Lombardo and Sansovino were unknown to me, but my friend seemed to place great store in their names. I recalled that he indulged in a passion for Renaissance architecture at one time. It was in relation to an old case, not without points of interest, which I may make available to readers someday.
The hour was late but Venice is cosmopolitan, and Holmes and I were able to secure a satisfying meal in the hotel dining room at an hour when most Englishmen would be dawdling over their last brandy and seriously considering their beds.
The same thought was crossing my mind as we occupied ourselves with a bowl of fruit augmented by some fine cheeses. It was then that we were joined by Orloff. Our waiter hastened to secure a chair for the security agent. Whether he knew Orloff, who was well traveled, or just reacted to the commanding presence of the deceptively rotund man I do not know. During dinner Holmes had been preoccupied and I had not disturbed his thoughts, but now revelations would be forthcoming, which delighted me.
Orloff was no Randolph Rapp, but then who was? However, his experience, honed to a fine edge in the shadow-land of international espionage, was extensive. Being a man of acute perception and few words, his conversations with Holmes frequently had a staccato quality, and I was invariably hard pressed to keep abreast of the two.
'Andrade is well covered?' This was more a statement than a question from Holmes as he sliced the peeling from an orange.
'Cooks himself. Simplifies things. Cleaning woman comes in three times a week. We'll check her out.' Orloff accepted a wedge of cheese that I offered him. 'May put a man on the premises. Butler, courtesy of Her Majesty's government. The cryptographer won't object. Rather keen, you know. Must realize that his discovery has touched off a bit of a chain reaction.'
If not, I thought, you will convince him. Orloff was to the manor born, and I could picture said gentleman plying a thriving trade selling sand in the Sahara.
'What news of the Chinaman?' queried Holmes.
'His yacht should be here shortly.'
'Hmm! You'd think Chu San Fu's arrival would have signaled the move on Andrade's residence.'
'Whole thing was rushed. Sloppy job.'
I had poured Orloff a tot of after-dinner liqueur, and he was regarding Holmes over the rim of a sparkling glass.
'I've a mind as to what hurried them. You.'
It was at this point that I threw patience to the winds.
'Could you translate this interchange for my dull ears?' I fear my manner was somewhat huffy.
'Chu San Fu's agents are in Venice,' explained Orloff. 'They hastily removed Aaron Lewis from Andrade's home, ahead of schedule, I'd say. The answer has to be Sherlock Holmes.'
'How do you figure that?'
Orloff's lips twitched, a sign of satisfaction rarely seen on his features.
'Noticed your friend here react when Howard Andrade described his assistant.'
My gaze shifted to Holmes, whose eyes were twinkling.
'Dear me, I have become transparent, but Orloff is right. The description of the assistant, Lewis, bore a remarkable resemblance to Memory Max.'
My inquisitive stare was undiminished, for I did not share Holmes's encyclopedic knowledge of members of the criminal classes.
'In his early years, Max did a turn in the music halls as a memory expert. Answered any question. Photographic memory, you see. However, he turned his not inconsiderable talents to less legitimate pursuits and became one of the leading forgers of our time.'
'How strange,' I exclaimed. 'A man with a freak memory turning to forgery.'
'Not so, Watson. Those with an unusual mental aptitude frequently find great relaxation in working with their hands. Max's dexterity with tools and dies proved most embarrassing to the government.'
Well, I thought, you rather disprove that, old fellow. But then my mind rejected this thought. Holmes did, in moments of relaxation, derive great solace from his violin.
Orloff was sipping his liqueur thoughtfully. 'Max specialized in guineas and sovereigns. I know of him.'
'But I
'I was instrumental in laying Max by the heels, back in '81 as I recall. An early case. He's been safely in Dartmoor for years, but obviously is out now.'
'Wait,' I blurted. 'You mean that Memory Max was a . . . a plant next to Howard Andrade?' I was pleased at coming up with a suitable colloquialism.
'Of course.' Holmes's tone, not by intent, indicated that a five-year-old child would be
'But the mysterious 'they' were after Andrade himself. They got into his bedroom, you know.'
'I allowed your re-creation to stand, Watson, since it served as an alarm to Howard Andrade. However, you had it all wrong. Bed sheets torn and knotted together to form a rope to allow one to descend from the first-story room to the canal level are not a means of entry but of exit. What happened is clear enough. Memory Max was used as a means of getting close to Andrade, to memorize his files and learn the secret of his decoding of the secret writings. At an appropriate time, the arrival of Chu San Fu's yacht, I presume, he was to be spirited away to join the master criminal. Destination? Egypt. But an unforeseen element was introduced when we arrived in Venice.'
'Were I to come face to face with Memory Max, I would recognize him, so the 'they' you refer to had to prevent our meeting. They signaled Max to get out, setting a time for a gondola to be under the window of the master bedroom. Using the plea of exhaustion, the forger arranged to be in the bedroom, and fashioned the rope of bed sheets to facilitate his escape. Your spotting it almost upset their plans.'
I leaned back in my chair, more than a little pleased with the last statement. Holmes's eyes adopted that opaque look that I knew so well. Silence fell on the table, and I exchanged a look with Orloff that drew a shrug as a reply. Finally the security agent said softly, 'What now?'
'There is,' responded Holmes in an almost dreamy manner, 'a bit more surmise than I approve of. Chu San Fu has the Sacred Sword and it is headed for Alexandria. The Chinaman's yacht is en route here. Beyond these facts, we are guessing. My thought is that Chu San Fu will pick up Memory Max here in Venice and then continue to Egypt. But what of the Mannheim tablets? I have a feeling those writings in gold are a part of the puzzle. I recall that they were stolen from the Mannheim collection and believe that the thief was captured. Without my files and commonplace books, details elude me. Can you prompt me on this matter, Orloff?'
'In part. One Heinrich Hublein was convicted of the theft and is in prison now. The tablets were never found, but the why of that I do not know.'
'Wolfgang von Shalloway might,' said Holmes. 'I will cable the esteemed Chief of the Berlin Police tonight, and if his answer proves interesting, we shall resume our travels tomorrow, Watson, in an attempt to add more pieces to this international jigsaw.'
Chapter Twelve
The Madman's Tale
The Berlin police chief's response to my friend's cable must have been encouraging, and Holmes must have waited at the cable office for it. At dawn I was rousted from my comfortable bed, and we were soon on the Hamburg Express, which passed through Berlin en route to its eventual destination. Our journey is vague in my mind. I dozed fitfully a great part of the time, which was just as well since Holmes was indisposed to talk and there were lines of worry and concern around his eyes and noble forehead.
As was our custom whenever in the German capital, we checked into the Bristol Kempinski, where I was grateful to wash away the dust of our journey. The following morning we made our way to the Alexanderplatz and the nerve center of the machinelike Criminal Investigation Department of the Berlin Police Force.
Holmes had for years enjoyed an
