Watson: 'My dear Sherlock
Holmes:
Having long been an admirer of your career,
let
me send this message for your consideration. Your faithful
biographer, Dr. Watson, makes frequent refer
ence
to the fact that you delight in puzzles and I have
composed
this to provide you with mental stimula
tion.'
" Holmes looked up with approval in his eyes.
"You
will note that Barker's introduction is written as
though
we had never met. A clever touch, that, to allay
suspicions
should this fall into other hands. He now lists
a
series of questions," he added, returning to Barker's
words:

" 'One: What was of Agra?' "

"That's simple enough,"
I said. "The Agra Treasure.
I
well recall that, Holmes, since it was the second of
your
cases that I revealed in print."

"With the melodramatic title
of The Sign Of The
Four,'"
agreed Holmes. " 'Two: The Yoxley Case
was?'"

"The Golden Pince-Nez."

"I believe we can accept
golden
as
the key word,"
said
Holmes. "Our knowledge of the Lindquist case
makes
our reading of this cryptic letter considerably
easier.
Consider the third clue. 'Three: Wilson dealt
with?
. . .'"

"An easy one," I said,
triumphantly. "The reference
has
to be to Wilson, the notorious canary trainer."

"With what we already know,
the meaning is not
ca
nary
but
rather
bird.
We now have:
treasure, golden,
bird,
which certainly fits. The fourth question, however,
puzzles
me. See what you make of it, Watson.' 'Four:
What
gave the tadpole fever?' "

"Good heavens, that's a
strange clue. But wait . . ."
—I
almost shouted with excitement—"Tadpole was the schoolboy
nickname of Percy Phelps."

"Good show, Watson! Phelps
had brain fever be
cause
of the theft of the Naval Treaty. Obviously, the
key
word is
theft
since it fits so
nicely with the next one.
'Five:
From Trincomalee to? . . .' "

I thought for a moment. "The
reference must be to
the
singular adventure of the Atkinson Brothers at Trin
comalee
. . . but
..."

"But do recall that,
following exposure, the brothers
fled
to Constantinople."

"That's it, Holmes! Treasure
. . . golden . . . bird
.
. . theft . . . Constantinople . . . what's next?"

" 'Six: Eduardo Lucas and
Milverton.' "

I gazed at Holmes in astonishment.
"But they are
both
dead."

"True, but they certainly had
something in common."

"They were both blackmailers.
Lucas came within an
ace
of ruining the Secretary for European Affairs in
that
'Second Stain' affair, as you well know."

"And Charles Augustus
Milverton was an even
greater
and more heartless rascal, if that is possible."

"But, Holmes, it was coming
along swimmingly to
this
point. Now we have two deceased blackmailers who
could
not be involved."

"But you will accept two. I
think that is rather im
portant.
Let us look deeper, ol' chap. What do black
mailers
do?"

"Extort money, bleed their
victims dry."

"Agreed. And they are able to
ply their nefarious
trade
because they are collectors."

I did not follow this at all so
Holmes elaborated.
"Both
Lucas and Milverton collected indiscreet letters, proofs of crime or
infidelity, knowledge of sordid epi
sodes
in their victims' lives. What Barker suggests is that
two
collectors are involved in the pursuit of the Golden
Bird.
It being an art object, we must assume that both
are
collectors of art. Now our adventure of this evening
reveals
that one of these collectors could put his hand
on
a very large sum of money."

"The payoff to Baron Dowson,"
I said, mechanically,
and
was rewarded with a nod.

"While the other could
command a sizeable group of
henchmen.
Is it not obvious that these mysterious col
lectors
are men of wealth and power?"

As I nodded, Holmes referred to
the letter again.

"Here you must help me, good
fellow. 'Seven: The birth of Mary Morstan?' "

"My dear Mary was born in
1861," I said sadly. "Of course, the date may not have been
what Barker was referring to."

"Possibly the next clue will
give us an indication.
'Eight:
Victor Hatherley was? . . .' "

"He was an engineer," I
said, promptly. "He was
young."

Holmes puzzled on this for a
moment. "He was also
unfortunate."

"I would certainly say so
having his thumb chopped
off
like that."

"I note," said my
friend, "that Barker seems partial
to
the titles of your stories and "The Engineer's Thumb' was the
name you gave it."

"Hmm . . . Victor Hatherley
was without a thumb?
Missing
a thumb?"

"Wait," said Holmes.
"Possibly a number is our sev
enth
clue. Would not the word
minus
go along with
that?"

"Victor Hatherley was minus a
thumb. He certainly
was.
What is the next clue, Holmes?"

"Here is an easy one and I
think a picture is coming into focus. 'Nine: The objects in Holder's
security.' "

"The Beryl Coronet," I
said, hastily.

"And there were thirty-nine
Beryls in the Coronet."

"Why, Holmes, it's obvious.
1861 minus 39 gives us 1822."

"Indeed, it does and that is
the last clue. Does it have any significance to you?"

I tried, dear me how I tried, but
my efforts were
fruitless.
Holmes was obviously stumped as well.

"What do you make of all
this, Holmes?"

"Two things. 1822 is the
prime bit of information.
Note
that the rest of this message relates to matters we
have
already learned about. I believe the date was the
information
that poor Barker was taking to Lindquist
when
he met his fate."

"What is your other
conclusion?"

"Simply that Barker was a
devoted reader of your
printed
words, my good Watson."

5

To Berlin

41

It was coming on to ten of the
morning when I de
scended
from my bedchamber to find that Holmes had preceded me and was with
company. Inspector Alec MacDonald was enjoying a steaming cup of
coffee with
the
great detective, but considering the suspicious
glance
he fastened upon me as I entered the sitting
room,
I sensed that this was not a social call.

"Ah, Watson, you come at an
appropriate time," said
Holmes,
pouring from the great silver urn. "I'm just
learning
about a singular event that occurred in Soho
last
night."

Accepting a cup from Holmes, I
tried to look inter
ested
and startled at the same time. My innocent expression did not
seem to register on the dour inspector,
who
at this time was just beginning to build the formid
able
reputation that he later enjoyed at Scotland Yard.

"Knowin' your sources of
information, Mr. Holmes, 'tis surprising to me you've not already
heard of it."

"Tell us all," I said,
sitting alongside the desk with
what
I hoped was a relaxed manner.

"The Nonpareil Club was hit
last night by a whole
gang
of Chinee. Pitchin' battle, it was, too."

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