Authors: Unknown
My feet sunk in the Persian
carpets that formed is
lands
in the polished oak flooring, and I crossed toward an ironwood door
leading from the entrance hall
of the club and
into the room, which I knew from experience
served
as one of Mycroft Holmes's offices. The door
was
lined with steel from within, but swung easily on
massive
hinges and then I was in the presence of the
second
most powerful man in England.
I had shared quarters with
Sherlock Holmes for some years before realizing that his older
brother was not the auditor for some little-known branch of the
government
but,
instead, had created a unique position for himself
in
the small group that handled the reins of the Empire
on
which the sun never set. Prime ministers came and
went,
but the meticulous mind of Mycroft Holmes con
tinued
to collate information from all over the world
and
evaluate it and piece it together in the series of patterns that
most influenced that policy of Her Majesty's
government.
Be there a whisper in the Montmartre or
on
some remote Tibetan mountain that might prove of
import
to the destiny of Britain and the organization
created
and headed by this large, dreamy-eyed man
would
relay it to their chief.
Though Holmes, after the crucible
of time had forged the metal of our friendship, had never been
evasive regarding his brother's influence or power or abilities,
he had never voiced what I suspected was the actual truth,
namely
that Mycroft Holmes headed up England's
intelligence
operations. On paper, such an organization
did
not even exist and, while I was certain of the man's
far-flung
apparatus and his commitment to our nation's
destiny,
I had no curiosity to have my suppositions con
firmed
on the theory that 'tis best to let sleeping dogs
lie.
The older Holmes's massive desk
was, as usual, clear
and
tidy with no indication of the immense flow of busi
ness
that passed over its surface daily. He greeted me
with
genuine warmth though when referring to his
brother
his manner, by habit, became slightly sardonic.
During
my association with both these quite amazing men, I had never
detected the slightest rivalry or jeal
ousy
between them. Sherlock Holmes stated openly that his brother would
make a superior detective if he could
but
pursue crime to the scene and follow the tedious
paths
that a thorough investigation required. Mycroft
Holmes
confessed himself completely incapable of
doing
so and contended that his brother's devious mind
was
better-suited to anticipating the potential paths of national policy
then his own. Since each of the Holmes
family
offspring contended that the other could be the
superior,
they followed their chosen paths with a mutual
respect,
and I felt that their chiding of each other, on
occasion,
was simply a family characteristic adopted in
their
childhood.
"Dear me," said Mycroft,
his watery blue eyes ab
sorbing
my unusual appearance. "What has Sherlock
got
you involved in now? Can it be that you have aban
doned
the role of biographer and are apprenticed to the
mummer's
trade?"
"My involvement is not what
concerns me at the mo
ment
but rather that of your brother," I replied, some
what
testily. Handing him the message from Sherlock
Holmes,
I began to divest myself of my disguise with
some
relief. When the statesman had concluded his
reading,
I had the infernal hump off my back and was extracting the statue
from it.
"And this is the focal point
of Sherlock's latest esca
pade,"
he commented, surveying the golden roc. "A
piece
of considerable value. Well, I shall accede to
Sherlock's
request and place the statue in safety here.
From your unusual garb I must
assume that there is
considerably
more to the story than just this art object."
"Indeed there is. This Golden
Bird has excited the interest of two of the most powerful criminal
organizations in London. It is my feeling that your brother is
in considerable danger, since it surely is now known that the statue
has come into his hands."
Mycroft shifted his corpulent
figure and nodded with
resignation.
"With his usual aplomb, Sherlock is, no
doubt,
completely ignoring the possibility of personal
danger.
To his credit, I will admit that the cloak of in
vincibility,
which he seems to consider himself en
veloped
in, has served him well."
"To this point," I
interjected, "but there are matters
here
as yet unknown and the players on the stage of this drama wield
frightening power."
Evidently, the concern in my
manner communicated
itself
and for the first time since the Bruce-Partington
affair,
Mycroft Holmes abandoned his Buddalike calm
ness.
"So, Basil Selkirk is
involved."
I was startled, having forgotten
momentarily that the
elder
Holmes was reputed to have greater powers of de
duction
than his brother.
"Elementary," he
continued. "With an art object,
Selkirk's
interest is a foregone conclusion. Since the
shadowy
financier is of concern to Her Majesty's gov
ernment,
I can instigate some official moves. What
would
you have?"
His innocence did not hoodwink me.
Were his
brother
endangered, I knew Mycroft Holmes would em
ploy
the powers at his command even if he had to in
vent
a reason. However, his subterfuge paralleled my
interests
and I was glad to humor it. I chose to confide
in
the espionage expert without feeling a tinge of disloy
alty
to my intimate friend, since his brother could well
learn
whatever facts I had and in short order too.
"Holmes has been after this
art object for some time.
MacDonald
of the Yard is privy to the case since homi
cide
plays a part in it. Basil Selkirk employed the Dowson gang to secure
the Bird and has now placed it in the
hands
of your brother."
"And Chu San Fu is after it?"
"Why, you know all about the
affair," I stated with
some
heat.
"I know that if a sinister
criminal organization is in
pursuit
of this statue, it would have to be the inscrutable
Chinaman.
Art objects are seldom the target of smash
and
grabbers or the pedestrian criminal. Besides, the in
volvement
of Selkirk clued me. The fiancier and the
supposed
Oriental importer have been rivals for years."
"I'm sure Baker Street is
under observation by minions of the Oriental. MacDonald is aware
of this and has men on duty in the area."
"Then we shall see that the
diligent inspector gets no interference from the Commissioner."
"Holmes also has his
Irregulars involved and, for all
I
know, detachments of that shadowland army that
seems
to be at his beck and call." I made this statement
in
a tentative tone, trusting that the acute statesman
would
divine my plea, which he, naturally, did.
"But something a little more
is needed, in your opinion," he said, with a dry smile. "I
agree. If Sherlock has
rallied
his forces, he is treating the affair with the ut
most
gravity and it behooves us to do as well. Fortu
nately,
a gentleman of my acquaintance is but recently
returned
from foreign lands. I shall suggest that he
might
find this affair and Sherlock's involvement of in
terest.
Does that satisfy you, my good Watson?"
Indeed it did. I well knew the
frighteningly efficient
person
that Mycroft Holmes was referring to and made
my
way back to Baker Street minus my disguise with a
much
lighter heart. A knight had been added to the
complex
chessboard, and he was not only positioned on
our
side but very much dedicated to the interests of my
friend,
Sherlock Holmes.
15
Holmes
Plans Our Defense
161
Upon my return to 221B, I was
heartened by the ob
vious
expression of relief upon Holmes's face. Clad in
his
dressing gown, he was sawing aimlessly on his violin.
Seated
close to one of our windows facing on Baker Street, it occurred to me
that the sound of music must
have
been audible without, especially since the window
was
partially open and the room quite cold because of
it.
Holmes laid aside his violin,
standing and crossing
before
the window several times as he spoke to me. It
was
as though he were performing and the aperture was
the
proscenium arch of his theatre. While Holmes fre
quently
used his musical moments as a spur to deep thought, the reappearance
of the violin suggested a.
stratagem
on his part.
"My dear Watson, I'm
delighted to see that your performance was acceptable. Soon we
shall have you on the bill at the Tivoli."
I must confess that I swelled with
pride as I related
my
meeting with Mycroft Holmes, though I did not re
veal
the latter part of our conversation.
"Excellent! Excellent! Now we
are assured of the
safety
of the art object. During your absence, there have
been
things stirring here as well. A cable from Berlin
notifies
us that our client, Vasil D'Anglas, plans to
come
to England."
This news fell on very welcome
ears. "How fortu
nate!
With D'Anglas on the scene, we can give him the
Golden
Bird and be done with the matter," I exclaimed.
Holmes regarded me with his head
half-cocked to
one
side and a slight smile on his keen face.
"I am reminded once more of
the remark of Basil
Selkirk.
'This matter has a way to go yet or I miss my
guess.'
"
As I began to remonstrate, Holmes
picked up his vio
lin
and with a warning gesture struck some authoritative
notes,
moving toward the window as he did so. Most of
the
time, his violin periods consisted of aimless wander
ing
with no musical progression, though they were not
unpleasant
to the ear. But now he was obviously playing
the
introductory notes to a composition. Coming to a
pause,
he activated the gramophone, which I had not noted until this moment.
The instrument began playing
a
lively air. Holmes made a dumb show of playing his
violin
as he moved past the window easily visible from
without
and then retreated from public view to rejoin
me.