Authors: Unknown
D'Anglas's pendulous lips
exhibited a small smile
that
carried with it a touch of bitterness.
"Sometimes there is more at
stake than worth," he
said.
"You know of the ruler's receiving a fatal wound
and
his summoning my grandfather to his side in his last
moments.
My forefather had been working on the
Golden
Bird, repairing the base, and had the statue in
his
hands when he hastened to Ali Pasha's throne room.
The
wife of the Albanian, Vasilikee, had also been sum
moned.
The three were alone when Ali Pasha gave his final orders. My
grandfather was to take the diamond,
which
the Albanian always kept in a pouch tucked in
his
sash, and smash it. Following this, he was to kill
Vasilikee.
With the destruction of his two most precious
possessions,
Ali Pasha felt that he would be able to die in peace. My grandfather
was at a crossroads since he had established a clandestine
relationship with Vasili
kee.
Fortunately, he did not have to face a decision for
the
Lion of Janina died."
Though privy to a part of this
tale. I did indulge in a sign of relief, which the goldsmith
acknowledged with
his
dull eyes.
"Those were cruel times,
Doctor, but knowing that
his
master was gone, my grandfather acted instinctively.
In
his hand was the fabled gem and there was the
Golden
Bird, its base still warm from fresh-poured gold.
He
pressed the diamond into the bottom of the statue
and
was artisan enough to remove the surplus gold and
smooth
the base. When the gold cooled and hardened,
the
Pigott was safely concealed in a perfect hiding
place.
Jean had Vasilikee secure some small diamonds and he smashed them to
represent the wreckage of the
great
stone. He announced the death of his ruler and
the
ruination of the diamond. The court of Albania was
in
a turmoil, with various pretenders striving for the
throne
and the specter of Constantinople everywhere on
the
scene. My grandfather and Vasilikee were able to
steal
away without causing comment."
"The king is dead! Long live
the king!" said
Holmes.
"Jean D'Anglas and Vasilikee
had a Christian wed
ding
soon after. They chose to bide their time as regards
the
statue, on the theory that it would not drop from
sight.
My grandfather was adept to the goldsmith trade
and
prospered. The Golden Bird returned to the Otto
man
capital and he made plans to secure it. But then
the
unanticipated thrust its surprising head upon the
scene.
The Bird was stolen from the Ottoman court by
an
aide of the Sultan who had fallen from favor. Choosing to flee
the wrath of the Turkish overlord, he undoubtedly seized the
statue because it was at hand and gold is a commodity of value
anywhere. Only two people knew that the Pigott diamond still
existed. But when
the
Bird disappeared, my grandfather was in a frenzy.
He
made every effort to locate the object, to no avail.
He
was a man obsessed. Everything had been risked for
the
great gem encased in a tomb of gold and now it was
gone.
Finally, he enlisted the aid of the English master-criminal, Jonathan
Wild, to find the statue."
Holmes had to be delighted to hear
his theories con
firmed
and he was nodding with the story.
"You feel that Jean D'Anglas
told Wild about the
diamond?"
"It would seem he must have.
Wild was old at this
time.
Though he sent out inquiries through his wide
spread
organization, he was not successful. Shortly afterwards,
Jonathan Wild died. My grandfather had con
tracted
a strange and fatal malady and he died as well,
leaving
the legacy of the Golden Bird to my father. He also was a talented
goldsmith and was commissioned by a Chinese noble to create some
golden masques in Pe
king.
When he completed his assignment in China, word
spread
of a robbery on Rhodes. Harry Hawker, now old
himself,
was recognized and as soon as the object of his
theft
was described, it was known that the Golden Bird
had
resurfaced again."
"Along with Harry Hawker,"
added Holmes. "For
merly,
part of the Wild organization. Hawker had
learned
the secret of the Bird from his employer and
when
he recognized the statue in an obscure shop on Rhodes, he could not
resist trying for it."
"That was my father's
reconstruction, Mr. Holmes.
The
Rhodes robbery was in 1850, three years before I
was
born."
I gave a start which I hoped
passed unnoticed. The
man
could not be so young.
"My father," our client
continued, "made haste to re
turn
from China bringing with him a metal-worker of
that
country who had assisted him. As my mother told
the
story, it was rumored that Hawker had fled to Bu
dapest
so investigations were made there. In 1853, the
year
of my birth, a man was knifed on the waterfront of
Constantinople.
Something about the matter intrigued
my
father and he dispatched his Chinese assistant to
Turkey.
The man returned with the news that the victim
was
Harry Hawker. The Bird had disappeared again.
The
following year, my father, who had contracted the
same
dread affliction as Jean D'Anglas, died."
My medical background would not
permit me to sti
fle
a question at this point. "Then your own physical problem is of
a hereditary nature?"
The oversized head turned to me
and there was
something
strange in his deep-set eyes. "That fact, Doc
tor
Watson, we can certainly accept. I, like those before
me,
was not only infected by a deformity but also by the
compulsion
to recover the Bird. I have pursued every
lead,
followed every rumor, for my entire adult life."
"This Oriental metal-worker
you mentioned," said
Holmes,
who had gotten his pipe going again, "did he
return
to his native land after the passing of your fa
ther?"
Our client was nodding. "Yes,
Mr. Holmes, and I
agree
with the thought that has occurred to you. The Chinaman was very
close to my father."
The obvious crystallized in my
mind. "Of course.
That
is how Chu San Fu learned about the Golden
Bird."
Since my statement was not denied,
I felt more of a
part
of this unraveling.
"After the death of Hawker,"
said Holmes, "better
than
thirty years passed before the Bird appeared again.
Those
who knew its secret sprang into action."
"It certainly did," said
our client factually. "As did
Chu
San Fu."
"And Basil Selkirk," I
exclaimed, and then corrected
myself.
"No, he learned about the diamond later."
"But now, the tale is told
and the loose ends resolved.
Watson,
would you be good enough to place the object
in
your breast pocket on the desk?"
I was delighted to do so. The tale
of fatalities and
frustrations
had made me all the more anxious to rid
myself
of the awesome diamond. Removing it from my
handkerchief,
I placed it on the desk's oaken surface
and
stepped back, relieved to be separated from the fas
cinating
object.
Vasil D'Anglas, making use of his
walking stick, le
vered
himself up from his chair and stood staring down
at
the burst of brilliance that gleamed at us like a giant
crystal
eye. His deep, throaty voice had a removed
quality,
like a somnambulist's mumbling, but his words
were
audible.
"I am the first D'Anglas to
view it since that fateful
day
in '22, yet it always has been ours. A thing of
deadly
beauty and the cause of the curse."
Suddenly, there was the gleam of
the fanatic in his
eyes
and a wild look about his mouth. I saw Holmes
step
back from the desk and his hand went to his jacket
pocket.
"Let the order be carried
out." D'Anglas almost
screamed
this and then, to my astonishment, he moved
with
a speed of which I could not believe he was capa
ble.
His walking stick, clutched by its end, swirled about
his
head and then came crashing down on the stone.
The
bronze handle found its mark with astonishing ac
curacy
and in an instant the magnificent gem was com
pletely
shattered into fragments and shards of crystal,
devoid
of value.
I have seldom seen Holmes
astonished, but he was
now.
I was thunderstruck.
Panting, the wildness in our
client's face disappeared to be replaced by a look of exaltation.
"Good heavens, man, what have
you done?" I cried. Even as I spoke the words, I saw a look of
sudden un
derstanding
pass over Holmes's face.
"Removed the curse,"
replied D'Anglas. There was a
sharpness
to his eyes that had not been there before. I
explained
it away as due to the violent emotions of the moment. "As a
medical man, sir, you have no doubt diagnosed my affliction as
glandular. The finest doctors
of
Europe suggest this, but they cannot name the fatal
deformity
which claimed my grandfather, my father,
and
has me in its embrace. I know what the doctors do not. Jean D'Anglas
was ordered to shatter the diamond
and,
because of greed, he disobeyed. Since that tune,
the
curse of Ali Pasha has dogged my family."
Considering the events of the last
minute, his voice
was
remarkably clam. He turned toward Holmes, whose
lips
were twitching, from self-castigation, no doubt.
"Mr. Holmes, I have committed
no crime. Destruc
tion
of one's own property does not warrant that accusation. I have
merely fulfilled my destiny. The debt has
been
paid. I leave you with the Golden Bird and my
heartfelt
thanks."
Before Holmes or I could think of
a thing to say, he
was
gone. It sounds ridiculous but I swear he departed
in
a far more agile manner than he had entered.
Alone in our chambers, Holmes and
I stared at each
other.
The climax of this strange case had certainly
been
unanticipated. A wry smile played round the
mouth
of the great detective.