“Yes, Miss.”
I paid for our lunch, and Archibald stood, poked out his elbow for me to slip my arm through his, and placed the hat on his head.
As we walked up the steps to the British Museum, Archibald turned to me and asked, “Fem grave robbes... yer said wha’ fey does is illegal?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Bu’ Mr. ’olmes tol’ me yer kin learn all sors a fings from dead people.”
“Yes, a scientist can learn things, like when the person died and what caused it. But there are proper channels, legal ways to obtain corpses to study.”
“Oh,” he muttered as he opened the door for me.
I did not like his preoccupation with the subject, but when he did not say anything else, I chose not to pursue it.
We made our way to the curator’s office but were told he wasn’t available,’ no doubt due to the unwelcome notoriety of the museum in relation to the murders. When I explained my interest in the Buddha statue to the clerk, he cocked an eyebrow. “Is this about the Buddha and the bird left at the murder scenes? Because if it is, we have no comment.”
I feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. Murders? Here? In the museum?”
“No, just out... never mind. The curator is not available. I can direct you to someone in the Oriental Department, if you wish. Your name?”
I decided to lie again. Sherlock had undoubtedly given a false name when he masqueraded as a reporter to talk to the curator. I was certain of that. I was uncertain, however, if there were any other newspaper articles floating about that might list my name as the niece of the accused. I decided to use one of my middle names... and Sherlock’s surname. “My name is Olympia Holmes,” I lied.
“Follow me then, Miss Holmes.”
He took me to a small office near the Oriental Department and introduced me to a man who had just joined the staff of the British Museum. He was about Sherlock’s age and his name was Theophilus Goldridge Pinches. In the course of our conversation, I learned that he had been employed in his father’s business as a die-sinker but broke from his father’s clutches to follow his amateur interest in cuneiform inscriptions and Assyriology.
“Very admirable, Mr. Pinches. What do you do here?”
“Painstaking work, actually. I am trying to translate some Babylonian tablets which relate to the Battle of the Vale of Siddim that we have recently acquired, and I am planning on writing a book about Assyrian grammar and late Babylonian forms of characters.”
“An ambitious enterprise. My brother Archie” - Archibald nodded and tipped his hat-”is hoping to join the staff of the British Museum one day as well. He is particularly interested in the artefacts relating to Buddhism. And no, this has nothing to do with the murders about which the clerk has only just informed me,” I lied. “We come here often, Archie and I, and he would like to study the tenth-century bronze Vairocana? Of course, we know it is impossible for him to remove it from the premises, but I was wondering, do you know any artist, someone who could replicate one for him? His birthday is coming up and it is all he has talked about.”
“I have not heard him utter a word,” Mr. Pinches observed.
I placed my hand on Archibald’s shoulder. “He is rather shy.” I leaned toward Pinches and whispered, “And he stutters. He is a bit embarrassed by it. But he is very, very keen on Asian art.”
“Well, young man, I wish I could introduce you to Augustus Franks. He is the Keeper of Antiquities. He has been here for over a decade and he is very knowledgeable. But, there is someone else who may assist you. Follow me, please.”
As we walked up a flight of stairs, Pinches said, “Only a few objects were acquired from Asia until recently, but our collection is now one of the world’s largest, mainly because of a series of donations. The first was from Hans Sloan who acquired quite a bit of Japanese material from a family in Germany. A physician in the family, Dr. Kaempher, was quite the world traveller, and he led an expedition to Japan. There is also the Bridge Collection of East and Central Indian Sculpture and-”
“Quite interesting,” I sighed, running out of patience. “But Archie is really quite intense about his research into Chinese culture and Buddhism.”
“I see,” said Mr. Pinches. “Perhaps he should broaden his horizons.”
When we arrived at the room that housed many of the museum’s treasures of ancient Asia, Pinches stopped in front of a large gilded bronze statue. Golden and luminous, the goddess stood over 140 centimeters high. Her enviable hour-glass body was naked from the waist up. A lower garment, tied to her hips, hit her ankles at the hem. Her right hand reached out as if she were giving something away. Atop her head was a high crown with some kind of medallion.
Clearly mesmerized by the deity’s large exposed breasts, her narrow waist and ample hips, Archie gazed up at the regal goddess. “Who is she?” Archie asked.
“This is our figure of Tara,” Pinches said. “Her legend goes like this. At the beginning of time, the oceans were churning and a poison was created that Lord Shiva, a Hindu deity, drank, thus saving the world from destruction. Tara took Shiva on her lap and fed him with her own milk, a milk that could counteract the poison. This statue was found in the early 1800s on the eastern coast of Sri Lanka. She was subsequently acquired by the British Governor at the time, Sir Robert Brownrigg, who later donated her to the museum. Although,” he added, “there is some speculation that Brownrigg took the statue from the last King of Kandy when that country
