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There followed what I have always
considered as the
difficult
period in any case. One day crowded upon the
heels
of another and Holmes's manner became increas
ingly
brusque while his hawk-like face seemed even
thinner
under the stress of frustration. He was in and
out
of our Baker Street chambers at all hours, scarcely touching the
meals which Mrs. Hudson repeatedly pre
pared
to tempt him from his monastic fast. Each morn
ing
he feverishly searched the journals for some item to buttress his
theory that we had been lured from London by the spurious cable.
Unrewarded, he would disappear,
with
scarcely a word, to haunt the byways and shadowy
corners
of the great metropolis and to query the army of contacts and
informers at his disposal. That he used one
or
more of the secret quarters that he maintained in the
City,
I know for a fact, for he returned to Baker Street
on
several occasions in some strange garb, looking nothing like the
famous resident who had departed. Holmes stated on more than one
occasion that the brain needed
facts
to chew on and masticate. While Mrs. Hudson
worried
unceasingly about his stomach, as did I, the
truth,
made obvious by long experience, was that it was his superb mentality
that was suffering from malnutri
tion.
However, years of association bred patience on my
part
and that of the other members of the Baker Street establishment.

It was a bright morning four days
after our return
from
the Continent that I descended from my bed
chamber
and found a smiling detective voraciously de
vouring
rashers of bacon along with two coddled eggs.

"Ah, Watson. You are in time
to join me in that
mainstay
of the British Empire—a stout breakfast," he
said,
with a smile that belied his dark mood of recent
days.

"I am delighted to see that
you are partaking of one,"
I
replied, gratefully accepting a cup of steaming coffee which he
poured for me.

"Your concern for my
nutritive needs could not go
unnoticed,
ol' chap. I fear this matter of the elusive art object has affected
me considerably." An expression of
irritation
crossed Holmes's drawn face. "Alas, Watson,
it
is the flow of the inexorable tide that is called
time,
which defeats
the investigator. For a rapid solution, give
me
the event which occurred within the hour. Clues
have
not yet been sullied by clumsy hands. Descriptions
and
recollections are clear and accurate. The
now
situa
tion
is child's play compared to the
then
one. And the
way
back when
is the
most difficult of all. Spinning in
the
undertow of time, fact and fantasy become entwined
in
an embrace that baffles. The truth is reflected in a misty mirror and
becomes conjecture, not fact. This
matter
of the Golden Bird extends over three genera
tions
and that is what makes it such an obstinate nut to
crack."

"From your manner, I would
infer that you have
come
upon news."

"Let us say that since no
information came our way,
I
went in pursuit of it."

"Oh, come now, Holmes. I am
familiar with your methods. For nigh on a week you have been haunting
London in pursuit of
a clue—a thread of information."

"Agreed. But it was an
aimless quest. Finally, I al
lowed
reason to shine upon my despair. I have been
lame
of brain indeed."*

* This particular remark of Holmes gives rise
to an interesting
possibility. Did this
see the birth of the much-used colloquialism
"lamebrain"?
I must allow those more versed in the history of
figures
of speech to decide the matter.

My expression of disagreement
prompted Holmes to
go
into detail as I hoped it would.

"Consider that in the matter
of the Golden Bird and
the
rival collectors . . ."

"Mere conjecture," I
said quickly, as the great detec
tive
had frequently said to me.

"Nonsense! Their footprints
are everywhere. If we
were
lured from England, and I can see no other reason
for
that counterfeit message from Berlin, then some
thing
was planned and, considering those involved, I see
no
reason for the event not happening. Ergo, it did, but
did
not cause sufficient interest for the news to reach
us.
It was not a robbery for I have been in close contact with Scotland
Yard and there has not been a reported crime that I have not
considered with care. A fatality,
then.
But we cannot scan the journals of every city in England. Therefore,
I finally did the obvious."

"Which was?" I prompted.
He did seem to gain en
joyment
by leaving me on tenterhooks.

"I went through the files of
various insurance companies. We have discussed the dedication of
the Egyptian
Pharoahs
in taking their worldly goods with them on
that
final journey into the unknown void. It is a custom
of
the Anglo-Saxons to make detailed arrangements for their final
resting place. The most common means of assuring their burial in
other than potter's field is insur
ance.
You will recall that Lindquist remarked that when
the
end grows near there is a desire to tidy things up.
'Clean
the slate' were his actual words, I believe."

"Never mind, Lindquist,"
I said, biting my lips.
"What
did you learn?"

"In the hamlet of St. Aubrey
one Amos Gridley died
a
week ago. The name is unfamiliar to me, but I found
it
quite interesting to learn that the late Mr. Gridley had a pronounced
lisp."

"Of course," I said,
with elation in my voice. But sec
ond
thoughts dispelled it quickly. "Surely, Holmes, that
is
a thin reed you are grasping. How many are born
with
a speech impediment?"

"I really don't know.
However, St. Aubrey is but
thirty
miles away and if you are available for the jour
ney,
we can satisfy our curiosity."

"Let us do so. How did this
Gridley die?"

"Ostensibly from a fall but
there seems to be some
confusion
regarding the matter. Enough to make the in
surance
people wish to take a second look."

This set well with me, since if
the death was by mys
terious
means, it gave credence to Holmes's fastening
on
this particular matter. I could not picture him dash
ing
away from his beloved London merely to follow the
trail
of a man with a lisp, even if said gentleman was
now
a corpse.

I had but to throw a few
necessities in a light valise should we find it necessary to stay
overnight, though my friend anticipated that we would be able to
return to Baker Street that evening.

At St. Pancras Station we caught a
train, and were
soon
headed north of London to the ancient city of St. Aubrey. Holmes did
not seem disposed to discuss our
journey
or the case, but I would have none of that, still
being
most ignorant of the reason for our trip and what
we
expected to find at the end of it.

"How did you happen to chance
upon the matter of
this
Amos Gridley, Holmes?"

"Elimination. I had to wade
through the case of a
manufacturer
in Liverpool, who slipped getting into his
bath
and died from a fractured skull. Then there was a
woman
in Leeds who drowned while taking a hot bath.
She
had a medical history of minor heart murmurs and
her
death was listed as drowning due to syncope. She
had
white foam at her mouth, certainly a sign of drown
ing."

I confess I had grown somewhat
excited as he re
counted
in his matter-of-fact manner these two fatal ac
cidents.
"But, Holmes, surely this goes beyond coinci
dence.
Two deaths both involving bathtubs."

"The number of deaths which
occur in bathrooms
might
well stagger you, ol' fellow. But those cases did
not
interest me. Gridley's death did."

"Because he had a lisp."

"You must admit that it does
have an association
with
the matter of the Golden Bird."

Somehow Holmes's explanation did
not satisfy me,
but
I had little choice but to accept it. Holmes, as he
frequently
did, discussed matters alien to our case of the
moment,
dwelling on the fact that the files of an insurance company
provided a treasure trove of information.
This
did give me an opportunity to return to the Amos
Gridley
matter.

"You mentioned that there was
some mystery regard
ing
the death."

"The possibility of suicide
which, if true, would re
lieve
the Trans-Continental Company of their obliga
tion.
As a gesture of appreciation for the use of their
files,
I promised to explore the matter for them."

"Surely, there is some other
peculiarity that would
prompt
the insurance people to secure your services."

My friend's smile was on the
sardonic side. "Insur
ance
companies do not lean toward deduction or intui
tion
or what you might call 'feel,' ol' chap. They are
governed
by averages. In a manner similar to a gam
bling
casino."

This analogy must have elicited a
look of surprise
from
me so he continued the comparison.

"A gaming establishment, from
tune to time, may in
cur
heavy losses due to a run of luck by a player. But
they
adopt the long range view based on the fact that in games of chance,
the odds favor the house. In a similar
vein,
our great insurance institutions issue coverage and govern premiums
according to averages of what has
happened
over a period of time. In general, things fol
low
a pattern. Men tend to die at an earlier age than
women.
Of total deaths a certain percentage are accidental, another
percentage due to cardiac disorders, and still another, to epidemical
diseases, and so on. The ac
tuary
tables have become a science. If something upsets
the
balance or seems to run counter to the norm, a
sharp
eye spots it and questions are asked."