The Oriental Casebook Of Sherlock Holmes Part 5

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I should like to say at the outset that I am here because what has happened is rather trivial on the surface, and I hope that I shall not be wasting your time by relating the matter."

"I shall be most happy to give you my opinion as to whether the case is trivial or whether it has a deeper aspect to it," said Holmes. "What often appears to be unimportant to the layman is often of vital interest to me."

"Very well, then. Let me explain why I have come to you. I served in our Indian army for thirty years before I retired at the beginning of this year. I was stationed throughout the East, but the last five years were spent in Nepal, where I was put in charge of Gurkha recruitment. I lived in Katmandu but often visited other parts of the country, including the Tarai. It was a rather easy existence, if I say so myself, for I saw no combat and did not fire a shot except on shikar in the jungle. My acquaintances in Nepal were many, but they were confined almost entirely to the military cla.s.s and the rulers.

"It was with a certain surprise, therefore, that, a few days before my departure, I found seated across from me a Buddhist monk who spoke excellent English. He told me that he was a native of the Katmandu Valley, a Newar, and that he had studied in Ceylon and had travelled as far as England, where he had met with many interested in the Buddhist religion. He had just returned to Nepal and had visited the Buddha's birthplace at Lumbini and had taken up residence in a small monastery on the Swayambhu hill. It was while circ.u.mambulating that great shrine, he said, that he had been given a stone sculpture of the Buddha. The donor was a rich Burmese pilgrim who through piety wished that the statue would someday be revered in the West. Having learned from one of the guards at the Residence of my imminent departure, he asked if I might take the sculpture with me to England, where it would be claimed by a monk now living in London and leading a small group of English Buddhists in the study of the Doctrine. The name of the group was the Oriental Society of London, with their shrine near Russell Square on Bedford Street. He a.s.sured me that the statue was of no consequence from an artistic point of view but that its safe arrival would do much to increase the compa.s.sion of the small band of followers of the Buddha now studying in England.

"So earnest and sincere did the monk appear that I informed him that I would be willing to take it as part of my personal belongings but that I should like to see it for myself before I gave my final consent. The monk appeared the next day, and it was as he had said: it was a modern reproduction in stone, done by a mediocre craftsman in the ancient city of Patan, and standing about thirty inches high. I accepted it and arranged that it be packaged along with my possessions. I gave it no further thought."

"A most interesting beginning. Pray continue, my dear Colonel," said Holmes.

"I arrived in England just two weeks ago and settled in the small village of Wyck Rissington in Gloucestershire. My family had kept a house there for many generations. Being the sole survivor and unmarried as well, I had inherited the entire estate directly upon my father's demise five years before. I had kept an old housekeeper to look after things while I was abroad. It was unsettling to learn, therefore, when I arrived, that the housekeeper had died the year before and the house had been unattended for many months. It is a rather large mansion, Mr. Holmes, built by Sir Roger Ridlington, my ancestor, in 1779, and it showed the neglect that a recently impoverished family had been forced to ignore. I spent the first day clearing a living s.p.a.ce for myself amidst the dusty clutter. On the following day, as I had been informed, my personal cargo promptly arrived, and I set about sorting through the souvenirs and possessions acc.u.mulated in my thirty years in the Orient.

"I am not a collector, Mr. Holmes, and so I was somewhat startled when I saw the number of objects that I had managed to acc.u.mulate through the years, thoughtlessly I might say. I promised myself that I would quickly dispose of much of what now struck me as quite useless. I sorted rather quickly and by evening I had managed to open everything and find at least a temporary dwelling for most articles of importance. It was at this moment that I remembered the Buddhist monk and his request. I searched through the remaining crates, unpacked the Buddha, and placed him gently upon a table in the drawing room. I then wrote a short note to the monk resident in London to whom it was to be delivered, informing him of the arrival of his charge and asking him to retrieve it at his earliest convenience.

"After a late supper, I continued my work. To my surprise, in one of the last remaining crates there was another figure of the Buddha, identical to the first in every way, at least to my unpracticed eye. I was a bit annoyed at having another piece of stone to store in what was already becoming a sea of odd objects. One Buddha on display was enough, I thought. Where to put the second one? I was rapidly running out of s.p.a.ce to put things. It was then that I remembered that one of the mantels in the great hall had a secret compartment behind it. Removing the second Buddha from its crate, I placed it in the secret place away from sight, and put the empty crate in a storage closet."

As I listened to the Colonel's account, I threw an occasional glance at Holmes. At our visitor's last revelation, the look of disinterested amus.e.m.e.nt that had played across his face had been replaced by the deepest concentration.

"By this time it was very late, and I had had enough," said the Colonel.

"It was about midnight when I retired, and I slept quite soundly. I rose at about eight the following morning and went into the kitchen to prepare some tea, when I noticed that the back door was ajar. I remembered distinctly having locked it before I retired. Someone must have entered during the night, I thought. I hurried quickly to the drawing room to see if it had been vandalised. Everything, however, appeared to be in good order until I noticed, to my chagrin, that the stone Buddha was missing from the table where I had placed it. Someone had indeed entered, but I had been fortunate, for whoever it had mistaken a rather shoddy modern copy for a work of art. Nothing else appeared to be missing."

"Most extraordinary, Colonel Ridlington," said Holmes. "I am afraid that your account thus far leads me to believe that this is far from a trivial matter. May I suggest that you employ a guard immediately to watch your house?"

"I have taken some precautions, Mr. Holmes, at least for the time of my visit here. Had matters ended there I would not be with you today. I spent the following day in routine business in the village. I was gone for about four or five hours. When I entered the house, I noticed that the Buddha had been returned to its spot on the table in the drawing room. Nothing else in the drawing room appeared to have been disturbed until I noticed that someone had entered the storage area where I had placed the empty crate that contained the second Buddha. Whoever had entered had hoped that the break-in would not be immediately noticed. The lock had been broken, but closed to avoid notice, and the door had been shut tight. When I pulled it open, however, I found that what I had carefully stored had been thrown about as if someone had searched in a great hurry. It was then that I noticed that the crate had been smashed and broken into. The burglar had failed, however, to find the second Buddha. It was at this point that I decided to present the matter to you for your judgement."

"I can a.s.sure you, Colonel Ridlington, that this is hardly a trivial matter," said Holmes. "I can also a.s.sure you that, with a bit of luck, we may be able to resolve it quickly. I should like to accompany you to your home in Gloucestershire so that I may have a first-hand look at the premises. And the second Buddha, of course."

Holmes turned to me and said, "Watson, this is a case in which I must ask you to remain here and not travel with me to Gloucestershire. I request only that you leave with us now and return at once through the back entrance, making sure that no one sees you re-enter. Remain inside until I reappear. And Watson, once you have returned, I must ask that you remain in the bedroom with the curtains drawn till dawn, when you may move about freely in the front rooms as well."

I was at once mystified and disappointed at Holmes's request, for I had hoped to accompany him in what appeared to be a case more interesting than I had originally thought, but I did as he requested. I knew also that it would be hopeless to ask for an explanation. The two of us left together with Colonel Ridlington. As we approached the crowd on Oxford Street we parted, and I re-entered our quarters from the back. By this time it was dusk, and I was certain that I had entered unseen.

I pa.s.sed a difficult night, for the summer heat did not abate in the darkness. I finally sat on the floor below the window with a candle, trying to read my medical journals. I must have fallen asleep at last, for when I awoke, it was early morning. The candle had burned down to nothing, and I was stiff from having lain on the floor the better part of the night. I rose and went into the drawing room, my mind filled with Ridlington's odd story of the previous afternoon. Holmes had not returned and I presumed that he was still in Gloucestershire.

It was about eleven in the morning when Mrs. Hudson appeared and said that two delivery men were downstairs with a large parcel for Mr. Holmes. I directed that they be shown up. As they entered I paid little attention, for an article on tropical diseases of the kidney had caught my eye.

"Where to, guv'na?" said one of them, a rather old man dressed in tattered clothes. I motioned to the centre of the room and kept on reading. The old man handed me a pen and a delivery slip to sign.

"Sign here, quickly, Watson," said a familiar voice," for we haven't a moment to lose."

I looked up in disbelief. As the old man straightened up, he seemed to shed years, and I knew that I was looking at my friend.

"Holmes!" I cried.

"Correct, Watson, correct! And my colleague in the transport business, Mr. Anthony Gregson of Scotland Yard."

Gregson removed his delivery man's cap and bowed. "My pleasure, guv'na," he said.

"Holmes, for the love of G.o.d, you owe me a bit of an explanation. Why such a trick?"

I was annoyed, not so much because I had failed to recognise him, but because I had been doubly fooled and had to suffer through Holmes's obvious sarcasm and Gregson's deep satisfaction.

"Please accept my apologies, Watson. You have played a vital role so far in this affair and will continue to do so. Please accompany Mr. Gregson into the other room and exchange clothes with him. And pack a further change of clothes, your own, into this sack and bring it along. I shall explain all in due course."

As he spoke, Holmes went over to the settee, moved it, and then lifted the floor. It was an old hiding place that he had used on many occasions in the past. He placed the package in the large s.p.a.ce below, replacing the floor and the settee in quick, deliberate motions. He then peered through the curtains at the street below and smiled quietly.

I did as he requested, and with his help looked as much the delivery man as Gregson, who remained behind, hidden in my bedroom.

Holmes's conduct so far I found totally bewildering, and as usual in his haste he chose not to offer any explanation. We crossed Baker Street, then proceeded through a back alley to an abandoned building, where Holmes picked the lock and we entered easily. Here we changed into our street clothes, leaving the delivery men's uniforms in a heap on the floor.

"There is little time to talk, Watson. We are close to a final meeting with an archcriminal. It will be dangerous, but I believe we have every chance of success."

Now in our usual dress, Holmes and I went out on the street and walked home. Holmes's eyes scoured every pa.s.sers-by, but we did not stop until we had reached our quarters.

"And now, Watson," said he as we entered, "unless I miss my guess, the bell will ring in a few minutes, and Mrs. Hudson will usher in our next guest."

In less than five minutes the bell sounded, and Mrs. Hudson, a perplexed look on her face, said that there was a gentleman to see us. She ushered in a Buddhist monk in saffron robes. His face had a definite European cast to it despite the shaven head and the other accoutrements of his religion.

Holmes's eyes flashed with the delight of a fisherman who has just felt a great tug on his line.

"Watson," he said almost gleefully, "I would like to present to you Mr. Jack Evans, who, if I am not mistaken, hails from Salt Lake City. He is wanted in America in seven different states for burglary and illegal entry. He has been one of the mainstays of the Anton Furer gang."

The monk's demeanour changed as soon as Holmes had identified him.

"'I'm not here to argue with ya, Holmes. Where's the stuff? Furer sent me and this time he ain't kiddin.'"

The absurd contradiction between the monk's costume and his rough American brought a smile to my lips. But it was short-lived. The door to the flat was suddenly thrown open and another monk stood before us.

"And this," said Holmes without turning around to look at the intruder, "is the infamous Anton Furer, the chief art thief of our time. My compliments, Anton, for having evaded arrest for so long. I an delighted that you could not resist coming here. Please be seated."

"I have no time to waste, Holmes. This is the last time that you have interfered with my plans. Please, we are both armed and neither of us is prepared to leave without the object for which we came."

Furer was a taller than I expected, thinner, more desperate-looking than I had imagined, with eyes that darted quickly through the room, examining everything in sight as he spoke. As he searched, he found nothing, and an oath pa.s.sed through his lips.

"Where is it, Holmes?" he asked.

"I am afraid that it is not available for inspection," said Holmes, lighting his pipe. "Evans," he continued, "be so good as to look out the window onto the street. If you do, you will notice that this building is surrounded by police."

"He's bluffing," said Furer.

"No, he's not. Raise your hands, please."

The words came from Gregson, who had suddenly opened the door as if by signal from Holmes. In an instant, Holmes had disarmed Furer and clapped a gun to Evans's head. The bewildered Furer gave no further resistance.

"I invite you, Anton, to look below if you wish. I a.s.sure you that even had you been able to murder us, your arrest was inevitable. I should tell you also that your colleagues at the Oriental Society of London have been apprehended as well. You know, you really should have learned by now."

An evil scowl covered Furer's face, for Holmes had entrapped him easily, and so great was the anger that shown through his eyes that I imagined that he would have torn Holmes and the rest of us limb from limb had he been able to free himself. Gregson handcuffed him and Evans and led them into the street, where they were immediately taken to jail.

"Well, Holmes, you must be pleased with yourself. A very easy end to a long career of criminal activity. My congratulations and, if I may add, my mystifications. Somehow I feel as though I have missed most of the tale."

"You have, Watson, and through no fault of your own. Most of what transpired over the last two days is simply the end of a very long sequence of events, the major part of which transpired in India a long time ago, a part with which you could not be familiar. Perhaps it would be of interest if I related to you the parts of this story that remain hidden from view."

"Indeed," said I. "It would be most helpful."

"But first, a look at the treasure that eluded Furer's grasp and eventually led to his downfall."

Holmes removed the small rug from the centre of the room and quickly lifted the floor boards. He removed the package that he had stored below and unwrapped it, revealing a bust of the Buddha. Holmes turned the statue on its side and tapped the bottom with his fingers.

"It is hollow, as I thought," he said. "Watson, quickly, let me have the large shears from your bag."

I handed them over. Holmes took them and broke a hole through the rather thin plaster that covered the bottom. In a few minutes he had carved a large hole, revealing a s.p.a.ce inside the statue in which we now could see a rectangular object covered with what appeared to be a piece of cloth. It was a piece of silk brocade in red and gold, very old and worn, but still of the greatest beauty. As soon as the hole was large enough for it to pa.s.s through, Holmes inserted his hand and pulled it forth. His eyes were bright with excitement now.

"Now," he said, "Watson, if I am not mistaken, we have here one of the great treasures of the ancient world."

He lay the object on the table, and proceeded to unwrap it. A golden object appeared, a small box or chest, with magnificent designs and sculptures on it. There appeared to be some ancient form of writing on it amidst the designs.

Holmes smiled. "I had this almost in my hands several years ago, and thought that it might be forever lost. Do you know what it is?"

"I must say it is impressive. Is it perhaps a reliquary?"

"It contains the royal jewels of Kanishka, king of the Kushans, a war-like race who controlled a vast empire that stretched from northern India well into central Asia almost two thousand years ago. There is an inscription on the cover in their script, the Kharosthi, if memory serves, which bears testimony to this. Let us remove the cover and see what it contains."

It was indeed as Holmes had claimed. The box was filled with the most beautiful gold jewellery, studded with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds.

"Look at this, Watson!" he cried. He was holding a large ring of gold. It had two beautifully intertwined serpents carved on its sides and at its top the swastika, the ancient symbol of good luck. It glistened in the late afternoon sun that was now streaming through the window.

"Try it on, Watson," he said, dropping it into my left hand. "It is a rare opportunity to share the experience of a king of antiquity."

Holmes continued to examine the box. He had removed the jewellery and now stood holding the box to the light, then to his ear. I saw him press with great force on its left side. There was a sudden noise, like the release of a spring, and I heard him utter a short cry of delight.

"Aha! Watson, there is more. Look, a false bottom. A rather interesting spring device that has released it. Let us see what else there is."

Holmes lifted the false bottom out of the box and placed it with the jewellery on the table. There was revealed a small cloth bag, made of the same brocade that had covered the box, and what appeared to be a small scroll made of a material that I could not immediately identify. Holmes unfurled the scroll, upon which there were some ancient characters.

"Birch bark," he said, "one of the most ancient writing materials. And a short inscription in the ancient Prakrit. Let us see if we can read it." Holmes held his gla.s.s to the scroll, concentrated deeply for a few moments, and then said: "Write this down, Watson, for I can read almost all of it: 'The jewels of Kanishka are nothing compared to this, this lock of hair of the Buddha Shakyamuni, the Enlightened One.' So, we now know what the bag contains: a true relic of the Buddha himself, perhaps taken at the time of his enlightenment, or perhaps at his death. It is not for us to know, Watson. I suggest that unbelieving infidels such as we not open the bag, that that be done by others closer to the ancient forms of belief than we are."

He placed the bag and the scroll back in the reliquary and restored the false bottom to its original place. "It is growing late," he said. "Perhaps, we should dine, and over a good cigar and a brandy I shall tell you how all of this came about."

"And so, Watson, Furer is finally where he belongs-in the hands of the authorities, and his long criminal career is finally at an end."

I watched him as he lit his cigar, relaxing in his favourite chair. His eyes were bright, and he could scarcely contain his pleasure.

"I appreciate your elation at the outcome, my dear Holmes, but certain portions of the affair continue to elude me. How did you know that Furer would fall so easily into your hands? And how did you know what was hidden in the second statue? How, indeed, did you know that anything at all was contained in it?"

Holmes heard the slight irritation in my voice which I had taken pains to conceal, unsuccessfully however, for I was still smarting from my failure to see through his disguise and that of Gregson. His tone of voice became even more self-satisfied, and I felt as if salt were being poured on my wounds.

"As to your first question, Watson, it is simplicity itself. One must know one's criminals. That is all. Furer was a thief, to be sure, but he had a well-developed aesthetic sense, a sense of symmetry, shall we say, that in the end was his undoing. He walked into our quarters as I walked into his camp in the Tarai several years ago. He also possessed throughout his career a deep sense of invincibility that on occasions past had led him to risk his life foolishly. I knew therefore that he would want to close the circle with me, so to speak. And he did, to his final defeat, I'm afraid. As to the other questions, well, my dear friend, knowing my own remarkable powers of deduction, I venture to say that I would have quickly deduced the fact that one of the statues contained something unusual from the circ.u.mstances of the case alone. In this instance, however, I actually knew it. Indeed, I had been expecting its arrival, though the exact time and place were unknown to me. As Ridlington spoke, I realised that the first statue was a decoy, put there by one of Furer's own henchman to outwit him. Once the good colonel had told his story, I saw how the matter would end, even to the last detail. The visit to Gloucestershire merely corroborated my hypothesis and permitted me to take possession of the second statue, the one that Furer was so determined to get his hands on. Still, you find the entire case puzzling, Watson, simply because you lack the beginning."

Drawing in his breath, Holmes suddenly stood up and said: "Watson, it is a beautiful June evening. It will be light for several more hours. Let us stroll towards Green Park, and I shall relate to you the most interesting part of the Furer case."

The evening was as beautiful as London can provide. The streets were filled with men and women strolling happily, some arm in arm, some walking their dogs, with children playing summer games, and the other happy sounds of a people at peace. It was only when we drew near the park that the crowds abated, and Holmes continued.

"The story begins at a most unusual point. It commences just after the affair concerning Reginald Maxwell."

"You mean that this story begins when you were in India?" I asked.

"Indeed, it does, Watson. You will recall that while I travelled in India, I had a.s.sumed the name of Roger Lloyd-Smith?"

"Indeed, I do," I replied.

"After the Maxwell affair, I continued to use that name and ident.i.ty. It was convenient and, above all, believable. I bade good-bye to the Viceroy, and continued my journey. I travelled west by train. My intention was to spend some months in India before I entered the mountains of Afghanistan.

"My first stop after Calcutta was the obvious one: Benares once again, the holiest city of the Hindoos. The ride on the Toofan Express from Calcutta was uneventful, and as I recall, I lodged at the Clarks Hotel, one of the more comfortable establishments in our Indian possessions. I decided that what I needed was a moment of tranquillity after the adventures in Bengal, and so I stayed close to the hotel, venturing forth only in the evening. I spent much time recording the events that had befallen me during the last several months. I spoke to no one except the hotel staff, who were efficient and un.o.btrusive. The air was cool enough in the evening, and I sat on the wide veranda until dark, when the mosquitoes finally became unbearable.

"On the third night, I wandered on foot into the city. Like all cities of India, it has those nocturnal characteristics that give it a sense of mystery: darkness, the human voice disembodied, the shuffling of countless naked feet, the barking of dogs, the shrieks of jackals and hyenas. But it is still in essence a village, lacking in the metropolitan aspect. It is, after all, a religious centre, one the most revered sites of Hindooism and one of the most ancient cities of the world. I wandered through G.o.dowlia, the town centre. From there I went to the Ganges, to the Dasashvamedha Ghat, one of the major bathing places. It is here, Watson, that the pious Hindoo plans to arrive at his last moment, knowing that to leave this mortal coil here is to guarantee his eternal salvation and liberation from this vale of tears, or Samsara, as they call it in the Sanscrit tongue."

"As you are well aware, Watson, I am not a religious person, and after a few days my interest in the bizarre religiosity of Benares began to wane. When I returned to the hotel, after my third night of exploration, I decided to move on. My decision to leave, however, was postponed suddenly by the events that began to transpire the following morning.

"I rose early and decided to breakfast not at Clarks but at the Hotel de Paris, an establishment strangely named, considering its location just across the main cantonment road. It was a most pleasant building, however, and its front gardens were filled with bougainvillea and jacaranda flowers, bathed in the soft morning sunlight.

"As I entered, I noticed a man and a woman, the woman English, the man Indian, seated in a corner of the veranda, engaged in what appeared to be a deep and most serious conversation. The man I judged to be about forty years of age. He was well dressed and, judging from his carriage, of a distinguished Hindoo background. By his build and accent I judged him to be Bengalese. The woman was somewhat younger and rather frail-looking.

"As I observed them, the woman suddenly rose, as if in anger, and strode into the hotel. The man appeared surprised at her action but did not attempt to follow. He rose slowly, his surprise having retreated into sadness, and left.

"I went directly to the breakfast room. It was shortly after the bearer had brought my tea that the woman entered and took her seat at a table near mine. I could observe her closely without seeming rude or intrusive. I deduced much from her appearance. She was a youngish woman, in her early thirties perhaps, aristocratic in her bearing, married, most probably to one of our government officers, and was someone who was experienced in India, since she spoke Hindustani to the bearer, and it was decent enough. The deference and familiarity with which she was treated indicated that she was a person of some importance and that she had been in the hotel for several days. That she was under some great strain showed in her face, which contained an expression of great sadness and fear. She occasionally wiped a tear from her eye, and I noticed that she scarcely ate any of the food that she ordered. She fingered her wedding ring constantly, and looked repeatedly out the window towards the entrance to the garden, as if she hoped to see someone appear.

"It was quite late by now, almost nine thirty in the morning, and there was no one in the dining room save the turbaned bearers who stood guard, ready to serve our smallest want.

"I decided to approach this woman and learn the cause of her grief. I quickly penned a note to her on one of my calling cards, and handed it to one of the bearers for delivery: Please forgive my intrusion into your private thoughts, but I could not help but notice that you are under a great strain concerning the whereabouts of your husband. Perhaps we might talk on the veranda over another cup of tea before the sun gets any higher. I may be of some help to you in finding him.

"She was at first startled by my note, almost angered by it, and I could see in her eyes the suspicion that I had something to do with his disappearance. For how else could I know that he had disappeared? Suddenly her face became impa.s.sive, almost grim. She looked up, rose, and nodded to me. I asked the bearer to bring tea to us outside."

"You appear to be a complete stranger to me," she said. "And yet you know something about my husband's disappearance. You therefore must be part of the plot against him. Tell me where he is. I implore you."

There was a desperate look in her eyes as she spoke. Holmes had reasoned correctly.

"You are right. We have never laid eyes on each other, Madam, but I can a.s.sure you that I do not know where your husband is. I do not even know his name. What I know was merely based on what I observed."

"Observed?" she said sardonically.

"Surely it takes no great talent to observe a woman fingering her wedding ring in great agitation and looking towards the entrance to the hotel for someone to appear to deduce that that someone might be her husband, that he has not come, and that his failure to arrive has caused great consternation in his wife. The staff appears to know you well, and so I reason that you have been waiting for many days. Your fear is now that something dreadful has happened to him," said Holmes.

"You are very clever for a chemist," she said.

"I have had other occupations in the past. Perhaps, Madam, I may gain your confidence by showing you this."

It was a note of thanks and warm praise from the Viceroy for Holmes's help in a minor affair in Patna. It also disclosed his true ident.i.ty.