Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

on the Isthmus of Panama. Evidently, he never returned to recover them for they have not appeared to this day.'

'But they are known to have existed.'

'Oh yes. Pearls were Panama's chief contribution to the swollen coffers of the Spanish crown. It took money, Watson, to support the Spanish armies in Europe and to build the great Armada.'

I must confess my friend's intimate knowledge of history proved somewhat surprising, but then I recalled that he could remember obscure items in his newspaper files years after filing them away. How reasonable that colorful incidents of mankind's background should be at his fingertips, especially if they touched upon unsolved mysteries.

Naturally, our somewhat one-sided conversation during the trip across Europe turned to the case at hand. Holmes drily observed that our extensive travels had contributed little that we had not already known.

'However, Watson, we have met two of the principals in this search of ours, something that would not have occurred had we remained in London.'

'Do you accept Hassim's theory of the ultimate hoarder?'

'In part, if not in whole,' was his reply. 'I can name any number of known objects of value which have simply disappeared. And, though Hassim did not refer to them, there are some very well-known masterpieces about which rumors have circulated. The Mona Lisa is one. There is a school of thought that the painting in the Louvre is not the Da Vinci original but a masterful copy.'*

* How interesting that this theory was revived and much bruited about after Vincenzo Perrugia stole the Mona Lisa from the Louvre in 1911 and the painting was not recovered until twenty-eight months after the theft.

My expression of amazement prompted a laugh from my friend. 'Can you imagine one of the men Hassim mentioned with the original in his hands. He could certainly laugh at the world and yet, though I don't deny the possibility, I find it a little difficult to swallow. What good is a supreme joke if the world cannot enjoy it as well. To laugh alone is a solitary sport indeed.'

I must have looked vague since Holmes backtracked to alleviate my confusion. 'We have come across situations akin to what I'm referring to. The affair of the 'Ruby of Alkar' and the matter of the 'Midas Emerald' to name but two. In each case, the missing gem was too well-known to be sold legally and, like the Mona Lisa, was unalterable. Diamonds are a thief's best friend, ol' fellow. Being such a hard substance, they can be cut and lose their identity. Two of the crown jewels of England were once a single stone. But were you in possession of a painting as famous as the Mona Lisa, you certainly could never show it to anyone. Surely, that removes some of the joy of acquisition. I contend that Selkirk or Manheim or any of those sub-rosa collectors mentioned by Hassim would really move mountains to secure an unidentified masterpiece.'

'Like Morgan's Pearls.'

'Exactly. Their size and luster would be proofs of their value but they were never weighed, no description of them exists, and in fact they had no owners. Morgan stole them from the Spaniards, who had squeezed them from the suppressed native population who knew where they were to be found in their virginal state.'

'The same situation existing with the spoils of the Rhodes campaign.'

'Of course. There are others, Watson, undoubtedly more than we imagine. Hassim mentioned the Pharoahs. Our archeologists haven't uncovered one tomb so far that wasn't looted rather thoroughly.'*

* Holmes was correct since this adventure predated the Carter expedition which discovered the tomb of Tutankhamun.

Tales of history and hidden treasure, coupled with speculations on the case involving us, helped hasten our trip but as the Calais coach approached the channel, I could sense Holmes urging it forward. He was eager to return to our abode and resume the chase of the Golden Bird, which interested at least two shadowy individuals, only one of which was known. I rather suspected that Holmes would center his energies on uncovering the employer of the man with the lisp and voiced this idea.

'Quite right, ol' chap. However, we have another thread in this tangled skein to consider. We were decoyed from England, of that I am sure. What has happened in our absence? What incident prompted someone to remove us from the scene of action?'

At every station, my friend secured newspapers, which he eagerly scanned for mention of some event that might have an association with the golden statue, but his diligence was not rewarded.

When we finally arrived at 221B Baker Street, it was with delight that I surveyed familiar sights. Mrs. Hudson made much of our return, though, in truth, we had not been absent any great length of time despite the fact that we had crossed Europe twice and had been but the length of a bridge from Asia.

Holmes immediately resumed investigations, or at least tried to, but he encountered unexpected difficulties. Mrs. Hudson insisted that we consume some good English fare after all that foreign food. Our concerned landlady was a great believer in the health-giving properties of British provender, and, consuming her rare roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with gusto, I readily concurred in her theory.

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 increasingly 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 prepared to tempt him from his monastic fast. Each morning 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 malnutrition. 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 devouring 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 situation 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 generations 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 allowed 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.