ready. We were the artillery of the miniature army, ready to fire if necessary. The sound of the street organ and the traffic on Baker Street could not be heard. The silence was oppressive. Then there was a creak at one of the basement windows and I could vaguely detect a hand applying pressure to the frame. Again silence and then the other window was tested. Holmes had insisted that both be locked. There could be too much of a good thing and he did not wish to alert the intruders. However, the catch on the second window was looser than the first, a fact detected by whoever was trying to force an entry.
The frame of the second window moved slightly and there was a rasping sound as metal was inserted in the space. The simple hook-and-eye attachment was detached easily, but the frame would not give since side bolts held it fast. There was a pause and I could picture the man without reaching for additional equipment. Then there was an irritating scratching sound that sent tingles through the short hairs at the base of my neck. A tool was working on the glass. A cutter, of course. Before its job was done, a piece of putty was applied to one portion of the glass. Then more scratching and a circle of the glass was silently removed. A thin arm reached through the opening and disengaged the side bolts. The window swung inward and a piece of wood propped it in its upright position. There was a lengthy silence as the man outside listened with care. I know not of the others, but I held my breath. Then there came the sound of tools being moved to one side and a body shifting position.
Like a shadow, Gilligan had moved to the other side of the open window, which he and Orloff now flanked. A pair of feet appeared through the aperture and then a thin body shoved itself into the air and came down on the floor of the cellar with complete silence. As the figure straightened from a crouched to an upright position, Orloff was upon it. In a blur of movement, his arm encircled the man's neck, shutting off the slightest sound. His other arm, with fist clenched, swiveled and the struggling human slumped like a bundle of rags. Another pair of legs appeared in the window as Orloff passed the inert body to Gilligan, who moved it back into the cellar away from the outer wall.
I felt as though I were suddenly deaf since there was not the slightest sound. The second pair of legs were much bigger and their owner did not choose to drop into the cellar but attempted to lower himself, and successfully, from the ledge. I judged him to be very large, possibly a Manchurian. Evidently, the same thought occurred to Orloff for he did not attempt a throttle-hold but swept his deadly bowler from his head and swung it in a murderous half- arc against the man's head. Now there was a faint sound, the thud of metal against bone. Holmes was at Orloff's side and the two of them lowered the giant to the floor.
Gilligan was back beside the window now. I sensed the faint odor of spices, possibly the sickening sweetness of opium mixed with that of sweat. It was the smell of Limehouse. Still a third pair of legs made their appearance, but the owner must have sensed that something was amiss for there was an intake of breath. Like a snake, one of Gilligan's abnormally long, thin arms reached. His hand grabbed an ankle, pulling the body downward as his left hand swung the sandbag he carried on occasion. A third body joined the others on the floor.
From without there was a faint whistle, which startled me so that my hand grasped my revolver and threatened to crack the butt plates, but then I realized that it was only a signal from our boy in the plane tree. This was the lot and we had them.
The matter was not finished but we were well on our way. Holmes and Orloff boosted Inspector MacDonald through the open window into the back yard, where he conferred with our tree-climbing ally before his police torch flashed a signal into the night. Gilligan had the three bodies, all Chinese, trussed up like Christmas turkeys in jig time, and gagged as well. Orloff began to lift the bodies, pushing them into the yard. As I followed Holmes to the ground floor, I noted that Orloff picked up the giant of the trio as though he were a baby. The man's strength was almost as unbelievable as his lightning reflexes, which I knew so well.
Holmes and I were now in the role of observers, but the operation, to this point, had progressed so smoothly that I momentarily considered writing it up for the study of students at Sandhurst. The exhilarating scent of victory does tend to make one somewhat overdramatic.
A ground-floor window gave us a good view of the street.
'Mrs. Hudson is staying the night with her sister, Watson, but we must make sure that her neighbors have nothing to comment upon during her absence. Besides, a fracas on Baker Street would be damaging to our image.'
I doubt if our image was on the minds of MacDonald's squad, but they had certainly been well-rehearsed. The two men detailed as a protective measure had already vacated their latest haunt, the deep doorway of Spea and Henry's liquor store and were moving up the other side of the street. I saw a police van appear at the end of the block. Suddenly, dark shadows were everywhere. They were in the building opposite us in a trice. A window above opened suddenly and, to my horror, a man lowered himself over the ledge and dropped. But before he could regain his feet he was firmly grasped by two constables. I could not tell whether they gagged him or coshed him, but he was silent. The police van came up the street at a sedate rate and constables reappeared with two more prisoners in tow. The lot disappeared into the van, which then pulled round the block to pick up the other Chinamen in our back yard.
Holmes heaved a sigh of relief and turned to me with obvious delight. 'It's as though it had never happened, Watson. No neighbors in windows. No onlookers or questions. Perfectly executed.'
'Perfectly planned,' I managed to say, laconically.
It was not long thereafter that MacDonald returned. I busied myself with tantalus and gasogene, and bonded spirits were passed round to join high spirits over a successful venture. Holmes toasted the Scotland Yard inspector. 'Now it is up to you, Mr. Mac. If you can keep the six captives under cover, we've bought ourselves some time.'
MacDonald threw a quick glance at Wakefield Orloff. 'Truth is, Mr. Holmes, I planned to bury them in a suburban station and keep moving them round. I'd anticipated embarrassin' questions from the Commissioner if he got wind of it. But we had a turn of luck. The six boyos we bagged are being taken to a safe house and 'twas the Commissioner himself who informed me of the arrangement.'
'So,' said Holmes, also looking at Orloff, 'my brother has dealt himself into the game.'
The security agent was unperturbed. 'Mycroft Holmes knows most of what goes on, you know. At the moment, the Foreign Office is more than a little interested in Chu San Fu. As to why his men are to be secreted away, your brother did not choose to explain.'
'I wish someone would,' I blurted out.
'The Elizabethan policy, my dear Watson. Delay, play for time until things clarify. There is an adage of diplomacy which applies here. Make haste slowly.'
'Well,' said MacDonald, 'my men have been informed that tonight's events are best forgotten. The prisoners have been turned over to associates of Mr. Orloff. I don't know where they are, nor do I want to.'
'The safe-house technique has always been effective in situations like this,' said Orloff.
Noting my expression of bafflement, Holmes came to my rescue. 'A private residence which is not quite what it seems to be. Since, officially, it has no associations with government or police, it makes a nice hideaway or temporary prison.'
'You've given me enough clues,' was my exasperated comment, 'but a criminal band attempted to enter our quarters illegally. Why all the secretive treatment?'
'To confuse Chu San Fu. If six of his followers simply vanish, he will not make a move until he discovers what happened. Were they captured? Are they peaching to the police? Have they simply run away? His hands will be tied until the matter is resolved and during that time we shall attempt to clear up the muddle surrounding this matter and discover what makes the Golden Bird so valuable. The answer lies with the Chinaman. He knows.'
'But is not Basil Selkirk also involved?' asked Orloff.
'Watson and I had a meeting with the financier. He stated that he was after the Bird simply because Chu San Fu was. I'm inclined to believe this. Chu San Fu has the key to the puzzle. Barker found out what it was. Among Barker's possessions was a book which Slim secured for us dealing with the career of Jonathan Wild. I think Wild, long ago, knew the secret of the Bird.'
'That's why his man, Harry Hawker, stole the statute from the shop on Rhodes,' I said.
'The Rhodes robbery took place around 1850, Watson. Wild had been dead a full ten years by then. My theory is that what Wild knew died with him but a clue remained. Hawker discovered it, possibly in the same manner that the lamented Barker did. The answer may very well be in this book of Barker's, gentlemen, which I intend to study with much care.'
Gilligan, MacDonald, and Orloff, after more musings, speculation, and libations, took their leave and this time
